Three days later, Christine - now going under the alias Marie Jetyanne, the name that Marc had put on her passport - sat on the bed in her room on the ship from Brest to America, reading Marc's letter for the hundredth time.
It is of the most importance that you DO NOT RETURN TO PARIS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES...
"He sounds as though he thinks something is going to happen to him that will make me want to come back," she sighed, running her hands through her black hair, which was now getting rather long because she hadn't cut it in a while.
"Do that - go to the ship's beauty shop and get your hair cut," she thought to herself. "That will take your mind off of Marc. But you shouldn't be worried about him, anyway... he said that he'd be fine."
She sighed, placed the letter underneath her pillow, and rose, walking out of the room, closing the door behind her, and making her way down the hallway that led to the ship's beauty shop.
"I'm going to a beauty shop," she thought to herself. "How ironic... a freak going to a beauty shop! Ha!"
When she arrived at the beauty shop, she saw about five women getting something done to their hair or nails, and five women waiting on them.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle," one of the women cutting hair greeted her when she noticed her standing in the doorway. "How may we help you today?"
"I'd like a haircut, please," Christine said.
"Very well. Sign in, and I or another one of these ladies will assist you as soon as they can."
Christine nodded and walked into the beauty shop, picking up the pen and starting to sign her name on the piece of paper.
When she placed the pen down, she glanced down at the paper to observe how she wrote her new name in her handwriting, but then saw that, instead of writing Marie Jetyanne, she'd written Christine Vasille.
"Damn it," she muttered, picking up the pen and scribbling through her name. Then she wrote down Marie Jetyanne and continued to stand by the doorway, folding her arms and observing the women who were getting their hair cut or their nails done.
After observing the women who were getting their nails done, she started to like the idea of having something done to her nails. It would be something new... she would look a tiny bit different.
"No," she thought to herself. "Don't do something to your nails. Just get your hair cut."
"Marie Jetyanne?" a voice inquired, interrupting her thoughts.
She looked up and saw a woman with red hair standing there.
"Are you ready?" the woman asked.
Christine nodded. "Yes, please."
"Then follow me."
The woman turned and started walking away, and Christine followed her to a chair, where she sat down.
"Now," the woman continued, walking behind Christine and starting to fiddle with Christine's hair, which she actually hated people doing, "what would you like to do to your hair?"
"I'd like to get it cut, please."
"All right." The woman started placing her fingers on different parts of Christine's hair. "How much? A few inches? A foot, perhaps? I imagine you just want a trim -"
"No, I don't," Christine cut in suddenly. "I want it all cut off."
The woman's jaw dropped. "What? You want to cut all of your hair off?"
"That's what I said," Christine replied, sighing inwardly. She hated it when people didn't just accept answers and instead chose to continue like idiots.
"Mademoiselle, are you sure? Women would kill to have your hair with how thick and dark and long it is! This is a God - sent gift -"
"Well, I don't believe in God," Christine interrupted. "I want my hair cut off, and I meant that when I said it the first time."
The woman sighed resignedly. "How short would you like it cut, mademoiselle?"
Christine considered for a moment. "Chin - length."
"And you're sure?" the woman persisted. "Absolutely certain?"
"Yes," Christine said, clenching her left hand into a fist as she felt herself start to grow impatient. "Chin - length, please."
"Very well, mademoiselle," the woman replied, picking up her scissors, placing Christine's hair at where it would come down to her chin in between her fingers, and starting to cut.
Christine watched with interest in the mirror as the woman continued cutting her hair, watching as thick clumps of her hair fell onto the floor. The woman looked as though she was ready to cry every time some of the hair was cut.
When the deed was finally done, Christine stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, stunned by the fact that she was thinking that she looked... well, good. She was a completely different person!
"Would you like any other drastic damage done to your hair?" the woman sighed. "Perhaps you'd like it dyed?"
Christine shot the woman a glare that made her shrink. "No, thank you. That will be all."
"All right, then," the woman replied timidly. "Have a good day, mademoiselle."
Christine rose from her chair without a word and walked out of the beauty parlor towards her room, running her fingers through her newly - short hair and smiling a little.
Now, with luck, and perhaps a new wardrobe consisting of Sarah's party dresses that she'd packed for some reason, she would never be caught! She was a new person; she was no longer The Phantom of the Opera.
"Everything will be fine," she thought to herself. "I won't get caught, and Marc will be in America soon enough."