Chapter Three

My head buzzed as sissy ran about her dressing room, hurrying from her WC to the full length mirror before the bed and back again. Applying make-up, curling hair, spraying perfume, hanging wonderful jewels around her neck and by her ears. After twenty to thirty minutes of this process of dressing she stopped before her mirror and sighed, ruffling her purple dress. She pretended that she was looking at her dress that Monsieur Persian bought for her.

Pretending.

She wasn't a very good actress at times.

She stared deep and thoughtfully into the mirror, at her eyes. Earlier in the afternoon she confided in me "why didn't they look at me strangely, Madeline?" She asked quietly, pushing some of her golden hair behind her ear and staring over at me, I crossed my legs as the two of us lounged on her bed. Everyone else had gone, readying for the dinner that was so important to everyone.

Why was it so important? It was only a dinner.

I pushed this question to the back of my mind and assured myself that I would wait until afterwards to present the question to sissy, she seemed to distraught now. I shrugged my shoulders "perhaps, in Paris, they're used to people have gems as eyes" I replied and sissy smiled a happy smile, one that unveiled her snowy teeth. She gave a dry chuckle and sighed, pulling me into her arms once again and kissing the top of my head.

"I can always rely on you for comic relief, can't I, princesse?" She asked and I nodded my head to which she laughed. Laughter. Something that I haven't heard from her in a while. Something I died to hear resonate from her astounding vocal chords.

Coming back to the present, I had, unknowingly, risen from my warm spot on her bed and was now beside her, holding her hand. Silently consoling her. It's okay sissy, I'm here, no one will look at you funny, no one, or, I'll kill them. I sware I'll kill them if they hurt you, if they make you cry. Gold does not deserve to melt.

Sissy smiled to me, this time, it was a sad smile. The gold was polished and shiny, and some of the polish threatened to spill over on to her porcelain face. I squeezed her hand tighter and slowly brought it to my unworthy lips, softly planting a kiss on her fragile hand. But I did not let go of her. Instead I led her from the mirror and sat her down at a small desk, facing her towards me, I played with her hair, crimping it and curling it with my fingers.

I brought some of it forwards, onto her shoulders, and banished some of it to lay lazily on her back. The polish was gone from her golden eyes and she smiled at me, it was an understanding smile, as if she knew something about myself that I had not yet found. "You're such a big girl" she whispered as I turned to make sure her ear rings matched the necklace I picked out for her. I stopped and thanked her.

"It's you who've made me one" I replied, and to some extent, I wasn't wrong. Sissy practically raised me, she nourished me with knowledge and, through her own hardships and grievances, she showed me the better way to do things and a better way to look upon the world. I use 'better' in the stead of 'right' because everyone, in their own opinions, feels that their way of glancing around them is the 'right' way. Well, I am here to say that there is no such thing. There is only a 'better' way.

The 'better' way, as I call it, is positive and joyous. Look upon every rainy day, not as gloomy and wet, but take joy in the cold (and sometimes warm) rain, throw your head up to the clouds and catch the fresh, clean water on your tongue, and see the clouds? Observe the colors, there is not just one steady grey in them, but many! Many different shades of greys and whites, both dark and light. It's all a painting, my friend, you may look upon the painting that is the earth as an aficionado or as a connoisseur.

Sissy taught me, through herself and everything she's been through, to be an aficionado of the world. And to stare upon the giant painting with wonder and awe, and to love all the colors that the artist 'Life' paints. Whether they're the darkest, dankest blacks or the happiest, most sunny yellows, the colors are all beautiful, they're so beautiful my eyes hurt and burn when I stare too long. Sissy smiled and pulled my head to her, kissing my forehead with her flower petals of lips, they were so soft and she was so gentle. I wondered what Erik felt when he kissed her in the dining room in Mama V's mammoth of a house.

Did he notice how delicate she was? Did he feel her love for him pulsating throughout her entire body when they connected? The wanting, the yearning for him...could he feel it? Did he feel how feathery her lips were that day? Could he feel her inevitable tears welling up inside her golden eyes as he stepped away?

I would save those questions for later. Later being after the dinner.

Sissy sighed and hesitantly pulled her lips away, giggling as she stared down at me. Her lipstick left a kiss mark in the middle of my forehead! Of course, it had to be pink lipstick. For ten minutes she and I giggled in the WC as she scrubbed my forehead with a wet cloth, until the entire skin on my forehead turned the color of her lipstick. We could no longer discern between lipstick and real, irritated skin.

We both slowly sat down on her bed and waiting for my skin to return to its normal, milky state, when the clock chimed. Time for dinner. She took my head "don't worry, princesse" she said as we walked down the hallway to the Grande Parlor where they set up a giant table that was big enough to fit into a king's dining room. "They don't notice my eyes, or pretend they don't notice, they won't pay a bit of mind to your forehead" sissy concluded cheerily, smiling and giving my hand a squeeze. When we stepped through the threshold into the Grande Parlor, I realized why it was called 'Grande'!

The room itself was probably two of our old home's (the one that was burned) long and two of them wide. In other words, I was stunned. I call the house that burned down 'our house' but, in fact, I hadn't been born yet, but sissy described the ordeal in such detail that I could practically feel the flames licking at my back and hear the screams of the demented people ringing in my ears as sissy whispered. Anyways, getting back to the Grande Parlor, I'm quite positive my eyes were wide and I stared at everything, everything was so shiny! From the chandelier, to the cherry table, to the marble floors, everything was so new, so fresh, so sublime.

I felt sissy smiling at my wonderstruck expression, I turned to her slowly and shook my head happily as I watched the light from the chandelier's bouncing off of her skin and making her glow. Although, I'm altogether sure that not all of the beautiful glowing off of sissy was due to the glorious crystalline structures. She was the hype of that night. The Prima Donna! The Ultimate!

As far as the Managers, everyone else, or I was concerned, she was the most important person there. She was the star of the show, and, rightly so, with the voice of an angel and a description that matched one, she was perfect for a place in the limelight.

She was (and to this day, is) perfect.

Greetings were exchanged, smiles were given, chairs were sat in, the food was brought in, and dirty jokes were swapped from person to person. All was merry. Except sissy. She looked about her, over her shoulders and peeked around her chair in what seemed like paranoia. Her hands rested in her lap, but they fidgeted, relentlessly.

"What is it, sissy?" I asked, expecting an answer, I only got a question thrown back at me.

"Erik? Where is Erik? He promised he would be here...he promised.." Sissy whispered in agitation. I patted her cold hand comfortingly, sissy paused her pattern of peeking behind her shoulders and smiled wearily. "I should probably stop, shouldn't I?"

I nodded and she sighed. "We're here to celebrate you, sissy, your entrance into the Paris Opera! Erik is here, can you not feel him in the air? The density of his presence? He's here, sissy, he's just hiding, like he did when we were at Mama V's home, don't worry, sissy. Erik would never break a promise."

Somehow, in someway, my words calmed her. Drinks were poured and Robinete handed me a glass, half way filled with champagne. "Robinete!" Penny cried, her tone was the mixture of insult, surprise, and horror. "She's only eight!"

"I was four when I had my first sip of champagne. Oh, come on, Penny, it's just a little sip, it won't do a thing to her! She'll only get the taste and bubbles, okay? You have to let her live a little, chérie!" Robinete countered, our section of the table had gone silent and all eyes were upon my sissy, I looked pleadingly up to her, I desperately wanted to try the bubbly substance.

I wondered if it was anything like the crème soda I had at Mama V's house. Sissy sighed and nodded in defeat. "Only a little" She warned, watching me pull the glass to my lips and the clear liquid meet my lips and flow into my mouth. At first it was good and I felt the bubbles pop in my mouth, then, I swallowed a bit of it.

I spit the rest back out, right onto the white tablecloth. Everyone laughed.

Sissy even giggled! Robinete encouraged me to try another sip, uncertainly I lifted the glass back to my lips and took another sip. This sip was better than the last and I got it down my throat, my mouth was warm and the champagne was sweet, the bubbles popped in my throat and my mouth became numb. I can say one thing about champagne.

It doesn't taste like crème soda!

Sissy took the glass from me and set it far away from my grasp, I knew she feared I would become addicted (our father was an alcoholic, though, he never showed it around mum). The dinner continued and everything went smoothly, save, we hadn't seen Erik the entire evening. "He promised" sissy muttered under her breath as desert was finished and the telling of dirty jokes began again. Now, Monsieur Persian's words reverberated in my ears 'you, Mama V, and I must also help her...' I sighed and decided to lie through my teeth.

"He's kept it" I whispered to her, she slowly turned her head with questioning eyes as if to say 'what? You heard that?', I nodded "he's here, sissy, I've seen him, he's watching you, up in the rafters. He's making sure everything is going smoothly." And for a moment, our roles reversed.

"But, why isn't he down here? He can watch me from down here too!" Sissy said pleadingly, I smiled and realized why she was acting like this. She never really had a childhood. She was too busy being beaten and closed up into a room of darkness, her childhood was stolen from her.

Now that she was free of her prison guard and her prison, in times like these, she balanced back on her childish self. The self that was never set free at the appropriate time. The self that was never set free at all. I wondered how Erik would cope with this, I wondered how I coped with this! Perhaps, it's because I understood, and there was no need for discussion for me to instantly realize that Erik understood from the very first time he set his dark eyes upon her slender figure.

"Sissy" I began, placing her hand in my lap "you know he's not very fond of people, and, look around you, there's drunkards everywhere!" I whispered, she laughed and sighed, returning to her normal behavior. She sat back in her chair and tapped her leg. At length she said.

"I'm sorry"

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for." I answered, sipping on grape juice "I understand" I said after a short pause. Sissy smiled over to me and I realized, in that moment, just how much she needed me and I needed her. We couldn't live without the other sister. Dinner ended and sissy was in her dressing room, I had just entered mine when I felt a cold breeze of air and I turned to find none other than Erik standing in the middle of the room.

We stood, staring at each other for a few moments. Wordless he stepped forwards and embraced me in one of the warmest, biggest hugs I've ever received. "Thank you" he whispered into my ear, I smiled and patted his back.

"Just make sure you love her without restraint, she needs it all." I said softly as our hug broke and he stood before me, he nodded and sighed. Wordless he walked to the door and just as he was about to walk out, I called him back, he turned and peeked back at me. "Were you really in there with us?" I asked, wondering if my lies were actually true, Erik smiled.

"Couldn't you feel the density of my presence in the air?" He asked, a slight smirk on his face. I smiled and he closed the door softly. As I laid in my bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I kept thinking about what I said to sissy.

"Erik would never break a promise..."