Chapter Eleven

The final performance of Faust went off without a hitch. As was tradition, there was a week off before initial tryouts and rehearsals for the new production began. This gave the cast and crew some much-needed time to relax after a grueling two and a half months. Some of the performers chose to sing at local cabarets in order to supplement their income while others traveled to one of the beaches in the vast city to spend their time relaxing in the sun. Meg wanted to do the latter, but wouldn't leave Christine, who wanted to stay and work on her audition for the new performance. So Meg and her mother spent time exploring their new home, traveling on the new elevated trains to see as much as they could.

On the days they went exploring, Christine would make her way to the opera house. There was always someone there who would let her in and she would have the auditorium and piano to herself. She practiced for hours each day in order to condition her voice. But she also stayed, hoping he might come to her. It was truly for this reason that Christine turned Meg and Sabine down each time they asked her to come with them. She believed he might come to her as he once did and she so desperately wanted that. But with Monday turning into Tuesday and then Wednesday, by Thursday she had lost hope. When she returned to their shared flat, Sabine decided to take action.

"Enough rehearsals, Christine. Meg and I are going to Coney Island tomorrow morning for the entire weekend. You must come as well."

Christine began to shake her head, but Meg burst in excitedly. "Oh, Christine! Mama has a friend who has invited us to stay at her home. It's right near the ocean! We can go to the beach during the day and walk the boardwalk at night! There's so much to see and do!"

"But I don't-" Christine began, but Sabine put her foot down.

"Christine, as your guardian, I insist. It would not be proper to allow you to stay here unchaperoned nor would I be comfortable with your safety. You have been working so hard. You need a few days to relax." Here, Sabine's firm tone softened a bit. "And if he hasn't come to see you these last several days, he's not likely to come now."

Christine looked sharply at Meg who looked down at her feet.

"Do not blame Meg, Christine. She has been beside herself with worry. I knew he was here. I heard the rumors as well and I was at the party the night he was there." Sabine saw the tears beginning to form in Christine's eyes and she sighed. "Dear, dear child. You must hold on to hope. I've known Erik for many years. I would not say I know him well, but the way he acted in Paris with you and Raoul….I don't believe that was his true nature. He has had so little interaction with people. I blame his behavior on that. He lost control because of his jealousy: because he didn't know how to love you. You cannot blame yourself for acting the way you did. He was terrifying. But now….I can hardly believe the change that has overcome him. It appears America is far kinder than France and it agrees with him. I would never have thought he would appear in public, much less in the company of a woman of society. I would not have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes."

Christine winced and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Meg took her hand in hers, offering comfort.

"Christine. He is here, in America. Not only that, he is in New York City and a patron of the opera. Do you think all of that happened by chance?" Sabine smiled warmly at her "adopted daughter".

Christine frowned and blinked. "What?"

"He did not just 'happen' to come here. He followed you here. He came to the opera because he knew you'd be there. He has come out in public because of you. It doesn't matter who he's seen with; he is doing all of this for you...to show you he has changed. Do you think his affection for you could have changed so quickly?" Sabine asked.

Christine was at a loss for words.

"I think he's waiting for you to act. He tried the first time to pursue you and it didn't work. I think he's leaving it up to you this time. Come with us this weekend and allow the ocean and sun ease your troubled mind and heart."

Christine swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

The day had been spent in the sun on the sandy beach of Coney Island. They went swimming and enjoyed the refreshing water. In the late afternoon, they returned to Sabine's friend's home where they bathed and changed into dresses to go walking along the famous boardwalk. They stopped at the Manhattan Beach Hotel to listen to a band play in the outdoor area, passed by horse racing, and then paid a nickel to ride one of the carousels. Against her will, Christine began to enjoy herself. The musicians made riding the fake horses fun as the lights and colors made her a little dizzy. She had never been on one before. When they got off, Meg decided she was hungry and she pulled Christine towards the food stands.

They sat down on a bench and opened their feast: clams, popcorn, a fizzy drink called Coca-Cola, and a sandwich called a "hot dog". They enjoyed the strange food and played a few games and, as they walked along eating more popcorn, they came across a man dressed oddly in what looked like fox-hunting garb with a tall top hat.

"Ladies! You look like you're enjoying yourselves here! Is this your first time visiting the magical Coney Island?"

Meg giggled. "Yes!"

"Well then! No visit would be complete without seeing our famous freak show! For only ten cents you can feast your eyes on the Bearded Lady, the Snake Man, and the famous Man Monkey! And we have fire eaters and sword swallowers as well! What do you say?" He enticed.

"Christine! Let's go!" Meg said excitedly, digging for her ten cents.

Christine shook her head. "No, Meg. You go ahead. I'll wait here by the pier for you."

Meg pouted. "But why not? Don't you want to see all those odd people?"

Christine shook her head. "No. I wouldn't feel right. Not with-," she trailed off as she saw understanding in Meg's eyes. "But go ahead!"

"Are you sure?" Meg didn't want to desert her friend, but she really wanted to see a man swallow fire.

"Yes. Go!"

As she watched her friend disappear through the gates of the freak show, Christine moved away out of the lights and noise and towards the beginning of the pier where it was quieter and she could hear the ocean surf and feel a cool, salty sea breeze caress her face. She leaned on the railing and watched as the moonlight played over the small waves and allowed herself to relax a little. She felt like she had been wound tight as a spring because she had been trying to put on a good show for Meg's sake. She didn't want to ruin her friend's fun, but she still couldn't stop thinking about Erik.

The music of the surf was comforting and she felt herself vaguely hypnotized by the constant ebb and flow of the waves. She thought of the first time she'd met Raoul on the beach as a child and how happy they had been as friends. Then she thought of their second meeting in Paris at the opera. She had been swept up in the magical romance of it all, but after everything had settled and the date of their wedding drew closer, Christine had realized it wasn't as magical as she had thought.

And that train of thought led her to Erik. She was so angry with herself for being so immature and naive. It was her fault that so much had happened: so much harm caused between them. If she'd harbored any doubts about her feelings, seeing him with that woman….and in public acting as though it were natural for him to socialize at a party….that had cleared all doubts from her mind and heart. And to just have him look at her…. She shivered but found it wasn't from the breeze.

A brief movement at the end of the pier caught her attention and she looked over towards the far end. There was a man standing there, looking out over the ocean. With the moon at this angle and his back towards her, he was nearly a total silhouette. A fish broke the surface of the silvery water and, as he turned to watch it, Christine saw the light of the moon illuminate the white mask he wore.

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest and she felt her stomach contract into a tight and knotted mess. He was there: alone. It was not a coincidence that in all of New York, he happened to be here at Coney Island where she was. She wanted to go to him, to throw herself into his arms, to tell him how foolish she'd been…. But he hadn't wanted to speak to her at the party: had turned away from her.

She wrung her hands, hating herself for not knowing how to act. Before she had formulated any real kind of plan, she found herself walking as quietly as a mouse out onto the pier where he stood. She harbored no illusions that he didn't know she was coming. The closer she got to him, the stronger the indescribable feeling she always had when in his presence became. And she knew he could feel it, too. She got to within ten feet of him when he turned around and met her eyes.

She stopped dead in her tracks, pinned by the intensity of his gaze. She was terrified that he could see her hammering heart through her dress and fought to try and calm it, but his continued stare made it impossible to gather her thoughts much less calm down. She took one, two, three steps closer and came to a trembling halt again. She was close enough to smell the exotic spice of his cologne and she breathed deeply, reveling in the mix of emotions she was feeling instead of cowering from them. It gave her an ounce of courage and, since he hadn't spoken yet, she did.

"You're here." It was simple and an understatement, but she wasn't yet sure what to expect.

He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "An astute observation."

It didn't matter that his tone was sarcastic; the timbre of his baritone rolled over her and she felt a fire begin in her stomach.

"I saw you the other night at the opera. Were you pleased with my performance?" Inwardly, she berated herself. These were not the words she wanted to speak to him now that she had the chance.

He nodded. "You did well."

He wasn't making it easy for her! She needed him to say more so she could try to read him. This was a new Erik, one she didn't know how to approach: not angel, not jealous would-be lover, not teacher. An inner voice told her to tell him about Raoul: about how she'd realized her mistake, about how she wanted to feel the way she did when she was with him and not how she had felt with Raoul. Instead, she blurted out, "Who was the woman you were with?" She immediately winced. It did not go unnoticed.

His eyebrow raised again as he crossed his arms. "Genevieve is the sister of my friend, Sarah." His tone remained cool and his answer short, still giving Christine no opening for more conversation.

"You've made friends here rather quickly," she found herself saying. What was she doing?!

He shrugged but offered no more.

Christine felt her chance slipping away. Before she could formulate anything more, he moved. He pushed himself off the railing he had been leaning against and stepped to her. She went still as a statue, waiting for him to take her in his arms, her pulse sounding loud in her ears. His eyes slipped to her mouth and she parted her lips. Oh, God….would he kiss her? He took another step towards her and she unwittingly closed her eyes and raised her face but then she felt him brush past her and she opened them again in confusion. She turned to watch him leave, walking towards an immobilized Meg at the beginning of the pier. He stopped to nod at her and then disappeared into the crowded night.

Erik was shaking so badly he had to stop once he was out of sight of the two young women. Staying aloof when she finally came to him willingly had taken every ounce of his willpower. The torture of having her so close that he could smell the beach on her was worse than any the Shah had ever concocted. And, as he went to leave, she had parted her lips, raised her head, and closed her eyes, thinking he was approaching for a kiss. He knew that's what she'd expected. He'd wanted so desperately to take those ruby lips with his misshapen ones, but two things had stopped him: Genevieve and Sarah's plans and his lack of experience in the matter.

It had not prevented him from becoming nearly overwhelmed with desire. Even now that he'd removed himself from the situation, he still felt that ache for her that coursed through his body. He'd developed it nearly from the moment he'd heard her sing and it threatened to overwhelm him. He wasn't an idiot; he knew what his body's responses meant. But he had no experience to guide him in any of the physical aspects of love. He'd read extensively about every topic imaginable but had avoided this. Why bother? No woman would willingly submit to a man as deformed as he. At least that was what he'd thought. Now that he was seeing how Christine and, yes, other women were reacting to him, he realized he was at a terrible disadvantage on how to handle any physical aspect. After all, Christine's kisses months ago had so shocked him to his core that he'd been unable to do anything. He'd sent her away because he had been so profoundly moved he'd realized he couldn't give her what she might need.

Now….now he had to understand more than just the mechanics of what happened between a man and a woman. He could not chance that, if Christine willingly came to him, his ineptitude could ruin everything. He could find books; he'd already seen some as he passingly glanced at the subject years before. He certainly couldn't ask Sarah or Genevieve their opinions! No. But perhaps Robert could help him understand.