Chapter 3: A Rocky Start
By early July, Christine and Meg had banged on every door in Gothenburg. Christine had even made a second visit to houses that'd seen her coming and didn't answer their doors the first time. She'd amassed a decent sized following of supporters, and though most wouldn't remain loyal to the bitter end, for the time being, Gothenburg was safe from the relentless elementary school music teacher. At present, the summer camp required Christine's attention.
The summer day started in the worst way imaginable: an alarm set early enough to wake up for school. Christine groaned and leaned over to stop the beeping. Mr. Richard hadn't found her a single co-worker, let alone a group of willing volunteers who were up for the daunting task of helping forty children write an original play. Her dismal mood contrasted the bright colors of her blue sundress and yellow cardigan sweater. It was bound to be another blistering summer day, but the theater could be chilly if the air conditioning was turned up too high, which was often the case if Christine's memory didn't fail her. The outfit was typical when she taught at the elementary school, but donning the get-up in summer was strange. Christine had spent the past few weeks in t-shirts and comfortable shorts, and her feet ached at being pinched into ballet flats instead of flip flops or sneakers. Her stomach churned from anxiety as she stared at the unappetizing cereal floating in a bowl of milk. It was all reminiscent of her first day as a teacher. Christine gave up trying to choke down breakfast and dumped her soggy cereal down the kitchen sink. She'd better be on her way if she didn't want to be late on her first day of work.
When Christine entered the Royal Garnet, she wasn't met with the cool blast of air conditioning she expected. In fact, the lobby was terribly stuffy; her sweater would be useless.
"Christine, is that you?" Mr. Richard poked his head out of his office. "Come on in. I have a surprise for you!"
"Is it what I think it is?" Christine asked, cautiously optimistic. She breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Richard grinned ear to ear. Of course, he had come through for her in the end! When Christine peered into Mr. Richard's office, however, her peace of mind vanished into thin air.
There, leaning casually against the wall, was the masked man! Christine had managed to forget their encounter, but the mere sight of him brought a new wave of disgust. Just like before, he was dressed entirely in black, from the t-shirt beneath an oversized bomber jacket to the cargo pants tucked into heavy military style combat boots. Christine rolled her eyes. Did the surplus store have a sale or something? How could anyone dress like that in this sweltering heat?
The masked man looked up from his phone when Mr. Richard called him into the lobby.
"Have you two met before?" Mr. Richard asked. Before Christine could say they had, in fact, met before, the masked man beat her to it.
"No. I don't believe we have."
His voice was calm, without any trace of discomfort. Christine stared at him in disbelief. Had he really just said that? He had some nerve!
"Alright then, allow me to introduce you," said the unassuming Mr. Richard. "Christine, this is Erik. He's new in town." Christine politely nodded, but made no effort to shake hands or perform any other niceties. "Erik, this is Miss Christine Daae. She's the new music teacher at the elementary school."
Erik returned Christine's polite nod and extended his hand to her. She accepted the handshake as begrudgingly as she could without appearing outright rude. Mr. Richard placed his hand on Erik's shoulder, and the masked man looked down suspiciously at it, clearly not wanting to be touched.
Mr. Richard continued, "I saw this man walking down the street yesterday and I said to myself: Now that looks like an interesting man to talk to, wouldn't you say, Christine?" Mr. Richard didn't wait for Christine to respond. "So the two of us are talking for a bit, and I find out he's a musician. I recruit him for the orchestra pit I'm trying to start, and then, just as we are about to go our separate ways, I get a brilliant idea." Mr. Richard paused for dramatic effect. "I ask him if he'd be willing to help at this summer camp at my theater. He says he might be interested and I say 'Great! You start tomorrow at eight a.m. sharp'. Christine, you should have seen the look on this guy's face! Isn't that right Erik?" Mr. Richard didn't wait for Erik to respond. "In any event, he's being a good sport by helping you out, so you better be nice to him, Christine!"
"Of course. I'll be nice, but he must be nice to me as well!" Christine gave a fake smile, uncaring whether or not her jovial tone hid her unmistakable iciness. Mr. Richard laughed, but Erik remained silent.
"Oh, before I forget, here's the attendance sheet," Mr. Richard said as he handed the list of names to Christine. "Alright then, I have to make a phone call about getting the AC fixed, so I'll leave you two to get acquainted."
Mr. Richard grinned widely at the two young people in front of him; the world was their oyster! He shut the door to his office, leaving Erik and Christine alone in the lobby. Both folded their arms across their chests. Neither looked at the other or made any effort to speak. When Christine glanced at Erik out of the corner of her eye, she discovered he was looking at her, rather curiously too, but he averted his gaze when their eyes met. She huffed and took a seat on a bench in the corner of the room. Erik followed her and sat on the opposite end of the bench, but it wasn't far enough for Christine's liking.
To distract herself, Christine flipped through the attendance sheet and perused the list of names. Not only had she taught all of them at elementary school this past year, she had also grown up with most of their parents.
Joey Buquet, nice enough kid, but his father had been a terror before he "grew out of it"…
...Lotte Debienne, sweet girl, but not in a goody-two-shoes kind of way. Her parents had been that cute couple in high school who everyone fawned over…
...Carla Guidicelli, daughter of the bossy girl Christine avoided in elementary school, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree…
...Gabriel Moncharmin, smart kid, just had to "apply himself" all the teachers said. His father had been the same way, Christine remembered, but he never did learn to apply himself…
...Molly Poligny, a sweet girl, but in a very much goody-two-shoes kind of way. Her father had been a know-it-all, and to this day, Christine couldn't stand him…
...Luke Sorelli, Christine grimaced when she read that name and skimmed the rest of the list.
Thirty-six children was the final count, and Christine recognized every single one of them.
"Here, do you want to look at it?" she asked Erik. He was new so he wouldn't know any of the children.
"I already looked at it," he said shortly.
Christine rolled her eyes. "A simple 'No, thank you' would've been a sufficient response."
Erik ignored her. Christine pulled out her phone and opened up her social media, but she'd already gone through her feed last night, and it was too early in the morning for anything to have been posted since then. Erik looked at his feet, the ceiling, the street outside the window, or anything else that would distract him from Christine. Finally, she couldn't take the awkward silence any longer.
"So, Erik, what brings you to Gothenburg?" she asked.
"I am the new concertmaster for the Perros-Guirec Symphony," he said without looking up from his boots. "It's just a small regional orchestra. Have you heard of it?"
Christine nodded. Erik was right in saying it was "just a small regional orchestra", but it was highly underrated. The ensemble brought together the best musicians from Perros-Guirec and the surrounding towns. In fact, Christine's father had been the concertmaster of that very orchestra until he passed away last winter. If the elementary school music program had been his second child, the symphony had been his third, and Christine did not approve of the man they'd chosen to replace him.
"So, are you from the area?" Christine asked, trying to get the lowdown on Erik's deal.
"No. I'm from pretty far away from here. I used to live in Persepolis," Erik responded.
"Ah, the big city. That's cool. You from there originally?"
"Yup. Born and raised."
Yup. I figured.
Erik was a city boy through and through. Persepolis was hardly far away from Gothenburg. The drive was a few hours at most, taking into account an unusual amount of traffic on the freeway. The trip was perfectly doable in a day if one was interested, but of course Erik found it an impossibly long distance. To Christine, Persepolis was the closest large urban center, but to Erik, Gothenburg was just another nameless rural town in the middle of nowhere that no one in their right mind could possibly want to call home.
"What a coincidence. I used to live in Persepolis" said Christine, trying to keep the conversation going. She just had to make pleasant small talk until the campers arrived.
"Really? What brought you to this dumpy place then?" Erik asked, dropping his voice into a whisper.
He offered her a slight smile, Christine gave him a blank stare. Did he really just say that?
"It's my hometown," she spat. And it's hardly dumpy.
Gothenburg was extremely charming. It's streets were lined with historic bungalows and quaint shops surrounded by enchanting woods and picturesque mountain views. Christine hoped her glacial tone of voice and aghast face were enough of a social cue to Erik that he'd made a horrible faux-pas, but he didn't notice. Or more likely, he didn't care.
"Oh, so you're a local then?" Erik asked. His slight smile turned into a mocking smirk. "Perhaps you can tell me something then. Are all small town folk so god damn friendly?"
That's it.
Christine had had enough of the conversation she hadn't wanted to start in the first place. She turned her back on Erik and propped her elbow on the back of the bench, leaning her chin in her hand. Erik obviously cared little for her feelings, and she wasn't going to perpetrate the "friendly small town girl" stereotype if he couldn't use basic conversational manners.
"You said that like it's a bad thing," she scoffed in reply to his question.
"Well, it's not necessarily a bad thing." Erik chuckled stiffly. "On one hand, I've got people banging on my front door all hours of the day, but on the other hand, my fridge has never been so full."
Half the town had already shown up on his front porch bearing gifts of food. Erik wasn't one to turn down free food, but he couldn't for the life of him understand why people were so interested in meeting him. Word must've spread that a masked man had moved into town, and everyone wanted to see the spectacle for themselves.
"Oh, I understand," said Christine. "So you don't like people banging on your door, do you?"
She turned to face him with her arms folded across her chest, her face twisted into a scowl. Erik furrowed his brow, but then his eyes widened in recognition. Christine had seemed familiar when Mr. Richard introduced her, but now Erik knew exactly where he'd met her before.
"No. I actually don't like people banging on my doors." Erik folded his arms across his own chest and copied Christine's grimace. "I prefer people to stay off my property."
Their eyes locked in a glare before they turned away from each other. The conversation was over for good.
Christine pulled her phone from the pocket of her sundress. There was still loads of time to kill before the campers were scheduled to arrive. She threw an uninterested glance over her shoulder. Erik was checking the Persepolis weather on his phone. That's how bored he was. Didn't he at least have some text messages to answer or social media to mindlessly scroll through?
Christine huffed and repocketed her phone, closing her eyes in hopes of taking a power nap, but her attempts were futile when her mind was plagued by other matters.
Had Erik really forgotten her from their encounter at his front door? Christine had assumed he was lying, but his gruff facade had paused when she mentioned banging on doors, like he'd finally connected the dots. Erik must've been confused why Christine was so standoffish from the get-go. Would their conversation have ended differently if she'd discarded her first impression?
No, it wouldn't because he's just plain rude.
It was offensive that Erik hadn't remembered her; he obviously cared little about other people, and Christine would not quickly forget his insults of her beloved hometown.
Christine scowled at Erik again, but he was absorbed by a bug repeatedly hurling itself against the window. She let out a long sigh and joined him in watching the bug. The first day of camp had crept up on her too quickly, but the last day of camp couldn't come soon enough. It was going to be a long summer.
Mr. Richard: This is Miss Christine Daae, the elementary school music teacher and the absolute treasure of our town.
Mr. Richard: this is erik i found him on the street
(Sorry for the memes in the author's note, sometimes I can't resist lol. Thank you again to everyone supporting my story! I hope you enjoy!)