Chapter 1: Overture
"Christine, is this too sexy to wear to a Mormon church event?"
I glanced up from my book to Meg Giry, my roommate, but more importantly, my best friend. She was standing coyly in front of the doorway to my room, hands folded, bright eyes shining expectantly at me. Thank goodness she had the sense not to put on a full face of makeup. She did a slight twirl for me as I appraised her sleeveless, flouncy, baby-blue chiffon dress. It fit her well, and brought her bright-blue eyes out nicely, though she would need something to cover her shoulders. Her long, honey-blonde hair was carefully coiffed into a bun, with wavy loose tendrils gently framing her face. I could tell she wasn't wearing any blush - her usual blush color clashed with her skin tone - though her cheeks were flushing and rosy. Overall, she was the picture of innocence, save for the six-inch silver heels she was awkwardly rocking back and forth on. Those would have to go.
"I'd wear the black flats if I were you," I answered, glancing back up at the dress. "And you might also want to wear a white cardigan with that. Most religious services have rules about modesty - you don't want to bring negative attention to yourself."
"Oh you're no fun," she pouted playfully, kicking the silver heels to the side. "Besides, how am I supposed to get his attention if I look like every other girl in the room? I have to stand out. Be original, you know?"
"His attention?" I asked, suddenly wary. I shifted from a lying to sitting position on my bed, the frame creaking in protest, and quirked an eyebrow at her. Meg's interest in religion was nothing new - having been raised by a mostly agnostic Jewish father and devout Christian mother, she'd developed an unusual interest in religion, attending different services and occasionally joining various religious groups as a result. Her current interest as far as I was concerned was Buddhism. However, that must have changed, now that there was a love interest involved...
"Yes! I was telling you about him yesterday. When we were in the living room?"
Oh, right. I vaguely recalled her bubbly monologue from the night before as I studied for my Statistics final. I shook my head."I must have been distracted - I was trying to get some studying in. Who is this guy? And how long have you known him?"
She clasped her hands together, eyes brightening. "Okay, so his name is Aaron, and he's a Mormon missionary. I met him yesterday while I was walking home from work. He's got the most wonderful green eyes, blonde hair, and I must say, kudos to the Mormons, those dress shirts and ties are nice. I like a guy who dresses up. He was also really nice and spiritual and, oh, Christine, I think he might like me too! He was smiling at me the entire time - more than the other missionary guy he was with. He also invited me to his church today!"
"That's great, Meg," I said, smiling gently, carefully selecting my next words. I loved Meg, though she needed a reminder of reality from time to time. "Look, I know that you're excited about him, and he's probably a good guy, but has it occurred to you that he's being nice so you'll convert to his religion? That it might not be for romantic reasons?"
"He wants to save my soul from the eternal flames of hell. How romantic!" she sighed dreamily, dramatically placing her hand over her heart. "I've always wanted a chivalrous man."
I chuckled, rolling my eyes in defeat. "Okay, go get dressed. I'll be studying tonight and going to mass tomorrow morning. Tell me how it goes."
"That's my good, Catholic girl," she cooed, before she and her swishy blue dress left the doorway of my bedroom.
Closing the book I was reading, Jane Eyre, I tossed it aside and rolled over to the other side of my bed, where my iPhone was plugged into the wall. I checked the time. It was 3:03 p.m. I still had another six hours to study before I went to bed.
Typing in my password, 1-9-9-7—the year I was born— I checked my email for probably the tenth time today.
I held my breath, heart pounding in trepidation as the inbox loaded. Maybe this was it. Maybe this time I would finally receive the email - the email that would congratulate me for having been accepted into Seattle University's College of Nursing.
I watched the loading icon spin in circles, sighing as I thought of the homework I'd have to do tonight. Finals were next week, and I had to study for Statistics, Lifespan Psychology, and Human Anatomy and Physiology I - the latter in which I had two labs due before the end of the quarter. This was my second-to-last quarter at Bellevue College, and though I was working towards the general Associate's Degree in Arts and Sciences, I'd planned my schedule to include all the nursing prerequisites. By the time I graduate at the end of next quarter, I'd have completed both the degree as well as the nursing prerequisites.
The phone dinged - signaling I had a new email - and I jumped as my attention flickered to the screen. My heart sank - it wasn't the much-anticipated email from Seattle U.
Rather, it was an email from Carlotta Bianchi. I bit my lip, wondering what she was up to now, and if I should even open the email given the amount of homework I had.
I'd met Carlotta about a year ago at a church volunteer appreciation dinner - she'd stood out among the rest of the volunteers with her statuesque, lithe dancer's figure, flaming red hair, and operatic voice. She was a drama queen in every sense of the word, with bright bejeweled clothing and a word of gossip to share, which was probably why she'd taken a liking to me, a quieter, plainer girl in the background. Like me, she was a college student, as well as a substitute cantor for churches in the area who didn't have anyone to sing. Tapping the email, I read:
—
From: Carlotta Bianchi
To: Christine Daae
Read me ASAP!
March 16th, 2018 at 2:30 PM
Hey Christine,
I hope you're killing it with your studies. Less than a week and we'll be done! If you have time, we should meet up sometime this week to catch up and take a break from all the studying. Or go out and celebrate after finals. ;)
I know this is pretty late-noticed, but I'm scheduled to cantor at St. James Cathedral in Seattle tonight for the 5:30 mass, though my throat feels all sore and scratchy, and I don't want to put pressure on my vocal chords, since I have an important vocal competition coming up. Could you sing for me? Here's the pianist's info:
Email: charlesgarnier
Phone: (206)-827-6329
I look forward to seeing you back on Facebook once finals week is over! You're missing out on so much. I'll catch you up on all of it soon!
-Carlotta
P.S. I thought you might like this :)
"I bet jellyfish are sad there are no peanut butter fish"
Sent from my iPhone
—
The corners of my lips curved - aww, the poor jellyfish - before reading the emergency cantor situation over again. I pursed my lips, considering. I was hoping to get some studying in before mass, though truth be told, I'd have probably spent most of that time reading instead of studying. Besides, serving God was more important than leisurely reading.
I pushed myself off the bed, phone in hand, dialing the number Carlotta had given me. My stomach fluttered nervously, and I considered sending an email. Logically, I knew my fear of phone calls was irrational, but my hands clammed up and my cheeks flushed nonetheless. I sucked in a shaky breath, deciding against an email. What if the accompanist didn't check it before mass? Phone calls were more promising.
2-0-6-8-2-7-6-3-2-9 — I was about to press the green "call" button, when the phone buzzed.
"Incoming call: 206-827-6329"
Oh, how convenient. I waited a few rings, mentally preparing myself before accepting the call.
"Hello?" I asked brightly, innocently.
"Good afternoon, is this Christine Daae?" asked a dulcet, male tenor. My heart unexpectedly skipped a beat.
"Yes, this is she," I answered, vaguely wondering if I sounded like I'd just stepped out of a 19th-century British novel - which I kind of did.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Christine." His tone was cool, clipped.
"The pleasure is mine," I replied, trying to infuse warmth into my voice. People couldn't see facial expressions over the phone, so I tried my best to sound extra nice.
"I apologize for calling unannounced like this, though I was notified by Ms. Bianchi that you might be available to sing at St. James tonight for the 5:30 mass. Would you be available?"
"I - yes, I would love to cantor tonight!" I paused, thinking of the technicalities. "However, I've only been to St. James several times, and I'm not sure which mass setting and hymns the congregation is familiar with...I might not be familiar with them."
"That should be no problem at all - we will find something you're already familiar with." He sounded polite, almost reassuring.
"What time would you like for me to be there? I can leave at any time."
"I'm actually already at the church," he said. "At your earliest convenience, we will practice the music."
"That sounds lovely! I'll be leaving now," I answered, my mind scrambling to map out a plan. "I think I could get there around 4:00. Would that be alright?"
"4:00 it is. I look forward to meeting you then, Christine."
"I look forward to meeting then you as well!" I answered brightly, pressing the red button to hang up on him.
It was once I hung up that I realized I hadn't even asked for his name. How impolite. I then remembered that Carlotta had sent me his email, and I tapped the mail icon on my phone to find it. charlesgarnier . It was safe to bet that his name was Charles Garnier. Garnier, like the brand of shampoo I used. That issue cleared with, I hurried to make myself decent for mass.
—-—
Hello, fellow Phantom fans! I hope you'll enjoy this story that I've been brewing in my mind for several months now. As fellow writers know, reviews are warmly received, so please comment and let me know what you think! I hope to have a chapter 2 up soon. Thank you, and have a lovely day! :)
