Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, but The Phil is all mine.
Author's Note: Thank-you to my reviewers and to my wonderful story editors Penmora Zenith, Musicallover, and Archeology101.
Chapter 48
Liar
February 6
Monday
He'd started writing to her last night, but after numerous drafts, had to put it aside when nothing could convey his feelings. He'd fallen asleep at his desk and had woken up in the night, and half-asleep, stumbled to bed.
When he awoke the next morning, he couldn't remember going to bed, but he again took his place at his desk, and as he did first thing on most mornings, he thought about Christine.
What is it that I want this letter to say? It'd be so much easier if I could just forget her…but I can't. What is it about her that I can't let go? Christine's an orphan, a student, certainly not special in any way aside from her voice. She's beautiful and intelligent, certainly, but what can she do, really, besides sing? I've met women of high station and means in many countries, beautiful, accomplished, gentle, and caring. I've been all over this world, lived amongst kings and princes, I've experienced things no one should ever have to, and I've gained more riches than one can imagine. Nothing in this world has been kept from me, but the love of a woman. In all my travels, in all the world, only Christine has ever fulfilled that which I lack…only she…
He'd gone for a drive up north to clear his mind and to hopefully find some inspiration for his letter. His feelings seemed to be a jumble of hopes and dreams, and he had only to unravel what was in his heart and get it on paper in such a way that it didn't sound desperate. He'd driven north to see the redwoods and had gotten out and walked among them. During his walk, he'd come upon a fallen trunk and noticed that although separated from its root, the massive tree still sprouted life which was green and grew upward towards the sunlight. For some reason he was very impressed by this sight and had studied it for several minutes before moving on through the forest. On his drive back to the city, he felt refreshed and renewed, ready to return to the task at hand. He thought again about the fallen tree and its trunk that still carried life, and he returned home by mid-afternoon.
He finally finished the brief letter by early evening and it was now folded and sealed. He would leave it at her door tonight.
11:00 p.m.
It felt strange climbing the stairs to her apartment again. There was a time not long ago when he thought he'd never see the inside of this building again. But now, as he neared her apartment, he felt an unexpected nervousness. She's just on the other side of the door he thought. As he stopped just outside, he could hear the muted sounds of a television. She's still up watching TV.
He removed the envelope from his jacket pocket and very quietly slipped it under the door. That done, he turned and made his way back down the stairs. If she doesn't see it tonight, she'll surely see it in the morning.
Roan was still up watching the news on Christine's couch as she slept peacefully in his lap. They spent a fair amount of time together now, which he enjoyed, and if he wasn't at her apartment, Christine was at his. They didn't always spend the night together for Roan didn't wish to smother her, but he noticed that unlike his other girlfriends, Christine never tried to monopolize his time either. But ironically, he realized that he wouldn't have minded if she did.
It was about 11:00 when he happened to turn his head and catch sight of some movement near the entrance. When he turned around fully to look, he saw an envelope being silently slipped under the door. He gently moved Christine's head off his lap and quickly walked over to look out the peep hole. He didn't see anyone from his vantage point behind the door, so he picked up the envelope to see what it was. It almost looked like an invitation judging by the quality of the stationery, but it was addressed to Christine in flowing script, and when he turned it around, he saw the envelope sealed with an elegant red wax "D." This has to be from Erik Dupont he thought, irritated. He looked back at the couch and saw that Christine was still asleep. He walked quietly to the bathroom and locked the door.
He closed the lid on the commode and made himself comfortable as he opened the envelope as quietly as possible. He thought he noticed a light fragrance as he opened the seal, and so he held the envelope up to his nose. That's a man's cologne. Hmm, it's nice…
He pulled out the matching crème-colored paper that had been folded in thirds and now unfolded it. It was a short letter, but in the same flowing script.
My dearest Christine,
It is a difficult thing to be made to look at one's mistakes, but when doing so can not only make one a better man, but also gain him the world, then such a man would be foolish indeed to not examine himself closely.
Seeing you again the other night was a surprise and unexpected pleasure, and our conversation much too brief, yet your words still ring in my ears. You were right to question my motives, and you are correct in that one cannot love without trust.
I would like very much to speak with you, Christine, face to face, for I believe there has been a gross misunderstanding for which I take full responsibility. Please respond so that we may meet soon and I may correct this terrible wrong.
Erik
Roan looked over the page after he'd read it, noting the beautiful hand, the words, the meaning. He was angry. It was obvious that Erik meant to steal Christine away. Not if I can help it he thought. He began to deliberate on his next move, hardly aware that he was tearing the letter into tiny pieces…
Wednesday
Rehearsals had been progressing smoothly, and Amir was pleased to see that his presence wasn't needed as much now, which left time to take care of the business end of his responsibilities. The new production would begin in late March, and aside from rehearsals, the cast would have a welcome two-week break from performing..
Glancing at his calendar, he saw that he'd penned in Joanna's thank-you dinner for Friday evening, and then he planned to take Megan to P3 Saturday. Everything was on schedule and going smoothly…and this worried him. Normally, there was always something that needed fixing, negotiating, or straightening out, but since Megan, all areas of his life seemed so much better, calmer, and more organized. The very lack of problems worried him, because just how long could such a period of calm last before the storm? He shook his head at such at absurd notion. It was true that theatre folk were a superstitious lot, but to anticipate calamity in the face of calm was ridiculous. If something does go wrong, it'll just be because that's the nature of things, not because of back luck.
That night, Amir made dinner of fish tacos along with another margarita recipe and Megan had thoroughly enjoyed both. They amused themselves that evening by playing an exciting new board game which lasted a couple hours, and afterwards, relaxed on the couch as Megan returned to her book and Amir did some online research as they listened to some soft jazz and sipped margaritas.
"Darling, do you mind that we don't go out all the time?" Amir asked unexpectedly.
Megan set her drink down. "No, of course not. I love staying at home with you. Why? Did you want to go out more?"
"No, but that's just it. I enjoy staying home with you, too. I've never been with anyone I enjoy staying at home with so much."
"And that's a good thing, right?" she smiled. It seemed to Megan that Amir was somewhat befuddled, which amused her greatly, for Amir was normally not one to be confused about anything.
"Yes, I think it's a very good thing." He stroked her hair gently. "It's different, but very…nice." He loved these quiet evenings. They were each involved in their own pursuits, and Megan had never been one to pester him for his time and attention, which he appreciated.
They'd both been quietly reading when the instant message tone sounded. Megan looked over, but already knew who it was. Amir was about to respond when she reached over and took his hand.
"Babe, let it go tonight, please."
Amir glanced over at her, surprised that she would stop him. "I won't be long, darling, I promise." And he began to type in his response.
Megan sighed and put down her book. She got up from the couch and went to the kitchen to make some tea. She was angry. Am I jealous? No, this isn't jealousy. I'd just like all of his attention for one night without interruption.
By the time the tea was ready, Amir had come into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "I told you I wouldn't be long, cherie."
Megan turned around. "Amir, why does she have to IM you every single night? She sees you at work every day."
"I know, darling, but I feel responsible for her being here. She's a young, single woman alone in this country and she's having a tough time her first year. Victoria is breathing down her neck because she no doubt sees her as a threat, so she doesn't have anyone in the cast that'll befriend her right now."
"Well, don't think she can't take care of herself. I think you'd be surprised at how capable she probably is."
"Darling, if it were you in a foreign country, I would hope that you had someone to look after you, too."
Megan couldn't say anything more because she knew he was right, but on the other hand, she would never try to take anyone's boyfriend away from them.
It was a clear evening as Erik stood on his patio and looked out over the city. The lights were so beautiful, and he could see cars making their way up and down the hills of San Francisco in the distance. There were rumors of rain for next week, but there were no clouds in the sky tonight.
Although it had only been a couple days since he'd left the letter under Christine's door, he had expected a response by this time and couldn't believe that she would ignore him. Even if she didn't want his attention, he would have expected her to tell him so either by letter, email, instant message, or phone call. But to ignore him outright seemed wholly out of character.
He felt he had no choice but to try again, and he spent the rest of the evening composing another letter. This time, he would also leave a gift.
Thursday night
This had to be the best one yet. Roan was sweaty, and Christine was, too. Their lovemaking was definitely getting better and much more vigorous. He wondered if this was an indication that Christine was becoming more committed to him.
He held her gently and they laid together in each other's arms. After awhile, Roan rose up from the bed and began to get dressed. They'd had a full afternoon and evening together, but he had an early morning meeting and had to go home. Christine watched as he pulled on his jacket.
"Thanks, babe, that was wonderful," he smiled as he leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, baby," she smiled wearily. She pulled the covers over her again as she turned out the lamp.
Roan let himself out of the apartment and locked the door behind him. He felt great. Nothing like a good fuck to put you to sleep. He was about to make his way toward the stairs when he looked down and saw something next to the door. It was another envelope, and a rose with a black ribbon tied around it. Dupont left this here while we were fucking?
He bent over and picked them up, and he smelled the rose. It was wonderfully fragrant, and it was beautiful. He felt a surge of anger as he looked at it and at the envelope. It seemed that everything Erik Dupont did was wonderful. How could any woman not fall in love with that, mask or no mask?
He stuffed both items in his jacket pocket as he made his way out of the building and to his car. He drove home quickly, angry thoughts churning.
When he arrived home, he hung his keys up on a hook and went to make himself a drink before walking back to the bedroom and taking the rose and the envelope out of his pocket. He sniffed the fragrant rose once more before tossing it in the trash and then sat himself comfortably on the side of the bed as he opened the envelope. He lifted the wax seal and took out the letter. Again, it was just one page, folded in thirds.
My dearest Christine,
I was saddened not to receive your reply, but I cannot let this rest until I hear from your own lips that you no longer wish to see me, speak to me, or in any way be a part of my life.
This is a most difficult task, my darling, to ask to see you when you have already discounted my first letter, yet I must ask again if I am to lay this to rest. I must know unequivocally that this is your wish, and if it be so, then I shall nevermore attempt a communication with you.
I would ask that you meet with me Friday at 3:00 at the Russian Tea House on Hillcrest.
Erik
Roan felt the anger surge up from within and he swiftly ripped the letter in half and crosswise before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it in the trash.
Friday morning
Christine awoke from a good night's sleep and laid in bed for awhile, allowing her mind to wander. She remembered last night with Roan and how passionate he'd been. He was a wonderful lover and she felt herself drawing closer to him as they spent more time together, and she again wondered how far it could go. Could she ever fall in love with him? For a long time she didn't think she'd be able to consider him as more than a friend, but she had to admit that that seemed to be changing. He'd been so kind to her, attentive, and generous. They had good times together and always had lots to talk about, but being a realist, she knew it would just take time to know the real Roan.
The other night at P3 was the first time she'd seen him truly angry, and he'd been ready to fight for her. She couldn't remember ever seeing Rick angry. In their two years together, things had always been nice. They'd never argued or had problems together, and she'd never seen him truly upset, except for the day they broke up.
Her thoughts then naturally turned to Erik and to their two months together, which had been anything but dull. They'd had many wonderful, beautiful times together. She'd loved being with him and talking with him. Because he was older, he had a more global, mature view of life, and he was able to converse on so many subjects knowledgeably. He respected her and treated her as an equal, and despite his wealth and position in the community, never condescended to her. She'd seen him happy and sad, angry and crazed. He'd even protected her life with an eerie calm she'd never seen but in movies. Remembering all this invariably led her to remember that which she'd hoped to forget…that he was the love of her life.
Christine buried her face in her pillow. She didn't want to think about Erik, it was just too painful. She didn't have a class today and knew that Megan didn't either, so she wondered if they could meet for breakfast. She reached over her nightstand and grabbed her phone.
"Every single night?"
"Yes, she IMs him every night. I don't know what they talk about, but sometimes it's only for a few minutes, so it's like she just touches base with him." Megan poured a little more raspberry syrup over her pancakes. "I asked him not to talk to her for one night a couple days ago, and he couldn't do it. I asked him why and he said he felt responsible for her being here."
Christine poured a little more ketchup on her plate for her scrambled eggs. "Well, how's everything between you two…how is he treating you now?"
"Everything's fine, it's like there's nothing wrong at all. But it's just that…" Megan just shook her head.
"What?"
"She's up to something, I know it. I can feel it. But I can't say anything to Amir because she hasn't really done anything yet. He'll just think I'm being paranoid."
Christine sipped her orange juice. "So what are you going to do?"
Megan shook her head again. "I don't know. I wish I could just go and talk to her, but then she'd tell Amir and he'd resent it big time. Unless he tells her to stop, she's not going to. And anything else I'd like to do would be considered assault…"
Christine smiled. "I know what you mean."
Megan munched on a piece of bacon. "How's it going with Roan?"
Christine looked thoughtful. "Okay."
"Just okay?"
"Actually, better than okay. We ran into Erik at P3 last Saturday and Roan was ready to fight him, but Erik just walked away. He wants me back."
"Really, he wants you back?" Megan sat up straight. "And what did you say?"
"I told him it was too late and that he couldn't love me since he didn't trust me. That's when Roan came back, and he was livid. I really thought he was going to fight him right then. It was pretty scary."
"Wow." Megan was grinning broadly. "You actually had two guys fighting over you! That is so romantic!"
Christine looked at her as though she were crazy. "Megan, get a grip! It was scary! They could have killed each other…or at least Erik could have killed him. I've seen both of them fight, and believe me, Erik's in a different league altogether when it comes to fighting. It's unreal."
"I know, I've seen both him and Amir fight, and it's intense. But just the thought of having two men fight over you is amazing!"
"Oh, grow up," Christine grumbled as she finished off her eggs.
7:00 a.m.
Erik had arisen early, immediately aware that this was the day he might again see Christine. He fervently hoped she would meet him today, but knew that there was a very real possibility she wouldn't since she hadn't responded to his letter. Still, he prepared himself carefully, picking out clothes that he knew she liked to see him in, as well as prepare what he planned to say. It was unlike him to be nervous, yet he could feel a slight flutter in his stomach as the hour grew near.
When it was time to leave that afternoon, he went downstairs to get the Ferrari and drove north towards Nob Hill. He loved this neighborhood, and it had been by accident that he'd come upon the Russian Tea House. It was now one of his favorite haunts.
When he arrived, he was about ten minutes early. The tea house had numerous booths and small curtained alcoves for privacy, as well as open tables. The genial host showed him to a curtained booth and he ordered some tea. He had a particular affinity for Russian tea since his time in Persia, and he especially liked the tea at this establishment for it was prepared the old-fashioned way, in a samovar, which was how he had learned to prepare it many years ago.
He closed his eyes as he sipped from the elegant china teacup and tasted the spices as the dark liquid warmed him. He felt calm, at peace, and he felt content in that he was doing the right thing by asking Christine to meet him. He looked down at his watch and noted that it was now 3:00. He looked toward the entrance, but no one had come in. There were very few people here at this time of day, but he imagined it would fill up when the weather became inclement as it was expected to next week.
When it became 3:10, he became concerned that she might not show up at all, and decided to wait until 3:15, for she was normally quite prompt.
At 3:15, his heart had stilled and he was disappointed. He imagined a number of reasons for her absence, but the one that stood out was that she simply did not wish to see him, as she'd said online. He drained the last of his tea and was about to take his leave when a shadow crossed the table and someone sat down across from him.
"I know you weren't expecting me, but I thought I should make an appearance."
Erik stared at the face of the individual seated opposite him, his mind racing.
As the host appeared to take another order, Roan politely requested black tea with cream and sugar.
"What are you doing here, Richards?"
Roan seemed to be very relaxed, almost bored, as he stated, "I'm on an errand. She wanted me to tell you that she wants you to leave her alone, Erik. She doesn't want to see you. I believe she told you that a few days ago."
The host brought Roan's tea and condiments on a tray and asked Erik if he would like more, which he refused.
"Why couldn't she tell me herself?" he asked calmly.
Roan prepared his tea easily with a practiced hand. "She wants to get on with it, her life, that is, with me. She doesn't want to move backwards with you. Think you can understand that?"
Erik continued to look at him without emotion. "What are your intentions toward her?"
"That's really none of your business now, is it?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.
"Perhaps not, but I'd still like to know."
"You should already know…you were with her for awhile." He put down his teacup.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm talking about marrying her. What did you think I meant?" He looked at him as if he'd been insulted. "My intentions are honorable, Dupont, and we'd like you to butt out of our lives and leave us alone. Do you think you can do that?"
Erik continued to look at him, and then cast his eyes downward. He stood as he took out his wallet and placed some money on the table for his tea. He looked down at Roan who was calmly sipping his tea and said softly, "Yeah, I can do that…but I won't."
Roan's smugness faltered as he put down his teacup. "Why not?"
Now it was Erik's turn to smile. "Because you're a liar."
