"Music heard so deeply that it is not heard at all, but you are the music while the music lasts."
-Thomas Eliot
I was walking out of school, the exit that's closest to the theater, on a particularly stressful day that same week when suddenly, Charlotte and two of her friends rudely shoved past me, knocking the books and papers that were in my arms to the ground. I sighed and bent down to retrieve my things when I heard my name amidst their inane talk and giggles. I picked up my papers slowly and as quietly as possible to hear what they were talking about.
"That tramp Christine Daye actually thinks that she can get the part of Maria!" Charlotte was saying contemptuously. I gritted my teeth but strained to hear what else they said.
"Don't worry, Char," one of the girls said, fawning admiration in her eyes. "She won't be able to beat you. You're the best!"
"Yeah!" chimed in the other girl with enthusiasm.
Charlotte smiled thinly and flipped her red hair over her shoulder. "Of course she won't beat me. She sings like a frog! I can just hear her audition now..." here she threw her voice up into a screechy, whining sound. " 'CROAK! CROAK!' " The girls dissolved into peals of cruel laughter. I couldn't stand it and turning, ran into the theater, their laughter echoing in my ears.
I became calmer as I walked in the narrow hallways that led to my secret room. After stepping on a certain spot, I pushed the door open and entered, breathing in deep. I set down my backpack and purse to turn on the small battery operated lamp I had brought here the other day. As I turned it on, it's small bright light cast weird shadows on my face in the mirror.
I glanced at myself in the mirror and lifted my chin, trying to look confident. "I'll show her..." I vowed to myself. "I'll show everybody..." My reflection seemed to doubt me so I sang a scale to prove my point. But to my horror, my voice, that instrument which Dad had been more proud of than his own violin, cracked halfway up. Horrified, my hands flew to my mouth but something snapped inside of me and I couldn't hold back the sobs that came fast and hard.
If it had been any other day, I would have just cleared my throat and went on but today I had been loaded down with homework in every class, Charlotte had purposely gone out of her way to make me miserable, and to top it off, Erik was once again the outcast of the whole school. It was weird, that even though I didn't know much about Erik, I felt as though I had known him my whole life. Every time someone insulted him, I saw his mismatched eyes burn with a mixture of anger and deep pain and, somehow, my heart hurt too.
"W-who am I fooling?" I cried, despair filling my heart. "Charlotte's right..." Hands shaking, I found a picture of my dad in my purse and clung to it. As always, he stared up at me, smiling and confident. "I'm s-sorry Dad. I'm not good enough to be what you wanted... what I wanted..." Sobbing quietly, I hugged my knees to my chest and leaned back against the cool surface of the mirror. Where are you, Dad, when I need you most? Where is the angel that you promised would always be with me...?
As if in answer to my silent questions, I heard something so quiet and tentative that I stopped crying in order to hear it better. Someone was singing... Automatically, I named the song and the opera it was from. "Che Gelida Manina" from Puccini's La Bohème, one of the first operas I remembered seeing. I could almost hear my dad's voice, telling me about it on a day long, long ago... "In this aria, Rudolfo is comforting Mimi, the beautiful young woman he loves..."
Almost without realizing what I was doing, I walked, trance-like, to the auditorium. As I got closer to it, I heard the voice and the piano that had joined in much clearer and what I heard left me breathless.
I cannot tell exactly what an effect the voice had over me. I felt... almost dizzy... hypnotized by the exquisite beauty that flowed from his mouth to my ears and into my soul awakening a part of me that I thought had died with Dad. The auditorium was dimly lit but the angelic voice was coming from the stage. I vaguely saw a shadow leaning over a piano, and in that moment, strangely enough, I knew who it was: Erik.