Chapter III –
Two weeks later, between seeing Melissa and preparing his house, Erik had forgotten everything about Christine. Never had he dreamed he could be so fickle. But it was not the case, he admonished himself. No, it was not the case! When he looked at Melissa he felt warm and drunk, like drinking the finest of wines. He had almost ruined Christine, for crumbs of her charity. But Melissa... He never asked for anything, she gave so much, and in earnest!
But whenever she asked about him, he dodged. And he knew now almost everything about her.
She was probably waiting for an opportunity to corner him, and dinner today must be it.
Oh, it would be so special. Erik wasn't much of a cook, an ability he could never master, but he would order food from the best chefs in Paris! He would say romantic things! Play and sing for her! What a night it would be!
He had gotten rid of his coffin. And couldn't stand the sight of his Don Juan Triumphant.
That song didn't represent him anymore. He saw the glint in Melissa's eyes whenever she was with him and realized she felt longing to be touched by him. "She was definitely not normal", Erik concluded. Her behavior made him uncomfortable in more than one occasion, but he never said anything.
He didn't understand it.
They were running, hand in hand, laughing, like two crazy lovers to Erik's Lake House. He took her by the passage of Rue Scribe.
"Garnier was certainly a genius to build an Opera House on a lake!", she remarked, staring at the darkness of the water by Erik's porch.
"He certainly got smug about it.", said Erik. "But I told you, I built this place. Come in, meet, I mean, see my home!"
He had never been so nervous on his life, stumbling upon words.
She could understand why he lived under the lake. His life must not have been easy.
But there was something amiss.
There was a woman in the living room.
"Christine!", exclaimed Erik, "Whatever are you doing here? Did something happen?"
She was staring Melissa with blue, glacial eyes.
"Mademoiselle Daae?", inquired Melissa. "I don't believe we have met."
"Anglais? Good, good! I hope, mademoiselle, you know where you are getting yourself into, oui?"
"Excuse me?", Melissa was very confused.
"Can't we 'change' to Français?", asked Christine, frustrated.
"No, we can't! And we're definitely not having this discussion in my living-room! You are leaving, Christine, bye-bye!", vociferated Erik, pushing her down the door.
"Bye-bye? Mais non! He is dangerous! Insane! All right, I go. Ne me touchez pas!", Christine was all class, Melissa was utter confusion and Erik, despair.
And with a vindictive smirk, Christine said, before shutting the door:
"Be careful, Mademoiselle."
Soon, Melissa and Erik found themselves alone in the room.
"Would you like to sit?", he pretended.
"What I would like," she started pacing, "Is to understand what that was about! Dangerous, Erik. Dangerous! She told me to 'be careful'! What did you do to that girl?"
Erik sighed. Melissa was exasperated.
"If you sit, I'll tell you everything."
She collapsed on the sofa.
"I suffered in life many misfortunes. I know it's no excuse!", he said, when he sensed she was about to interrupt, "But then I started commiting murderers and acquiring taste for it. I built a Maze of Mirrors for the Little Sultana, in Persia, so we could have fun killing freely. Then I got bored, I composed, would comission arquitecture jobs..."
He saw a thing he never wanted to see in Melissa's eyes. Horror and disgust.
"Yes, Melissa. My hands know a lot of blood. Innocent blood, guilty blood, you name it. I ran away from home and found some gypsies and they exhibted me as "The Living Corpse". The Owner of the Show tried to abuse of me and then... I accidentally killed him."
"Oh my God, I'm sorry!", said Melissa, showing true kindness and compassion. "But why have you ran away from home? You never talk about your family."
He gave a teary smile.
"Why do you think, Melissa?", he stared at her, very deep, in the face. "Why do you think? My first scrap of clothing was... was a mask!"
He sobbed between his hands.
She held him and kissed his tears from his face.
"You're so good to me. Why?", he asked, even more moved.
"Perhaps some people deserve redemption. Finish the story, Erik."
"Oh, where was I. You know about Opera Populaire. Well, I fell in love with... An ingenue..."
"Don't you fancy yourself a little old to her?"
"It wasn't like that. I just wanted... To be like other people. Have picnics in the park with my living wife. And I would be old to you, too, then."
"I'm older than Christine.", Melissa smiled.
"I don't think your father will agree. But on with the story. I kidnapped her and tormented her after she tore off my mask... I was a demon."
"My, what did you do?!"
"I just gave her a ring, made her my bride and said she wasn't allowed to marry. That at first. I pretended to be an Angel, the Angel of Music, that her father used to say would appear to her someday."
"And how did you know her father said that?"
"Because Christine told me. 'Are you the Angel of Music? My Father said you would come, I was waiting for you.' I said I was."
"Strange, when she came here, she didn't strike me as that gullible...", Melissa's eyes twinkled with mirth. "But you kidnapped her for what? What did you want, or expect?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Erik, you didn't... rape her?"
He was outraged.
"God, no! Never! We would marry! Even if we wouldn't, I would never do that!"
"And then? You would have intercourse?"
Erik flushed tomato red.
"Of course not!", he muttered.
"Then she's better off!", Melissa laid on the sofa.
"So, am I forgiven?", asked Erik, like a child.
"For what? Everyone has a past, Erik. Are you still in love with Christine?"
"No!"
"What is there to eat? You know you eat, I watch... I can't gain weight."
"But Melissa, I... ordered an amazing dinner!"
"You... ordered? You can do everything but you can't cook?"
"I... don't have a kitchen here.", he blushed.
"All right.", she clapped her hands loudly scaring Erik. "Show me the rest of the house. Then you eat and play for me!"
