Chapter 10: The Secret Room
Rocking his head slowly, Erik heaved a sigh and blinked his eyes open. When he did, he found there was no bright horizon sky, but a dull, white ceiling. The sea! The sunset! It all seemed so real...it was. Mother. He thought of her beauty and their conversation. A tear swelled up in his eyes. How I miss you already.
His thoughts were suddenly distracted when a delicate hand touched his that laid on his chest. Mother! He turned and saw the lovely face of Christine that was smiling at him. He wasn't disappointed but enlightened.
"The doctor was here earlier. He says you will be fine. The infection is gone."
The corner of Erik's mouth slightly twitched into a small smile, I will hear your voice soon, Mother. He stared at Christine for some time, taking in her beauty. Suddenly he moved his uninjured hand up to his face to find that his mask was still hiding his face. He then focused on Christine's face again, her long luxurious curls cascaded lazily down her back, her bright, blue eyes sparkled like two crystal pools in the moonlight. Her smooth cheeks, curved nose, and cupid's bow lips brought back such memories of her and him at the Opera House. He remembered stealing secret glances of her as he gave her lessons.
He sensed Christine grew uncomfortable at the length of his stare, so he took his eyes off her and onto his shoulder. It was neatly bandaged, and his arm was resting safely in a sling. His smile faded fast when he remembered the night before. He turned quickly back to her, his eyes becoming blurry, "Christine. I am so sorry."
"Shhhh..." She placed her fingers over his lips, "You rest. You have been through a lot," she began to stand, but he grabbed her hand.
"No Christine. I have been cruel to you. I do not deserve to even see your face, or...hear your voice," both became silent. Christine hung her head down as she turned from him, "Christine, have you sung at all, since I--left?" He watched her as she shook her head slowly.
Turning back to him, he saw her face glistening with tears, "Please Erik, I do not wish to talk about that."
"Why, what has happened?!" He asked struggling to prop himself up on his elbow.
"No, Erik!" She said firmly.
"How is he..." Gerard entered but stopped as Christine ran passed him, leaving Erik in great concern. "Are you all right?" He asked approaching his son.
"Gerard, what is wrong with Christine's voice?! Why has she not sung?! Please tell me Gerard!"
Gerard sighed as he took Christine's previous position by the bed, "It was a month after you had disappeared. She became very ill. She was confined to her bed. The doctor did not know if she would survive, and he did not know how to treat it because he did not know what was the cause. He concluded that she had received some sort of virus, and treated her as such. After a time, the medicine seemed to be taking affect and she was able to get out of bed. We were so grateful, but when she spoke for the first time, she could not utter a sound. Her throat was very soar and it pained her to speak. Her illness left her and she was all well, except for her voice. It returned to her in time, but the doctor said it was unlikely that she would ever be able to sing again."
Erik's heart was crushed. His angel lost her voice, "and she has not sung since?" He finally asked after a great deal of silence.
"No. Many people tried to get her too. Phillipe even tried but she would not sing for–" he stopped, he could have kicked himself for mentioning Phillipe in front of Erik. His son, though, didn't react the way he thought he would. Instead, Erik bit his lip and said nothing. After a moment, with a great deal of effort, Erik managed to sit up and turn to the side of the bed. His feet touching the floor.
"Well, how is the---how is the Count? Persistant still, I persume. Does he know you have been looking for me?"
"Yes, but he does not know anything more," Gerard stood up when his son did.
"I assume he still wants me dead."
"That I do not know, but it is best that you do not cross paths with him. Phillipe has grown very powerful."
"Well, no matter. He can never have Christine or me without a fight," Erik began to walk no where in perticular.
"Erik," Gerard huffed, then grabbed his arm, "where are you going? The doctor said you need to rest?"
"The doctor does not realize that it is my shoulder that is in pain, not my legs. I can perfectly manuver around and it does not pain my arm." Erik put slight pressure on the bandage to hide the pain.
"Erik, I'm serious you need to rest," he started to pull him back to the bed.
"Please Gerard, if I lie down for one more moment, I will become irritable."
"You already are," they paused at Gerard's last remark, looked at each other, then laughed lightly. "Well, if you're not going to listen to me or the doctor, we might as well get you dressed. I can't have you walking about the house, with no shirt."
Gerard gave Erik one of his white shirts and black slacks. Not able to find shoes the right size, Gerard decided to go out shopping for some after he finished helping Erik look presentable, as much as they could. Gerard led, bare-foot Erik, down a small set of stairs. Half way down the stairs, Erik stopped, blinking violently from the light that burned his eyes. He covered his eyes, "The light is too bright, Gerard!"
Gerard glanced at the large window that was in the living room. The sun lit the whole room and up the stairs. Rushing over, he closed the drapes and rushed back to his son. "I am sorry, Christine must have opened them. Come," he continued leading Erik down the dark stairs. Dark was what Erik had been used to, even at the circus, always in darkness, bereaved of light.
Showing Erik a tour of the lower level of the house, Gerard then led Erik into the small kitchen. "Would you like something to eat, Erik? I do not know how long it is been since you last ate."
"I do not either, but I am fine, Gerard."
"Nonsense. I will not have my -- I will not have you starve. You must eat something to get your strength back." Gerard looked into the stove and saw some food Christine had made and left to keep warm. "Some eggs and ham." He put the plate before Erik, who sat at the small wooden table. "I will get you some coffee." The coffee was still warm and Gerard poured two cups then sat across from Erik.
Erik searched about the room to find Christine but she was no where in sight, "Is Christine still here? I hope I did not frighten her away."
"I am sure you did not." Gerard sat back and watched Erik eat the food before him.
Erik couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. He had forgotten how good plain eggs and ham could taste. He ate it heartly and swallowed the delicious coffee, which tingled his spine with warmth, in one swallow.
"Where is Christine?" Erik asked as he set the cup back down.
"I imagine she went out for a while, with Jean-Claude," Gerard thought it up at the last minute. He hoped Erik didn't suspect that Christine went to see Phillipe. They had plans to see each other that day, and Gerard didn't want his son to know. If Erik did, though, he didn't show any sign. He just judged the quaint kitchen.
"How long have you lived in this place?" He asked, reajusting his arm in his sling.
"A little under two years. I was offered my managing job back, when Alain Cholet left, but since you disappeared I turned down the offer. I was not the one with all the talent."
Erik laughed haughtily as Gerard refilled Erik's cup with steaming coffee. He remembered running the Opera House. "Has anyone found my living quarters?" Gerard refilled his cup, reluctant to answer. "Gerard, has anyone found out that I lived down there?" Erik asked again.
After a long pause he finally answered, "Phillipe. Phillipe did. When Christine came out through the mirror, that night, Phillipe figured out how to get down there the same way. He went through the mirror and found your house--" Gerard stopped.
"Gerard, do not do this to me. Tell me, what did he do?" Erik commanded.
"He um....destroyed your mother's portrait," he was almost afraid to look at Erik, afraid at how his son would act.
Erik's mouth crimped and his eyes narrowed as he breathed rapidly, "I have had just about enough of the Count! So help me, Gerard, I will put an end to him, if it's the last thing I do!!" He banged his fist furiously on the table and stormed out of the kitchen.
"Erik!" Gerard called out, going after him. "Please, do not use killing as an answer," he grabbed Erik's left arm, the uninjured one.
"Do not try to protect him! He's a snivelling, caniving---" He stopped before he said something he might regret, "---Theif!" was the best he could think of at the moment. "He's trying to torment me. Taking away everything that I hold dear. He tried to take Christine away from me, and now he's doing it again! She's out there with him right now, is she not! Him, saying all kinds of rubbish that makes her stay in his arms! Those betraying, infamous arms...yes! I know what he was and still is up to in the Opera House, Gerard. Doing the same thing with every ballet rat, every young actress who happened to fancy his black heart. Then one girl who finally showed kindness to me, had to be swept away by the Count! It is not fair, Gerard, and I intend to do something about it!" Erik paced back and forth like a caged lion in the living room.
"Erik, control yourself. If you kill him Christine will be very upset and then you will loose her forever!"
Erik stopped, "So, I am to loose either way, is that it!"
"No, Christine loves you."
"How can she love this!!!" Erik tore off his mask in a terrible rage and faced Gerard.
Gerard looked at his son's face, remembering how it happened, the drug. The drug his mother bought from that gypsy woman. How he wished he could have found her sooner and stopped her before she took it. As much as he loved Belladova, he cursed her for such a foolish act.
As he tried not to wince at Erik's face, he moved closer to him, "Erik, please, Christine has a special place in her heart for you. You were more than a teacher to her. You gave her her voice, and she is eternally grateful."
"Ah, but now she won't try sing again. She wont let anyone hear that beautiful voice again. What shall I do, Gerard?"
"Tell her how you feel. Give her your heart."
"What if she chooses not to accept it?"
"Then, if you love her that much, the best thing you could do for her is to let her go."
Erik bowed his head turning away from Gerard as he cried from that terrible thought. "My life will be over if Christine does not love me. I am not capable of competing with the Count. He is rich and does not have a face like this. What have I to offer her? A life in hiding." He put back on his mask with some difficulty.
"Erik, I know that is a painful thought, but if you do not tell Christine your feelings, she will never be yours to have," he turned his son around, how he wished he had the courage to tell him he was his father and comfort him like any father would, but he knew he didn't have the courage yet. "I'll go and get you your shoes, Erik. Stay here and do not do anything rash."
Erik sat down on the couch and nodded as he watched Gerard leave. Wishing he could go too. To go outside and walk the streets with no one staring at him or shrinking back at him would fullfil his long desired dream. To have to cold breeze blow freely across his face, to be live in the sunlight, instead of darkness, but he knew that could never be. He was to be forever confined to darkness. Never to leave by day, only at night. Pacing about the room, board with what to do, he sighed and looked about the room. He hadn't really seen what it looked like last night. He was too drowsy to notice anything. It was a nice little room. There was a couch, two large stuffed chairs separated by an endtable, and a candleabera resting on its surface. Pictures hung on the walls he didn't recognize. Pictures of people and a variety of things he had never seen before. He turned around and stopped suddenly at something that caught his eye. Every corner in the room was bright expect for one. One corner that stood in complete darkness. A corner that held a small hidden door.