The next day, Erik dragged himself out of his depressed reverie to inspect the new chorus members as planned. He managed to convince himself that he simply could not allow his pathetic self-pity to interfere with the quality of his opera. Work would come first, and with any luck it would drive the demons out of his brain. Or at least suppress them to the back of it.
He donned his mask and his cloak and made his way across the lake and up into the opera. He found, however, that he couldn't bear to be in his usual box. Not today. He sat in box four instead, and even though the acoustics weren't exactly perfect and the shadows weren't quite as deep, he found those flaws more pleasant than the distracting images that would assault him in box five. He hid himself well within the curtains and felt, if not entirely secure against discovery, at least relatively safe from the casual observer. And so he began to search for the new faces.
There were five new singers in all, three men and two women, though Erik couldn't know their voice parts yet. One of the men seemed a bit old and rather rotund to be singing in a chorus, but Erik supposed it was alright as long as he was musically competent and able to handle the physical exertion. The other two men were both a bit older than Erik, but still of working age, perhaps in their early thirties. Nothing seemed immediately amiss with either of them. One of the women, a tall, blonde lady, was also of their apparent age, and her posture was terrible. Probably because she wanted to make herself seem shorter than she was because society thought it more feminine. Ridiculous on every level, but Erik couldn't begrudge her the attempt. If he could make himself more acceptable by slouching, he would do it in a heartbeat. As long as her posture improved when she sang, Erik decided not to care. The other woman was a short redhead, at least a decade younger than all the other new members, but as long as her immaturity didn't show through in her voice she would be just fine. Having identified all his targets, Erik waited semi-patiently for the rehearsal to begin.
Erik sat through the first two acts of the current production and discovered that the older man and one of the younger two were basses, and that the younger one insisted upon singing from the back of his throat and sounding like a frog. The elder was surprisingly good, though certainly not great. The other man was a tenor and he seemed decent enough. The blonde woman was an alto, and actually had quite a lovely voice when her posture and breathing were kept in check. She could do well with a little instruction. The redhead was a soprano and her voice was clear and even and would blend well with the others though she would never be prima donna material. Altogether, Erik was surprised to find that the managers had done a decent hiring job for once in their shams of musical careers. The only new member who would need heavy correction was the younger bass. Of course it was one the singers Erik had visually assessed as the most fit. Erik smirked at the black humor of the thought.
Given that most of the new singers seemed competent, Erik considered leaving the rehearsal early during the lunch break and returning to work on his own compositions. That was his usual schedule after all, and he'd only planned on altering it today to make sure the new employees were acceptable. He had just begun to exit the box when he heard small sounds of distress, like a child in tears. It was probably Remy, and sure enough when Erik turned his glance back toward the stage he discovered the small boy walking in the auditorium in search of his mother. Erik smiled at what a good boy Remy was to wait until the lunch break.
The majority of the cast ignored the boy's tears, not because they were heartless but because the weeping was such a common occurrence. Boys of five do tend to do that when they aren't socially accepted. Erik would know.
The new men had left with the other male chorus members on their way to some tavern or other for a quick bite and a drink. Erik frowned at the realisation that he would have to stay through at least half of the afternoon rehearsal to make sure they could all manage to be responsible with their midday alcohol consumption.
The two new ladies, however, were still in the auditorium and had not had time to become desensitised to the child. And so they were concerned and asked him what was wrong.
"I'm just looking for my mama," the boy replied, carefully keeping one eye shielded from the ladies so that they would think he was normal. Erik thought it was strong of him to show neither his abnormality nor his heart to these strangers and instead just ask for his mother. The boy was learning that the entire world neither knew nor cared for his personal problems. Erik smiled at the quick progress.
"Who is your mama?" the blonde woman asked in a sincere attempt to help. Unfortunately, Erik knew that Remy's mother had left to purchase fabric for costumes and would not return for at least forty-five minutes.
"I'm sorry I don't know where your mother is. I'm sure she'll come back soon, though. No reason to cry," the blonde said to the boy.
"Would you like one of us to stay with you until she gets back?" the redhead asked kindly. The boy shook his head no but did not turn to leave the women. The two ladies looked at each other in a shared sense of confusion and deliberation.
"I'll stay with him, Elise," the redead said to the blonde. "You go have lunch with the others."
"You're sure, Helene?" the blonde asked. She left when the soprano, Helene apparently, nodded and plastered on a smile.
Helene sat down on the edge of the stage, smoothing her skirts as she did so. She patted the space next to her and smiled at the boy in an invitation for him to sit with her. Remy looked uncertain for a moment, but then sat tentatively, all the while looking at the ground. The woman smiled and held out her hand to the boy.
"I'm Helene" she introduced herself. "I just started work here today, so I don't know many people. What's your name?"
"Remy" the boy replied taking the lady's hand and respectively kissing her knuckle as his mama had taught him. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mademoiselle Helene."
"And I am very pleased to meet you, Remy. Why were you looking for your mama? Is there anything I can help you with? You seemed very sad about something."
"I'm alright, truly." Erik couldn't help but be proud. The boy was so young to keep his emotions to himself like that. He made a mental note to leave an extra special toy for Remy next time.
"Are you sure? You seem like a very strong boy. I bet you don't cry very easily. Something must have hurt you pretty deeply to make you need your mother." The woman was trying to help. She really was, but Erik knew that she couldn't. She really should just let the boy be alone and figure out his problems for himself.
Remy looked carefully at Helene from the corner of his eye and studied her for quite some time before sighing and letting his shoulders droop.
"The others won't let me play with them because I'm a freak." Well, maybe Remy wasn't quite as strong as Erik thought. That soprano had tried her hardest to pry the truth from him, though, so Erik couldn't fault him for it. He was just a boy.
"A freak? What on Earth makes you think that?"
"My eyes are two different colors." Remy turned his head to look Helene in the face for the first time, finally letting her see how strange he was. Erik waited with a grim sense of inevitability for the lady to become uncomfortable and end the conversation, even if only because she couldn't think of anything comforting to say. Erik wouldn't blame her. There wasn't anything suitably comforting to say. Nothing that would be true, anyway.
"Oh, so they are! But that doesn't make you a freak, Remy." ...Or, Erik supposed, she could try and fail miserably instead.
"It doesn't?"
"No, darling! Of course not! In fact, I am a little jealous of you."
"Jealous?" Erik agreed with Remy's assessment. This was just ridiculous.
"Why yes! You see, most people, myself included, only get to have one eye color, but you get to have two. Two is so much less boring than one. Don't you think? And you're lucky that both of your eyes are beautiful colors too."
"Beautiful?" The child was both confused and elated with this assessment he'd never heard before. Erik, however, couldn't decide if this Helene was the kindest woman in the opera or the cruelest. She might temporarily convince little Remy that he was acceptable, even welcome, but what would she do the next time he was barred from happiness for being unconventional? She couldn't always pull this same trick. Either it would stop working or she would run out of sympathy. The child would inevitably be terribly disappointed. For now, though, Erik could only listen to the rest of the present conversation.
"Yes, beautiful. One is a very pleasant sky blue, and you know everyone thinks blue eyes are the best. They're the ones the poets always talk about when they mention their loves' eyes. And the other is green like the trees in summer, and I happen to think green eyes are quite pretty, don't you?" Erik smirked. This, at least, was clever of Helene. The fact was that most of society did not favor green eyes at all, and she knew it. Her own eyes were an emerald color, though, so polite little Remy would never say he disagreed with her.
The boy looked wide-eyed at the woman for a solid twenty seconds, his mouth hanging slightly open, a bit like a fish. "Well, I - Yes. Green eyes are very pretty." He said for lack of a better response.
"Well then you must see how lucky you are to have two such wonderful eyes. When you're grown, I bet you'll be astonishingly handsome." She punctuated this sentence with a quick kiss to the boy's forehead. Erik was, well, touched for lack of a better word. Even if this advice wasn't useful to Remy later, Erik supposed it was good for the boy to have a pleasant memory like this. It might help take some of the sting out of future rejection.
"Do you really think so? Truly?" the boy asked hopefully.
"I do, and if any of the other children disagree with me, then you just tell them what I said. And if they still don't believe you, you can send them to me and I'll tell them myself." Remy threw his arms around the woman's neck in a display of emotion he simply did not have the faculty to hold in. Helene's hands went to gently pat him on the back as she smiled softly.
"Thank you. Thank you, Mademoiselle Helene. Even if it's not real, thank you!" And with that, the boy ran off, leaving Helene to raise an eyebrow at the second half of his exclamation.
Erik watched as the scene came to an end and allowed himself a small smile at the confirmation of at least one of his suspicions. Remy didn't fully believe what Helene had said at all, but he was grateful nonetheless. Erik knew that one kind conversation and one kiss was not enough to wipe out a lifetime of ridicule, even if that lifetime was as short as Remy's. However, perhaps Remy could find some confidence and a sort of friend in this new soprano. Erik made a mental note to watch her more carefully in the future. At the very least, the novelty would be interesting.