Chapter 2: Tragedy…or is it?
When Christine got home later that evening, she found a letter addressed to her from America.
"What in the world do they want with me?" She asked herself, unlocking the front door to her small apartment.
A lavishly dressed woman with fishnet stockings passing by saw Christine holding the letter and asked "You Got one too….they….sent me…o..." But she never finished the sentence because she burst out sobbing.
"Umm, would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" Christine decided she just couldn't leave the poor woman out in the street, especially not at this time of night in the state that she was in.
The woman nodded, and followed Christine into her apartment.
Christine offered the woman a seat and busied herself with the kettle.
" So what's yer name love?" She spoke with a heavy British cockney accent.
"Christine." There was a brief pause.
"Chris'ine eh? That's a pri'y name, mines is Giselle." Giselle stuck out her hand to Christine, who shook it cautiously.
Christine set down a teapot and two teacups, and then sat down across from Giselle.
"Well don' jus' si' there, open yer letta." Christine had almost forgotten entirely about the letter, and hurried to retrieve it. She tore it open and read it while Giselle gulped down her tea in a very unladylike fashion. Christine put down the letter and just stared off into space.
"Chis'ine?"
Christine came out of her trance and started to cry.
Giselle got up and went over to comfort her. "There, there now love, whas happened to im?"
Christine handed the letter to Giselle. She read it over and her eyes popped.
"Wha' ee 'asn't lef' you any money? He new ee mighta died an' ee didn' leave you any money!" Giselle looked down at Christine and had an idea. "Ere love, hows abou ye come and work with me? The lodging is free an the moneys good. The hou's are nine p.m. to four a.m."
Christine looked up. "Four a.m.? Where do you work Giselle?"
Giselle laughed. "At the Moulin Rouge o' corse!"
Christine dropped her teacup. "The Moulin Rouge?!"
Christine examined Giselle more closely. Her dress was overly revealing at the chest, and short enough that you could see her garters peeking from underneath her slip.
"Thank you for the offer Giselle, but I'm just not that kind of person."
Giselle looked Christine up and down. "And why not, yer a pir'y thing, I know alo' o' gents that wouldn' mind ye as their partner." Giselle giggled.
Christine assumed that she was probably a little drunk. She put her head in her hands, slightly frustrated with the fact that Raoul hadn't left her any money. She had no tears for him' those she had used up on Erik. Erik, what would he think of her if he heard that she had started working at the Moulin Rouge? Well he would be outraged, that's what. Her frustration slowly turned to anger, why couldn't she just stay with Erik? Why did Raoul have to make everything so bloody complicated? Christine let out a sob of anger and frustration mixed in one.
"Don' worry Chris'ine," Giselle rubbed her back soothingly, " it'll be alrigh'."
Christine wondered how it could be alright. She couldn't get a job at the Opera, since the season was over. And even if it wasn't over, Carlotta had returned, renaming herself the Prima Donna. Maybe she could ask Nadir about Erik again, surely he must have heard something.
Oh that'll be grand. "Hello Erik, Raoul has been killed and hasn't left me with any money so I was wondering, even though I broke your heart, could I stay with you?" Christine almost laughed at this thought, Nadir said Erik had disappeared, why would he lie?
Christine looked up at Giselle, she didn't want to hurt her feelings, but Christine was sure that she would find work elsewhere.
"Giselle, I think I'll be alright, he wasn't a very good man anyway. Here, see, look what he did to me." She showed Giselle the gash on her arm.
Giselle seemed shocked. "He 'urt ye, an' ye ain't gonna do nythn' abou it?"
Christine covered her arm before Giselle could touch it, it hurt enough as it was.
"Thank you for your concern Giselle, but really, honestly, I'll be ok."
Giselle looked at her suspiciously like a mother knowing that her child had skipped school. "Well, if you say so, but if yeh ever need nythn', come by 'round six o'clock any night. Just tell 'em Giselle sen' for yeh."
Christine nodded making a mental note just in case. Giselle turned and made to leave but Christine stopped her. "Giselle?"
Giselle turned. "Yeah?"
Christine lowered her eyes. "How did you know about the letter? I mean, outside you said something about me getting one as well.?"
Giselle smiled weakly with her hand on the door knob. "My husband' died abou lass' month or somthn', bin workn' at the Moulin Rouge ever since."
She opened the door and left, leaving the smell of brandy and a very lost Christine behind.
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Erik listened as Nadir questioned Christine. So, Raoul had hurt his angel. He could tell just by listening to Christine's voice that she really hadn't fallen down the stairs.
Erik had decided to formulate this plan in his head about a month ago. Nadir would bring Christine into the Café, where Erik could listen to Christine's angelic voice again. Erik had also heard Christine's answer when Nadir had asked if she loved him. This had made his heart soar, she loved him, after a year she still loved him. She had also kept her promise on never forgetting him, as she had admitted to dreaming about him.
"Do you love him?" Nadir asked.
"Raoul or Erik?"
"Raoul."
Erik held his breath.
"No." Her answer came loud and clear.
Erik almost yelled at his enjoyment, but controlled himself. Besides, she was a married now, and he couldn't do anything about that. He sighed and realized that it was starting to get dark outside.
Christine was starting to leave and Erik decided to escort her home. He rose from his table, which was behind that of Christine and Nadir, and carefully made his way outside without being seen by Christine.
Erik gave her a head start and followed a few feet behind, careful not to draw attention to himself. He wanted to make sure that Christine made it home safely; after all, he was her angel.
Christine stopped at a small building that was nicely decorated with flowers in every windowsill. She bent down to pick something up, and he realized it was a letter; she looked at it curiously, and then put it in her pocket. A voice from across the street made them both turn. It was a woman Erik recognized to be a dancer from the Moulin Rouge. She let out a sob and then followed Christine into the building. Erik decided to wait, to make sure that nothing happened. So he stood in the shadows and waited. Once, he heard a sob of aggravation, but decided that it meant nothing, since no blood-curdling scream followed. About an hour later, the whore emerged with a bit of a tear stained face.
Erik heard rustling above and looked up. Christine was on the balcony, staring off into space like she usually did. A smile crept onto his lips as he remembered watching her in her dressing room as she thought about him. Erik sighed. Those days were over, she couldn't possibly be thinking about him. But he was proved wrong when she whispered his name.
"Erik, where are you?"
Erik stood shocked. He wanted so much to make himself known to her, but again controlled his urges.
"She is married," he said to himself, "think what Raoul would do to her if he found out."
Erik sighed. He decided to let her know she was not alone.
"Christine." He whispered.
She closed her eyes savoring it, probably thinking it was a memory. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she went back inside.
Erik watched her go, wanting to kick himself for his foolishness. What if Raoul had come outside? He surely would not have taken it as a memory. Erik mentally abused himself for a few more minutes, then turned and engulfed himself in the darkness.
