The morning was cool and gray clouds hung low and thick in the sky, promising rain and keeping the morning darker than it should have been. Christine woke groggily, her mind already buzzing with plans for the week: when she would have time to catch up on reading for class, if there was any way she could squeeze in an extra shift at the dining hall. By the time she was half dressed, her thoughts had shifted from her schedule to her lessons. Erik had her working on difficult music, and had her teacher been any less skilled, she doubted she'd be able to get through it at all. She played through the last few lessons in her mind, determine to memorize every instruction he'd given her so he wouldn't have to correct every little thing again. She'd been struck more than once with the worry that she just wasn't good enough or that she wasn't making enough progress to please him. But Erik had always known what he was doing so far, so she just had to trust that he didn't expect too much from her.
The date didn't even occur to her until she opened her bedroom door to find Meg waiting for her in the kitchen, piling chocolate chip pancakes onto a plate.
"Happy birthday!" Meg beamed, and Christine laughed.
"Did Meg Giry actually get up early to make breakfast?"
"Of course!" Meg set the plate down on their worn kitchen table and pulled out one of the chairs for Christine. "It's not every day that my best friend turns twenty-one."
"Thanks for this," Christine smiled, sitting down and taking a bite of her breakfast. "These are amazing."
"Made them just like Mom does," Meg said proudly, cutting into the plate she'd set aside for herself. "I even called her last night to make sure I remembered how to make them right, and then she laughed at me for not knowing how to make pancakes."
"I'm sorry for the struggle I've put you through," Christine replied gravely, and Meg laughed.
"Mom also said to wish you a happy birthday for her, and to tell you again she's sorry she can't make it up here for dinner tonight. But she will be calling you sometime today and your birthday card is in the mail."
"That's nice of her. It's too bad she can't be here tonight, though."
"She's hoping she can come visit this weekend," Meg said. "But it looks like it'll just be you, me, and Raoul for dinner tonight. I can bail if you don't want a third wheel."
"Of course I want you there, Meg," Christine told her. "I think it'll be fun with the three of us."
"Okay, good, because I absolutely do not want to miss your birthday festivities. But if you do want some time alone, just give me the signal and I'll disappear."
"We don't have a signal," Christine pointed out.
"Well, then, let's make a signal." Meg thought for a moment. "Cough three times if you want me to leave."
"What if I just need to cough?" Christine goaded teasingly.
Meg rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't know. Blink three times."
"Subtle. I like it." Christine glanced at the glowing numbers of the oven clock. "We should probably get going."
Meg groaned. "But it's wet and cold outside and I'm tired. Can't we just stay here? You know, in the name of birthday celebration?"
"As appealing as that sounds, it probably wouldn't be the best decision," Christine sighed as she rose to put her plate in the sink before pulling on her jacket and shoes. "Come on. I have a theory exam right after my shift at the dining hall and I'm going to have to sprint there if I don't want to be late. If I can survive that, you can survive your morning rehearsal."
"And then we'll go have fun celebrating tonight," Meg finished, grabbing her car keys off the counter and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Fine, let's go."
The damp wind hit them as soon as they stepped out the door, and they rushed across the parking lot to Meg's beat-up car, holding their jackets tightly around themselves. The rain had not started falling yet, but the mist was thick enough to leave trails of water trickling down the windows as they made the short drive to the music building, the car's heater uselessly blasting cold air.
"This is it," Meg said as they parked. "This is going to be the winter that kills me."
"It's only October," Christine replied.
"I know," Meg said miserably. "It's only going to get worse."
They climbed out of the car quickly and hurried into the building, sighing in relief as they closed the door on the cool, gloomy morning. As they headed in opposite directions down the hall, Meg called over her shoulder that she would meet Christine back at the apartment before dinner that night. Christine waved back to her, already slipping deep into thought again, mentally going through her music as she walked to her lesson. Stepping into the practice room with a greeting to Erik already on her lips, she paused in the doorway with a small smile.
A little bunch of pink balloons floated above the music stand, and a small bakery box sat atop the piano. Erik stood to the side, his golden eyes trained on her as he watched her with a slight, nervous smile.
"Happy birthday, Christine," he said quietly, and she smiled at the hint of embarrassment in his voice.
"Thanks, Erik. This is really nice of you." She started to take off her backpack and jacket but paused. "How did you know today's my birthday?"
"It's public on your Facebook," he replied quietly, and her smiled widened.
"You Facebook-stalked me?" she teased.
Erik looked away, starting to stutter an explanation but stopping, and she felt a stab of guilt. As composed as he usually was, there had been moments when that composure had cracked and he'd seem painfully timid and uncertain. She did her best to avoid making him feel this way, although it could be hard to tell sometimes what would trigger this reaction. Clearly she'd just hit a nerve, and she felt particularly bad about this one. He'd only been trying to do something nice.
"I was only joking," she offered. "I'm sorry. This is so nice and I really appreciate it." As she spoke, she reached out and gently placed a hand on his forearm. He tensed at her touch and she quickly removed her hand, fearing that she'd only succeeded in making him more uncomfortable.
"It's nothing," he murmured, not quite meeting her eyes.
"It's not nothing," Christine said. "It's really nice. Is that a cake?"
Erik nodded and reached for the small box, opening it and holding it out for Christine to examine. Inside was a prettily decorated cake embellished with tiny red rosettes.
"It's beautiful," she told him "I'll almost feel bad for eating it."
"I'm sorry if this is… weird," he said softly. "I just thought—"
"It's not weird," she told him. "Honestly. Friends should know when each other's birthdays are, right?"
Erik finally seemed to relax a little, his lips quirking into a wary smile. "Right."
"So you'll tell me when your birthday is coming up too, won't you? Unless you're also on Facebook," she added lightly.
He chuckled at this. "I will tell you."
"Good," Christine grinned. "Thank you for this."
"You're welcome." He held her gaze for a moment, and she wished briefly that she could see behind the mask, if only to be able to read his face and have some idea what he was thinking. But he turned abruptly, setting aside her cake and taking his place on the piano bench. "We should begin our lesson. But first there is something I would like to discuss with you."
"What is it?"
"You plan on auditioning for the spring musical, correct?"
Christine shrugged. "I was planning on it. Most people audition, but of course that also makes it pretty competitive. I was in the chorus last year," she added with a touch of pride.
"You could do much better than the chorus," Erik told her, and she let out a small laugh.
"Maybe. Thanks for the optimism." She paused. "Do you know what the musical is? They haven't announced anything yet, but the rumor going around is that it's Candide."
"That's correct," Erik replied.
"So you think I should audition?"
"I think you will make a wonderful Cunegonde," he said matter-of-factly.
Christine wavered a little at this. "Erik, I don't know… I don't know if I have the voice for it. Even if they did miraculously choose me over all the girls with more talent and experience, I just don't know if I could handle it. Do you really think I could?"
"I do," Erik replied, his answer so sincere and unhesitant that it made her smile. "It will require some work, but I believe the role is well within your capability, should you choose to commit yourself."
"And if I did commit, and we practiced and practiced for months, and then I didn't get the part… would you be upset?"
"At the imbeciles who didn't cast you, yes. But at you," his voice softened, "no."
Christine considered for a moment. "Alright," she said. "We can try, if you think I could do it. I'll try my best."
"Christine, what I think is of little importance here," Erik replied, meeting her eyes. "What matters is what you think. You cannot commit yourself to getting a role if you're constantly questioning whether you can get it or excel in it. Do you think you can do this?"
His voice held an infectious quality of assurance, and she paused only for a second before taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. "Yes," she said decidedly. "I think I can do this."
Erik gave a satisfied nod. "Good."
The lesson flew by—Erik's excitement was evident as they began to work, and Christine had to admit that, despite some lingering apprehension, she was excited too. The past month of working with Erik had been even more encouraging than she had expected, and she had been happy enough to be seeing her love for music revived. She was starting to look forward to their lessons more than anything else. If she'd already seen such an improvement in both her skill and her passion, maybe she really could improve to the point that she stood a chance at getting this role. The prospect of auditioning, much less actually performing the role, was daunting. Even with Erik's guidance, it would be difficult. But wasn't that why she was here in the first place?—to excel rather than just get by? Despite what Erik had said, his faith in her ability played no small part in her decision to try. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn't exactly an optimistic person by nature, and although he was always encouraging, she knew that he wasn't one to offer praise just for the sake of her ego. He wasn't trying to coddle her or bolster her confidence. He actually believed that she could do this. Maybe, with his help, it really was possible.
"Can I ask you for a favor?" Christine said as they packed up at the end of the lesson. "You can say no, of course."
"What is the favor?"
"Would you mind giving me a ride back to my apartment? It's just down the road a few minutes. I realized I forgot a book that I need for one of my classes, but if I walk I'll probably be late for my shift at work. But if you need to get going, it's not a big deal."
"I suppose I could delay my morning plans for a few extra minutes," Erik said with a hint of a smile.
Christine frowned. "No, really, if you have plans—"
"I don't actually have plans, Christine."
"Oh." A smile formed on her lips at the realization that he had been joking. Or maybe not joking, exactly, but at least not being uncomfortably serious. Maybe she was starting to rub off on him, she thought with some amusement. "Great. Thank you."
She followed him through the halls of practice rooms to the small parking lot at the back of the building, pausing in the doorway when they found the rain falling heavily outside. In a moment Erik had produced a black umbrella from his bag of sheet music, and Christine took his arm to ensure she would stay under its cover. Then they were dashing out into the rain and she almost had to run to keep up with his long, quick strides. She had to laugh a little as she imagined the image they made—her running alongside this lanky man dressed all in black, both of them trying to stay under the small umbrella, pink balloons trailing behind them.
He led her to a plain black car, sleek but not enough to stand out, with heavily tinted windows. Quickly unlocking it, he opened the passenger door and allowed her to climb in. She did so a little awkwardly, pushing the balloons in ahead of her and taking care with the bakery box. Then she was alone for a moment, listening to the patter of the rain against the roof of the unfamiliar car and feeling that the situation was just a little surreal, before Erik reappeared beside her and started the engine.
The short drive was silent except for the quiet directions she gave him and the classical music playing softly on the radio. Erik parked in front of her building and wordlessly got out of the car before Christine could say anything, going around to her door to hold the umbrella over her. Christine gave him a grateful smile, collected her things quickly, and rushed toward the shelter of the apartment complex, Erik matching her steps easily.
She invited him to come into the apartment, and while he seemed a little uncertain, he followed her inside. Shedding her damp jacket and shoes, she turned to find Erik examining the small space with interest.
"It's not much, is it?" she laughed a little, turning to place her cake in the fridge and tying the balloons to one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "But it's close to campus and it's pretty affordable, so it works for us. Thanks again for driving me. Can I get you anything as long as you're here? Maybe some tea or something? Or we can have some cake," she offered, glancing back to where Erik still stood in the entryway. "I mean, I have to get going again soon, but we could eat fast."
"Thank you, I'm fine," Erik told her. "Go get what you need and I can drive you wherever you need to go."
"Oh, you don't need to do that," Christine replied. "I just have to go over to the dining hall on campus, and it's probably easier to get over there walking than driving. I'll just need to find my umbrella."
"You're certain?" Erik's tone made it clear that he was not convinced.
"Yep. I'll be fine. I don't want to make you chauffer me around all day," she said lightly. "But thank you for the ride here. And thank you for my cake and balloons. I love them."
"Try to stay dry. I'll see you tomorrow." Erik paused, giving her a small smile. "Happy birthday."
His smile didn't look quite as unpracticed as it once had, she noticed with a smile of her own.
After he had left, Christine spent the next few minutes rushing around the apartment, double checking that she had everything she needed for the day and searching in vain for her umbrella. She let out a frustrated sigh when she remembered that she'd thrown it out after the last storm had left it in tatters, and a glance out the window confirmed that the rain had not let up at all. The prospect of showing up for work cold and soaked was not an appealing one, but she supposed she didn't really have another choice. She would just have to hurry, she decided, zipping up her jacket and pulling the hood over her head even though she knew that the thin fabric would only provide so much protection.
She stopped when she stooped to put on her shoes, though; folded up neatly next to them was a damp black umbrella.
The restaurant was busy, but the buzz of conversations and the clinking of dishes weren't overpowering like she would have expected for such a crowd; the place wasn't loud, just lively. Christine sat picking at the remains of her dinner, content to listen to Raoul and Meg talking animatedly about some show they had just discovered they both watched. Taking a sip of her wine, she let her mind begin to wander as the conversation faded into the noise of the room around them.
Unwilling to let herself think about school during her birthday dinner, she turned her thoughts toward her lessons. As intimidating as the months of work ahead of her and the eventual audition were, she had to admit that the thought of it all—of maybe even performing on stage—made her stomach flutter pleasantly. It made her want to return to the practice room this moment and get started. It was a kind of excitement that she hadn't felt in years, and feeling it returning now only made the whole thing that much more appealing.
It occurred to her with a pang that her father would be proud of her.
"Sorry, Christine, we're probably boring you," Raoul said with a laugh, pulling her from her thoughts.
"No, it's fine," she said quickly.
"Instead we should talk about how Christine is going to be a major star," Meg suggested, grinning.
"Well, everyone knows that," Raoul smirked, and Christine rolled her eyes.
"Obviously," Meg laughed. "But now her genius voice teacher seems convinced that she's going to get the lead in the musical this spring, so what we've always known has been officially confirmed."
Christine shook her head, smiling embarrassedly. "Meg's getting ahead of herself. My teacher just suggested that I audition, and he thinks that based on the improvement that I've been making so far, I might have a shot at the role. It's not like I'm getting cast on Broadway or anything."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you got the part," Raoul said. "You've always been good. I remember you singing when we were little." He turned to Meg with a grin. "She would go around the beach asking people to tell her stories and offering to sing a song for them in return."
"That's the most adorable thing I've ever heard," Meg giggled. "See, Christine? I bet all of those people would back us up in convincing you how good you are."
"Everyone who auditions will be good," Christine pointed out.
"Well, you'll be great," Meg replied with conviction. "And we'll be there on opening night to cheer you on."
"Thanks," Christine said. "We'll see how it goes."
They stayed at the restaurant a while longer before hurrying through the cool, misty night to Raoul's car. Christine shivered as she sank into the cold leather seat, but the car warmed up quickly, and a contented sleepiness settled over her as they drove. Soon they had pulled up in front of the apartment, and Meg went inside ahead of her, leaving her and Raoul sitting in the car. Raoul leaned over the console to kiss her, and she returned the kiss gladly.
"Did you have a nice birthday?" he asked quietly, his lips still brushing hers.
She hummed happily. "I did. Thank you for dinner tonight. Food is always an excellent gift."
Raoul smiled. "You know, if you wanted, we could go to my place."
"Oh." Christine paused. "I don't know. It's getting kind of late, and I have class tomorrow morning."
"Okay, that's fine," Raoul said, though she could see the disappointment on his face.
"Sorry."
"No, really, it's okay," he said. "Go get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
She gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Climbing out of her way and quickly crossing to her apartment, Christine glanced back from the doorway and gave Raoul a wave before heading inside. She stood there for a moment, running a hand through her hair with a small sigh, until the sound of Meg rummaging around in the kitchen drew her attention. Peeking around the corner, she had to smile.
"Seriously?" she teased as Meg glanced around the fridge door to her. "We just finished eating like twenty minutes ago."
"Shut up," Meg laughed. "I was putting away the leftovers. Where'd this cake come from?"
"Erik gave it to me."
Meg raised a brow. "Really?"
"Yeah, he had it and those balloons waiting for me in the practice room this morning. It was sweet."
"I was wondering about the balloons."
"Want some?" Christine asked, reaching around Meg to pull the cake out of the fridge.
"Weren't you just making fun of me for eating?"
"Birthday cake doesn't count."
"Well, in that case," Meg laughed, pulling plates from the cupboard while Christine cut into the cake. "That was nice of him to get you something. I don't think any teacher I've had since elementary school even cared when my birthday was."
Christine shrugged, licking a bit of frosting off her finger. "It's probably because I'm his only student. And, I don't know, I guess we're kind of friends too. Or maybe not friends, exactly, but friendly."
"If free cake is involved, I'm not complaining."
Christine smiled to herself, thinking of her odd, awkward, kind teacher. She wasn't complaining, either.