Chapter XIII: Things Go Wrong
A few weeks have passed since the end of Chapter XII. Of course, time is relative, and for you it may have felt much shorter. You have spent this time eating, breathing and sleeping music, your head filled at all hours with the opera Faust, in which Erik has promised you the lead. If I asked you now to describe any specific event during the past few days, I am sure you couldn't do it (then again, you could argue that's my job, not yours) - everything seems to float together into one blurry cloud of music lessons, singing, listening to Erik's voice, and, occasionally, reading something from his library during those rare occasions when you've had just about all you can take when it comes to French opera.
Today, however, will be different.
"Because you're back from your holidays now, or what, eh, Narrator?" you ask. "You have been very silent as of late."
"Well", I say, "I've been very busy, as a matter of fact. Besides, I thought you were doing very well practicing on your own with Erik. I don't suppose you would have liked me to be there to describe every time you've hit a wrong note during these last few weeks?"
You know I am right. Even though you are now an accomplished singer and could outshine the best of them, the road to success has sometimes been tough. Therefore, we will not speak of the time you nearly threw Marguerite's jewel aria into the fire after having been interrupted by Erik fifteen times only in the first six measures. We will not speak of the occasion when you had to interrupt your rehearsal session because of a severe case of the hiccups and Erik was offended because you let such a mundane thing disturb you, nor will we mention more than very sketchily the night when Erik attempted to wake you up at 3 a.m. and you pretended to stay asleep so you wouldn't have to get up and rehearse. But know that I was there, I saw everything, I just didn't write anything about it because it would make very tedious reading.
"So what's so special about today since you find it's worth writing about?" you ask.
"Go ask Erik and he will tell you", I say enigmatically.
You go into the music room, where Erik is sitting at his organ, playing. He looks up as you enter the room.
"Mademoiselle", he says, "I am glad you are here. Do you know what day it is today?"
"No", you say.
"It is the day before the opening night of Faust. We will have our final lesson now, and tomorrow, you will amaze all of Paris!"
Your heart leaps with joy! Tomorrow, you will become a star - an opera singer. It will be the greatest moment of your life so far.
"Erik, are you sure I'm ready for this?" you say. It is what you've been preparing for and anticipating, but the news is so sudden that you can't help feeling a little nervous.
"Let us see", he says, opening the score and starting to play the ouverture. "Think of this as the dress rehearsal you will never have."
He proceeds to guide you through the entire opera, playing through every scene in order, giving you stage directions which you carry out in the very limited space between the organ and the door. You have everything memorized by heart by now, and are free to give the music and the drama your full attention. Erik sings as well, taking on several other parts and switching between them effortlessly in a way which would be beyond the capability of most singers.
The entire opera takes several hours to run through. After the final chords are played, you are exhausted, as if you had just run a marathon. It takes quite a lot of stamina to make it through a whole opera. You look at Erik and he meets your gaze thoughtfully and without a word.
"Was it not good enough, Erik?" you ask anxiously.
"Yes", he answers, slowly. "It was good enough. It was better than anything you have ever done before. And I strongly suspect it was better than anything that has ever been performed by any of the amateurs on that stage. You are ready, Mademoiselle."
You are ready!
"Thank you, Erik!" you exclaim, full of joy and excitement. "This is all your doing. Thank you, thank you!"
Quite caught up in the moment, you lean towards his thin figure to give him an embrace. Erik, however, reacts by quickly and unexpectedly jerking his head backwards. He is not used to human contact and any sudden display of affection is more likely to frighten him than anything else.
"As well you should know", I add under my breath.
The outcome is the worst possible. While you were bending over Erik, a piece of broken lace from your sleeve has managed to get caught in the edge of his mask, and as he leaps back, before either of you know it, the mask is torn from his face in one rapid movement. For one horrible moment, you are face to face with Erik.
"You idiot, you should have been more careful!" I moan reproachfully. "This is a complete disaster! I can't be held responsible for what happens to you now. I wash my hands of you!"
You don't listen to me, as you are too busy staring at Erik's face. Now you understand exactly why he is hiding underneath the opera house, feared by everyone. It really is that bad. You scream and turn away. There is no need for me to go into any details describing his face to you - that infernal death's head, that crimson mess of rotting flesh and bones, will haunt you in your dreams for the rest of your life. That is, if you ever get out of this alive.
Good luck, you're on your own now!