Madness and Hope
The next day - Easter Monday - Christine had to sing at a gala in the opera and Erik had the chance to go there for the Persian had already bought box five for the month, with a reservation for the next year.
During the gala, Erik suddenly asked: "My dear friend, I need your advice."
"What have you done now?" the Persian asked expecting the worst.
"Nothing, but I'm going to... and I need your help," Erik answered, his eyes fixed on the stage. Both of them were keeping their voices low and talking in Farsi so if anyone heard no one would understand.
"I won't aid you in a crime!" the Persian scolded.
Erik turned his head to look at his friend. "No, not a crime... well, maybe it is a crime... but I know for sure that I can't avoid doing it. No, I want to know how to please a woman?"
The Daroga stared at his friend. What was he talking about? "Erik, what do you want to know?" he asked bewildered.
Erik blushed - his face was covered in a mask but his ears were visible and they turned bright red. Now the Daroga understood.
"You ask ME for advice?" he asked, "But..."
"You can't let me down," Erik replied, his voice had a slightly desperate tone, "I know most men turn to their fathers or elder brothers but I can't. I have only you to ask, you have been married, right now you have two mistresses and I know that you have been passed on like a challenge cup between the elder members of the ballet and the chorus. The more they claim to fear your evil eye the more they like the thrill of seducing you. You know they call you the tasty exotic fruit, claiming you to be a nice diversion to the usual flabby patron?"
The Persian fell silent, utterly embarrassed by how much Erik knew about his most private life.
Erik went on, highly amused: "I overheard some conversations between these elder ballet dancers. Quite interesting, my friend, I must say."
"Um, o, well... what do you want to know?" the Persian asked, "I was under the impression that you already know enough?" This was really awkward.
Erik shrugged. "All of my... experiences have been very selfish, short and disgusting. But that won't do..."
The Daroga stared at the stage and pretended to concentrate on the program. How could he give Erik any advice? Erik, of all people? Maybe he should simply tell him to forget it and never try... or tell him to make sure it was pitch black and no one would see anything... Not strangling her might be a good advice... or maybe giving her something to make her sleep through the whole ordeal?
"Do I get any answer this evening?" Erik asked annoyed.
"There is no instruction manual for a wife," the Persian answered.
Erik gave a short laugh. "Well, there should be, my friend, I think girls should come with an instruction manual!"
"I guess every man would like a manual like that..." the Daroga smirked.
Both fell silent and followed the gala more or less concentrating on the music.
Finally the Daroga said: "You want an answer - practice and patience."
Erik stared at him bewildered. "Practice and patience? Stop talking in riddles!"
"No riddle. That is my answer. It's like dancing, you need much practice to become a dancer. And Erik - in this dance let her take the lead."
"Wonderful," Erik complained, "Now I know exactly nothing. At least give me the score!"
"There is no score!" the Persian retorted, "Erik, there is no score, you have to extemporize together."
"Improvise? Great. Two incompetents improvising together without any idea what to do," Erik gave a sigh, "If it was a symphony it would be like two musicians who did not even know how to hold their instruments trying to improvise something together... Horrible!"
"If you feel that bad about it, just don't do it," the Persian answered.
"But I want to," Erik said in a childlike voice.
"Then stop complaining and do it!" the Daroga berated him. Erik was really a trial...
Erik looked at the program. "Christine is next," he said, "The Queen of the Night." He pulled down his mask a little to wipe his face with his handkerchief.
"Erik, are you nervous?" the Persian asked.
"No!" Erik exclaimed, then after a while added softly: "Yes. She's brilliant but I'm not sure she can call up the emotions she needs right now on stage."
When Christine started to sing, Erik relaxed visibly. Christine was very much in touch with the core of that aria, expressing so much anger that the Daroga wondered how that gentle girl could express such an emotion.
"When we tried this aria I actually thought she was literally going to kill me," Erik said, beaming with pride.
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Poor Daroga - Erik has appointed him the role of his therapist now. And Erik realizes that being married is not as easy as he had imagined.
