All will be explained in the next chapter's author's note, including my inexcusably late update… I will also answer all your reviews in the next chapter, which I sincerely hope will be up soon. Let me just give you a hint of what will be there: I'M SO SORRY!…
With this chapter, it is quite vital that you infer… yes, everything here has many meanings… INFER! INFER!
The woman watched him from across the room, taking small steps, as a predator would approach its prey.
"Erik."
He didn't turn fully, but inclined his head in her direction.
"I can help you." She sat daintily beside him on the windowsill.
"You can't." His voice was quiet, lest someone hear them. "I'm in too much trouble with the Council."
"Yes, but I can help you." She insisted.
"You cannot." He said firmly. "They have already condemned me and sent my case to the Head of the Judiciary."
"I know. He will make his ruling Erik, and then you will be killed."
"I do not wish to speak of this with you." He said plainly, standing to leave.
She laid a hand on his arm. "Whom else would you speak with? My brother Nadir?" She sneered. "He cannot help you as I can, Erik."
"I do not request your help nor will I accept it."
"You would rather die?" She demanded.
"Perhaps. I'd rather die and avoid whatever retribution you will require for your help."
She pushed him back into the chair. "Retribution? I wouldn't call it that, my unfortunate friend."
He remained silent and turned his head from her.
"Don't turn away from me! Keep your eyes in my sight; I daresay the rest of you isn't anything to look at. Make me forget that and I may not help you."
"I don't want your help." He said, his eyes blazing. "Don't make me show it to you. I don't make it a habit of hurting women."
"An empty threat! You are going to need my help! I can save your life, Erik." She positioned herself on top of him, grinding her hips into his. "And the price is very small… you may even enjoy it…"
"No, Carla-"
"Shh, Erik, you speak too much." She put her mouth to his ear. "Listen to me closely. I hold an office of great power. I can get you out of here if you agree to the terms of my offer."
"No." He said harshly, hoisting her off of him. "I refuse."
"So then you will die." She said angrily. He gracefully shrugged his shoulders.
"Damn you, hideous man! You'd give up your life! I offer you the chance to start fresh in a new country. You could gain more power there then you did here… you could rule! And yet you refuse! You foolish, imprudent man!"
"Watch your language, Carla." His hands came around her neck. "I will not be mocked by the likes of you. I hold your life in my hands, and I will kill you without a moment's thought."
"You need me to survive. Do not be fooled by my brother, he cannot help you as I can."
"I need NO ONE!" His hands tightened with rage.
"Erik!" She wheezed, "Kill me and you lose all hope."
"It makes no difference to me." His eyes glowed. "In fact, I believe I may obtain a certain amount of pleasure from the act…"
"Don't be so stupid. I'm offering you what will never be offered again! Your life… and passion! No woman will ever again offer you such."
"I do not agree with other people's terms. Especially-" His hands tightened a bit more, "the terms of dirty politicians who deserve to die anyway. So I will allow you to save me. But I will not sleep with you."
Her eyes narrowed. "What I will do for you will break many laws and risk my life as well as the lives of my family! And you will have me do it for nothing?"
"I do not care what you receive from it."
She stared at him for a moment before a small, deadly smile crept upon her lips. "Yes, fine, Erik. Then I will save you. If you will not take me, at least let me reap your other benefits. How terrible could that be for you? At the price of your life? I hear you speak of the kisses you will never receive… I will give you all that you wish for… if not that."
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he watched the conniving woman. He didn't want to… he was repulsed by the thought of it… He pressed his lips together and looked down at her.
She traced her fingers over his lips. Victory was hers, and she was well aware of it. "Come Erik, we will retrieve my useless brother. We have much to discuss."
Regret is one of those emotions that eats at you until you give up. It's like a little voice of guilt that whispers broken promises of yesterday. It was the feeling that enveloped me as I sat at the silent breakfast table that morning.
Meg pushed her food around with her fork, glaring at the eggs as if they had caused the uneasy air in the room. Shadow was unusually quiet, although I had always suspected that he was overly sensitive to human emotions. I sat on the other side of the table, sipping my orange juice as silently as possible, fruitlessly attempting to become invisible. It was unnerving how easily I fell into the roll of The Accused.
For the accusation that morning was soundless yet overwhelmingly clear. I had woken up at sunrise and taken my shower as usual. Meg normally bathed after I did, and on my way out of the bathroom I offered her a smile. Her glare was stony. I met her half an hour later in the kitchen, and saw that she had only cooked breakfast for herself. She sat down with her food without so much as a glance my way.
I found myself arranging sentences in my head, should she break the silence and begin a conversation. Yet Meg was resolute; she did not seem the least bit inclined to acknowledge my existence. I sighed, setting down my glass with more force than was needed
"I'm sorry," I offered, my eyes settling on her form.
She speared a tater tot with her fork and brought it to her mouth.
"I know I've been a terrible roommate these past couple of days," I added, "Everything has been so overwhelming."
"It's not even that, Christine." Meg said harshly. "Last night I lent you my clothes and made you beautiful for Raoul. You didn't even remember to thank me. I tried to do all these little things for you so you could remember that we are best friends, but you don't let me in anymore. I'm your assistant to an architectural project I know nothing about, I'm cooking your meals and taking care of Shadow and taking your calls and helping you with a boyfriend about whom you've told me nothing. You say you have no time to talk to me, and that your schedule is crazy, and yet you still find time to make mysterious stops at the Opera House."
I hiccupped, nearly dropping my fork and pressing a hand to my throat.
"Yes, I know about your trips to the Opera House," Meg continued. "I knew there had to be something keeping you away from me. What is it, Christine? What's going on with you?"
"Meg…" I searched for words. All my previously thought out replies left me. I had not expected this. "Meg… it's so much. It's everything. It's Raoul, who's pushing a relationship I don't even know I want, it's the building, it's Mr. Destler's incredibly mysterious nature, it's-"
"Wait- stop! Christine, slow down. What did you say about Raoul?"
I stared at her, realizing too late my ill-considered words. Everything had simply rushed out… "I didn't mean it that way." I amended. "It's just that… things are happening too fast. I can't even think about what I'm doing. How well do I really know him? How do I know I can trust him, if it's only been a month and he's already trying to tell me he loves me?"
Her eyebrows lifted. "He said he loved you?"
"He tried. I didn't let him. I couldn't let him! Meg- can you understand?" I asked desperately. "I can't hear those words. I can't hear them and know he will one day retract them…. One day when he sees…"
"Oh Chrissie…" Her eyes softened in compassion. "I'm sure he would never do that…"
"Don't ever be so trusting Meg." I warned wearily. "The human race doesn't deserve it."
A pitying smile crossed her face for a moment before she reached over and took my hand in hers. "What else is going on? With work, you mentioned?"
I sighed, using my free hand to push my hair out of my face. "The building is coming along… its not that. It's… Mr. Khan and Mr. Destler. They are so mysterious and confusing sometimes… I feel like I can never keep up. And then… my angel…"
"What?" Meg's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "What do you mean, Angel?"
"Meg," I whispered, "I've been singing again. I have been visited by the Angel of Music."
"… Christine, you're not making sense."
I searched her face, trying to make her understand. "Meg… you know how close my Father and I were. He used to tell me stories of an Angel of Music that would visit me after his death… and I have met that Angel. Truly, Meg, I have. He teaches me, at the Opera House… makes my song take flight…"
"Are you talking about a man?" Meg asked slowly.
Her question seemed so ridiculous. To deem him simply a man? "Of course not Meg. He is so much more. He is an Angel."
"I don't understand Christine." Meg said softly. "And it makes me worried… has someone been taking advantage of you?"
"No!" I nearly laughed. "No, Meg… listen. It's hard for me to explain… perhaps he is only a man to the world. But he is my angel."
Meg sighed. "So this man has been teaching you to sing?"
I nodded.
"I don't get it. You said you would never sing again."
I tugged on one of my curls. "Things changed." I said quietly "He… brought back my music. He knows me… truly knows me Meg. He makes me feel… beautiful."
There was silence for a moment. The statement sounded odd coming from my mouth. It took a lot for someone to make me feel beautiful.
"Christine, who is he? You make it sound like you have… feelings for him."
I nearly choked. "Feelings? For my angel? Meg-"
"Christine, you've got to stop using those metaphors. We're talking about a man." I blinked at her, and she sighed. "It just seems like you feel so close to this man."
"I do. But because he is my guide, and my light." I tried to refrain from calling him an angel. "He is my teacher. I don't… I mean, I couldn't… I couldn't feel that way about him." I dropped my gaze from hers as I stuttered through the answer. The truth was, I could, and I knew I could.
Meg raised one skeptical eyebrow, as if she knew was I was thinking.
"Please believe me Meg." I pleaded softly. Maybe she wouldn't believe me, but I couldn't explain the way I actually felt about him. I just knew that I didn't feel the way she though I did. I sighed. "You're accusing me of cheating on Raoul. You know I wouldn't do that to anyone."
Meg looked away from me. "I don't know anything anymore, Christine." She started to get up, and I nearly leapt across the table, pulling her back down.
"Meg- please! I can't explain everything to you right now… it's all so very confusing. I can only tell you that I'm sorry, and I love you. Please except that for now?"
"I don't know Christine…" She pulled her hand out from under mine. "But I've got to go to work. And you do also…" She sighed once more. "And Raoul wanted you to meet him for lunch."
"Thank you." I said quietly, defeated, as she walked out of the room. I collected both of our breakfast plates and dumped them in the sink, reminding myself to wash them off later. I patted Shadow gently on the head as I passed him and made my way upstairs to my room. I picked up my cell phone and quickly dialed Raoul's number.
"Christine. Its good to see your name." He greeted me warmly, and I smiled.
"Hey. Meg said you wanted to get together for lunch?"
"Yeah." He drew the word out. "There's been a slight change in plans."
"Oh?" I pulled on a gray blazer and hitched a bag over my shoulder.
"Yeah." He said again. "My car broke down."
"Oh." I paused, surprised. "Are you alright?"
"Fine, I'm fine." I could picture him waving it off with a smile. "It wasn't an accident or anything, I just can't get the engine to start."
"Okay." I descended the stairs and walked outside to my own car. "So, what do you want to do?"
"Well, I can get myself there just fine, but you should know where it is because I can't pick you up."
"Alright." I took out a pen and pencil from my bag and copied down the address of the restaurant Raoul had picked up.
"Thanks," I said, putting the pad of paper on my dashboard.
"Right then, so, I'll see you around one?"
"Yes." I turned the key in the ignition and checked my rear- view window.
"Well, it sounds like you're ready to go, so, I'll see you later."
"Alright, bye."
I flipped the cell phone closed and backed out of my driveway. The drive to my office was mundane and somewhat long, and I beat a slow rhythm on the wheel as I waited for a red light to change.
My cell phone jumped and rang again, and I looked over at the view screen. I didn't recognize the number. Frowning, I opened it and pressed it to my ear.
"Hello?" The light changed and I pressed lightly on the gas.
"Christine?"
"Nadir?" I asked, somewhat surprised. He sounded distressed.
"I'm sorry if this will inconvenience you, but Mr. Destler and I have decided to move our meeting to 2:30."
I blinked, turning a sharp corner. "Meeting?"
"Yes, you know, the one scheduled for one o'clock?"
I had completely forgotten. If I had known, I wouldn't have told Raoul I'd meet him at one. But there was no use in conveying to Nadir how unorganized I had become. I muttered an acquiesce.
"Well, it's at 2:30 now. Can you make that?"
"I believe so." I said shortly, pulling into my parking spot in front of the office.
"Good. Great. Thank you, Christine." He again sounded distressed, and a bit rushed.
"Right. Goodbye." I tossed the cell phone into my bag and stepped out of my car. I didn't think much of the time change; I simply figured that Mr. Khan and Mr. Destler found themselves too immersed in the work to meet at one. I was sadly mistaken. When would I learn to put two and two together?
Raoul and I met in front of a small little Italian restaurant. It was small and homely, much like the other restaurants he had brought me to. I studied his profile in the warm sun as we walked up the pathway, and I felt a sudden rush of warm feelings at the familiarity of him. He caught me looking at him and smiled back, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me into him.
"What's going on inside of that pretty little head of yours?" He asked slyly.
"What do you mean?" I suppressed a small giggle.
"Don't try to feign innocence." He joked, poking me in my side. "You had a positively coquettish look about you."
"Did I?" I smiled into his blue eyes.
"Yes." He gave me a small peck on my lips. "And don't go about loosing it either."
"Oh, Raoul…" I faked a sigh and shook my head, but I was laughing, and Raoul and I entered the restaurant in high spirits.
The waiter sat us down almost immediately, and I looked curiously at Raoul after I set my napkin on my lap.
"What?" He asked, a small smile still gracing his lips.
"Maybe it's just me, but it seems like you take to me to the same kind of restaurants each time."
He snorted. "I'm sorry honey, it's just you."
"Raoul!" I hit him on the arm, and he cradled the injured limb protectively. "Seriously, though." I said, "Are you trying to take me to every quaint, unheard of eatery in the town? Is it like some kind of contest?"
Raoul laughed again, but it lacked the earlier mirth. "To tell you the truth, Christine, I do have a reason for bringing you to these out of the way places."
He paused and I raised an eyebrow. "Do proceed, good Monsieur."
"Well… do you remember our first date?"
I blinked. "Yeah. At that Zoe place. Why?"
"You remember that little girl who came up for my autograph?"
"Yeah, sure." I shrugged. "So what, don't you get that all the time?"
He sighed. "I do, and that's the thing. I wanted to go someplace where the press and the overbearing public couldn't stick their noses." He reached across the table to take my hand. "I wanted to be alone with you. I didn't want a million people asking my for my autograph and asking you to comment on that article."
Looking into his eyes, I realized how right he was. In the days and even weeks after the article came out, I had noticed that suppressed whispers and suspicious glances followed me as I did the most mundane things.
"Thank you, Raoul." I said quietly.
"For what?"
I began to feel uncomfortable, and my voice dropped so it was almost inaudible. "For… thinking about me. About us. For… caring."
He squeezed my hand, and I looked back up at him. "Your completely welcome, Christine. You know I would do anything for you." He smiled and patted my hand before picking up the menu.
"What do you think?" He mused. "A tofu sandwich- their vegetarian lunch specialty- or a salad?"
I was silent, simply staring at him. No, I don't know that you would do anything for me. Where had that come from? Was it simply what his male psyche told him a woman likes to hear? I was caught completely off guard by his statement. It made my feel exposed, as if he had flung my insides on the table for inspection. The intimate way we had been joking about suddenly seemed too intimate. I wasn't ready for that kind of connection with someone. An almost claustrophobic feeling set in on me.
I was scared- genuinely scared of the direction things were going. I was scared about being close to him. And it made me feel terrible.
He smiled boyishly at me. "Why the pensive look? I didn't think it was rocket science."
I smiled faintly and picked up my own menu so I wouldn't have to see him in his innocence. I felt like slapping myself for how I was treating him. Hadn't I seen how good we were together? How perfectly we could joke and be with each other? What was I scared of? Raoul was practically offering himself to me on a silver plate. Was it his eagerness that bothered me? His forwardness?
No, I was flattered by his attention. He made me feel normal. And yet…
"Miss, may I take your order?" I blinked up at the waiter, and he smiled at me.
"Oh, uh…"
The waiter smirked, and then went through the list of their lunch specials for that day, including the soup and entrée of the day and his personal suggestion.
"I think I'll just have a salad." I said somewhat sheepishly. "With a… diet coke, please."
"Right, Miss." He wrote my order with a flourish and collected our menus.
Raoul and I looked at each other.
"When do you think your car will be fixed?" I asked.
"By tomorrow, probably." He answered. "They said it was a small problem."
"That's good." We lapsed into silence. I couldn't think of a word to say. My mind was wandering. Today, he had told me he would do anything for me. Yesterday he had thrice tried to tell me that he loved me. It was overwhelming. I didn't think another person could truly feel that way about me, let alone try to convey it to me. I was still healing from my six- year old scars, both mental and physical.
"Actually Christine, there is something I need to talk to you about." He sounded hesitant.
"Oh?"
"Yeah." He paused and I looked at him expectantly. He let out a slow breath. "Well, you wouldn't want to have a redo of that party, would you?"
Surprise overtook me. "What?"
"The party. One of my friends is throwing another party at his estate uptown… I was wondering if you'd like to go with me."
I stared, taking in the way he said 'estate' and not 'house' as if the word wasn't good enough for the upper class.
My voice was low. "After what happened at the last party, you'd still ask me this?"
He shrugged uncomfortably. "I wanted you to go with me, Christine."
"When is it?"
"Two nights."
"I don't know Raoul… is it black tie?" I was shying away from the real question I wanted to ask: Will your mother be there?
"Yeah."
"Does it mean a lot to you?" I asked quietly.
He took my hands in his and held them across the table, looking at me intensely. "Christine, it means a lot to us. It's our chance to put the past away. And… if you don't come with me, my parents are going to make me take Celia."
Celia? Why did that suddenly make me jealous?
"The girl the article said was the favorite for me to wed." Raoul added softly.
Oh. Oh. I looked down at the tabletop to avoid his gaze. I was so disgusted with myself. What gave me the right to feel jealous when he was around other women when I treated him so badly?
In truth I was surprised to feel jealous. I hadn't felt that way before, certainly not when the article had mentioned her…
The waiter set a green filled plate in front of me, and it clicked. This was exactly why I was scared. I was scared of becoming too close to him. I was scared he would leave for another woman. I was scared to fall in love with him… scared to realize I might be too late…
Throughout all the little irritating things he had down, deep down he had been growing on me. I hadn't realized it then, and maybe my real reason for kissing him last night was to stop him from saying the three little words, but I had enjoyed it. I enjoyed his sweetness and his humor… I enjoyed being annoyed with him. I appreciated everything he had done to keep our relationship together, the earnest way he pursued me…
I ate quickly, trying to get the thoughts out of my mind. I didn't love him, that I knew. But I could. Just the way I could love my angel. I fiercely stabbed a tomato with my fork. Why was it all so confusing! I was teetering dangerously on the edge of two cliffs; someone was bound to get hurt.
Raoul said no more about the dance and paid for lunch. After that he took me outside and we walked quietly down the sunny sidewalk.
"Do you mind if we sit?" He asked, "My foot hurts from some training I was doing this morning."
"Sure." We sat and his arm automatically came around my waist. I felt something snap in my mind- I had to stop playing with him! I had to make up my mind. I had to know! Either I would love him or I wouldn't. I curled my arm around his neck and brought his lips down forcefully against mine. He turned in his seat to completely envelope me in his embrace. He pressed me against him, gently rubbing my back. I brought my other hand to his chest, feeling the stiff muscles beneath his shirt. He kissed my neck, and I was concentrating so hard on figuring out how I felt that I didn't know what I was feeling. I pressed my hand to the back of his neck and kissed his lips again, opening my mouth slightly. Raoul tried to take entrance, but immediately pulled back at the sound of loud buzzing. We stared at each other, breathing hard.
"You bag is ringing." He said hoarsely, seeming a bit dazed. He cleared his throat, and I blinked, picking up my bag and rooting out my cell phone. I checked the view screen.
Mr. Destler.
I swallowed, looking up at the sky for a moment. Why must You do this to me? Why?
"I'm sorry Raoul," I softly said, "I have to take this."
He nodded and I turned slightly away from him, opening the cell phone.
"Hello?" I tried to keep my voice from being shaky.
"Miss Daae." His voice was curt and yet unblemished. I closed my eyes.
"Yes?" My voice dropped to a near whisper. I didn't know how much longer I could keep up with this emotional roller coaster.
"Were you planning on showing up to our meeting?" He sounded quietly amused.
I checked my watch and then groaned, putting a hand to my forehead. "I'm sorry. I'll get there as soon as I can."
There was a distinct pause. "Were you indisposed?"
I ran my fingers through my hair. "No, I'm fine. I was… out to lunch. I'll leave immediately."
"Yes." His voice was flat. "See that you do."
He hung up and I stared at the phone for a few seconds before dumping it in my bag.
"Got to go?" Raoul asked.
I turned to him. "Yes, I'm sorry Raoul. I have a meeting at 2:30."
He nodded. "Its okay."
I gave him a small smile, giving him a peck on the lips. "I'll see you later."
"Okay." He gave me a small hug and then waved as I walked to my car.
The trailer stood as it always did, white and somewhat ominous looking, and the grounds looked the same. I often wondered, during the days after I entered the trailer, if anything had changed to alert me to what was going to happen. Were some flowers perhaps lying dead where they used to flourish? Were there storm clouds in the sky? Was there a noticeable chill in the air?
I practically launched myself at the trailer door. I hated when colleagues were late. It slowed things down so terribly.
"I'm sorry I'm late." I said immediately, closing the door behind me. "I wasn't watching the time." I turned to smile at them, and instead found my smile frozen as I stared at my chair. Or rather, who was sitting in my chair.
She was an especially pretty woman, with large black eyes and flowing dark hair. Her skin was tanner than Nadir's and it gave her the kind of sun-kissed look for which people in Carmel spent hours by the sea. Her lips were stained a pretty deep red, and her eyelashes were dark and thick. Her neckline plunged daringly low down her chest, showing the amount of skin that made me burn with jealously at my disfigurement. Her arms were long and slender and she wore a pair of black trousers that fit her perfectly.
I felt sort of like a fish out of water, facing the mermaid.
She smiled widely at me, and I remembered to close my gaping mouth. I glanced quickly at Mr. Khan who looked down.
"I hadn't realized there were other people working on this project." I addressed the woman carefully.
"My dear," the woman began in thickly accented English, "that depends entirely on which project we are discussing."
I blinked and she laughed quietly.
"My, you are a pretty little thing aren't you?" She asked, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Yes, indeed. What is your name?"
I couldn't find it in me to say anything. I felt somewhat dazed, not really comprehending the scene in front of me.
"Perhaps she is shy?" The woman turned towards Nadir. "Brother, who is she?"
Brother? Through my haze, it all fell into place. Carla.
Nadir sighed. "My sister, she is Christine Daae. She is the contractor for this building."
"How delightful!" She turned to me. "Do you enjoy this work Christine- if I may call you Christine?"
I nodded numbly.
"Marvelous." She grinned slyly at Mr. Destler. "Tell me, darling. Do you enjoy her company as well?"
My gaze fell upon Mr. Destler. He was watching me, his eyes glinted in- what? Concern?
"No matter my dear." Carla looked back at me, but this time I detected a particularly dark twinkle in her eyes. "I'm sure he likes you."
She stood, gesturing gracefully to my seat. "You may sit, Christine. I didn't meant to take away time from your meeting."
I didn't say anything, simply followed her hand as if I actually needed her permission to sit at the table. I could feel dislike take roots in my stomach.
I sat, my head falling into my hand. "Where are we?" I asked faintly.
Nadir gave me a sort of sympathetic look and then pulled a sketch of one of the rooms out of his manila folder.
"The workers were having a problem with this-," he pointed to a section of the room, "and they wanted to know if…"
The meeting when on as usual, and we discussed a number of different problems the workers were having with the foundations of the building. Throughout it all, I watched Carla and Mr. Destler out of the corner of my eye. I watched how she sat so close to him, how her silken hair spilled over his hands and on his lap. I watched how she questioned him on all of his sketches, touching his arm and laughing into his eyes. I could feel jealousy and anger flower within me.
No one had the right to my angel.
I ended the meeting tiredly, and Carla smiled at us.
"What an exciting enterprise you run, Christine." She ran her fingers through Mr. Destler's hair and I had to look away. Nadir's gaze met mine and I silently pleaded with him to make it stop.
"Thank you." I said shortly. I began to pack up my things.
"Oh, don't go!" Carla exclaimed. "I'm sure we can find lots to discuss. When did you all meet? Are you good friends?"
"Carla." Mr. Destler spoke. His voice was a warning.
Her eyes narrowed a fraction as she turned to look at him. "Yes, perhaps you'd like to tell us the story?" She lifted her hand to caress his lips. "You and Christine are great friends."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement, a command even. And there was odd emphasis on the word 'friends'.
"Carla." He warned again, his voice low.
"I'm simply stating a fact." Her voice was cold. "You are bound to me. We have an agreement. I trust you won't forget that."
"Carla, sister-" Nadir tried to intercede as I watched with a dumb sort of horror.
"Shut up you fool!" She lapsed into another language, whispering harshly at Mr. Destler. He answered in a monosyllable, and she brought her lips to his in one fluid gesture.
I blinked, and the image wasn't gone. I blinked again, and Carla wrapped her arms around his waist. My world exploded around the seams and I brought my hand to my lips to bite back a sob.
My Angel! How dare she take my Angel! His lips were sacred! They were heaven! They… they were mine!
She pulled away from him and ran her fingers down his face.
"This look is an improvement for you." She said cruelly. "It is certainly easier for me to kiss."
He wasn't looking at her. No, my angel's eyes sought out mine. I couldn't look at him. I was so ashamed… of the brazen way she took him… and so, so jealous.
She kissed him once more.
"Your chains are still mine." She slid her fingers suggestively down his chest and then stood, grabbed her bag and went out the door.
I tried to suppress tears. He was supposed to be my Angel of Music! How could he betray me with such a blatant breach of trust? All those things he said about relationships… about beauty… about yin-yangs! He lied! He wasn't any different from the rest of them! He could fall for a pretty face the same way any other man could. Even if she was vain and vile… she was still beautiful.
I had trusted him to be different. To be able to see beauty in a different way- to see me in a different way. My heart began to hurt.
Nadir picked up his papers and coat and left quietly. I lifted my eyes to see a pair of gold ones staring at me somewhat desperately.
"Christine-"
"I have to go," I said quietly, picking up things.
"Christine, please."
I picked up my coat.
"Forgive me- please, I-"
I turned incredulously toward him. Forgive you? You were supposed to be my Angel of Music. A tear fell down my cheek unheeded and I swallowed a curse.
"Oh, Christine! You know it gives me pain to see you cry."
I was surprised as his tender words but refused to let them win me over. He was tethered to someone else.
"I'm sorry." I said, somewhat stupidly. I did not know why I was apologizing. "I'll see you later."
I made to leave, but his hand fell upon my shoulder.
"Christine."
His voice was different now; a commanding, lilting whisper, and it rendered me senseless. I turned to him, pulled by an invisible rope made with his voice, and his eyes burned into mine.
"Yes, Angel." The words were breathless and flowed out of me as if he had willed them.
He held out his hand and I found myself putting my hand in his, waiting for him to take me wherever he desired. I scarcely breathed for the power he had over me.
He grasped my hand tightly for a second, and then- I felt it! –he released me from his power(1).
"I will see you at our lesson, Christine." And then he put on his hat, nodded to me, and exited the room. I felt like fainting.
When I got home, there wasn't much to comfort me. Raoul had left a message on my cell phone, but I didn't feel like dealing with him at the moment. Meg wasn't home either, she had left a message on the answering machine to tell me that she had been invited to dinner and wouldn't be home until late.
I got myself an apple from the refrigerator and plopped down on the couch. I flipped on the TV and then tucked my knees in under me, watching the soap opera intently.
Meg liked to date around. Her issues with commitment had led to her break up with her three-month boyfriend last year, and she had dabbled in short relationships since then. This current one, if I had been keeping track, had been hanging around for two weeks, and I got the feeling that his days were numbered. I felt bad for her sometimes, especially when she came home from one-night stands in a weeping mess.
Of course, I thought, biting into my apple fiercely, I had no real right to feel bad for anyone, poor soul that I am. I thought so lowly of myself that pity from me was surely a terrible insult.
But Meg was beautiful. She was young and innovative, and she deserved a good, healthy relationship. She deserved a husband. She deserved better than me.
I mentally slapped myself. Come on, Christine, snap out of the doldrums. This is totally unworthy of you. No good ever came out of self-pity.
And yet I enjoyed wallowing in it…
This is ridiculous! Pathetic, weak fool! How dare you allow yourself to slip this low!
I switched the TV off. Standing up, I tossed my apple in the garbage. I faced the door with grim determination. No one could make me feel that hopeless. I grabbed my coat from the floor and got into my car. I was going to the Opera House.
I had made a resolution in the car that I was going to confront him when I saw him. I was not going to let anything dissuade me from getting straight answers. That was the least that I deserved!
I had so blindly followed him for the past weeks; I had stopped searching for the answers that would seem so necessary for a relationship. I didn't know who he was; I didn't know his background, his age… I didn't know how he knew so much about me. It was frightening as I walked up the same wooden staircase I had climbed for weeks. It was frightening and made me feel vulnerable. How I had given myself to this man!
Did I even think of him as an angel anymore? Of course I did; parts of my mind and heart were so rigidly set on his persona as an angel that the altercation with Carla hardly shook them. In my mind he was still my angel of music. I still felt that strange attachment to him, born out of music, memories of my father, and an incomprehensible bond between the two of us. I still believed that he would be there for me when I needed him.
Strange thoughts indeed, for I had been so angry and so hurt just hours before. Now I was simply determined. I faced the wooden door that separated me from him. I was going to get to the bottom of this.
I pushed open the door with unneeded force to see him sitting in front of the piano in an innocent position. I felt like a sheriff in the old western movies, the one who calls, "Put 'em up, stranger!"
He didn't say anything to me and I let out an audible sigh, walking to my side of the piano and taking a sip of the water he had put out for me. I set the glass down harshly. I wanted him to know how I felt.
However, today he either chose to ignore me or wasn't feeling very perceptive, for he simply told me in a quiet voice that we were going over the same material we had learned last time, and that I should adopt the proper singing position.
I refused.
This seemed to surprise him, and he repeated his request in the same gentle voice. I again did not comply. He stared at the piano this time, his head dropping.
"I know I deserve this," he said quietly. "I know I deserve it and I'm so, so sorry."
I felt abashed at his humility, and fell back into my place as his student. Perhaps now was not the time to ask him questions… he began playing and I sang.
As the song proceeded however, my emotions flew from one high to another. I had made a resolution to myself! I couldn't let him get away with it, not this time...
…Except he was so genuinely sorry… Didn't I owe it to my angel to sing for him?
But I didn't owe him anything! He had betrayed me… he wasn't an angel! He was only a man… only a man…
But I did owe him something. He had returned my music to me, even though I had protested. Any title he had I had given him; I had deemed him an angel and he had simply agreed to my desperate request. I had built him up in my mind as a saint, but that was no fault of his, nobody was perfect… hadn't I learned that?
A sob was mounting in my throat as I continued singing. What was the song about, anyway? I had no idea, I wasn't paying any attention. I could have been singing in Swahili for all the difference it made. Surely he would stop me… I needed more passion when I sang…
This final thought brought tears to my eyes and interrupted my song with a gasp for air between my cries. I remembered that music lesson we had had, the passion I had felt for him then… and all the closeness between us that had followed… how could I have forgotten?
"Christine?" He questioned timidly.
"Angel! Oh Angel…" I shook my head and sank to the floor and he made a desperate movement to pick me up, holding my arms at the shoulders.
"Christine, my Christine… please, what is it? What can I do? Christine!" He slid off the piano chair to kneel beside me. "Please, let me make up for what happened. Let me explain! Christine, please don't cry!"
I shook my head again, my sadness overwhelming the brief shame of having broken down before him.
"Angel, why do we do this to each other?"
"What? What, Christine, tell me?" His tone made me cry harder, the harsh reality of our emotions hitting me fully.
"The Music! Angel, Oh! Do we not share the same soul?" He was silent, and I continued. "Why do we continue to maim it with fire? Should we not heal it according to the music of love?" I lifted my head to meet his eyes through my tears. All I could see was blurry gold, and I searched the orbs hysterically. "Should we not? Should we not?" I felt as though I would shake him to get his answer.
"Christine!" He took hold me tightly, stopping my tirade. "My darling," he asked softly, "you speak from your soul?"
"From my heart."
"Yet they are one and the same."
I shook my head.
"No?"
"No." I whispered. "My soul is not my own. Music owns my soul. You own my soul."
"And your heart?" His voice faltered.
"It is my own. Mine to give and to loose… mine to break."
"Don't speak of such things." He admonished softly.
"How should I speak, angel? You betrayed me."
His eyes dropped from mine and his grip on me loosened considerably.
"If I ever forgive myself for that I will surely go to the deepest pits of hell. Christine, if you think I ever meant to hurt you, you are so mistaken…"
"And yet you did."
His head hung low. "I made a foolish mistake. I…"
"Explain it to me angel. I want to understand… why?"
He shook his head. "Too many years to explain, too many things you could not understand."
"Then, Angel…" I looked at him helplessly. "How can I forgive you?"
"I don't know." He admitted. "I only beg for you forgiveness, for your compassion… the very kindness that carried me through years of hardship…"
I narrowed my eyes. " What do you mean?"
A soft smile appeared on his face. "Didn't you say that we shared the same soul? Perhaps you are wiser than you think."
I stared at him. He took my hand and lifted me from the ground.
"Listen, Christine. Maybe this is the only way I can explain myself to you."
He gestured for me to sit beside him on the piano, and he laid his fingers on the keys. He glanced at me sideways.
"Christine, sometimes things can be deceiving. Remember that while you call me the Angel of Music, there remains only one true angel in this room. For you, my Mona Lisa."
He began to play and I recognized the same, flowing music he had played several times before, the one he said he had been composing. I swayed gently to the music to the sweet melody, and then… and then he began to sing.
Mona Lisa, Mona LisaMen have named you.
You're so like the lady with the mystic smile.
Is it only because you're lonely?
They have blamed you…
For that Mona Lisa strangeness in your smile.
Is it possible to melt? Really, physically, melt before someone, instead adopting one single emotion, one impossibly strong feeling that wraps you in its warmth and allows your soul to soar? He wrote this song for me… he wrote it about me… for me… I was past melting. I was realizing I had been past melting for a long time now… he wrote this song for me…
Do you smile to tempt a lover?
Mona Lisa…
My heart jolted, and I felt I would faint if he did not continue.
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?He knew. He knew everything. He knew about Richard, about Raoul… he held me in the embrace of his music, completely and utterly his. No thoughts of anyone else penetrated my mind. Previous ties and feelings were forgotten. It was only him…
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep.
They just lie there, and they die there.
Are you warm, are you real?
Mona Lisa…
Or just a cold and lonely, lovely work of art?
Mona Lisa…
I was his Mona Lisa. I wanted to remain so forever after…
Mona Lisa!The music faded away along with the last syllables of his voice, and we sat there, enveloped in the glory of his song.
"Angel…"
My eyes were so blurry with emotion I didn't realized he had moved until I felt his hands gently wiping the tears from my cheeks.
"Christine… Oh, Christine forgive me… it was all for you…"
I nodded absently, accepting the fact that we were undeniably bound to each other. He was my Angel of Music. I was his Mona Lisa. Together… we were Music.
"So beautiful…" I whispered, indicating towards the piano.
He took my hand gently in his and whispered my name like a ghost on the wind, his voice echoing through my head with its soft timbre and glory.
"It's all for you." He repeated. "It was always for you."
I stared at him, the image of a red rose tied with a black ribbon coming to my mind.
"It was all you… everything…" I whispered. " The rose… everything…it was all you…?"
He nodded. "Only for you."
"Oh Angel…"
He held my hands in his for several more moments and we simply watched each other. Then he touched my cheek gently, and elegantly stood, kissing the top of my hand before letting it go.
"I must take my leave of you, Christine."
I nodded, turning the seat to watch him leave.
"Good night my dear."
"… Good night my angel…" The door closed and I looked back to the piano, sweeping my fingers of the keys. My angel…
I hope you inferred. Like I said, it is quite vital that you infer...
Carla made her official appearance. As well as feelings for certain people... which I leave you to INFER for yourself...
Like I said, all apologizes will be made in length in the next chapter... a very important tunring point in the story.
I APOLOGIZE... I give thanks for all my readers who are still with me... you guys are so faithful!
Lovingly,
IceCliff
1. That part is, of course, taken from the Susan Kay novel, where Erik controls Reza and Nadir with his voice and then Nadir remarks on how he feels the moment Erik released them from his power. That was a more direct taking of an idea from the novel, and I didn't want to get sued.