II
When Christine finally reached the doorsteps to her appartment, her feet ached incredibly. She had never believed the distance from her appartment to the Opera to be so big, but that day she found herself proven so by her swollen toes that barely allowed her further steps. Fishing for the keys, she sighed loudly. At least this nightmare would come to an end now. She would be at home – and that moment, it didn't matter to her whether that home was new to her or not – and she would take a warm shower, unpack some paper boxes and lay down on her bed. The people Erik had paid to transport her belongings must have been gone for hours now. She would be all by herself.
Au contraire. Christine found her door unclosed. Slowly pushing the door open, she tried hard to control her breathing. Panic rose inside of her. Had somebody broken into her appartment? Would it be better if she called the police instead of going inside? "Hello?" Her voice barely hid how much fear possessed her. But to her big relief, another voice answered, clearly in a good mood. "Ah, Mademoiselle Daae, you have arrived." Christine frowned, wondering where the man had found out about her name. She closed the door behind herself and took a look around. But these weren't her belongings at all!
"He has taken care of more than you thought, huh?", said a man who came out of the kitchen, holding some papers and a pen. "Please sign that you found everything the way it is and I'm gone."
"But – where –"
"Mademoiselle, he ordered it yesterday evening and we could only get ready by now. I hope you don't mind. Please sign here."
Still in complete bewilderment, Christine signed. The man smiled at her once more and left without having indicated more as to what had happened. She turned around in the hall a couple of times, her mouth opened wildly. She had never been to the apartment before, only Erik's description had told her what it would be like. But it was much more than he had said. She gulped. The walls were about four meters high, the floor was made of parquet and stucco graced the ceiling. A small, old looking wooden table, polished, stood in the hall. Placed on it, there were a phone and a vase with red roses. She stepped closer and touched the blooms. They were soft and their scent made her smile. Erik… what have you done? Stumbling backwards, she discovered the rest of the apartment. The kitchen was fully equipped and everything looked new and modern to her. The living room which was rather big was, to her surprise, even more tastefully arranged. The sofa looked antique, too, and there was a big wooden cupboard full with small treasuries – small candles in earthy colours, a casket, a couple of books. A picture that showed Paris in black and white hang on the wall, capturing its atmosphere very well. But before Christine had the time to look around to grasp more details, she rushed out of the room, her eyes widely opened. What had he done? Where were all her things? Her sofa? Her books? Her –
The bedroom, though, was the best room in the appartment. The beauty of it could hardly be described. The bedcovers were white and laced on the corners. She rushed over to the closet, pulling open its doors. What she saw hurt her so much she had to close her eyes for some seconds. He had replaced her wardrobe… nothing was left of her old dresses, her jeans – there they were, the Gucci clothes, Prada, Dior… there they were, her new boots that had cost him 500€. She touched the material of a black skirt. It was smooth… so smooth… Turning away, her eyes caught the dressing table. Her feet carried her over slowly. Make-up, again highly expensive… and to the mirror, there was a note pinned. "To Madame Daae," it said. Madame… Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. They had seen in the mirror that a small casket was placed in the middle of the bed next to a rose. She fell to her knees in front of the bed, hitting the floor. Her fingers were strikingly trembling and they barely reached the casket without pulling back a couple of times. Her heart beat hard against her chest. Eventually, they reached it and pulled it over to Christine. She bit her lip. Having opened the casket, she coughed and began to cry immediately. It was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen.
Yesterday. Yesterday. You ordered all of this yesterday.
What grief! A sharp pain shot through her chest. She believed to feel a fraction of his sorrow. Her tears formed grey blothes on the blanket. She cried silently, for any noise that disturbed the silence would cut her even more. Everything swam in front of her eyes, but she did not want to see, be that as it may. The lake of colours she dived into was blurry and she was willing to let go of any reality now. Why should she subdue her emotions? Senseless. An endeavour that would end without a trophy. Her reluctance to ever stop crying was overwhelming to her, for hadn't she always been jauntily impeccable? Only an hour later she was able to move her aching body. She dragged herself over to the window that faced the Sacré Coeur and laughed loudly. Oh, heart… sacred heart… only just she was able to form a clear thought on her mind. And she knew that was to kill the last bit of positive feelings she had kept in her heart. Being positive seemed insensate to her. She didn't deserve it.
The sky was dark and not much later it began to rain. Big drops pushed themselves on the big window and she lingered on the floor and watched them roll down until they finally reached the end of the window – right on her eyelevel on the floor – and then disappeared into nothing.
She had betrayed amor. She had kicked him with her Gucci shoes. She had flirted with him, oh, how coquettish had she thought herself to be? And how clever? She had deeply hurt amor. And amor laughed into her face by signing a contract with fate. Fate had officially decided to make Christine's heart hurt. And so she did. And so her heart hurt. But had it been only her heart! Christine played with her locks. Amor had never taught her how to love. She did not know any better. Her whole life, things had been this way – with the small difference that now, she had really hurt two people. Both the same way. Amor had never taught her how to say "je t'aime"… and she was very sure of the fact that she would never have the chance to make it better. What a fool she was, hushing back from three simple words! What a halfwit she was for not being able to love! For playing with both of them. She wondered whether it had actually amused her. And even if it were so, she was about to pay for it. But she had enjoyed Raoul's company, just as well as she had had fun with Erik. They had both become part of her life, and when Raoul had practically demanded kisses from her, kisses of hot passion, she had not found any reason not to give in. When Erik had demanded her company, she had found no reason not to give in. Moral was something tricky… now it finally came to her. Had she betrayed both with spending time with the other? She looked around in the beautiful bedroom that she could now call her own. On her neck, there hung the necklace Raoul had given to her for her birthday… it had a heart and was made of silver… why had it never occurred to her that his feelings were different from all of those feelings the other men had felt for her?
Christine only knew one-night-stands. Men coming and going back to from where they had come. She never got close to a man in any other way. She barely knew how to define "love", and so she had played her way through life. She had really thought it was not different with Raoul. But it was. And as to Erik, she had not even thought it could ever go that far. But obviously, her surroundings proved her differently. It had gone that far. And even further. There were two men, one of them willing to marry her, and both their hearts she had broken in a very short time. She had nobody to turn to to let go of her sorrow – and neither did she deserve to. Moral grabbed her and punished her deeply and it was good the way it went. Had it only been her heart to be broken by pain!
Suddenly, the phone rang.
She gulped again. Who could it be? Who was possessing her new number? She frowned and went into the hall, pleading it would not be the only person to naturally have this number.
"Hello?"
"Christine. Finally I have reached you. What happened to your cell phone?" It was Madame Giry. She sighed.
"The battery… listen, Madame. I'll take one day off."
"Oh? What happened?"
"Nothing," Christine lied. "I just need to think."
"Very well then. Only know that we need you here in rehearsal."
"But why? I have quitted dancing. I am an Opera singer now."
"Not anymore!", Madame said angrily, "And let us hope that news will reach you, too. Tomorrow, eight o'clock in the morning. You have been promoted to a Corps de Ballet member. You're not a singer anymore. And I hardly think you can take a day off, since you haven't danced in two months and we'll stage Giselle in just two weeks."
"I believe you are mistaken. I will talk to Erik about this."
"Well," Madame hissed, "do so. It was he himself who ordered this."