I began to notice major improvements after only a few weeks of studying with Erik. We soon became great friends, although we never actually met face to face. The management also noticed my improvement. Not long after I had begun my training, Monsieur Richard called me to his office, and offered me a small role in Faust. I was overjoyed!



Carlotta, the stuck-up diva, was enraged. I had never thought well of Carlotta in the first place, because she had such a passionate hatred for Christine. My dislike for her grew, however, when I overheard her arguing with the managers a few evenings before opening night. Christine and I were walking back to our rooms, when we heard my name being mentioned. Monsieur Andre was saying, "I did give Carolyn Ingraham the part." "Why on earth did you do that?" Carlotta shrieked, "I had thought that part was reserved for my niece!" "It was at first," Richard said, "but quite frankly, Carlotta, Carolyn has a better voice than Juliet." Juliet was twenty, and already had as wide a vibrato as her Aunt. That said very little for poor Juliet. "That girl does not have the voice for that part," Carlotta raged on, "and how will she perform it well without sight?" "Carlotta," Richard said in a measured tone, "I don't ever want to hear you say anything negative regarding that girl's blindness again. That is discrimination, and if I hear that you've said anything, and she gets hurt, you will be dismissed immediately. Is that understood?"



I didn't wait to hear her response. The damage had already been done. I ran to my room, and slammed the door. I hated it so much when people thought me incapable. Christine didn't follow me. She must have known I needed to be alone. I threw myself on my couch and cried. It was childish of me I knew, but it hurt me so much when anyone did that to me. I was a person; a person who lacked sight, but a person nonetheless, with feelings that could be hurt. "Carolyn," Erik's voice said softly, calming me immediately. I turned towards the mirror. "I understand your pain mon ami," he said. I heard the sorrow in his voice, and my heart went out to him. Erik was suffering too, but why? "Don't let what she says get to you," he continued gently, "she's just jealous, because she'll never have as beautiful a voice as you."



I smiled slightly. Erik could be so charming sometimes. After awhile, Erik began to sing. His speaking voice was exquisite, but his singing voice...surely he was a real angel. I relaxed, as his song caressed my soul. Feelings I had locked deep inside my previously broken heart came alive within me, as I floated away on a cloud of music. I felt a sudden need to meet Erik face to face. When the song was finished, I said, "Who are you Erik? Are you a man, or an angel? Are you real? If you are, why have I never met you? Oh please, let me meet you." I knew I needed him to fill some void in my life, although I didn't know what it was, or how he would do it. There was a moment of silence, and for a split second, I was terribly afraid he had left me. But presently, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Erik, is that you?" "Yes, mon ami," he replied, "Come with me. I want to show you my home." I didn't know this man, but I trusted him with all my heart. I took his arm, and was led through the panel in my mirror, and down many corridors and flights of stairs. We stopped, and I heard the sound of rushing water.



"We're at a lake", Erik explained, "My house is on the other side." He helped me into the boat, and we rowed across. Erik sat beside me on a sofa in his drawing room. "This is a very large room," I observed casually, feeling slightly giddy with the knowledge that Erik was so close to me. "You can feel the size," Erik said, not surprised in the least by my remark, "I've spent many years studying many different things," he said, "Blindness was one of them." "Can you read Braille?" I asked. "I can read and write it in several languages." "Do you speak English?" I asked. "Yes," he said in my native tongue, "I spent several years in London." Erik and I had even more in common than I had originally thought. Did this mean something? "Stop dreaming!" I reprimanded myself sharply, "don't jump to conclusions so quickly. You remember what happened the last time you let your feelings control you like that." Yes, I remembered all to well, and the memory hurt. I pushed all negative thoughts from my mind.



"What does this room look like?" I asked. "Besides the sofa we're sitting on," Erik began, "There is a grand piano at the opposite end of the room, and several upholstered chairs. I'll show you around the house tomorrow. For now, you should get some sleep. You look exhausted." I really was very tired. Erik led me down a hall to a bedroom. "My room is right next door," he said, "don't hesitate to call if you need anything." "Thank you so much Erik," I said as he handed me a nightgown, "I feel so much better." "Sleep well," he said, briefly caressing my hair. The touch of his hand made my pulse quicken, and a pleasant chill run down my spine. After he had closed the door, I changed, and climbed into bed. But my dreams were not of performing in Faust; my dreams were of Erik.