Christmas Wishes
The snow swirled through the night and by morning the streets were almost impassable. Men, women and children made their way, gingerly, through the drifted snow. It was the day before Christmas and many had last minute shopping to do. Some inspected the various markets searching for ingredients for their Christmas Eve and Christmas dinners. Others sought a gift for a friend or loved one. And some, stood by, watching, alone, unnoticed.
Erik, wrapped in his warm opera cloak and with his hat brim pulled low to keep his mask in shadow, watched the comings and goings. He had come up from his fifth cellar lair to see what the night's storm had done to the city.
He glanced up at the crisp blue of the sky above and then gazed around at the icicles glittering from the façade of the grand Opera Palais Garnier. The city of Paris looked more beautiful after a snow storm than at any other time of year, Erik thought to himself. It was almost inspiring. His yellow eyes widened then narrowed as music ran through his mind.
He was about to retreat back to the cellars when something drew his attention. He felt his breath catch in his chest as he watched the Vicomte Raoul de Chaney laughingly step down from a handsome carriage and reach his hand to the occupant inside. A dainty gloved hand emerged and took the hand offered. That glove belonged to his student, the beautiful and talented Christine Daae. A young woman whom Erik had taught from the time she was just a child.
She had somehow transformed him from an embittered assassin and opera ghost to some semblance of a man with a purpose, to create music for the most glorious natural talent he had ever come across in all his travels. That voice. It was the voice of an angel. And when he had first reached out to comfort her, he knew not why, or what compelled him to do so, when he heard her through the hidden passage ways in the walls of the Opera House which led him to the chapel in its recesses. There she was. A girl, frightened and alone, weeping for her departed father. He watched and listened as she prayed to the Angel of Music. Before he could stop himself he had spoken, "Hush, child. Weep no more. I will protect you and watch over you." It startled her. "Are you my Angel of Music? Did my father send you?"
He knew not how to reply and then, without thinking said, simply, "Yes".
Years had passed since that night. He became aware of her voice as she sang to herself while waiting for the ballet rehearsals to begin. She was the ward of Antoinette Giry, his friend and the ballet mistress. Meg Giry was Christine's closest companion and confidante. Antoinette knew Erik was Christine's tutor and it gave her great joy to think of her solitary friend shaping Christine's voice to be the perfect instrument she suspected it was. She never gave away Erik's secrets and Christine only knew him as the Angel who came to her in her dressing room and spoke to her through the huge mirror that covered one wall. She depended on him. He lived for those lessons.
Seeing her with her childhood friend, Raoul, was like a knife in his heart. He knew the boy loved her and it seemed as if Christine returned those feelings. What could he do? Raoul was handsome, he was wealthy, he had a title. Erik was a genius, a master architect, a magician, a hired killer, a musician and composer and singer whose match he had yet to meet. But his deformity kept him from approaching the girl he now knew he loved to such an extent that if she were ever to leave him, he didn't think he could live.
Apparently Raoul had taken Christine to a holiday breakfast at a tearoom a few blocks away. His heightened hearing could make out their chatter even from the distance across the street. Raoul escorted Christine to the side entrance of the opera House that lead to the dancers' dormitories. Suddenly, Raoul, taking her hand, pulled her toward him and boldly embraced her and then… ("No!" Erik gasped aloud) kissed her full on the lips. Christine pushed him away, (interesting, thought Erik) and quickly turned to unlock the door and vanished inside. Raoul remained staring at the now shut door. He stamped his feet with cold and scowled, shaking his head. Turning now towards where his carriage waited, he glanced once more behind him as if he hoped Christine would return and run to his arms and be his forever after, but the door remained unmoved. "Go, damn you" muttered Erik impatiently, as Raoul finally climbed inside the carriage and it disappeared up the street.
Once the carriage was gone, Erik wrapped his cloak around him and made his way through the snow to his secret entrance to the Opera House and down, down to his lair, where he reached for his brandy decanter and poured a glass as he then sat and pondered the implications of what he had seen.
Here it was, almost Christmas. Something that had held little meaning for Erik until today. As he sipped his brandy he wished, something he never ever allowed himself to do. Wishes never came true for the likes of him. He'd wished for his mother to care for him, something she never did, locking him away. Giving him his first mask so she wouldn't have to see him. He'd wished for rescue from the gypsy camp where he was abused and displayed for money. None came. He had to free himself leaving the first blood on his hands. But now, deep in his heart was a glimmer of hope, he wished for one thing. If he could receive a kiss from Christine on Christmas he would die happy knowing that once in his life a wish had been granted.
After warming up, he went into his bathroom and washed and shaved and then changed into his most elegant evening clothes, wrapped a cloak around himself, donned his mask and followed the path he knew by heart, the path that lead to the back of the mirror in Christine's dressing room.
The Opera House was largely abandoned for the holidays. The managers were at home with their families and except for those who made their home in the building like Antoinette and Meg most of the staff were home or had traveled home to prepare for Christmas which was now just hours away.
He glanced through the glass and saw Christine seated on her little bed, brushing her hair. She was dressed in a red velvet dress with black embroidery and beading. He heard her sigh. " Oh Raoul," she whispered to herself, "why must you complicate everything? Why can't we just enjoy our time together the way we used to as children?"
Erik waited, listening, unsure what to do next.
"Oh, my Angel. If only you were real," she had turned to face the mirror, " If only you were the man you seem to me in my mind and in my heart, because I have fallen in love with your voice. When I am alone, no matter where I am or what I am doing, I know I can return here to find you waiting. It gives me great comfort. But more than that, I long for you."
She stood and walked, slowly to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her. "I long for you to take me in your arms and hold me. You, my Angel. Not Raoul, dear boy that he is. I never wanted to hurt him. " Here a tear slid down her cheek. Erik placed a hand on the mirror. Daring not to move or speak.
"Are you there, Angel?" she asked. Still, he could not bring himself to reply. "I have only one wish for Christmas. I wish for you to appear to me and let me see you as you really are. As the man I have wished for."
Unable to contain himself any longer, Erik spoke, "Be careful what you wish for, my foolish Christine. Your wish may be answered but what you behold might be your worst nightmare."
"Never! I don't believe it. Let me see you. I have never been so brazen in a request as this but I am afraid my heart will break if you deny me."
"As you wish it, then, my dear," he spoke gently, "I will not hold it against you if you retract those words." The mirror swung open. Erik stepped through it as Christine stepped back to allow his entrance. They studied each other, he towering over her slight form. He was breathtakingly handsome but a mask covered one side. She stared, speechless at him. "Allow me," he said, his hand reaching for the mask. "Be warned. What this disguises is not a pretty sight."
"Let me be the judge, my Angel, because you are everything I imagined from your voice."
And she watched as the mask came away and she stood face to face with the deformity that denied him the life a man of his caliber deserved. "Hideous, am I not? Not the Angel you wished for, am I?"
"My Angel, you are too cruel towards yourself. I see before me the man I have loved most of my life but only lately who I have come to desire. Do you feel anything towards me? Am I deluding myself? "
"Never, my Christine. It was only lately I realized you had become a woman more beautiful than any I have ever known and with the voice of an angel and the kindest heart I could ever imagine. I have longed for you but as you can see… this face has kept me a prisoner for so long I dared not dream my feelings might be returned."
And with that, he took her hand and pulled her toward him, embracing her passionately he kissed her with all the desire that had built up inside him. And unlike what he had witnessed earlier with Raoul, Christine did not push him away, she wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss with equal ardor!
Then they each stood back smiling at one another. "I am Erik, your Opera Ghost, Your Phantom of this Opera House and your very own Angel of Music." Christine laughed, delightedly! "I always knew the rumors were true! Madame Giry would never confirm them or deny them."
"She knows my secrets".
"Ah! Well, here is another then, Madame Giry and Meg have prepared a Christmas Eve dinner tonight in their suite. They said I could bring a guest. Would you be my plus one?"
"Always, my dear, always!"