"G'morning, Addie!" Suzanne, one of the chorus girls called out.
Meg had arrived to rehearsal on Wednesday to find the entire place buzzing with excitement.
"Have you met them, yet?" her friend asked.
"Met them? Who?"
"The opera singer! Christine de Chagny?"
Meg's heart dropped in her chest. Christine is here? She turned on her heel, without answering Suzanne, and walked back to the hallway. She had passed the three guest rooms without paying them any attention. She was used to them being empty. But now she distinctly heard voices coming from one of the closed doors.
She bit her lip in contemplation, but, despite her misgivings, she knocked.
"S'il vous plait, venez!" a deep voice commanded. Meg smiled, hearing her native language. She looked forward to being able to converse in fluent French, again. But she did not look forward to the awkwardness that this meeting would contain.
Meg entered and immediately looked into the eyes of her long-lost friend.
"Meg?!" Christine exclaimed in disbelief. "What are you doing here? How – What happened? We searched everywhere for you!"
"I-" Meg started, then stopped, looking nervously to Raoul. A man who she still hardly knew. "I was trampled in the chaos, trying to escape the Opera Populaire, after my mother took you-" she nodded to Raoul, "down to find Christine." She looked back to her old friend. "I was already weak, injured, when something hit me in the head. I think it may have been some falling debris. There were explosions from the fire... Someone must have pulled me to safety. I woke in the care of a priest, and I didn't know who or where I was. I tried regaining my memories, but a physician told me that my memory might not return, due to the damage I sustained.
"I…ended up joining a dance troupe, realizing that I apparently knew how to dance, and I came with them over to New York. Once I was here, my memory began to return, little by little. But I couldn't return to Paris. I had been gone too long, and I couldn't leave my life here. I took this position as lead dancer and choreographer, when Phantasma opened."
Christine raised an eyebrow at the elaborate story. Raoul only seemed moderately interested, but he politely nodded to show sympathy. A little boy sat on a chair at the corner of the room, coloring and ignoring her fabricated plights.
"Raoul, would you mind taking Gustave to Central Park? We've been promising to take him, but I don't think I'll be able to join you. They need me to rehearse here."
Her husband frowned. "Couldn't we go another time, all together?"
"Of course," she placated. "But surely you won't mind my not joining you on this first time out? I promise to come next time."
The boy, Gustave, dropped the colors and paper onto the floor and ran to his father's side.
"Gustave," Christine stopped the boy. "This is Mommy's dear old friend, Meg Gi-"
"Call me Addie," Meg corrected, holding out her hand to the shy lad. He nervously accepted it, shaking hands slowly. "That's the name everyone here knows me by."
"I'm Gustave and I'm six. How old are you?"
Raoul let out an embarrassed laugh. "All right, you! Let's go see this famed park, shall we? Say goodbye to Miss Addie, for now." Father and son held hands and walked toward the door. "I am so happy to see you are well, and that you and Christine have been reunited." Raoul gave her a pitying look, but left without further comment.
Once her husband and child were well out of earshot, she pulled her ballet friend toward the nearest sofa.
"What really happened? I thought you were dead this whole time. How could you not write? We were best friends!"
Meg took a deep breath. "Why are you here? Performing in this show? I heard you were performing for Oscar Hammerstein."
Christine pulled away, looking warily at her former confidant. "I have a terrible feeling that you already know, dear old friend." Meg flinched at the accusatory tone.
"He came to you? When?"
"Tell me the truth of how you came to be here, and I shall tell you my story."
"Fine," Meg relented. "The night he took you, the final time, after Don Juan Triumphant, I followed my mother and your Vicomte down to the Phantom's lair. It took me too long to find you, though," she reminisced sadly. "By the time I found where he had you, you and Raoul were no longer there. I looked around, shocked that I was actually in the hiding place of the Phantom of the Opera, when he grabbed me from behind."
Christine gasped, placing one dainty hand over her mouth. Meg smiled and tried to shrug off the commiseration.
"We rode to the coast, stowed away on a ship to New York, and I've been with him ever since."
Christine's expressions changed with each segment of information, unable to imagine why the Phantom had taken Meg and why Meg had not, somehow, escaped from his control.
"What do you mean, you've 'been with him ever since?' Why did you not get help? Did he keep you locked up?"
Meg's cheeks reddened at the assault of questions. There was no way she could make Christine understand. Even though, ironically, it was Christine who should understood, more than anyone else, what Meg had gone through.
"It's…hard to say what all happened," she explained with a finality. "At first, he threatened my mother-"
Christine squirmed uncomfortably, and her eyes became misty.
"Then, he gave me a choice: stay by his side and accept his protection and help, or take my chances in a foreign land where I had no contacts or bearing. I think, in the beginning, I assumed that I would, eventually, leave. But I never did. I can't explain why." Meg bit her lip and looked away from her friend's judgmental gaze.
The married woman took her friends hands in her own, which called Meg's attention back to her companion.
"Meg, I don't know how to tell you this…" A tear slipped down one of Christine's flawless cheeks. She did not move to wipe it away. "Your mother…"
"Oh," Meg interrupted, realizing where the conversation was heading. "I know. I heard that she passed away. Two years ago, wasn't it?" Her own tears fell in hot streaks down to her neck. There were no other signs of her distress. No heavy breathing, no shaking, no running nose.
Christine nodded sadly.
"What happened? I was only told that it was complications from an illness."
Erik had not been forthcoming, only giving Meg the barest of facts to relay the news of her mother's untimely death. She had collapsed on the floor, and he had stayed with her, uncertain how to help her through her grief. Ultimately, he had decided to leave her alone, not showing up to her door for the rest of that month.
"She died from an influenza. It was an outbreak. She was actually in London-"
"London?"
"Yes," Christine paused to collect herself. "Raoul and I, we made it out of that labyrinth, and we went straight to his estate in Paris. Your mother showed up at the doorstep the next day, looking absolutely haggard. She had been searching for you all night. If we would have known…
"Anyway, we joined her in her search for you. But we found no trace. We had dozens of people scouring through every corridor and every rafter of the opera, sifting through the smoldering ruins. I did what I could, but so much of the Opera Populaire was destroyed and dangerous to traverse. I called out your name until I was hoarse. But…I couldn't, I'm sorry, I couldn't go back to the Phantom's domain. Raoul and your mother did, though, but they found nothing. A mob of people had arrived, apparently, after you did."
Meg nodded in affirmation. "I heard them behind me," she whispered.
"According to Raoul, the place was in shambles. They looted the Phantom's home, but they did not find him. So, we searched the hospitals, made inquiries with the gendarme. Weeks later, we had no idea where you had vanished to. I thought," her voice caught in her throat. "I thought you were dead. I thought you must be. Either drowned in that lake, or perhaps trampled or burned to death and removed to a morgue before being identified." Christine shuddered at such horrific thoughts.
"No, nothing of the sort," Meg joked dryly, through her tears. "Only abducted by the Phantom of the Opera and stolen to the other side of the world."
"Raoul and I married, and, finally, your mother began to live, again. She was never the same, though. She hated being in Paris, but she was terrified that you would reappear the moment she left the city. I accepted a leading role in an opera in Milan, then Naples, then Vienna. I loved performing, but I know that part of me was so desperate to distract myself from everything that had happened."
"I'm happy for you, that you were able to perform as a true prima donna. I wish I could have seen you."
Christine smiled graciously, but continued. "Your mother and I corresponded back and forth for a while, but I never returned to Paris. The last time I had a letter from her, she had accepted a position as a ballet matron for The Royal Ballet. She had waited for you for years, without even the slightest hint to your whereabouts."
Meg was still crying, but her heart constricted in her chest with this news.
"She asked me…" Christine paused, looking deeply into her friend's watery eyes. She squeezed Meg's hands lightly and released them to stand. Walking over to a small trunk, she reached inside and removed a small brown parcel. She returned to Meg and handed it to her, before sitting down.
"I think-" Christine hesitated again. "I think that a part of her knew or, at least, hoped that you were still alive. She sent that to me, with that final letter, and she asked me to always keep it with me. She told me to give it to you, if our paths ever crossed. I sent a letter to London, ahead of her, but I don't know if she ever received it. I promised her that I would honor that request. How could I refuse? I wished I could have done more. I wished she had asked more of me. If not for her, Raoul would never have found me."
Meg looked down to the precious box.
"I was notified of her death. We paid for her to have a ceremony at a church close to the Ballet. We weren't able to travel there. I'm so sorry. I can tell you where she is buried, if you'd like to go visit, one day."
The parcel felt hot in her hands, but Meg did not want to open it. Not yet. Not here. London, she thought. Whenever will I be in London? Will Erik let me go there?
"Thank you," the blonde woman replied, unsure of what else to say.
The pause in conversation lingered, as both ladies sought to find a way to conclude their reunion on a happier note. Meg hastily brushed the wetness from her cheeks and took a deep breath.
"You have a beautiful son," Meg spoke up.
Christine beamed proudly. "He is a little version of his father." She sighed happily, letting her eyes sweep over to the door where her men had exited. "I never thought about being a mother, but I absolutely love it. What about you? Will you be a mother, someday? Do you have anyone special in your life here in America?"
"I don't think I'll be a mother, no," Meg felt her face grow hot, again. "And what of your reasons for being here? What happened?"
"Well," Christine started slowly. "I was asked by Mr. Hammerstein to perform at his new theater. When I arrived in port, the strangest carriage rode up, with no horses!"
Meg smiled grimly, remembering the brief interaction she had with the three emcees the previous day.
"Three people jumped out. Quite an odd little trio. They told me a 'Mr. Y' wanted to meet with me later, and that he had sent the carriage to bring me to my hotel. I started to protest, but Gustave ran ahead and begged to be able to go.
"When we arrived to the hotel, Raoul made sure we were settled, then he left to meet with Mr. Hammerstein. I put Gustave to bed. And then… And then," Christine pursed her lips, visibly flustered. "He came into my room. The Phantom. He somehow found where we were staying and snuck in through one of the balconies."
Found out, somehow? Erik has enough connections in this city, he most likely had the information before he asked for it. Meg couldn't help but feel that this was all orchestrated by Erik. What is he up to?
"He was so upset, still so upset, after all of these years…" Christine looked toward the door again, as if she was worried the Phantom would be listening on the other side. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "He threatened to take my son, Meg! How could he?"
He is still the same man. Eight years later, he is still obsessed with her and is willing to be as ruthless as is necessary to get what he wants…what does he want?
"He asked me to sing for him, for his show. I said no, and that's when he said he would take Gustave! What other choice did I have? I had to agree." Tears threatened to spill from Christine's eyes, yet again. She embraced Meg, seeking solace from her loving friend. Meg reflexively placed her arms around Christine, but it was a far cry from the hugs they gave to each other when they lived in the Opera Populaire. "What am I to do? I can't tell Raoul! He knows I have taken this commission, but he doesn't understand why I have delayed Mr. Hammerstein. I can't go through this, again!"
"I might be able to speak to him, for you…"
"The Phantom?"
She still doesn't know his name, Meg realized. She could have divulged that his name was, actually, Erik. But she didn't want to. It was too private. A recessed part of her mind relished the fact that he had not revealed that intimate piece of information to his precious Christine.
"Yes."
The brunette pushed Meg lightly away, leaning away from her for good measure. The look she gave Meg was skeptical and penetrating.
"Why would you have any sway over that madman's behavior?"
"We…work together. His room is a little further down the hall-"
"He lives here?" Christine asked, aghast. Meg didn't respond, so she continued on the same train of thought. "That lanky man – Gangle, is it? – he showed us to this room and said he would return when they were ready for me to rehearse. Wait, where do you stay?"
Meg stared at a vase in the corner of the room, determined not to show the embarrassment she felt on her face. "I live in a room on the other end of the theater."
"What is going on here? I feel like I am in some kind of unbelievable dreamscape," Christine raised her voice. Meg looked nervously back at her. "You disappear from Paris eight years ago, then I find out that you were actually abducted by the Phantom, and now you work with him? What on earth is wrong with you?"
"I did what I had to do," Meg shot back defensively.
"Do you have to stay with him? Now? Return with me. I'll take you to London to visit your mother's grave, then we'll settle somewhere in Europe."
"You have your family, Christine. My mother is dead, and now this," Meg gestured to the room around her, "is my home. My family. I want to perform."
"You can perform anywhere, Meg-"
"Not like this," Meg disagreed. "Not as both a choreographer and a leading act of a show."
Christine's jaw dropped and she shook her head in amazement.
"I just don't know what to say," the puzzled brunette admitted. "This is all so surprisingly unfortunate."
Gangle burst through the door, then.
"Two more minutes, until we need you onstage to rehearse."
"Gangle! Really, what bad manners," Meg chastised. "You never enter a room without being granted permission to do so."
The entertainer looked unprepared for the normally sweet Addie's correction. He gave her a nasty look, but he nodded his compliance, before leaving.
The two ladies looked at each other, again. Meg stood and Christine followed suit.
"I will see you later? After my rehearsal?" Christine asked.
"Of course," Meg replied sincerely, smiling for extra measure.
They walked to the door and embraced once more before parting ways. Gangle was waiting outside, and he motioned for the opera singer to follow him. Meg closed Christine's guest room door behind them and watched the two performers make their way down the familiar hallway.
Meg walked in the opposite direction, toward Erik's door. When she arrived, it was locked, as usual, and there was no light emanating from the room. She stared down at the keyhole, where she had, only two nights ago, secretly watched him lament losing Christine. And, now, she was back.
She felt the weight of the package in her hand and returned her attention to the only thing of her mother's that she had left in the world.
The walk back to her room was mostly silent, but she could hear the voice of a soprano songbird echoing lightly through the halls.
"Love never dies! Love never falters…"