It is the oddest thing, to have one's worst nightmare- and yet, one's most secretly desired dream- to come true in front of one's eyes. At least, it was for me. Perhaps it was because I had already thought of the whole thing. I know it sounds completely absurd, but being on the stage of the Opera Populaire that night seemed to be déjà vu. I have always been a daydreamer- ever since my childhood in Sweden, spent weaving tales about goblins, and faeries and more drivel that I can't even recall at the moment. Maybe this will all be pure drivel to me, in a few more years, but for now- I savor the memory like I savor the scent of fresh roses.
I knew whom it was that was going to step out of Don Juan's bedchamber, even before I heard him, which was before I saw him. I knew before I stepped onstage, and I would venture to say that I knew before Piangi went onstage. The thought had crossed my mind to warn Piangi, but why would a forty-year-old opera veteran listen to a sixteen year old rising-star? I knew what was going to happen, but I didn't truly believe it, and the differences between knowing and believing cost Signor Ubaldo Piangi his life.
Perhaps it was the singer in me, but I had always dreamed of someone writing a song for me to sing, all by myself. It had never been sung before me, and after me, it would never be sung again. That was the child that I carried in my womb much longer than any mother ever had, hoping that someday I would find a father to help me bring it to life. I found that father in none less than the Angel of Music. When I sang to him, and with him, and for him, my soul began to soar, and as Aminta sang, there were no thoughts within my head but thoughts of joy.
You have brought me
To that moment where words run dry
To that moment where speech disappears
Into silence
Silence.
When I heard my Angel's vulnerable tenor, it was no shock. Perhaps that was what kept the Fire Officer and his men at bay for so long. I know that I never once betrayed Erik with a passing glance of panic, or an abnormal missed note, or any insecurity around him. Or, if I had, who was to blame me? After all, I was a modest serving maid in the presence of a man. It was as if Piangi had traded roles with the Phantom in every rehearsal, and I doubt even Raoul knew the difference.
I have come here
Hardly knowing the reason why,
In my mind I've already imagined
Our bodies entwining, And now I am here with you,
Defenseless and silent.
No second thoughts,
I've decided. Decided.
As I sang to Erik, Monsieur Lefevre's arm caught my eye. As he crashed his conductor's baton down on the count of one, he was not only cueing the orchestra to begin a new measure, but he became Ariadne, who gave Perseus the magical thread he needed to escape from the labyrinth of my heart. I had never felt such a wave of so many different emotions, but the one that rose to the crest was passion. I was no longer afraid, and I was no longer acting. Raoul, Meg, Madame Giry, Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, the audience, the world other than Erik and myself ceased to exist. Had I not been chained to the floor by a single thread of orientation, I would have ceased to sing, ceased to dance, and goodness knows what I would have done after that. I was no longer responsible for myself, for in this last moment, I promised to love and obey Erik just as I would have in so many words for Raoul. I was being swept away on a wave of passion, and the only one who could stop me was the one swept me away in the first place.
Past the point of no return,
No going back now…
Our passion-play has now,
At last, begun…
Past all thought
Of right or wrong-
One final question:
How long should we two wait,
Before we're one…?
At the last moment, I remembered the double set of winding stairs behind us. Something was choreographed on them; I just had no recollection of what it was. Not that it mattered anymore, I was singing the lyrics that Erik wrote to tell him something I wanted to say. I knew that he knew what I was trying to tell him, and he became bolder than he ever had. The first evening that I had spent in the Tartarus he created underneath my feet, that was nothing compared to the radiance of the Elysian Fields that we had created together- and we both knew it. He had offered me everything he had, and I was taking it. I had been Persephone, and I had chosen Hades over Olympus.
When will the blood begin to race?The sleeping bud burst into bloom?
When will the flames at last
Consume us?
As we climbed to the top of the stairs, I could feel the blood racing to my head already. I couldn't help but shiver, although my body was feverish. It was as though my senses had been sedated, and yet, enflamed at the same time. My voice became husky as I reached the platform at the top of the set, and met Erik in the middle. I was on top of the world in so many senses of the euphemism.
Past the point of no return,
The final threshold. The bridge is crossed,
So stand and watch it burn.
We've passed the point
Of no return.
My knees became weak, as though every part of my body knew the song was ending. Thankfully, Erik was there and before I could even lower myself to the ground, I was suspended in his arms. A soft voice in the far reaches of my mind reminded me that we weren't supposed to be on the platform yet, that Don Juan was supposed to chase Aminta to the platform after she tried to resist him. I banished the thought from my mind, and completely melted into him. He smelled like smoke, and something else I could not place. I reached the climax of my sensation, and as I fell, my senses cleared.
Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude.
I turned to face Erik, still in his arms. I suppose he was crying, because the mask he wore covered the parts of his face where his tears would have been. He pulled my engagement ring to Raoul from his pocket, and slipped it on my finger, as gentle as a mere mortal could possibly have been.
Say you want me with youHere, beside you. Anywhere you go,
Let me go too…
Christine,
That's all I ask of…
Erik was leaving himself completely vulnerable to me. He was such a defensive, reclusive man, and here he was, begging me to love him like he loved me. I doubt he had ever known the love of a woman, not even his mother- but his capacity to love was still so great. He had slit my heart down the middle, and I felt the warmth of my tears vainly trying to comfort me. I was oblivious to the world around us, and had a parade come storming into the Opera house, I would not have noticed. It broke my heart to break his, and I realized too late the authenticity of the words in his song. This was the point of no return. Every event since the New Year's Masquerade had been leading up to this very moment, the moment when Clothos, Lachesis and Atropos could finish the weaving of our threads, because our fate would have been decided.
I reached my hands up to his face, almost subconsciously, and, before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed the mask off of his face. The unisonous gasp from the audience floored me, and dragged me, kicking and screaming back to the Opera House. I was attacked by so many new sights and sounds and senses of existence that I did not notice when Erik grabbed me and released the trapdoor underneath our feet. Honestly, as I was falling through the different levels of the Opera's stage, in my mind I was still back on the platform, staring dumbstruck at the Phantom, who seemed much more aware of his surroundings than me. I do remember the screams of the people, but at the time I vainly assumed they were screaming for my safety, rather than their own. I had no idea that Erik destroyed the Opera House that night, not until Raoul led me back through its charred remains hours later.
It was not until he forced me down the same path that he had once entranced me upon that I realized what was truly happening. I had become the prey of the man who once inspired my voice. I had eaten the whole pomegranate, and Zeus had pronounced my sentence. That was the point of no return.