I stood in the centre of Practise Room Five, hands on my hips and an unimpressed look adorning my face. Oh- Erik was in extreme trouble.
"Erik! Get your phantom self in here this second!" I shouted around the room and scanned each of the mirrors for some form of indentation for his pulley system.
I waited a minute or so impatiently. The room was quiet, and I could hear my own breathing echo in the air. My foot rubbed circles in the ground as I continued to wait, and it wasn't too long before one of the mirrors slid quietly open like a tomb revealing its secrets. Erik stood regally, clad in his usual formal attire and his histrionic cape swished behind him.
The only issue was his face. Nothing to do with the mask or his deformity, no. It was his fuming glare piercing into me. His fists clenched tightly at his sides and I wanted nothing more than to mirror his anger- so I clenched mine.
"What do you want?" He seethed with narrowed eyes but managed to keep his voice controlled, "I was composing and would like to get back whilst I still have my muse in my head."
His controlled but clearly visible anger was annoying me more than shouting at me would, though I didn't let it show.
"If it bothers you that much then go and compose, we can speak tomorrow." I bit back harshly and waved a flippant hand.
"No, no, no" Erik gestured sarcastically for me to continue, "You pulled me away already. You might as well get your moan out now." His voice sounded sweetly mocking.
Erik stalked forward with a pointed stare. I did not condone the way he was treating me, not one bit.
"Why did you go behind my back Erik?" I said cautiously.
He gripped my shoulder, his fingers curled around and digging into my back, not painfully, but enough to shock me.
"And why did you go behind mine Clara?" He asked, dangerously low.
I didn't know what he was talking about and his burning eyes staring holes into mine did not help my nerves. I couldn't look at him for fear of dying on the spot. Any words I had prepared fled my desperate brain. The man was seriously angry for some reason.
"What did I do?" I whispered as he was close enough to hear me and I didn't think I could muster anything bigger.
Erik gritted his teeth in an unamused laugh, "The injury to your neck." He prompted me.
My back went rigid and my face took on an imperturbable façade. 'So, it's that argument he wants'. I had been expecting it for days and so had time to prepare my case. In all I felt like a lawyer whenever I practised in one of the mirrors. My voice always became very eloquent and I would articulate perfectly. Except with Erik staring and daring me to whisper, I lost nerve and felt my speech was inadequate.
I appeared as composed as I could, causing Erik to remove his hand from my shoulder. Instead he took to prowling around the room, hands behind his back.
"I do not see why you had to know." I stated nonchalantly.
He stared at the floor whilst he spoke, studying his boots as they silently crept on the wooden boards, "Perhaps because Erik was a child with a deformity being mistreated and wanted to know there was someone like Erik. Do you not think it could have helped?" Erik glanced up at me but his face was an indifferent mask.
"Helped? You mean helped in the sense of giving peace to you whilst also being beaten myself because you lived with a maniac who despised imperfection, saw it as a sign from the devil himself." I bit back at his absurdity. At such a young age I was not going to risk my own health and cause even more casualties.
"It was just safer-" I reasoned.
"SAFER! My mother didn't have to know. Only Erik." He stomped his foot vehemently.
Erik walked up to me and lifted my hanging chin with a gloved finger. "It hurts, Clara, knowing you lied to me. I didn't know I had empathy instead of sympathy- the whole time, someone who could understand, even a little." His voice was a mere whisper, a strong and sturdy one, but still a whisper. Erik couldn't contain his sadness from me for long, never for long.
I took in his sad amber eyes and feeling deep in my stomach wrenched, a cold and prickly feeling- guilt. We were both children and perhaps I should have said something. I should have entrusted my secret to the one person I could rely on.
"I'm sorry I lied Erik, I was just so scared. Constantly seeing what happened to you and fearing that it could happen to me. That woman beat you and I couldn't bear it, I don't want you to be upset." I rubbed my forehead with the palm of my fist, "I should have told you though. I know you would have kept it secret and I-I'm sorry for that reason." My eyes brimmed with tears and I fought to bite them back. My throat felt like a ball was lodged down it and scraping the sides of my trachea.
Then Erik did something which surprised me, both of us, I think. Well, I found it surprising. He hugged me. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his cape. I felt his chin on my shoulder and his body heat radiating off him. He smelt of rose and candles, which is quite an acquired smell. It felt relaxing to have a hug after such a long time. I was never really hugged.
I heard Erik inhale deeply and let go. "I do forgive you Clara, but please don't lie to me again." I nodded slowly, it may be difficult at times, but I would try not to. Erik was such a good friend, it would destroy me to end on terrible terms.
"And I'm sorry for forcing you to go in the orchestra pit. I can undo it if you want." He continued.
I sighed, "As pleasing as that sounds, I guess it's better to try it and hate it than pass up the chance of perhaps loving it. If that makes any sense."
He chuckled a deep, lovely sound and nodded.
As I went to go and sit against the wall, I suddenly remembered the other thing I wanted to tell him. Well, I say wanted, it was more of a need in order to compensate in a way.
"Erik?"
"Yes?" He replied suspiciously.
"You know that music you left me?" I fiddled with my fingers.
"Just spit it out, Clara." Exasperation seeped into his tone.
I coughed nervously, "Yes, well, I had to play it for Meg and Christine and then they kind of asked where I got it from and I panicked and said I kind of maybe, well sort of wrote it myself." I peeped up at him.
Erik didn't look particularly bothered, to my surprise I might add. "It's not like you could have said it was from the Phantom and it's you so it doesn't bother me too much, I understand." He sighed a little, almost defeated.
"Oi!" I realised, "What do you mean by it's you?" I furrowed my brow.
Erik smirked at me but didn't actually answer me.
I couldn't think how awful it must be to compose but never have one's work played by anyone but oneself.
"What were you composing before you came here?" I asked him.
"Two things. I was tweaking a short opera called Ex Flammis Melodiam and I was working on some music for a long opera called Don Juan Triumphant." He flourished his hands proudly at his work.
"And what does Ex Flamees Medlum mean?" I fudged the wording uncertainly.
"Ex Flammis Melodium means Flames of Melody. It is different. There is more acting and less singing, only important songs are sung as to make the audience believe in the characters. I have a beautiful underscore for the acting parts and was just tweaking that a little."
It seemed that Erik had it all sorted out, it was just a shame that it would never get to show on stage. Phantoms did not write operas.
Erik sat next to me on the floor and I rested my head on his shoulder. I felt him relax a little, then tense and mutter 'shut up'. I looked at him quizzically, but he rested his arms on his knees so I could no longer rest on his shoulder.
I have to admit that a little part of me told him to 'clear off' in my head- after all, I had just lost my pillow.
"What's it about?" At this Erik cleared his throat, straightened his poets shirt and I knew I was in for the long haul.
"A businessman loves a lady. Obviously he stands no chance of winning her affections on his own and so he employs a woman into his working business who disguises as a man when working but is a woman when the lady is around. This means he has a labourer and a woman for his plan.
Their plan is to make her jealous as the working man believes the lady does have a liking for him. However, it doesn't work and the lady retreats to a man of her class, believing the working man has a woman."
"Shame." I interrupted sarcastically, I couldn't help myself, it just came out.
Erik hesitated, slowly turning to face me with a pointed look and the silence echoed. Only when I bowed my head in supplication for the story did he continue, unperturbed.
"What does happen though is the man the lady married has fallen for the woman the working man employed to make the lady jealous.
Unfortunately, he can never find this woman as she is always a man whenever the lady is not around. So, the man throws a ball and invites the working man, hoping the woman would be there. He also has his wife there, hoping to make the woman jealous because he believes she has a liking for him, when in actual fact, she doesn't.
The woman has fallen for the businessman and slowly the businessman is falling for the woman he employed also. At the ball, the man the lady married confesses his love to the woman the businessman employed, but she refuses as she is in love with the businessman.
In a rage, the man murders the woman at the ball and leaves for England with the lady. The businessman finds his colleague and love dead, not knowing what has happened and so goes on to kill himself, finding no consolation in life.
There the opera ends."
I stood and stared at him, very confused. He waited for my response with an earnest face.
"I'm not going to lie, you lost me a little…"
"It's meant to be acted, not told." He butted in.
I hummed in agreement, "The ending sounds a little… dismal?"
"It's meant to be. I want the audience to cry." He explained it like it was plainly obvious.
"But do you not want the audience to cry and then leave happy and smiling so they will recommend it." I pressed.
Erik looked dubious, "I want other people to be intrigued as to why people cry when they come out of my show."
I pursed my lips, he wasn't getting it. Different is good, brilliant, excellent even, if done properly, less singing sounded suspicious. People either needed easing into something different or outright strange that they had to label it as spectacular. I knew the Opera Populaire had always done famous operas and if Erik really wanted to show his opera, then he needed to make a good impression for any future operas.
"Do these characters have names or are they just lady, woman, businessman and man?" I changed the subject.
"Not yet, I cannot come up with appropriate names." He seemed dejected at this, so I tried comforting him.
"They say write what you know, don't they? How many actors have you seen come and go through this opera house- tonnes, I bet. You can't tell me there weren't some that fit your characters, not even other characters from other operas?"
I could see him turn the idea over in his head, "I will think about it." He said slowly.
"Right." I clapped my hands together, "Tell me when the next lesson between you and Christine is and I'll try to make it happen."
"Tomorrow at six." He turned abruptly towards the mirror he came from and pressed the dent to open it.
"I do like the idea of your opera, Erik. It's very complicated and weaves in the nature of humankind very well." I called out to him.
It was the truth. If the opera was as I understood it in my head, then ,yes, I did find the appeal in the storyline.
Erik gave me a small smile before he left down the tunnel.
I left Practise Room Five in a better mood than I had entered- evidently. At a loss of what to do, I wandered around the opera house aimlessly.
I heard the faint sound of music and it reminded me of the rehearsals which were going on for Il Muto. So, I made my way towards the main stage seating and sat in one of the plump red seats.
The dancers looked shattered and Christine seemed a little tired as she sat in one of the chairs at the front.
As the music came to an end, Mme Giry released her dancers for the night. I saw one of them plonk on the floor where she stood, sprawling out.
I sauntered over to where Meg was moaning to Christine about the rehearsal, even though Christine was there to see it, I had learned this was typical Meg behaviour.
At my arrival, Meg put her arm around my shoulders and leaned her weight on me, almost toppling me to the ground, but I recovered quickly.
Meg chatted to Christine, going over some steps Mme. Giry had set whilst they had the stage to themselves.
I turned Erik's opera over in my head. It was a good idea and perhaps the Opera House could have used something new, tradition be tossed out.
Epiphany. Cliché, but definitely I had a epiphany moment. It was enough to make me whack my hand on the arm of the chair- not going to lie, it hurt.
New. Together we could make Erik's opera into an innovative show which everyone would love. Less singing and more acting. Mmm… people could have just gone to the theatre for that so the singing would have to really tell a story and not just feelings or lines from the script.
I was sure I could get André and Firmin to agree to put on the opera, after all, only André knew how to write music for his compositions, but after that he was useless.
But, to my best idea- I would get Erik to be in it. Who would know the mask wasn't part of the opera? After people heard Erik sing, they wouldn't care for his deformity. Surely?
I needed diversity. People of all backgrounds in this opera, if we were to make an impression then we would make a huge impression. It was a given that Christine would be in it- please Erik and all. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the businessman and she the woman, if I got that in the right pairing.
Two more people. I would speak with Erik at a later date. Obviously, he would not see the genius behind my idea at first, but that's where my exceptional persuasive skills came into their own.
Erik wouldn't know what hit him.
