Much to her frustration, she found that Raoul wasn't quite as understanding as she would have liked. One thing toppled down after another, and it left Raoul confused and a little angry; she was feeling awful for making him feel that way.
"I still don't get it," Raoul said, stabbing at his potato. They had opted for a night in, so Raoul was at perfect liberty to speak loudly and be upset with her. "Let me get this all straight. So you're…taking voice lessons."
Christine nodded, nervously playing with the edge of the tablecloth that was resting on her lap.
"For free."
"Yeah," she said uneasily.
"And this guy is supposedly a really good teacher, but I've never heard of him."
She nodded again.
"And he told you that you can't be out late anymore…because it'll make you tired."
"Yes," she said, taking a few bites of the steamed vegetables.
"What constitutes as 'late?'" he asked.
"Um…" She didn't want to push the issue. The Phantom had been so angry. She knew that if she tried to smudge any lines with him, he would…make her regret it. "Anytime after ten."
Raoul's right eyebrow shot up. "Christine, this…sounds fishy to me. What does this guy do? I mean—what's his name? Why is he teaching you for free if he's such a great teacher? And where does he teach you? You gotta understand that I don't really like what I'm hearing."
"Raoul," she said, trying to be soothing. She reached over and put her hand on his forearm. "It's okay. Really. I was a little hesitant at first, too. I mean…I thought that he was crazy. But he heard me singing in the park with my dad once, and he liked my voice. He says that I have a lot of potential. It's nothing but singing, I promise. He teaches me in a theater downtown in the middle of the day. He's even arranged an audition for me in a few months! You know that I've always wanted to sing. This could be my only chance to try. And if it doesn't work out, then…Well, at least I tried."
He sighed a little through his nose and put his elbow on the table, leaning his chin into his palm. He looked at her closely for a while. She met his gaze, knowing that her face was beginning to turn red. She never reacted well under intense scrutiny, and she was not the best liar.
"All right," he finally said suddenly, putting his hands in the air in surrender. "All right. If you want to take lessons, that's fine. It's not my place to boss you around. I just want you to know that I'm still not one hundred percent okay with this."
"You will be," she said, relief flooding through her. "Everything's fine. You don't need to worry. They're just voice lessons."
"I really hate the thought of your having to go so early," he said. "I mean, sometimes I don't get off work until late—and then you're here, and now you'll have to go so soon. When am I ever going to see you?"
"You'll see me plenty," she said, standing to clear the dinner dishes. "We'll make time. Don't worry."
She leaned down to kiss him, and he smiled a little when she pulled away. There was no way on earth she could tell Raoul that she was taking voice lessons from the Phantom. Raoul didn't even believe the Phantom existed. And if she told him, then her lies would tumble down all around her. Still, she felt guilty for adding another lie to the thick layer between them. She had never wanted to lie to him like this, but...he didn't understand. Raoul seemed to think that Gustave was dead. Christine could not believe that. She would not believe that. And so she would continue doing what she had to do until he was returned to her.
As she was in the kitchen cleaning up, he said, "You're not going to have a lesson on New Years, are you?"
Christine thought a little. "It's on a Sunday this year, isn't it? I don't have lessons on Sundays. So…no." (Christine had begged the Phantom to give her Sundays off. She needed the time to go to church. He had complied, stating that it would also be a chance for her to rest her voice. He had forbidden her to sing in church.)
"Great!" Raoul said. "My friend is having a New Year's Eve party. Come with me!" Christine hesitated, and Raoul saw. He continued, "You owe me, anyway, for not telling me about your lessons sooner. C'mon, Christine. You'll have all of Sunday to catch up on whatever sleep you need. I really want you to come with me. It will be way fun. You need a night out and away from your apartment—and mine."
His wheedling made her feel guilty, and she stared at the dishes in the sink.
"All right," she said. "I'll go."
"Great!" he exclaimed again. "It'll be fun, I promise. Nothing like that awful work party I made you go to—only friends are invited."
"Heh. Yeah." She finished cleaning up, looked at the time, and announced that she would need to head out if she was to make it to her apartment before ten.
"But you just got here," Raoul said, frowning a little. "Stay a little longer, and I'll drive you home."
She protested, and Raoul let out a long sigh and then rumpled his hair in apparent frustration.
"Can I talk to you about something?" he said. "I wanted to wait a few days, but I guess now is as good as ever."
Christine's stomach leapt a little in anxiety, and she nodded before going over to sit by him, pulling her legs up to her chest and putting her chin on her knees, watching him closely. What was he going to say to her? That she wasn't putting in as much of an effort as he was? She knew it was true…He was doing all the work to make the relationship stable. She simply stood there and allowed him to solve all of their problems.
Raoul rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands for a moment before looking back at her. He looked a little tired, and he had stubble around his cheeks and chin. Somehow…he was still incredibly handsome. Christine often wondered why he chose a business career. She legitimately believed that he would have been very successful as some type of model.
"I've been thinking a lot lately," he then said, his voice soft. "It just doesn't make any sense to me why you're still keeping your apartment."
"Because it's my apartment," she responded instantly, stupidly. "It's mine. I need it."
"But for what?" he said. "It's just a burden to you, Christine. You have to pay all of your bills by yourself now. You're alone in that dangerous complex. You're all the way across town from me. I just…Well, I think it would make more sense if you lived here. With me. Permanently."
She suddenly felt trapped, cornered. It would hurt his feelings badly if she rejected him outright.
"I need that apartment!" she said, perhaps a little too loudly. "When my dad comes home, we'll need a place to live!"
He sighed a little and scooted closer to her, putting his warm hands on her arms and speaking slowly and quietly, as if she was a frantic little girl, "I know, Christine. I understand. But if—when he's found, he can come stay here with us until we find him a better apartment to move into. Doesn't that sound a lot better? It just makes more sense in every way. And this way, we can see each other more often. You don't have to travel back and forth on those buses." He looked at her closely, his blue eyes clear and beautiful. When she didn't respond and instead put her face in her knees, he sighed again, and she felt him kiss her curls. "Just think about, okay? The offer is open as long as you want it to be."
She thought about it afterward. Raoul's argument made perfect sense. It really would be better for her in every way to move in with him. Still…that was the inherent problem. She would be moving in with her boyfriend. Christine felt uneasy at the thought. She was only twenty, after all. And if she moved in with Raoul…would he want her to sleep in his bed? She had hated doing so before. She knew what he wanted, and it made her feel guilty that he was holding back out of respect for her wishes—yet she knew that she shouldn't feel that way, but she did. What was he waiting for, exactly? Why didn't he just break up with her if he knew that she was waiting until marriage? Did he want that…marriage? The idea made her feel a little funny.
Christine wished that her father was with her. He would help her sort through it all. Her heart was aching, missing him more fiercely every day. There was a constant, dull feel in the pit of her stomach. Still, the Phantom had promised to find him. He had only been looking around three days. Gustave must have been extremely well-hidden.
And when he was found, their lives would be perfect. Christine would audition at the Opera House under the Phantom's direction. She would earn enough money to sustain herself and her father, and they would be completely happy. There would be no more money worries, nothing to trouble them. Gustave could play his violin for pleasure whenever he wanted. He could come to watch her perform on the stage of the Opera House, and he would bring her bouquets and kiss her forehead and tell her how magnificent she was. She wouldn't have to depend on Raoul anymore. Their relationship would be equal, and she would be able to put in the effort he asked her for because she wouldn't be so worried about bills and her father. It all sounded so perfect and wonderful.
On New Year's Eve, Raoul picked her up and drove downtown to a stylish apartment complex. Christine was already feeling a little tired, especially as she had had a grueling lesson that day.
The Phantom had yelled at her a few times, claiming that she wasn't even trying and that she was wasting his time. He threatened her and told her that she had better make an effort. Christine had cried, controlling her tears as best she could. Then they had stood in silence until she stopped weeping. She was too afraid to ask about Gustave, and when she was dismissed she had literally run out of the theater and into the cold, clear day, trying not to cry anymore.
Thankfully, she had managed to control herself by the time Raoul had picked her up, and now she simply felt tired.
The streets were crowded with cars—perhaps people trying to get to parties, just like they were. A few groups of people were walking down the streets, and Christine leaned her forehead against the window and watched them, wondering what the Phantom was doing right now. Maybe…out killing someone…
She swallowed harshly and quickly looked to Raoul, reaching for him. He held her hand without question, and she was comforted a little. He would protect her. He would care for her. He would.
An uneasiness had settled somewhere in her stomach, and she wondered if it was because of her sleepiness. The last thing she wanted to do was be around people she didn't know. If it had been up to her, she and Raoul would have stayed in for a quiet night. But he wasn't really that type of person. Raoul was sociable and friendly, and he had friends outside of his relationship with her. Sometimes she felt guilty for taking up all of his time. She couldn't remember the last time he had told her he was going out with some of his friends.
Raoul parked the car and led her up a few flights of stairs. The apartment complex smelled like new paint and fresh carpet, and it almost gave her a headache. They stopped at apartment 3A, and they were let in by a pretty girl after Raoul had knocked.
There was a blast of noise—music and laughter, and Christine instantly moved closer to Raoul, holding his hand tightly as they entered into the spacious living area. Dozens of people were about, some talking, some dancing, some helping themselves to the food laid out. Christine automatically felt out of place. She didn't know anyone well except Raoul. She recognized a few of his friends from appearance, but she couldn't recall their names or anything else about them.
A man ran up to them and instantly caught Raoul up in a brotherly embrace, exclaiming that he hadn't seen Raoul around enough and all sorts of other things that made Christine feel even more awkward and guilty.
"Go ahead and enjoy the party—free food and booze, can't beat that!" the man said, grinning down at Christine. Like a child, she wanted to hide behind Raoul and not have to speak to anyone.
"We will," Raoul said, putting his arm around her waist and leading her farther into the chaos. Several people hailed Raoul with greetings, and he was so friendly and charismatic that Christine felt incredibly socially-inept. She was feeling so out of place that she began thinking in Swedish, something she never did around English-speakers. She looked around blankly, noting a couple in the corner necking heavily, and she blushed and averted her gaze. Raoul took her arm and shook her a little.
"Vad säger du?" she said distractedly, unthinkingly, accidentally slipping back into her mother tongue. He looked at her perplexedly, and she fumbled around for English. "Oh—oh. Sorry, Raoul. I mean, what did you say?"
"I said, did you want something to drink?"
"Okay," she replied vacantly, wanting to get away from the people who were all staring at her curiously, like she was some type of strange exhibit. She probably was to them—some stupid little Swedish girl in old clothes, twisting a curl around her finger tightly. She pulled her hand away and fisted it at her side, resisting the urge to play with her hair. The uneasiness had not left the pit of her stomach, and she wished that she was at her apartment in her comfortable, old pajamas, reading a book or listening to the radio—with her father.
Raoul handed her a can of soda, and she took it with a small nod of thanks.
"Thanks again for coming with me, Christine," Raoul said with an affectionate smile. "I know this really isn't your thing, and it means a lot to me that you're here."
"No problem," she replied, hoping that the soda would soothe the churning in her stomach. Raoul took her free hand and pulled her back over to the couch. She sat next to him, avoiding eye contact with the people surrounding them, concentrating intently on her soda so that she wouldn't have to talk to anyone. She half-listened to Raoul happily argue with someone about a sports team. A group of girls were gathered together, speaking shrilly and laughing loudly. She saw one or two of them glance over at her a few times, and she hastily looked down at her lap.
As the night progressed, the uneasiness only grew, and she didn't understand why. She had never felt this way before—she couldn't describe the sensation, even to herself. It was as if it was a warning, an expectation, a paranoia…everything all in one strange and unpleasant sensation. The heat and noise of the party only made it feel worse.
Around eleven, some people began trying to persuade Raoul to join in a drinking game, and he refused them for a while, but eventually their pestering grew so irritating that Christine pushed him encouragingly.
"Go ahead," she said.
He looked at her. "You sure?" he said. "I mean…you can't drink. Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself for a little bit?"
"I'm fine," she said. "I'm not a little kid. Go ahead."
His face broke out into a grin, and he kissed her before standing and joining his hollering, whooping friends. They pulled him off to the other side of the room and handed him some beer. Christine sat by herself on the couch, feeling self-conscious and embarrassed. She traced the tin top of her empty soda can, wondering if she would be brave enough to get up and grab another. Then she realized that she wouldn't be, and she tried to settle herself in for another few hours of discomfort. Raoul was not there to hide behind anymore.
After several minutes alone, a few girls approached her and surrounded her. She felt cornered once again. Her lips twitched, and she tried to smile at them. They were all very pretty and stylish, and she was very aware of her generic jeans and shirt.
"You're Christine, right?" one of the girls asked her. The girl had beautiful blonde hair, trimmed and styled perfectly.
"Yeah," Christine said. "Hi." Then she felt stupid.
"Cool. It's so awesome that you're dating Raoul," the blonde girl said, looking around to the other girls, who all nodded in agreement. "He's a really great guy."
"I know," Christine agreed.
"How's it going with him? Still good?"
"It's fine," she said, trying to be vague. She didn't really want to talk about her relationship with Raoul to complete strangers.
"You really hit the jackpot, sweetie," the blonde girl continued. "I mean he's gorgeous and rich and smart. They don't make them like that anymore. How are you going to peg him?"
"What?" Christine said, confused.
"I mean how are you planning to keep him? I could only keep him interested for like two months."
Christine felt a bunch of air seemingly disappear from her lungs, and she stared at the beautiful blonde girl, feeling horror creep up into her brain.
"You dated Raoul?" she croaked.
The blonde girl laughed a little and flipped her shining hair. "Of course, sweetie. He's a catch. Every girl in this room would die to go out with him."
"Oh." Christine didn't doubt that—of course Raoul was a great guy, and it was natural that other women would be interested in him. She tried not to panic immediately, but thoughts were swarming, clogging up her brain. It was okay that Raoul had dated people before her—that was fine. He was several years older than she was, and so it was only natural that he would have had several previous girlfriends. But why would Raoul want to stay in a relationship with her at all? They had been dating for several months now, yet he had dated the pretty blonde girl for only two months. Christine felt a little choked, and she put a hand on her throat. How would she keep Raoul interested when the most she would allow him were a few heated kisses? She never allowed his hands to wander, never allowed him to take off any clothing…And Christine was pretty sure that the blonde girl had let Raoul do a lot more than just kiss her.
"Hey!" a voice exclaimed. Christine looked up to see Raoul above her, smiling brilliantly, his perfect teeth gleaming, his hair disheveled. "Having fun?" He looked around and exclaimed in surprise when he spotted the blonde girl.
"Emily!" he said. "I didn't know you were going to be here! I thought you were in London."
"Changed my mind at the last minute," the blonde girl—Emily—said, getting to her feet and smiling. She hugged Raoul tightly and pressed a wet, lipstick-smeared kiss to his cheek. "How are you doing? I was just talking to Christine. She's so cute!"
Raoul laughed. "Thanks, Em." He looked to Christine and held out his hand. "I need a favor, Christine, if that's okay."
"Sure," she said, accepting his hand and standing. "What is it?"
"I just need a kiss really quick," he said. "It's part of the game." He glanced over his shoulder, and the guys watching all whooped and whistled at him.
She let him kiss her, and he smelled like alcohol and sweat. She resisted making a face. Then he laughed, kissed her again, and said, "I'm going to come grab you for midnight, okay? Don't disappear on me!"
"Ha," she replied weakly, and he went back over to his group, all of whom were cheering and clapping him on the back. The blonde girl smiled and sat back down. Christine wanted to run and hide in a quiet, peaceful place…like her apartment. Still, she would feel too guilty if she left the party without telling Raoul. He would grow worried and upset, and they had just mended their previous argument about that very problem.
Midnight drew closer, and Christine spent that while listening to all the girls around her gossip. She didn't know who they were talking about—what they were talking about, really, but occasionally someone asked her about Raoul, and she answered as best she could.
The feeling in her stomach was also increasing, nearly driving her to distraction. She could not fight away the feeling—there was something…something…Something she needed to understand. As the party grew louder and the alcohol began to flow a little more freely, Christine tried to distance herself from it all. She wanted to get out and find some peace so she could just think.
Fifteen minutes to midnight, she suddenly jumped up from the couch. It came to her, in a horrid realization. She didn't know how she knew it—but she did. She knew it. There was something calling to her, something stronger than anything before. The revelation was horrid and wonderful, startling and relieving, and she nearly cried.
"What's wrong?" the blonde girl asked, frowning a little.
"Hospital," Christine murmured distractedly.
"What?"
"I need to go to the hospital," Christine repeated clearly. She walked away quickly, ignoring their questions as to whether she felt all right, whether she needed help or an ambulance. She grabbed her coat and quickly, quietly, slipped out of the apartment. She knew it. With each step she took, the sensation was getting stronger and stronger. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind, and she began to run.
Her father had been found.
