CHAPTER 14: Au Revoir, Mon Ami
Erik was none too happy to hear from Christine that she truly needed to speak to Raoul. After all, the young viscount was waiting for her at the house of the Pioches and it was no use delaying the unavoidable conversation. She had a good argument, she thought. Raoul was a good man and her friend, as much as Erik wished to ignore the fact, and he deserved to part from her in friendship. She deserved the same. Finally, Erik agreed to let her see the viscount, with an annoyed growl escaping his throat, his eyes scintillating with distrust. He trusted Christine, but never Raoul de Chagny. He almost lost Christine to that man.
Christine kissed Erik on the lips ever so gently and lovingly, almost making him purr. She was sure she could make him purr if she so wished, but she decided against it, with a mysterious smile spread across her face, confusing her beloved hopelessly. She giggled; then, with a serious pout, she made him promise several times that he would not follow her to the Pioches. And so, she headed towards the cottage of her childhood days, feeling Erik's intense gaze boring into her back. She knew he was watching her from one of the windows of the château. She did not mind his protective and quite possessive care anymore. It made her feel alive. She knew he truly loved her and always would. He would be guiding her and guarding her, and she would be doing the very same thing for him. They were going to have everything they needed – love, music, dreams and peace. Their house was a castle. Their air was music. They had each other and she wished for no more.
Christine came to L'Œillet. She took a deep breath and knocked on the front door. She was warmly welcomed by Geneviève Pioche. She soon found herself answering numerous questions about her improving health. She also reassured Madame Pioche that monsieur Broussard was a paragon of a host. She smiled to herself. She could not wait to see Madame Pioche's face when she told her the truth. But not now, later, after she and Raoul had said a proper farewell to each other. On the way to the parlour, she heard his kind voice explaining to Fabien Pioche about the time he spent in L'Œillet with Gustave Daaè and his beautiful, talented daughter. Christine sighed sadly. Those days were behind them. Her father was long dead and she would have to tell Raoul that she only loved him as a sister loved her brother. Her throat clenched and she swallowed hard, but it had to be done. There was no other way. She loved Erik. She needed Erik. If she would never see Raoul again for her love's sake, she was willing to pay the price.
As she entered the parlour, Raoul sprang to his feet, but did not run to embrace her, as she had expected him to do. He stood there awkwardly, waiting for her to make the first move. She knew he was uncertain. Her heart went out to him, but she knew she was still there to hurt his feelings, for she suspected that he still loved her and she could not love him back. Fabien and the ever-present Rosemonde kindly offered to leave the two old friends to talk in private. Before they left the parlour, Christine noticed that something had changed inside Rosemonde. The red-haired korrigan always seemed to be a daring and mysterious sight to behold. Now, she was simply a woman, her eyes glowing, glowing…because of Raoul! Christine was shocked, but not unpleasantly so. Perhaps, this matter should be considered.
''Christine,'' Raoul spoke and she focused on him anew. She saw expectation in his eyes.
''Oh, dear Raoul, how happy I am to see you! We can embrace each other, can we not?''
Raoul nodded eagerly and hurried to envelop her in a suffocating embrace. He proceeded to kiss her on the lips, but Christine swiftly put a hand between their mouths. She chose to ignore the crushed expression in his eyes and, nervously, asked him to sit down on the sofa before the fireplace.
''Raoul, there is so much I must say to you,'' she began.
He nodded. ''I suppose you do. You left without a proper goodbye and…Christine, please, relieve me of my doubts now, this instant. Are we still engaged to be married or was your request in a letter to Madame Giry true? You do not wish to marry me?''
Christine sighed sadly, feeling completely ashamed. ''I am aware of my indifferent gesture. I should not have asked Madame Giry to speak for me. You did not deserve to be treated thus by me.'' She took a deep breath. ''And yet, I spoke the truth, Raoul. We…are not engaged anymore. I am terribly sorry, Raoul. It breaks my heart to have to tell you that…I do not wish to,'' she bit her lip and finally said, ''become your wife.''
Raoul nodded gravely. ''I hoped against hope…''
A tear slid down her cheek. She could not bear to see him so hurt. ''Truly, Raoul, I am sorry, but I cannot command my heart to feel something it does not feel, cannot feel. But know, my dear friend, that I will forever appreciate all that you have done for me. I will never forget the boy who saved my red scarf from the wild sea. I will never forget the man who offered his friendship, even his love, to a forlorn woman in distress. I shall cherish you, always. And I do love you, Raoul. However, I only love you as my brother. I consider you to be my brother, and my dearest friend.''
Finishing her monologue, she waited for his reply. His face was blank, but his eyes spoke volumes. She felt like a fiend. She only hoped that Erik was with her in spirit, for she needed his comfort. Erik knew hers was not an easy task.
Finally, Raoul spoke. ''What changed, Christine?'' he asked silently.
''I changed, Raoul. I have matured. Oh, no, when I say the words aloud, they seem so wrong…It would be better to say that I found myself. I was lost in Paris. I felt stretched, too stretched, like a meagre amount of marmalade being spread over a large piece of bread. I was afraid of losing myself, of losing everything I wished to have. So I ran away, to the place where I spent my childhood, where I was first sculpted into a person I was bound to become. Here, I found myself. I returned to the innocence I lost on the day my father died.''
She knew it was time to tell the truth. ''He followed me and together, we found ourselves. I helped him, and he helped me. He found his innocence as well. He found his truth.''
Raoul's eyes widened and his mouth twisted. ''Who is he?''
''Erik Broussard.''
''Christine, are you trying to tell me that you fell in love with the owner of the château monsieur Pioche told me about? I know that man saved you from certain death and I am most grateful to him for his heroic act, but you have only known him for a week! Christine, gratitude is not love!''
She shook her head. ''I know that, Raoul. Do not think me so simple and common, for I am not simple and common. The truth is, I have known him for years.''
Raoul's brow collapsed into a frown. ''I do not comprehend the meaning of your words…''
She heaved a deep sigh. ''Raoul, prepare yourself, for I know you well enough to suspect that you will not understand me. You will think me delusional, but I am not. I am completely sane. I have all my wits about me. My mind is not poisoned, and neither is my heart.''
Raoul was impatient. ''For the love of God, tell me!''
''Raoul, you only know Erik Broussard as the Phantom of the Opera.''
Raoul sprang to his feet as fast as a tiger. ''What?'' he exclaimed with a tone of utter indignation and disbelief. ''Please, you must be jesting! The owner of the ch-'' He paused, realisation slowly dawning on him. With contempt, he spoke, ''You love the Opera Ghost?''
Christine nodded solemnly. ''Yes. I have consented to become his wife, Raoul.''
Raoul exploded. ''This is sheer madness, Christine! He followed you and accomplished his goal. He has you enthralled, again. You are not yourself. You cannot love him! He is a criminal! He needs to be brought to justice and let that be the end of his ghostly escapades! You are in danger, Christine! He is a beast. If you become his wife, he will devour you. He will take away your innocence and good heart. He will destroy you. Can you guarantee that he will not hurt you, force you, kill you? He is a monster with no face, a common criminal!''
Suddenly, Raoul jarred his teeth and his hand flew to his burning cheek. Shocked, he looked in the burning eyes of Christine, who had just slapped him as if he were a mere street urchin. He opened his mouth to utter a protest, but she did not let him.
''Was a criminal, Raoul. But never a monster, never a beast,'' she snarled. ''I am sorry that I hit you. It was not an act of a lady and I am ashamed of it, but it had to be done to sober your whirling thoughts. I know that you wish me to be safe and I can understand that you believe your fears are justified. Indeed, they are. Raoul, I know who he is. I also know him far better than anyone else in the world, better than you, sometimes better than he knows himself. He will never change and I would never wish it. But, his ways have changed. For me, he became a better man. He is a criminal no more. He has repented for many of his past sins. The most important thing is that I feel completely safe with him. I love him. He loves me so much that he would die if I left him. This is how I know he will never hurt me.''
''He needs to be brought to justice!'' Raoul insisted.
Christine nodded. ''So be it, Raoul. You know where he lives, you know where to find him. You can summon the gendarmes this very instant if you will. But know this. If Erik goes to the gallows, I follow him. This is not madness speaking, it is I, Christine Daaè. I do not believe in angels and phantoms anymore, I believe in a man. He is my destiny, and I am his. He is the other half of my soul. There is no other way. Have him arrested and I will commit a crime that will bring me back to him. Think what you will Raoul. What will you do now? What will you do?''
Raoul's eyes became wet. He tried to find traces of insanity in Christine, but he found none. He did not understand how that could be true, how such an angelic woman could love such an unworthy man, knowing all his faults and still persisting with her love. His heart was cleft in two halves and he realised that Christine and her fallen friend were bound together by a force no one could break. Raoul knew he could take Christine away by force and hide her from the fiend's far-reaching grasp, yet a voice inside him told him that she would wither away like a flower without water in a matter of days. With regret, he recognised her feelings as genuine. She was not blinded, she was not poisoned. She was in love, perhaps already beyond love, in that realm where one person could not exist without their half anymore. How could it have come to this?
After much deliberation and dramatic silence, Raoul spoke, ''Will I ever see you again, Christine?''
Christine knew what his question meant. She smiled through tears. ''I will look for you, Raoul, whenever I am near your home. I can promise you that.''
''Will he allow it?'' Raoul asked bitterly.
''He will never be pleased when I visit you, but he will allow it. He trusts me. He simply does not trust you. You have that in common.''
Raoul smirked. ''I have only one thing in common with him and that is my love for you. There can only be one victor.''
''Do not say that, Raoul. Our lives were never part of a game and I am no prize. I only hope that, one day, you will forgive me. I exploited your love, I know…''
He took her hands into his and kissed them. ''You promised, my friend,'' he replied. ''It will not be goodbye for us, only au revoir. Until we meet again, Christine?'' His eyes were filled with tears.
She nodded solemnly. ''I will not break my promise. Raoul, I will be happy and safe. Every once in a while, I will write to you, my friend.''
He wanted to ask her so much. When would she marry, where would she live? But he did not. He only asked her one last question.
''And his opera? I am one of the patrons. What should I do?''
''I am glad you asked, for I have one request to make. Please, stage his opera as was planned. I will not sing the part of Aminta, but neither should La Carlotta. Open an audition for the role of Aminta.'' She reached into a hidden pocket of her dress and pulled out a folded note. ''Here are the instructions for the voice that you must find.''
He would have to find a voice that could hold a candle to Christine's. What a task! Raoul nodded. ''I will do it for you, Christine, not for him.''
''I thank you for your kindness. I shall never forget it.''
''Will you be there when the opera premieres?''
She smiled. ''Yes, we are going to be present, in secret.''
''Will I see you then?''
''You might,'' she answered cryptically.
They embraced in silence. Before they parted, she looked over her shoulder and said, ''I know you will find someone who will love you with all of her female heart. Perhaps, she will be a red-haired korrigan with a poetic soul. Her emerald eyes will sparkle in adoration for you, as they already do.''
Raoul frowned in confusion. When the door of the parlour closed behind Christine, leaving a bitter, cold void in his halved heart, his thoughts returned to Christine's last words before she vanished from his sight, back to her fallen angel's arms. The door opened again and in came Rosemonde, a tray with tea and crumpets perched on her ivory palms. For the first time, Raoul took a good look at her and a strange sensation stirred inside his soul. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, the most magical woman he had ever talked to. He was not ready to heal his heart so soon, but he would be ready one day. He smiled and understood.