Heart to Heart

Raoul was taking Christine to dinner after the rehearsal. She was rushing about, dashing from backstage to her dressing room when a hand reached out to grab her sleeve. She gave a little shriek of surprise and turned to face Madame Giry, who had released the sleeve and stood, arms folded with a questioning look on her countenance.

"Madame, you startled me. I'm sorry, did you need me to do something for you? Run an errand?"

"No, no, my dear," she said, kindly. "I see you are in a hurry. Meg already informed me that Raoul was seeking your company for dinner."

Christine smiled brightly, "Yes, he was so sweet about it. I know I have rehearsals, Madame, but I didn't think you would mind. He is a patron of the opera, after all, and very respected, you need have no worries, he will behave very properly. Besides, "here she smiled, again, "we've known each other a very long time. Well, knew each other a long time ago, and now we are reacquainted."

Madame sighed, "The red scarf in the sea. I remember your story. And you are right, he is a charming young man, and I hate to ask you to pause for a moment and consider something you are forgetting."

Christine looked blankly at Antoinette.

"Your lesson. Your Master has been waiting for you, I believe."

Her face flushed as Christine realized the magnitude of her thoughtlessness. "I forgot all about my lesson. Oh, Madame. I am so sorry. I hope he will forgive me. Please ask Meg to tell Raoul I will be late. I will go to my room and await him. I hope he isn't too angry with me."

Antoinette saw the tears forming in her ward's eyes. "Calm yourself, my dear. You know your Angel would never be mad at you. Sometimes, I think he could be mad at the whole world… and it is just you who keeps him focused on music rather than, um, destruction."

"What did you say, Madame?" Christine gasped. "You speak as if you know my Angel personally."

"Oh, I was just muttering, my dear. Go to your lesson. Never mind my ramblings," she smiled, and then turned towards her suite of rooms to prepare dinner for herself and Meg.

Glancing back at the retreating form of Antoinette Giry, Christine then made her way to her dressing room, where a single red rose sat in a crystal vase on her bedside table. She paused a moment, then turned to the huge framed mirror that adorned one whole wall of her room.

"Angel, are you there? I am so sorry I am late. I got caught up with rehearsals. And, and…other things" she sighed, envisioning Raoul's disappointed, yet resolute face as he would receive Meg's message and then probably go to the bistro across the street for a glass of wine while he waited.

"Angel?"

Erik, on the other side of that very same mirror, leaned against the wall and studied the face of the girl who had become his reason to go on. He wasn't being melodramatic. He had lived a very long and lonely life. One filled with drama, intrigue and close calls as well as magic, music and… murder. He had loved once, long ago. He was very fond of Antoinette and of course Nadir, but without someone to keep his heart beating, he felt, in his soul, he was on the verge of giving up. Sometimes he believed it was sheer will that kept it working, and that the moment he decided he had had enough, it would stop, like a clock that someone had forgotten to wind.

He didn't think he had it in him to give her a lesson tonight. He knew Raoul was waiting for her. He wasn't angry at Christine, just realistic. He had nothing to offer her… but a cellar, and his heart and soul. He had gone over this endlessly. He had poured out his feelings to Antoinette, something humiliating for a man who had relied on only himself for most of his life. And then, he was surprised by her reaction. It wasn't one of horror. But one of encouragement.

Was he brave enough to do what his heart ached for him to? He watched as Christine began to weep. Why was she weeping? He felt that black cloud begin to form overhead. Was it for Raoul, waiting patiently to sweep her into a carriage and then off to the finest restaurant? If he were the man he used to be, a Punjab lasso would long ago have taken care of that nuisance.

No. Wait. What was she saying? He leaned forward.

"Angel, "she sobbed. "Have you abandoned me? Please, I beg you, don't give up on me. I don't think I could live without your voice, your guidance." She had sunk to the floor in a puddle of velvet and satin spread around her. Her face in her hands. She looked so disconsolate that it moved him. Had anyone, even out of pity, wept for him. He couldn't remember.

"Don't cry, Christine. I am here." He spoke before he could stop himself.

By this time, Christine had forgotten all about Raoul, who was, by now, on his second glass of wine and glancing at his pocket watch. She had seen the abyss. A life without her Angel watching over her. If only he were human.

"Angel," she spoke, her voice raw and hoarse from weeping (she'll need tea with honey and lemon for that, Erik thought to himself, in the midst of this emotional moment), "Angel, I pledge you my heart and my soul. I will never forsake you. You are more dear to me than anyone, anyone save my father. If only you were real, and not just a voice who has comforted me and taught me to sing, if only I could see you," here she placed her hand on the glass. "I have fallen in love with your voice, my Angel" she whispered, "If only there was a beating heart to go with it."

Erik was speechless. He stood frozen behind the mirror. "Act. Now is the time!" his mind told him, but his fragile heart so afraid of being broken, kept him in place.
Finally he spoke. "Suppose the heart that beats had not the face of the Angel you imagine? Suppose… it had the face of a demon".

Christine stepped back from the mirror. "Angel or demon, I know your heart. I know your kindness. I know… I feel, that you have loved me for a very long time. As I have loved you, but not been brave enough to tell you. "

There was silence. Christine so afraid she had been too bold or offended him in some way.

"Do you mean that?" Erik asked.

"With every breath in my body" she cried out, unafraid now.

Suddenly, the huge mirror began to pivot away from the wall, she could see, now, a figure in the shadows, and a hand reached out to take hers. "Come, then, my dear. We have much to talk about."

And Christine, without a second thought about Raoul, rehearsal, dinner or explaining to Madame where she might be, took the hand that was offered and stepped into another world.