I Have A Christmas Present For You
It was Christmas Eve in Paris. The Paris Opera was brilliantly ablaze with light. The Christmas gala performance of La Boheme was to be presented tonight, with La Carlotta in the role of Mimi.
The wealthy subscribers of the Opera were looking forward to the performance with gleeful anticipation. The memories of the recent fiascos of Norma and La Traviata were still fresh, and it was hoped that there would be a repetition tonight. What a wonderful Christmas performance it promised to be!
The cream of Paris society were already thronging up and down the great staircase and through the foyers. Even though it was over two hours before the opera began, the promenade had already commenced. High-born ladies, clad in their rich formal dresses, paraded on the arms of their escorts. There was a crowd around the box office, and the bar was already packed.
Backstage, the stagehands, firemen, and costume girls were bustling around preparing for the performance. On the other side of the great curtain, a few musicians of the orchestra were already in place; most of their fellows were still in their rehearsal room, unpacking their instruments and tuning up.
A few of the wealthier boxholders were already seated in their boxes, exchanging the greetings of the season with friends in neighboring boxes and peering down toward the floor with their ornate opera glasses. The great glittering chandelier had been lit and was dispersing the gloom of the auditorium.
It would be a great Christmas gala.
##
In the catacombs far below the Opera, a tall, somberly-clad figure crept through the musty corridors, peering into dark corners, obviously searching for something. So far he seemed to have had no success, but he was not discouraged, and patiently pursued his search.
This man was the subject of much furtive gossip backstage and among the subscribers of the Paris Opera, even though it could safely be said that none of them had ever actually seen him. He was spoken of as the Phantom of the Opera, a ghost who haunted the gloomy depths beneath the theatre.
He was, as has been noted, a tall man. His muscular body was wrapped in a black cape. His hair, which gleamed warmly whenever light fell upon it, was a beautiful shade of red. None of this, however, would have impressed itself first upon the rare person who met this man.
They would have first noticed the mask which hid most of his face. Only his eyes, brilliantly green, and his mouth and chin were visible. Always he wore this plain ivory mask; often he would cover it with different, more elaborate masks expressive of his mood.
He continued on his way through the shadows, making no noise as he continued searching. Suddenly he stopped, stood perfectly still, and bent over to investigate a sound at his feet. A sly smile spread across his lips as he knelt and reached into a dark corner. His hand closed over his find as he rose and returned the way he had come, murmuring soothingly as he did so.
##
Gerard Carriere quickly made his way through the crowd of thronging subscribers in the grand foyer and went without delay to a small salon just behind the cloakroom. Tripping a small switch, he slipped through a hidden panel and began his journey down into the depths of the Opera.
He needed no light to see where he was going. Gerard knew the cellars of the Paris Opera better than anyone. Except, of course, Erik. Gerard was on his way down now to see Erik—better known as the Phantom of the Opera. Only Gerard, of course, knew his name. He was, in fact, the only person who knew of Erik at all. Gerard had known Erik all his life. He was Erik's father.
Erik did not know that fact. He knew Gerard only as his friend. Gerard had never told his unfortunate son the truth. He knew that some day soon—and Gerard shrank from the thought of that day—he would have to abandon Erik. The poor creature, with his hideous semblance of a face, would be shunned everywhere in the world above. Gerard's days here were already numbered. Since he had been dismissed four months before, his presence here had been barely tolerated by Choletti and the new staff. Soon, Gerard knew, he would be forced to leave. He could not bear the thought that he would have to leave Erik here, friendless, not taking him along.
But tonight Gerard put such thoughts from his mind. He was going down to pay a Christmas visit to his son. He intended to return, if possible, during the day, bringing with him a lavish dinner. For the past 15 years he had done that every year, and he and Erik had enjoyed each other's company down in the lair. This might be their last Christmas together down here beneath the Opera.
Gerard stepped down into the lair. The lagoon's dark waters, gleaming dimly in the light of several torches, stretched before him. There was no sound. Gerard, hesitating, looked around. No sign of Erik. He must be in his music room, thought the elderly ex-manager. "Erik?" Gerard called softly.
"In here, Gerard," came the faint response from a distant room.
With a smile, Gerard made his way to a small chamber near the music room, where he found Erik seated at a dressing table, intently occupied with a box wrapped in brightly-colored paper. The Phantom glanced up as Gerard entered. "Come in," he invited his visitor. "I'm sorry I didn't hear you. How are you this evening?"
"Couldn't be better," replied Gerard, taking a seat near the table. He peered at the box in Erik's hands. "What have you got there?"
"A gift for our company's star," replied Erik, picking up a length of green velvet ribbon and looping it around the box.
"You forget it is no longer our company, Erik," Gerard reminded him gently. "Are you referring to La Carlotta?"
"Yes," muttered Erik, struggling to tie the green ribbon into a bow. "Gerard, why must you spoil my fun by reminding me of the unpleasant facts?"
Gerard couldn't suppress a grin. "Because I like to annoy you. What on earth are you giving Carlotta a gift for?"
Erik turned a look of wide-eyed innocence on the older man. "Why, don't you think she deserves one, Gerard?" A sly smile played at the corners of his mouth.
Gerard chuckled. "Yes, I suppose. But I shudder to think of what sort of surprise you have for her in that box."
Erik's response was a broader smile, accompanied by a wicked twinkle in his brilliant green eyes. Humming in satisfaction, he finally succeeded in tying the ribbon into a perfect bow.
"There!" He surveyed his work with pride, fluffing the green bow with his fingers. Taking the box in his hand, he rose from the table. "If you will excuse me, Gerard, I must hurry up and leave this gift for La Carlotta. I certainly want her to get it in time for Christmas." He placed his black mask over his white mask, threw his dark cape over his shoulders, slipped the box into his vest, and quietly slipped out. Gerard heard his muffled footsteps die away into the distance as he ascended into the catacombs to make his way up into the Opera house itself.
Gerard smiled to himself. Heaven only knew what could be in that box intended for Carlotta. But if he knew Erik, no doubt the contents were something decidedly unpleasant. Gerard suspected that this would be one Christmas Carlotta would never, ever forget.
##
There was no one in Carlotta's dressing room. The diva had not yet arrived. As always, she would wait until the very last minute before making her grand entrance. The lavishly appointed room was perfectly still.
Silently, a wall panel slid open. Behind it stood the tall masked figure of Erik. He looked guardedly into the room, alert for intruders. Satisfied that he was alone, he stepped noiselessly into the room and over to Carlotta's dressing table. Pausing there for a moment, he drew the box out and gently placed it on the table.
Smiling to himself, Erik withdrew behind the wall panel, which slid silently shut behind him.
##
"Darling, look at this!"
Alain Choletti turned to face his wife. Carlotta, just arrived in her dressing room, had seen the gaily wrapped package on her table. Picking it up, she smiled coyly at her husband. "Did you send this, darling?"
"Moi?" Choletti's eyebrows rose. Indeed, he was mystified. He had not sent the gift. He wondered who had. Some subscriber, perhaps.
"Look!" cried Carlotta in a transport of childish delight. "There is a note here!" She read the small card. "Christmas wishes from a secret admirer."
Choletti playfully wagged a finger at her. "Ah, ha! You have a secret admirer, do you?"
The Opera's star soprano batted her eyelashes. "Oh, but all great singers have secret admirers, darling!" She pretended to pout. "Surely you will let me have mine?"
Choletti beamed at her. "You may have as many as you wish," he assured her, and for several moments they clucked like birds at each other. Finally, he said, "Are you not going to open it?"
"But of course!" And Carlotta eagerly tore the gift open, hurling the ribbon and bright paper to the floor in her haste. Pausing for a moment, she lifted the lid from the box.
'AAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Choletti jumped nearly two feet into the air. "Darling, what is it?" He rushed over to the hysterical Carlotta, who was on top of her dressing table, hair in disarray, pointing to the box and screaming at the top of her prodigious lungs. "In there!" she wailed, indicating the box with a trembling finger. Choletti, half scared out of his wits by this display of semi-madness on his wife's part, peered cautiously into the box.
At first he saw only a dark mass to which a red something was attached. Then, as he best closer for a better look, he saw that the box was occupied by a huge black sewer rat – a live sewer rat.
The rat was fat and in a terrible temper. Its coarse dark fur was smooth and looked like it had been carefully brushed. Around the creature's neck was a dark red velvet ribbon, to which was attached a small silver bell which tinkled merrily whenever the rat moved. As Choletti recoiled in horror, it bared its ragged yellow teeth and hissed at him.
Shivering in revulsion, Choletti knocked the box over, sending the rat plummeting to the floor. Freed from its confinement, the rat scurried across the floor under the chaise lounge, its bell tinkling as it ran. Carlotta, seeing it disappear under the furniture, raised a renewed crescendo of anguished screams. Suddenly, she began to collapse and was caught by her husband. As he lifted her and carried her over to a chair, he saw that another card had fallen from the box. Placing his wife down, the manager bent down and picked the card up. He took one look at it, and his face darkened with fury. For he knew that handwriting.
He read the note: "Accept this Christmas gift, Madame, as a token of my boundless regard for your notable lack of musical talent, your even more notable lack of good taste, and your unmitigated gall in daring to pass yourself off as a singer of opera. Wishing you and yours the best of the holiday season, I remain, Madame, your ever-present admirer, The Phantom of the Opera."
With a muttered curse, Choletti crumpled the note and threw it to the floor This was enough. He would tolerate no more. Ledoux would hear about this as soon as possible.
But that could wait. For right now, he must call the stagehands and have them chase down that blasted rat and kill it.
##
The gala was, happily, a success, even though La Carlotta did not sing. Her understudy, though not extremely talented, had filled in adequately, and everyone more or less agreed that the evening had been a pleasant one, though all were disappointed that they had missed another amusing fiasco from the accident-prone La Carlotta. Backstage, she had been even more missed by the stagehands and costume girls, who had ardently wished to see her special costume which, it was said, looked like a Christmas tree. The woman's taste was so hopeless she had become the laughing stock of Paris, where there was general agreement among the Opera's subscribers that no one in their memory had been more amusing. The stagehands, for their part, had their own tale to tell, of being summoned before the performance to La Carlotta's dressing room by an angry Choletti and ordered to hunt down and kill a rat under Carlotta's chaise lounge. The four young fellows, suppressing their laughter, had done so, and they told all who would listen to them of chasing a black rat with a red velvet bow around its neck. The creature had escaped, unfortunately, leaving the boys to face a hysterical Carlotta and an enraged Choletti.
And the stagehands also related, in whispers, that Choletti had pitched a temper tantrum, had shouted that tbe Phantom of the Opera had done this, that he would go to Inspector Ledoux, that he would have this Phantom arrested. And so it was that another story of the Phantom began to be told in whispers in the halls, boxes, and salons of the Paris Opera.
"You gave her a WHAT?
##
Erik turned to Gerard, an impish smile playing on his lips. "A rat, Gerard," he said mildly. "I thought she would like a pet. Wouldn't you say a rat would be a perfect pet for La Carlotta?"
Gerard Carriere was nearly doubled over with laughter. "Perfect? Erik, you scamp….." He sputtered, unable for a moment to speak. "I ought to throw you into the lagoon!"
"And I would swim right out," Erik replied. "Admit it, Gerard. She deserved it."
Gerard shrugged in defeat. "All right, Erik, you win. I guess she does rather deserve it. I'm sure she is now the laughing stock of the entire company."
"I do pride myself on my sense of humor," mused Erik.
Gerard shook his head. "And I wonder why I let you get away with it. Still, I do. Even though I shouldn't."
Erik glanced at a nearby clock. "It will soon be midnight."
Gerard nodded. "Christmas Day."
Erik gazed fondly at the man who he had known all his life. "Merry Christmas, Gerard."
Gerard affectionately grasped his son's arm. "Merry Christmas, Erik."
"Will we be having our usual Christmas dinner together?" Erik wanted to know.
Gerard nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world." He turned toward the catacombs. "Get some sleep. I'll be back with dinner later in the morning."
Erik nodded. "Of course. I'll be right here." Gerard, starting to walk away, suddenly turned back and handed Erik a small package. "What's this?"
"For you," said Gerard. "Merry Christmas."
Erik hung his head, touched. "Thank you."
Gerard smiled and started to the world above, the world of Paris on Christmas morning. How he wished that Erik could see that world, just once. Perhaps some day…..
Behind him, Erik opened the package Gerard had given him. It was a leather- bound copy of poetry by the English poet William Brake, a favorite of Erik's. Erik ran his hand over the fine binding. How fortunate he was to have a friend like Gerard. Until very recently, Gerard had been the only person he had known, the only contact with humanity he had.
Until recently.
Even Gerard did not know about Christine. She was a little costume girl who worked like a slave for Carlotta. Erik was teaching her. She had a voice like an angel, and soon she would take her place on the stage, and once again the Opera would know beautiful music.
Laying the book down, Erik turned and picked up the perfect white rose. Early in the evening he had ventured out onto the street and obtained it from a flower vendor in the Place de l'Opera. Before he retired for the night, he would silently make his way up into the opera house, through the secret passages, to the door of the little prop room under the back stairs on the ground floor. Christine, with the permission of Jean-Claude, the Opera's doorman, was living there. And there Erik would leave the rose, his Christmas gift to her. So, taking the rose, in his hand, Erik silently left his lair.
##
Erik stood before the prop room door, touching it with a reverent hand. Then, stooping down, he gently kissed the rose and laid it before the door.
Should he leave a message? Erik decided that he should. Removing a card from his vest pocket, he hastily wrote: "Best wishes for a beautiful and happy Christmas, my dear Christine. A friend." Leaving the rose and the note there, he hastily withdrew.
He should have signed it, "Your Maestro." But for some reason he did not want her to know the giver of that rose. His heart's desire was too plainly visible in that perfect flower.
"Merry Christmas with love, my Christine," Erik whispered as he turned to return to his lair far, far below.