He said nothing. I had poured out the contents of my heart, probably making a complete fool of myself… and he said nothing. It was getting light. The first shadows dissolved, and we kept looking at each other. I was holding my breath, waiting for his reaction, and it almost seemed as if he did the same. It was a blissful time, without sadness and rejection. Everything was still possible. Yet with every second the dull throbbing in my head became stronger. Reason was knocking at the door of my mind, telling me that some things were not possible, as much as I wanted them to be.
"Just forget what I said, will you?", I broke the silence, hoping it was too dark for him to see that my eyes were full of tears as I practically took back what I had longed to say for such a long time. "How could I? You were the first person even to use these words meaning me. I´ve dreamed of hearing them since I can remember." "But I´m not the woman you wanted to hear them from.", I said quietly. "I´m not Christine." "Yes, but… how could this have happened?" For a second I was puzzled, then I understood what he was referring to. "You mean how I fell in love with you? There were thousands of small things. The letter of condolence… the white lilies for my birthday… these expensive ballet shoes for Meg – I told her I couldn´t afford them, and the next morning they were in Box Five… Every day I liked you more, and without even realising it I was in love. It was ridiculous for an ugly woman of my age, and I was certain that in a place so full of beautiful girls you´d be bound to find one soon. You can´t imagine how relieved I was that you didn´t choose Meg. I could have never coped with it." I stopped, exhausted from speaking so much about such private matters.
"You´re not ugly.", he said gently. Of all the information I had given him he had picked this one to talk about first? "These girls´ beauty will fade away, and they´ll end up in the big mass of mediocrity. This could never happen to you, Antoinette. Every single of these lines…" He began to trace several of my wrinkles with his index finger, and I closed my eyes momentarily to revel in the sensations it was causing. "…tells a story. I can see stories of laughter and of sadness. Don´t ever try to cover them with rouge and powder like the other women do! It would destroy everything."
"And what about you?", I asked courageously. "What is it I see in your face?" "Hate. Fear. Terror." Each word he uttered with so much emotion that it seemed to stand for hundreds he suppressed. "How can you tell?", I wanted to know. "I don´t think you have many mirrors in your home." "I don´t need one.", he hissed. "I can see it very clearly in the eyes of the people who are unlucky enough to meet me. Oh yes, I can see it, even when I wear my mask."
I moved closer, so that our bodies were almost touching. "Look at me, Erik. What do you see in my eyes?" He took a long time to answer, and I felt as if I´d lose myself in his eyes. If only his gaze could be on me forever! "Warmth", he finally whispered. "Affection. And…" I nodded encouragingly. "…and love.", he finished barely audibly before his lips met mine in a short and tender kiss.
"Did you know that I needed sixteen days to find out what your favourite flowers were?", he asked, running a hand over my shiny black bun. "You´re not a very open person." "Look who´s talking – until tonight I didn´t even know your name.", I reminded him. I wasn´t sure what to make of his actions. Did he simply like me or was there more? "Until tonight you didn´t seem to be that interested in me. Id have never tried to approach you on this level. As strange as it might sound: I was afraid of losing you. You were the only person who didn´t despise me.", he said. I couldn´t hold myself back any longer. "Are you trying to tell me that you were in love with me?", I blurted out. "No.", he said flatly, and my heart sank. "I am in love with you."
"But… but that´s impossible! You can´t…! What about… Christine?", I stammered, entirely confused. My heart was beating wildly, but I refused to strike the match that would set it on fire yet. I had to be certain. "I can´t deny that I loved her very much, and maybe still do it. Yet she has hurt me a lot. Running away with this young handsome Vicomte… you wouldn´t do this to me." Emptying a bucket of cold water over my heart would have had the same effect. "So you´re only telling me about your feelings because it is safer with a woman who won´t find someone young and handsome anyway? Thank you for this lovely compliment!", I muttered bitterly.
"No!", he exclaimed, cupping my face with his large hands, and even if I didn´t want it, my body reacted to his touch: My cheeks flushed. "Well, actually you are right in a way. You´re a woman. Christine is a girl. I can´t blame her for falling for a man with charm and a nice smile. With you it´s different – I can be sure that your feelings are true and won´t change, even if you meet someone more good-looking than me. Not that this would be too difficult. Just have a look at the gargoyles at Notre Dame…", he added with a hint of sarcasm. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, Christine´s decision had shaken him to the very core of his existence.
I gave a small sigh. Improving his self-confidence wouldn´t be an easy task. "When you just looked into my eyes, did you see anything that told you I cared about your appearance? What you said about me is also true for you: There is no need to hide your face. It is perfect just like it is because it´s a part of you.", I said softly. "But it´s a part that makes all people hate me.", he argued. "I don´t hate you.", I reminded him. Instead of replying he pressed a hand against his temple, apparently about to get a headache. "It has been a long day, and you´ve given me many things to think about.", he muttered. "Would you mind if we continued this conversation another time?"
"I´m sorry. I shouldn´t have talked for such a long time.", I said with an apologetic smile. "Just one more thing: I know you´ll probably have feelings for Christine forever, but I don´t care. If you want to be with me… I mean, as a couple, you´d make me a very happy woman, and I would try my best to make you happy as well. Of course you don´t have to decide anything right now. But you shouldn´t go back to the opera; they´ll still look for you there. You could stay here… in the guest room, that is.", I added quickly. "That would be very friendly, Antoinette." We stood up and dressed, yet when he made his way to the door I merely called: "It´s the first room on the right-hand side.". "Don´t you want to rest a little yourself? After all, you spent the whole night dealing with the problems of a stupid old man." It was quite touching to see Erik discover his sense of humour, but I shook my head. "I´ll wait for Meg. I should better tell her that there´s a stupid old man sleeping in out guest room." He chuckled slightly – a sound that was music in my ears – and left.
I sat down again, and a few minutes later I heard a key turn, and Meg entered the room, with dirty clothes, untidy hair and sparkling eyes. "You won´t believe all the things that happened after your departure!", she almost shouted, her voice full of excitement. Silently and patiently I listened to her adventures, my thoughts wandering off to Erik. For some reason I didn´t doubt we´d stay together, as friends or as lovers. We´d help each other to cope with fears and insecurities and the ghosts of the past. Together we´d get out of the shadows.
The End