CHAPTER 2—I REMEMBER

Erik liked Vienna. It had been a long train ride that took him closer to Czechoslovakia than he would have liked, but it had been worth it. He had let himself into a small but attractive flat that was furnished in a manner that was not particularly masculine or feminine. Having been settled in the night before, he had paid a visit to the Vienna Opera to see La Belle Hélène by Offenbach. All the while he thought how wonderful Christine would be at the part of Helen—she had the soprano voice the role required, and had indeed started a war of sorts between the Chagney boy and himself.

Erik was jolted from his thoughts by a knock at the door. He glanced again at his pocket watch before rushing to open it. He was greeted by the copper face that he had missed for the last few years. He did his best to scowl when he said, "You're late, Nadir."

"Ah, so I am," he said, glancing at the clock on the mantel. "But you are not overly upset, it seems."

Erik chuckled. "So it seems," he said. The two men laughed at each other, then embraced. "It's good to see you, old friend."

Nadir's eyes crinkled in a smile. "As it is to see you." His eyes glinted with mischief, and Erik peered at him.

"What are you not telling me?" he asked suspiciously.

"Ah, well, there is good reason as to why I am late," Nadir said slyly. "Upon my arrival, I caught sight of a disheveled young woman with a small boy. It seemed that a bit of her luggage had been misplaced, and I offered to assist her in finding it. She then insisted that I accompany her to her intended destination."

Erik raised his eyebrows. "Did you now," he said.

"I most certainly did." The second the older man stepped aside, a small streak rushed at Erik and attatched itself to his knees.

"We came to visit!" the little boy said, happily. "Mama and I came to see you! Are you surprised? Are you? Are you happy to see us?"

The little boy was practically bouncing about the flat with excitement. Behind him, his mother stood, a suitcase in each hand, looking exhausted. "We're not in the way, are we?" she asked. "We can stay in a hotel, it that's—"

Erik took the suitcases from her, set them inside the door, and pulled her into a tight embrace. "It's wonderful to see you again, Eva," he whispered.

Eva pulled away slightly to peer into his face. "You look thin."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Erik turned to lift the suitcases and carry them to the second bedroom. Eva trailed behind him, going on about the fact that he had not been eating enough. She sounded more like a mother than a sister, honestly.

As he returned to the sitting room, he heard Nadir cuckle. Jean had pearched himself on the man's knee and was rambling on about the trip.

"He's never been on a train before," Eva said. "Jean, get down from there before you break Nadir's knee."

Nadir shook his head. "The boy is fine, Eva." He smiled up at her.

Erik did not miss the pink flush in his sister's cheeks when she smiled at Nadir. "If you say so." She turned to Erik. "Have you had dinner yet?"

He shook his head. "I haven't had time to cook yet. Would you care to join me?"

"I'd love to," she said, and she linked her arm through his. Glancing up at him again, she said, "You really do look thin. Is it stress? Have you been sleeping? Are you—"

Erik reached around to clap a hand over her mouth. "Stop." She glared at him, but nodded. "Now tell me of Paris."

As the two of them entered the kitchen, Erik noticed a change in Eva's demeanor. She looked over at him as she began peeling potatoes. "I have news," she said softly, glancing back at the sitting room to make sure Jean had not snuck in to listen, as was his habit.

"Really," Erik said, dryly. "What brings you to Vienna?"

"News." Eva reached for another potato and began to tell him the news she had brought him.

It was becoming less unusual for Christine Daae to drop by in the afternoons for tea with Eva and Jean. Today was no exception. Eva had just readied the parlor with tea and sandwiches when the door chimes rang out. A moment later, Corinne appeared at the door with a smiling Christine. Eva smiled back and reached out a hand to greet her.

"Corinne, will you fetch Jean for me?" Eva looked at her friend. "How are you today, dear?"

"The same as I am every day." Sitting in her usual seat, Christine spoke of the countess's efforts to encourage Christine to begin a new needlepoint with her, a new rumor about Phillipe and his new mistress, before speaking of Raoul's continued absence.

"I haven't seen him in two weeks, Eva," she said. "I'm beginning to wonder if this wedding is ever going to occur."

Half wondering if that was not a bad idea, Christine was interrupted by Jean's entrance. No longer shy around Christine, the boy rushed to her, hopping into her lap and launching into a story involving the butler, the maid, and a mishap with a bird that had entered the house by mistake that morning.

"Drink your tea, Jean," Eva said, pushing a cup at the boy. He hopped down to sit on the floor at Christine's feet and immediately took a sandwich from the table.

A comfortable silence settled over the room as Eva leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a moment and taking pleasure in the momentary silence. Jean soon grew restless, however, and began tugging at his mother's skirt. She looked down at him.

"When will I begin a new instrument, mother?" he asked.

"When Monsieur Maureau believes you are ready," Eva said, not bothering to open her eyes.

"What instrument to you play, Jean?" Christine asked.

"Violin," he said, darkly. "I want to learn the piano, though," he said enthusiastically. "Just like my uncle!"

At the mention of her brother, Eva's eyes flew open. Before Christine could ask another question Eva did not dare answer, she said, "I must tell you something, Christine."

Eyes narrowed slightly at the impending change of subject, Christine looked over the rim of her cup. "Yes?"

"I won't be home for the next week. You'll have to survive alone, I suppose," she added jokingly.

"Where are you going?"

"Vienna." Eva took a sip of her tea and added, "There is some business there with my old flat that I need to take care of."

"But Mama, I thought we were going to Vienna to see—"

"The opera!" It was the first thing that came out of Eva's mouth. "He wants to go to the Vienna Opera." Before Jean had time to protest, Eva said, "You go back to your studies, darling. I'll see you at dinner."

He scowled, then turned to Christine. "Goodbye, Miss Christine." He raced over to hug her knees, and she dropped a kiss on the top of his head. He smiled brightly and skipped from the room.

Eyes still looking after Jean, Christine asked, "What business is there for you in Vienna?"

"I'm thinking of selling my flat there, and I must meet with a potential buyer. Everything is arranged, but I do wish to meet the man taking my flat."

Christine nodded. "I can understand that. After all, it was your home before you came here."

Eva smiled before she changed the subject again. "When is Raoul due back?"

"Tomorrow," she said vaguely. "I almost wish he were staying another day."

Eva passed her a quizzical look over the rim of her tea cup.

"He writes to me," Christine said. "But his letters lack… something."

"How can a letter lack something?" Eva asked. "You think there's something he's not telling you?"

"No." She was quiet as she thought for a moment. "They lack… passion." She set down her cup. "He tells me he loves me, but there's no…no…"

"Romance?" Eva asked.

Christine nodded. "It's almost like the letters he wrote me when we were children. He gives me slow, loving kisses," she said, blushing. "I want a man to sweep me off my feet. Someone like--"

She stopped abruptly, turning ever pinker than before.

"Someone like who?" Eva asked, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

Her blush subsiding a bit, Christine's face became wistful, and her eyes slid slightly out of focus. "He was… the most amazing man I have ever met. A little crazy," she added, smiling slightly, "but amazing. He was a musical genius—he taught me everything I know."

Eva tried to keep her breath from catching in her throat as Christine began to tell of a mysterious phantom in the opera house that had fallen fatally in love with her.

"I never even knew his name," she said, sadly. "I think he must be dead now. I saw an obituary in the newspaper for him, but I heard that the police are still looking for him. I don't know what to think. I don't know where he would have gone."

Vienna, thought Eva, silently. Out loud, she said, "Maybe he'll come back someday."

"And what?" Christine said, bitterly. "We'll live happily ever after? What about Raoul? If nothing else, he is still my friend. I couldn't…" She sighed. "I couldn't stay with him, Eva. What kind of life would I have led, running from the law? I could never have raised a family."

Eva said nothing. A few minutes later, Christine took her leave, and Eva rushed up to finish packing. Now was the time to leave.

Erik was silent as Eva finished her story. The smell of baking ham filled the air, and the potatoes were boiling on the stove. As Erik began setting the table, Eva noticed his hands shaking.

"Are you alright?"

His face was almost impossible to read through the black mask he wore, so Eva could not tell by looking what was running through his head. "Erik?"

"Let it go, Eva," he said softly, glancing toward the sitting room where Jean was beginning to fall asleep on Nadir's chest while the older man read a book to him. "I'm happy now with you and Jean and Nadir."

"But you don't have Jean and Nadir and me. We're all in Paris, Erik, you should—"

"No." His voice was harsh as he glared over at her. "Leave it there, Eva. I have had enough pain to last a lifetime."

"Fine," she said. "Just remember, though. She still wants you."

For the rest of the time the two of them were preparing dinner, Erik did not utter a single word.