13. The Unmasked Stranger

With a solitary hand, Genevieve pryed off the mask

What is she doing?Dear God, how could she ever make love to such a gargoyle as I? Surely she believes to be making love to a demon in Hell. How could she even bare to look upon such a beastly face?

"Shhh," she hushes me. Was I thinking aloud? Oh God, why am I letting her do this?

"Because I want to," Genevieve? Can you hear my thoughts?

"I see it in your eyes," Wow. I think I'll close my eyes.

This must be a dream—nothing such as this could ever occur in my misshapen life… damned to a life of solitude and music—now this? This…this…girl. This alto, making love to me. This can't be true. This cannot be happening.

Oh God…yes this is happening.

"Master of shadows," She calls to me. "Surely, you are real enough…tell me, do you have a name which to be called by?"

"I do," I replied with a light sigh as she continues.

"Do tell it to me,"

"Erik," That is a name I haven't heard myself speak in years.

"Okay, Erik," I never though my name could sound as beautiful and worthy as she makes it sound. Oh say it again.

The Phantom awoke. His eyes opened and everything was blurry. It must have been a dream. He looked down and noticed another smaller body lay beside him, breathing gently beneath a blanket. Her long curling hair was spread about her, laced over her ivory body. He sighed and flopped back down, and shut his eyes once more. A smile danced across his lips as he stretched his arms and body from a long night of sleep and lovemaking. Tiredly, he rubbed his hands over his face, then, stopped abruptly. He shot up immediately, franticly searching for his mask. He had forgotten Genevieve had removed it the night before.

Jumping out of bed with surprise as he heard a sigh and a groan next to him, Genevieve turned over and opened her eyes.

"Looking for this?" She playfully asked, only half awake as she held up the mask as he put on his pants.

"Yes, please give it to me," he stammered as he reached out to her, half dressed in his shirt.

"Why?" she inquired, becoming fully awake and sitting up. "What do you have to hide from me, Erik?

He paused at the ringing of his name throughout the labyrinth. He remained silent as she sat, still as a statue, waiting patiently for his reply.

"I made love to you without your mask on, does that mean anything at all?"

"Yes," he said finally, sitting on the bed, "but I would please like it back, Genevieve…it is who I am…the masked stranger of this opera house. You cannot change who or what I am because of the instances of the night last."

Genevieve, stunned by his comment, and stung by the reality of his words, knowing them to be true, reluctantly handed the mask over to her secret love.

He turned around and placed the familiarity backed onto his face once more. He turned to leave, but Genevieve stopped him.

"Why did you let me make love to you?" She asked abruptly. He slowly turned towards her, not knowing what to say. All this was so new to him. He had never made love before to anyone. He had never had anyone want to make love to him.

"I should be taking you back," he said, avoiding her powerful green eyes staring up at him. As he turned, his eyes began to well up with tears, knowing that he did, but not wanting to love her. He knew that she must love him, but he had always loved Christine. Last night was a freak accident, he forced himself to believe. Yet he knew it to be a complete lie, as his heart shattered with the sound of Genevieve's sobs. He remained with his back to her to prove to himself that he did not love her, that he loved and always would love Christine.

"You still love Christine," she said, choking on her tears, as through she could read his mind.

"Never speak her name in my presence!" He shouted, holding back tears as he stormed out of her sight.

Genevieve forced herself out of the bed. She clothed herself, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

"I was so foolish to think he could love me," she said as she wiped her tears. On a piece of manuscript paper left on the dresser, she wrote the Phantom a note, which expressed to him her utter shame and irrationality of the night before. She folded it neatly and left it on the bed. With a final look around, she disappeared into the darkness, back up to the light and reality of the world above.