Just to warn you, this chapter is long. Enjoy! Chapter 2
"He's here! The Phantom of the opera!"
'Actually, he's not,' I thought, watching the chorus girls twitter and fidget and dash around the stage with great amusement. I had told Erik I was going for a walk after we sang together for a while, and I had walked up to the catwalks above the stage and untied one of the ropes holding up the backdrop, causing it to fall. This was like a never-ending experiment, with the chorus girls and that banshee Carlotta as my lab rats. The experiment was to see their reactions to strange, inexplicable happenings. These reactions always commenced with that inane cry of, "He's here! The Phantom of the opera!" and continued with their silly rushing about and babbling to themselves. Half the time nowadays, I was the one who pulled these pranks, but who would guess that the fearsome Phantom had a kid sister? Well, Christine would have known. I know how she would have reacted to the falling backdrop. She'd have looked up at the catwalks, straight at me, with an expression on her face that meant, "Now, was that really necessary Min?" and not get upset and afraid. Oh well, she's not here anymore, she ran off with that pretty-boy Raoul. My hands clenched into fists at the thought of Raoul. When Erik first fell in love with Christine, I was fine with that. When he became obsessed with her, the problems started for me. All Erik would think about was Christine. I had been cast aside, forgotten. I tried to make the best of it, tried to remind him that I was still there, still his sister. Nothing worked. So I was glad when Raoul came along to try to sweep Chris off her feet. I wanted him to take her with him wherever he was going. It's true, I was friends with Christine, and come to think of it, that never changed. I just wanted my brother back, that's all. I wanted the old Erik back, the one who knew he was loved.
"Hounded out by everyone, met with hatred everywhere, no kind word from anyone, no compassion anywhere.."
I scowled at those words as they darted through my thoughts. Erik, don't you realize you were wrong? I didn't meet you with hatred, I gave you many kind words, I gave you compassion, and you threw it away?! For what?! A chorus-girl-turned-prima donna who ran off with her little childhood sweetheart who wouldn't know true love if it danced naked in front of him singing "Think of Me"?! I was breathing hard and had to calm myself for a moment. I had thought this out before many times after the night Erik took Christine to our home. The night I heard those words pass his lips. I don't blame Christine or Erik for what happened. It was Raoul's fault in my eyes. If he hadn't just come out of the blue, all, "Hello Christine, remember me? We were kids together and now I think I'm in love with you, so why don't you betray the one who truly loves you and come off with me?" and just left Christine to be with Erik, she wouldn't have become afraid of him and left him. And when she said she loved him, Erik would have accepted and returned her love and would remember I was there too and love me again. If only it had happened that way.. but Erik's taught me not to dwell on the past and relive bad moments when I don't have to. I sighed. I really did want to find Christine's address and write to her sometime. No matter what had happened, she was still my friend, though I laughed quietly when I thought of a return address to put on any letter I would send her. Something like:
Minuet Duquesne
The House on the Lake Under the Opera Populaire
Paris, France
Hah. The postman would think I was crazy. I decided to think about that after I got Christine's address, and turned my attention back to the scene below me.
Carlotta was now seated in a chair with the back of her hand to her brow. I pretended to vomit at her disgusting display of ineptitude, though I had expected it. I just waited for Firmin and Andre to talk to her and try to get her to calm down. After a moment of that, Carlotta sprang to her feet and cried,
"No! I shall endure dis no longer! You vere supposed to 'ave stopped dese tings 'appening and yet dey still 'appen! Well, you vill find yourself another diva until dese tings stop vunce and for all! I shall not sing tonight, nor ever in dis opera 'ouse until dey are stopped!"
I snickered softly, knowing as well as everyone else down there that the singing pig would be back by tomorrow. Her accent made her predictable outburst even more amusing, especially when she continued,
" 'Ow could you be so irresponsible? I could 'ave been killed!"
"Sorry everyone, I missed," I said quietly, as Carlotta rambled on,
"I vill not come back until dese shenanigans 'ave been ended! Adieu!" and she stormed off and out of the theater.
"But wait, Senora! Oh, not again!" groaned Firmin. "How many times must this happen? Where will we find a diva for tonight? Certainly not Miss Daae, she left with the Vicomte quite a while ago."
"I don't know what's to be done, Firmin. But we must do something. And selling Box 5 is completely out of the question now," Andre said. He turned and looked up at the catwalks and called, "Do you hear, sir? Box 5 shall be left empty tonight!"
"I'm sorry, the Phantom of the Opera is not available at this time, as he is home making dinner right now, but your message will be delivered as soon as possible." I said quietly.
Firmin and Andre walked off to their office, discussing possible replacements for La Banshee, as I have come to mentally address Carlotta. I decided to go for that walk I had told Erik I was taking. I got down from the catwalks and left the Opera House. I had a nice time walking the streets, looking in shop windows. I walked into a music box shop, my favorite shop of all, and admired the music boxes there for a while.
"Hope you have your umbrella with you, Mademoiselle, there's a terrible storm coming," the shopkeeper said to me.
"Hmm? Oh no! I don't have an umbrella with me and it's starting to pour!" I groaned when I glanced out the window. I decided to hurry home before the storm came down any harder. By the time I reached the Opera House, though, I was soaked through. I rung out my dress and hair as much as I could once inside, but I was still pretty wet. The theater was empty; most likely, everyone had gone home on account of the weather. I smiled and walked up on the stage.
"Monsieur Dames, the Opera Populaire is most pleased and proud to announce the youngest and most talented prima donna Paris has ever seen, the lovely Mademoiselle Minuet Duquesne!" I said to the empty audience. I curtsied and began to sing.
"Ici bas! Tous les lilas meurent, tous les chants des oiseux sont courts. Je reve aux etes qui demeurent toujours!"
I smiled as I sang. This was a very special song for me. This was the song I was singing when I first met my brother.
It was four years ago when I first found out I had a brother. I was playing in the attic, and I happened to come across a white half-mask. Curious as always, I took it to my mother and father and asked where it was from, why did we have it. My father just stared at the mask for a moment, then said, "That, my beautiful child, is nothing. Just the mask of a monster."
"What do you mean Papa?" I had asked.
My father was silent. Then he looked at my mother, who nodded at him. He looked back at me and said, "All right. That mask was made to cover the hideous face of a creature who I am ashamed to say is your half-brother. When his mother brought him into the world, I was disgusted. I swore I would never call that thing my son and I left my wife. I married your lovely mother and we had you, and your beauty and sweetness were enough to make up for that mistake. I am actually not sure why I have that mask, but I suggest you just put it back away, my dear, and don't think about it anymore."
"But Papa, I want to know my brother. What's he like? Where is he? What's his name?" I pressed.
"Minuet, my little jewel, you do not want to know such things! They are of no importance now," my father said.
"Please, Papa, just tell me his name at least!" I begged.
My father had sighed and said, "Very well. His name, I believe, is Erik. And that is more than you need to know."
"Thank you Papa. I'll go put this away now," I had said sweetly. I went up to the attic again and searched through the chest I had found the mask in for any clue as to where my brother was. I found newspaper clippings about a supposed ghost in an opera house in Paris. I read them and discovered that people who claimed to have seen the 'ghost' said that a half-mask covered part of his face. So I packed some clothes and ran away that night, taking the mask with me. Paris wasn't that far from where I lived, I lived in the Loire Valley on the side of the Loire River opposite Paris, so I just took a ferry across and asked people about the Opera Populaire until I found it. It was empty when I went in, a little bit eerie. I had looked at the stage, wondered what it was like to sing onstage in a grand theater like this one, and walked up to the stage and begun to sing "Ici Bas". I had felt like I was being watched, but I didn't care. When I finished singing, a mysterious, silky, disembodied voice had murmured, "Bravi, bravi, bravissimi."
"Who's there?" I had whispered.
I heard a deep chuckle and that voice said, "Are you frightened, little one?"
I paused for a moment and then said, "No. I just wish to know who's there watching me."
"I am, and that is enough," the voice had replied, projecting from a different corner this time. I turned my head in the direction it came from, as I had to do for the rest of our conversation, being that his voice kept sounding from different places. Most likely he was trying to confuse and scare me. "What is your name, child?" he asked.
" 'I am' is not enough for me. If I cannot know you, you shall not know me!" I said defiantly.
The voice laughed. "Oh innocent girl, you don't understand why 'I am' is enough and wouldn't like it if it went beyond that."
"I can guess who you are. You're the Phantom of the opera, the Opera Ghost, are you not?" I had stated, haughtily.
I heard chuckling somewhere off stage left and looked towards it. "Very good. Since you know me, may I be allowed to know you?" the voice responded.
"You may. But I have something to ask you first," I rummaged around in my bag and pulled out the mask, help it up and said, "Is this, or was this once, yours?"
There was complete silence. I broke it by saying, "Minuet. That's my name. Minuet Duquesne. And I think that yours is Erik Duquesne. Am I wrong, Monsieur?"
Still there had been no response. Then I heard something off to my right. I looked and had seen a man dressed in black. He was wearing a white half- mask like the one in my hand. He just stared at me for a moment, then walked over to me very slowly. I had felt a little scared at first, but I overcame it by thinking, 'He's my brother. He won't hurt me.' And he didn't. He finally had stood in front of me, just looking at me. Then he said softly, "It can't be. You're too beautiful."
"Would you prefer if I were ugly?" I had asked.
"No! No, it's not that. I just can't believe that a girl so lovely as you is my sister," he replied. He reached out tentatively, and gently touched my cheek. I didn't move away. I just stood there and let him stroke my cheek and hair, looking into his eyes the whole time.
"It is true. It must be," he had finally said. He smiled at my confusion and explained, "You have our father's grey eyes."
"So do you," I replied, quietly. He had just smiled at me for a moment, then took me into his arms and held me. I put my arms around him and rested my head against his strong chest. "Erik," I murmured, "I love you, mon frere."
"Oh, Minuet," he had whispered, as if he couldn't believe what I had just said but wanted to.
"I mean it," I said, "You can trust me. I love you. I do."
"Je reve aux couples qui demeurent, aux couple qui demeurent, qui demeurent tourjours!"
My song ended, snapping me out of my flashback and back to the present. I looked up at Box 5, half expecting to see that tall figure in black walking slowly toward me. Of course he wasn't there, but I had somehow thought he was. I shrugged and decided to head to the lake, before Erik started to worry about me. As I was walking away, I heard the sound of someone, or maybe two someones, clapping. I turned in surprise to see Firmin and Andre coming toward me.
"Bravo! Bravissimo! That was magnificent!" Firmin said enthusiastically.
"Thank you very much, Monsieur," I said softly, tilting my head down and looking up at him in a [sickeningly] shy way. "Pardon me for being in here, I did not know there was anyone here."
"Oh, no pardons necessary, Mademoiselle. You have a lovely voice, you know," said Andre. Though I had always considered him to be slightly more intelligent than Firmin, I was still amazed that he would call my voice lovely after calling Carlotta's the same. Was that an insult, or was he just stupid?
"Indeed, one of the loveliest voices we've heard. Much like Miss Daae's, if you ask me." Firmin declared.
'Please dispense with the act and get to your point before I get sick from all this sappy nonsense you're spouting,' I thought.
"Mademoiselle, there's to be a showing of Hannibal tonight, but our prima donna, La Carlotta, is, umm, unable to perform. We have yet to find a replacement for her, but perhaps you would care to fill in for her?" Andre asked.
This time the surprise and wonder on my face was genuine. "Me, Monsieur? Be Elissa in tonight's performance?" I asked, incredulous. Damn, how desperate were they?
"Ah, good, you know the opera. Yes, you would make a wonderful Elissa. Will you?" asked Firmin.
"I-I-I'd be delighted!" I stammered, "Thank you so much, Monsieurs!"
"Thank you Mademoiselle.. umm.. what is your name?" asked Andre.
"Minuet. Minuet Duquesne." I replied.
"Well then, Mademoiselle Minuet Duquesne, here is the script for the performance. If you require any assistance, please come and ask us. Until tonight, then." Firmin said.
"Until tonight," I repeated, softly. The managers walked off the stage and left the theater. I just stood frozen for a moment and then started dancing for joy, laughing and spinning, happy beyond belief. 'Erik will be so happy and proud when he finds out!' I thought and raced home to tell him.
Note: srry about the screwed-up spaces in the beginning, I don't know why it does that I'll try to fix it.
"He's here! The Phantom of the opera!"
'Actually, he's not,' I thought, watching the chorus girls twitter and fidget and dash around the stage with great amusement. I had told Erik I was going for a walk after we sang together for a while, and I had walked up to the catwalks above the stage and untied one of the ropes holding up the backdrop, causing it to fall. This was like a never-ending experiment, with the chorus girls and that banshee Carlotta as my lab rats. The experiment was to see their reactions to strange, inexplicable happenings. These reactions always commenced with that inane cry of, "He's here! The Phantom of the opera!" and continued with their silly rushing about and babbling to themselves. Half the time nowadays, I was the one who pulled these pranks, but who would guess that the fearsome Phantom had a kid sister? Well, Christine would have known. I know how she would have reacted to the falling backdrop. She'd have looked up at the catwalks, straight at me, with an expression on her face that meant, "Now, was that really necessary Min?" and not get upset and afraid. Oh well, she's not here anymore, she ran off with that pretty-boy Raoul. My hands clenched into fists at the thought of Raoul. When Erik first fell in love with Christine, I was fine with that. When he became obsessed with her, the problems started for me. All Erik would think about was Christine. I had been cast aside, forgotten. I tried to make the best of it, tried to remind him that I was still there, still his sister. Nothing worked. So I was glad when Raoul came along to try to sweep Chris off her feet. I wanted him to take her with him wherever he was going. It's true, I was friends with Christine, and come to think of it, that never changed. I just wanted my brother back, that's all. I wanted the old Erik back, the one who knew he was loved.
"Hounded out by everyone, met with hatred everywhere, no kind word from anyone, no compassion anywhere.."
I scowled at those words as they darted through my thoughts. Erik, don't you realize you were wrong? I didn't meet you with hatred, I gave you many kind words, I gave you compassion, and you threw it away?! For what?! A chorus-girl-turned-prima donna who ran off with her little childhood sweetheart who wouldn't know true love if it danced naked in front of him singing "Think of Me"?! I was breathing hard and had to calm myself for a moment. I had thought this out before many times after the night Erik took Christine to our home. The night I heard those words pass his lips. I don't blame Christine or Erik for what happened. It was Raoul's fault in my eyes. If he hadn't just come out of the blue, all, "Hello Christine, remember me? We were kids together and now I think I'm in love with you, so why don't you betray the one who truly loves you and come off with me?" and just left Christine to be with Erik, she wouldn't have become afraid of him and left him. And when she said she loved him, Erik would have accepted and returned her love and would remember I was there too and love me again. If only it had happened that way.. but Erik's taught me not to dwell on the past and relive bad moments when I don't have to. I sighed. I really did want to find Christine's address and write to her sometime. No matter what had happened, she was still my friend, though I laughed quietly when I thought of a return address to put on any letter I would send her. Something like:
Minuet Duquesne
The House on the Lake Under the Opera Populaire
Paris, France
Hah. The postman would think I was crazy. I decided to think about that after I got Christine's address, and turned my attention back to the scene below me.
Carlotta was now seated in a chair with the back of her hand to her brow. I pretended to vomit at her disgusting display of ineptitude, though I had expected it. I just waited for Firmin and Andre to talk to her and try to get her to calm down. After a moment of that, Carlotta sprang to her feet and cried,
"No! I shall endure dis no longer! You vere supposed to 'ave stopped dese tings 'appening and yet dey still 'appen! Well, you vill find yourself another diva until dese tings stop vunce and for all! I shall not sing tonight, nor ever in dis opera 'ouse until dey are stopped!"
I snickered softly, knowing as well as everyone else down there that the singing pig would be back by tomorrow. Her accent made her predictable outburst even more amusing, especially when she continued,
" 'Ow could you be so irresponsible? I could 'ave been killed!"
"Sorry everyone, I missed," I said quietly, as Carlotta rambled on,
"I vill not come back until dese shenanigans 'ave been ended! Adieu!" and she stormed off and out of the theater.
"But wait, Senora! Oh, not again!" groaned Firmin. "How many times must this happen? Where will we find a diva for tonight? Certainly not Miss Daae, she left with the Vicomte quite a while ago."
"I don't know what's to be done, Firmin. But we must do something. And selling Box 5 is completely out of the question now," Andre said. He turned and looked up at the catwalks and called, "Do you hear, sir? Box 5 shall be left empty tonight!"
"I'm sorry, the Phantom of the Opera is not available at this time, as he is home making dinner right now, but your message will be delivered as soon as possible." I said quietly.
Firmin and Andre walked off to their office, discussing possible replacements for La Banshee, as I have come to mentally address Carlotta. I decided to go for that walk I had told Erik I was taking. I got down from the catwalks and left the Opera House. I had a nice time walking the streets, looking in shop windows. I walked into a music box shop, my favorite shop of all, and admired the music boxes there for a while.
"Hope you have your umbrella with you, Mademoiselle, there's a terrible storm coming," the shopkeeper said to me.
"Hmm? Oh no! I don't have an umbrella with me and it's starting to pour!" I groaned when I glanced out the window. I decided to hurry home before the storm came down any harder. By the time I reached the Opera House, though, I was soaked through. I rung out my dress and hair as much as I could once inside, but I was still pretty wet. The theater was empty; most likely, everyone had gone home on account of the weather. I smiled and walked up on the stage.
"Monsieur Dames, the Opera Populaire is most pleased and proud to announce the youngest and most talented prima donna Paris has ever seen, the lovely Mademoiselle Minuet Duquesne!" I said to the empty audience. I curtsied and began to sing.
"Ici bas! Tous les lilas meurent, tous les chants des oiseux sont courts. Je reve aux etes qui demeurent toujours!"
I smiled as I sang. This was a very special song for me. This was the song I was singing when I first met my brother.
It was four years ago when I first found out I had a brother. I was playing in the attic, and I happened to come across a white half-mask. Curious as always, I took it to my mother and father and asked where it was from, why did we have it. My father just stared at the mask for a moment, then said, "That, my beautiful child, is nothing. Just the mask of a monster."
"What do you mean Papa?" I had asked.
My father was silent. Then he looked at my mother, who nodded at him. He looked back at me and said, "All right. That mask was made to cover the hideous face of a creature who I am ashamed to say is your half-brother. When his mother brought him into the world, I was disgusted. I swore I would never call that thing my son and I left my wife. I married your lovely mother and we had you, and your beauty and sweetness were enough to make up for that mistake. I am actually not sure why I have that mask, but I suggest you just put it back away, my dear, and don't think about it anymore."
"But Papa, I want to know my brother. What's he like? Where is he? What's his name?" I pressed.
"Minuet, my little jewel, you do not want to know such things! They are of no importance now," my father said.
"Please, Papa, just tell me his name at least!" I begged.
My father had sighed and said, "Very well. His name, I believe, is Erik. And that is more than you need to know."
"Thank you Papa. I'll go put this away now," I had said sweetly. I went up to the attic again and searched through the chest I had found the mask in for any clue as to where my brother was. I found newspaper clippings about a supposed ghost in an opera house in Paris. I read them and discovered that people who claimed to have seen the 'ghost' said that a half-mask covered part of his face. So I packed some clothes and ran away that night, taking the mask with me. Paris wasn't that far from where I lived, I lived in the Loire Valley on the side of the Loire River opposite Paris, so I just took a ferry across and asked people about the Opera Populaire until I found it. It was empty when I went in, a little bit eerie. I had looked at the stage, wondered what it was like to sing onstage in a grand theater like this one, and walked up to the stage and begun to sing "Ici Bas". I had felt like I was being watched, but I didn't care. When I finished singing, a mysterious, silky, disembodied voice had murmured, "Bravi, bravi, bravissimi."
"Who's there?" I had whispered.
I heard a deep chuckle and that voice said, "Are you frightened, little one?"
I paused for a moment and then said, "No. I just wish to know who's there watching me."
"I am, and that is enough," the voice had replied, projecting from a different corner this time. I turned my head in the direction it came from, as I had to do for the rest of our conversation, being that his voice kept sounding from different places. Most likely he was trying to confuse and scare me. "What is your name, child?" he asked.
" 'I am' is not enough for me. If I cannot know you, you shall not know me!" I said defiantly.
The voice laughed. "Oh innocent girl, you don't understand why 'I am' is enough and wouldn't like it if it went beyond that."
"I can guess who you are. You're the Phantom of the opera, the Opera Ghost, are you not?" I had stated, haughtily.
I heard chuckling somewhere off stage left and looked towards it. "Very good. Since you know me, may I be allowed to know you?" the voice responded.
"You may. But I have something to ask you first," I rummaged around in my bag and pulled out the mask, help it up and said, "Is this, or was this once, yours?"
There was complete silence. I broke it by saying, "Minuet. That's my name. Minuet Duquesne. And I think that yours is Erik Duquesne. Am I wrong, Monsieur?"
Still there had been no response. Then I heard something off to my right. I looked and had seen a man dressed in black. He was wearing a white half- mask like the one in my hand. He just stared at me for a moment, then walked over to me very slowly. I had felt a little scared at first, but I overcame it by thinking, 'He's my brother. He won't hurt me.' And he didn't. He finally had stood in front of me, just looking at me. Then he said softly, "It can't be. You're too beautiful."
"Would you prefer if I were ugly?" I had asked.
"No! No, it's not that. I just can't believe that a girl so lovely as you is my sister," he replied. He reached out tentatively, and gently touched my cheek. I didn't move away. I just stood there and let him stroke my cheek and hair, looking into his eyes the whole time.
"It is true. It must be," he had finally said. He smiled at my confusion and explained, "You have our father's grey eyes."
"So do you," I replied, quietly. He had just smiled at me for a moment, then took me into his arms and held me. I put my arms around him and rested my head against his strong chest. "Erik," I murmured, "I love you, mon frere."
"Oh, Minuet," he had whispered, as if he couldn't believe what I had just said but wanted to.
"I mean it," I said, "You can trust me. I love you. I do."
"Je reve aux couples qui demeurent, aux couple qui demeurent, qui demeurent tourjours!"
My song ended, snapping me out of my flashback and back to the present. I looked up at Box 5, half expecting to see that tall figure in black walking slowly toward me. Of course he wasn't there, but I had somehow thought he was. I shrugged and decided to head to the lake, before Erik started to worry about me. As I was walking away, I heard the sound of someone, or maybe two someones, clapping. I turned in surprise to see Firmin and Andre coming toward me.
"Bravo! Bravissimo! That was magnificent!" Firmin said enthusiastically.
"Thank you very much, Monsieur," I said softly, tilting my head down and looking up at him in a [sickeningly] shy way. "Pardon me for being in here, I did not know there was anyone here."
"Oh, no pardons necessary, Mademoiselle. You have a lovely voice, you know," said Andre. Though I had always considered him to be slightly more intelligent than Firmin, I was still amazed that he would call my voice lovely after calling Carlotta's the same. Was that an insult, or was he just stupid?
"Indeed, one of the loveliest voices we've heard. Much like Miss Daae's, if you ask me." Firmin declared.
'Please dispense with the act and get to your point before I get sick from all this sappy nonsense you're spouting,' I thought.
"Mademoiselle, there's to be a showing of Hannibal tonight, but our prima donna, La Carlotta, is, umm, unable to perform. We have yet to find a replacement for her, but perhaps you would care to fill in for her?" Andre asked.
This time the surprise and wonder on my face was genuine. "Me, Monsieur? Be Elissa in tonight's performance?" I asked, incredulous. Damn, how desperate were they?
"Ah, good, you know the opera. Yes, you would make a wonderful Elissa. Will you?" asked Firmin.
"I-I-I'd be delighted!" I stammered, "Thank you so much, Monsieurs!"
"Thank you Mademoiselle.. umm.. what is your name?" asked Andre.
"Minuet. Minuet Duquesne." I replied.
"Well then, Mademoiselle Minuet Duquesne, here is the script for the performance. If you require any assistance, please come and ask us. Until tonight, then." Firmin said.
"Until tonight," I repeated, softly. The managers walked off the stage and left the theater. I just stood frozen for a moment and then started dancing for joy, laughing and spinning, happy beyond belief. 'Erik will be so happy and proud when he finds out!' I thought and raced home to tell him.
Note: srry about the screwed-up spaces in the beginning, I don't know why it does that I'll try to fix it.