The first unusual thing I noticed upon waking up was not the lack of sunlight streaming through the windows, the strange feel of the heavy sheets, or even the fact that I was still wearing my costume from last night's performance.
It was the silence.
In my small flat, where I usually wake up, the walls are thin enough to hear the neighbors crying children and the morning bustle from the street. I enjoyed hearing the noise of other people, and it makes my little flat feel less lonely. City noise was comforting to me, and so the lack of it immediately put me on edge. It was this unearthly quiet that first alerted me to the fact that I was not where I was supposed to be, and my haze at first waking up quickly sharpened into terror.
Where was I? I stumbled out of bed and looked around a nicely furnished, if a little out of date, bedroom as the memories from the night before came flooding back to me.
The Voice!
No, not the voice any longer, nor an angel...just a man! Not just any man though, surely. Who was this person, and was I now prisoner in his home? I was so frightened it was hard to piece together the memory of all that had transpired last night. I noticed a door for the first time and marched straight out to confront him, and demand he return me to the opera house!
I grabbed the handle with more force than was probably necessary, pulled open the door, and walked right into...a bathtub.
I cried out more in surprise than pain, although my knee throbbed dully. A washroom? A very nice and well stocked washroom actually, but not quite what I was looking for. I walked back into the bedroom feeling a little silly and went in search of the door leading into the rest of the house.
But my confident attitude was quickly descending into panic when I realized there was no other door. I was trapped! I tried to calm myself down and think more clearly. What kind of room was this, with no windows and no door out?
My eyes fell on a piece of paper on the nightstand I hadn't noticed until now.
It was a note from him! He addressed me as "dearest Christine" and wrote that he was my best and "most respectful friend in the world".
What kind of man pretends to angel, absconds with his student, and then leaves to run errands? I started laughing hysterically at the absurdity of my situation. My nerves were so strained that laughing quickly turned into crying and panic. I ran around the room pounding on the walls and shouting, but no one was there to hear me. I examined the washroom more closely trying to find anything that could be useful.
A pair of scissors would be useful for something, but I decided drastic measures weren't necessary yet.
It was in this state of panic Erik found me. I heard a rap on the other side of the wall and then a door appeared out of nowhere it seemed and in he walked with a stack of parcels, a black mask covering his face entirely. I immediately started screaming abuse at him before realizing he might become angry and unpredictable. He simply looked confused at first and I realized I had been speaking Swedish.
"Christine, he said with slight irritation, "it's already past 2 in the afternoon and you haven't dressed yet. I've prepared us a nice lunch in the dining room. I'll give you half an hour to get ready and join me."
He had the gall to chastise me for not being properly dressed yet! I was too shocked to speak.
Before I could think of anything to say-in French, anyway-he left as quickly as he had come. I deboted with myself what I should do. Stay in the room and refuse to speak to him, perhaps? A possibility, but I wasn't sure yet who I was dealing with. Was this strange man really the same patient and generous angel who I cared so much for these past few months? And I was so certain had cared for me? Or was this perhaps a dangerous lunatic, who could be capable of anything?
I decided my safest course of action would be to play along. For now anyway. And I hated to admit it, but the promise of lunch was a rather enticing one. And he was at least behaving like a gentleman. He had offered me my freedom last night didn't he? But then he sang…..and I stayed. Whoever this person was, he was still the voice. I had to find out more about this mysterious masked man.
I freshened up in the washroom and changed into a simple day dress from one of the boxes Erik had laid on the bed. So that was part of his errands, purchasing clothing. I put that strange piece of information towards the back of my mind for now. Was he intending to be a captor or a suitor?
There was indeed a lovely lunch waiting for us in the dining room, and I sat at the table across from him. As soon as I sat down, I realized I was at a complete loss for what to say, and it appeared Erik was too.
I couldn't help but stare at his mask. I remembered what he told me last night, about how I wouldn't be in any danger, as long as I never touched his mask. But why? Obviously, the ruse of being a supernatural being was over, I could plainly tell he was made of flesh and bone, with or without a mask. Was this someone I knew? A stagehand at the opera perhaps, who fancied himself in love with me but didn't want to show himself? Or perhaps he was a known criminal, and feared me going to the authorities as soon as I figured out a way to be free of him!
"Will you at least tell me why you wear a mask?, I asked cautiously. "You don't have to show me your face, but…are you worried I'm going to describe you to the police? If you truly are a gentleman, that shouldn't concern you!" I tried to keep the fear out of my voice, but wasn't sure if I was entirely successful.
Had I fallen into the hands of a madman?
He stood very still and seemed to consider my request.
"Erik is…very ugly," he said softly. "He does not wish to upset you more than he already has."
Well that wasn't quite what I'd expected to hear. Very ugly? What did that even mean?
I was thrown a bit by his statement but curiosity got the better of me and without thinking I blurted out, "How ugly could you be?"
He stiffened and then turned around to face the fireplace. Well that was obviously the wrong thing to say. Despite the odd circumstances of being a…guest…in his home and the strange affectations of my host, I still felt bad about clearly upsetting the man. Even though he had lied to me about being an angel, he had been a clever and capable music teacher for the last few months. And hadn't I thought myself half in love with his voice only days ago?
Before I could apologize he spoke first, with a voice so quiet it was scarcely above a whisper.
"Oh Christine, you don't know what you ask. I've known nothing but abuse and rejection because of my face. My greatest wish is that you can forget the mask and never learn what is beneath it." He turned around to face me again. "You can forget though, Christine! I do love you so and I promise to be the most kind and gentle and respectful of men. Let Erik show you!"
He looked so unhappy I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "Erik, what exactly do you expect from me? Why have you brought me here?"
"Oh, because I love you!" he declared. "But I promise never to tell you so. And the rest of our time shall be devoted to music."
"And what do you mean by the rest of the time?"
"Five days," he said decisively.
Five days? He was a madman. My first instinct was to be angry with him and demand my freedom. But something stopped me. I thought back to when the Angel of Music had been teaching me. For the first time in so long I hadn't felt lonely and afraid. Hadn't I wished then that the Angel was a real being I could see and speak to like a normal person? Had I really believed it was a supernatural force, or is that just what I wanted to believe.
This eccentric, masked man was still the Voice. Last night I listened to him and chose to stay. I can stay for five more days, and try to understand how this strange man could behave like both a gentleman and a lunatic, and how he had come to be The Voice for me. I decided to agree to this request, and to let him keep the secret of what was beneath his mask for the time being.
I just hoped I wasn't being foolish.