A Place in This World
CHAPTER 14
Erik entered the kitchen and all eyes were on him. Christine and Raoul came in directly behind him. Erik, attempting to speak to no one, went up to Michél and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Michél could see the remains of the tears that Erik had shed; they left scars of their own. The pain buried deep inside of Erik was rearing its ugly head, as it seemed his whole body was held in an invisible vice.
Margarite gingerly approached him, "Why don't you just sit for a while, I have hardly had the chance to talk to you." Erik gave a weary smile and nodded, seating himself at the end of the small table; everyone present noticed how everything in the room dwarfed in his presence. "Would you like some tea, I have just made a fresh pot? I also have some fresh, warm, pound cake…let me get you a piece."
As Margarite busied herself in meeting Erik's nutritional needs, Erik, with a look of unbelief on his face, interjected"Margarite, you know that I do not consume food and beverages when there are others, around me…it is disgusting to most people knowing that I exist, let alone that I must take sustenance. The only one I have allowed to be around me when I am feeding is Michél."
Everyone noticed how Erik's reference to "feeding" made it sound like he was an animal. They were all stunned into utter silence. They had never heard of such thing.
Margarite and Christine both thought about the times they had spent in Erik's presence. Christine had been blessed enough to eat a meal that Erik prepared, just for her. It had been delicious; but she also remembered that he did not eat with her. He claimed he had already eaten.
The idea that he thought she would be repulsed by his eating…Christine had a huge knot in her throat that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. It seemed that there was no end to Erik's loneliness.
Margarite had never considered that this was the reason Erik never accepted any of the invitations to dine with her and Meg. He had cooked for them on many occasions; another one of the seemingly endless talents that he possessed. He had always dodged out before he was expected to eat; he had a pressing engagement or a deadline to meet. What horrible event had put this thought in his head?
"Erik, that is absurd. Who told you such a thing?" Raoul's words penetrated the thick silence.
Erik looked at the younger man, not fully understanding why he would question what society had deemed right.
Erik tried to keep the disdain out of his voice and hold it steady and unemotional, but the heat in his words made his attempt seem futile. "On the days that the Gypsies felt it necessary to feed me, they would place a pig trough in my cage and slop the mess into it. Fallon would say 'feeding time, demon,' and push my face into the slop. He would watch for a few moments and comment on how disgusting it was watching animals eat…"
The hate in Erik's voice was so palpable that everyone in the room felt it. "After Margarite rescued me, I had to learn to eat with proper utensils. It was awkward, but I managed. It is reiterated to me every time I enter a restaurant and have the audacity to think myself worthy to sit among humans. The scornful looks and hateful stares are bad enough, but when a man parades right up to you and asks that you leave because the sight of you eating is making his wife sick…that is enough to make me never want to be in public again…This has happened on more than one occasion. I won't do it again…besides, I only eat once or twice a week, I had hoped to starve to death by now."
The last statement came with a strained laugh, as though he wanted those around him to believe that he was joking; but his eyes said otherwise. Margarite gasped at this confession. No wonder he always seemed so thin. His face was much more gaunt now than when he was younger.
Erik felt Michél's gentle hand urging him to calm down. "Erik, you are among friends here; you seem to be the only one that is blind to that fact."
Erik sat deathly still for what seemed an eternity; he stood and methodically turned to leave.
Margarite's shaky voice halted his retreat, "Please Erik, join us for some tea and cake…you have to learn to trust others eventually; why not now…why not us?"
Margarite's questioning, pleading tone was almost more than Erik could tolerate. He was not ready to break down the walls around his heart. He was not ready to consider the possibility that someone in this world actually enjoyed his presence.
If he acknowledged any of this, he would be vulnerable again; his heart would be exposed and any one of the people before him could rip it out of his chest and once again render it useless. He must not allow this to happen… not again.
Margarite continued pleading quietly with Erik, "Erik, let us know you like Michél knows you. He has seen a side of you that no one else has seen…I know you share rare moments of laughter and humor with him. I've known you the longest and have only heard you laugh with pain covering the joy that should have been there."
She walked up and planted herself firmly in front of Erik. She instinctively knew that he was ready to flee the scene and head for safer ground; Erik had no choice but to plow her over or stand and hear what she said.
She stared him down, still stating her case, "I speak for all of us when I say that there is no one here who is disgusted by you in any way. We have all seen the part of you that you hide behind; personally, it only serves to emphasis the perfection of the rest of you."A perfect eyebrow creased, putting a scrutinizing look in Erik's expression, "You are the only one who puts your deformity up as a wall to keep you from letting anyone in."
Margarite caressed Erik's perfectly tailored sleeve; her voice was barely a whisper that only Erik could hear, "I know that you have been hurt Erik. Let us try to mend what we have broken…I feel as though no one betrayed you as deeply as I did."
Erik sharply raised his eyes to Margarite, questioning why she would say such a thing. Margarite raised the tone of her voice so that the others in the room could understand her. She made her way back around to her seat as Erik followed her with his eyes, turning his body as she moved.
Her words were soft and driven, "I have known you longer than anyone Erik...and I doubted your intentions and sanity. I watched you grow from a skinny, mal-nourished pre-teen to the sensuous, sensitive, gifted man that you are. I never once felt that you were evil or capable of any wrongdoing. I felt safe and happy in your presence and felt honored to observe your genius mind as you created your masterpieces and shared them with me. You were kind, gentle and tender with Meg when she was born…do you remember, you were her 'Berik'."
Erik allowed one of his beautiful, rare smiles to escape; its brilliance seemed to light up the room. Christine was in awe. She had never seen him smile like that. His teeth were straight and as white as snow. He was devastatingly attractive always, but when he smiled…he was breath taking!
"I had forgotten that she called me that…" Erik said, once again succumbing to Margarite's urgings and sitting back down
"She could not seem to leave the 'B' off… it was blissful to hear her say that name." His smile faded as he remembered why he had removed himself from Meg's memory.
His eyes took on a haunted glow as he delved into old, painful memories, "She was being teased by the other children. They found out that she had a 'friend' who wore a mask. I meant her after dance rehearsal one evening and they were all out in front talking to her; they saw me. They started making fun of me by mocking her. They called me a 'freak of nature' and a 'monster'. She tried to defend me, bless her heart, but they were unrelenting. I could not bear to see the pain that knowing me was causing her. I never went back to her. Now… she has no memory of me…accept as the Phantom."Erik mourned the loss of a relationship he had taken such joy in; "She was like the daughter I will never have…I had to let her go."
Margarite stood rigidly straight; she had not known why Erik refused to be around Meg anymore.
She thought that he had found he disliked children…now she knew the truth. "Oh Erik…I never knew. Why didn't you tell me?" Erik curved his lips up, attempting a nonchalant smile, but the pain was still there.
He ignored Margarite's question, choosing to change the subject, "You asked me earlier why I did not inform you of my innocence in the crimes of murder and rape. Why I let all of you think ill of me."
Erik's eyes glanced around the room, bereft of any visible emotion, "Would any of you have believed me? I mean really believed me? Would you have actually taken into consideration that the hideous monster; the gargoyle in the bowels of the opera house could actually be an innocent? Would you have believed that every time the opportunity arose for me to put myself in harms way, I did it? I know what others think about me…I so longed for Raoul's blade to end my wretched existence that day at the cemetery…it would have been so easy to allow it…"
Erik looked at Christine, his face a myriad of questions as to why she stopped Raoul that day. She meant his gaze with the deepest, saddest brown eyes; with them she spoke volumes about her deep affection for him, hoping he understood.
"You lost that sword fight on purpose, didn't you?" Christine's question hung in the air.
Raoul was the one to answer. "I am an excellent swordsman, but I know an expert when I see one…I felt you loosen your body and expose it to my thrusts. I saw you deliberately loose your footing and begin to stumble over things. I knew you were giving me the victory…I am so grateful that Christine stopped me…I hate to think…" Raoul's thoughts drifted into oblivion.
Erik refused to make eye contact with Raoul; he did not want the boy to regret any more than he already did. "I heard every word that each of you spoke behind my back. When you were in your rooms, or on the rooftops; on stage and in the dressing rooms; I heard it all. I witnessed crimes and acts of passion that are only talked about behind closed doors or read about in books…I had dirty, little secrets on just about every person that passed through my opera house...why do you think that so many have wanted me dead?"
Erik was slightly amused at the gaping faces before him, all except Michél; he knew about the wealth of information locked away in Erik's mind. "As long as my enemies thought me capable of heinous crimes, I was left alone. It worked like a charm…up until the moment that I no longer cared about my safety."
Erik chanced a scan of the room's occupants. Each was deep in thought, either about what he had said about hearing everything they said or the secrets he possessed.
Erik sat down quietly and began to eat the cake that Margarite had placed in front of him. Quality cooking was something that had been lacking his life. When Michél was in town, he saw to it that Erik ate properly, even if it was sparingly. Erik savored the cake; and the tea seemed to calm his over extended nerves.
No one eyed him suspiciously while he ate and Erik began to feel a little more at ease, even daring to ask for a second helping of the cake. Margarite was delighted and could not stop smiling. Raoul and Christine were talking in hushed tones at the other end of the table and Margarite had left the table to clean up the kitchen.
Erik turned to Michél and quietly stated, "We shall need one more night at the hotel and then we will be away first thing in the morning…" Erik pulled his elaborate pocket watch from his left breast pocket, "…it is 5:30; I will give you some money and you may go purchase whatever you feel will be necessary for the trip, book the hotel…and find something for dinner." As Michél prepared to leave, Erik spoke again; this time there was a good bit of raw humor in this voice, "Oh, and Michél…insist on paying for the room. I really do not feel like being indebted to Paris…for any reason."
Michél left the kitchen and proceeded on with the instructions that Erik had left him. Raoul and Christine became silent and Erik noticed that it looked like Christine had tears in her eyes. He had to fight the familiar urge to comfort her. (That is not your place man, leave her be.) Raoul held her hand reassuringly, but seemed to have a worried look on his perfect face. Erik excused himself and started to leave.
Christine's timid voice held him where he was when he heard his name caress her lips, "Erik, please don't go."
Erik sighed; his eyes closed in frustration. "Christine, what do want of me? I can't do this…the dream has come to an end and I must move on… Paris holds no promise for me anymore. What I wanted so passionately in my life…love, acceptance…a family…was never mine to have. I will not continue to expose myself to the pain of your presence…eventually; in time, I will get over you – I must."
Noting the trembling of her chin and moisture forming in her eyes,Erik searched for the right word to say. "I have no doubt that you are…fond of me in your own way, your eyes say as much; but whatever you feel for me is not lasting and will subside with time…I only want what is best for you, and always have. I know that 'best' is not me…I was just being selfish…"
Erik had no animosity in his voice and his words rang from his lips like a melancholy songHis face showed no emotion as he spoke about himself like he didn't matter. "…I am not made of steel or stone, Christine; I am flesh and blood. I can die like everyone else…and oh, have I longed for it... in the past 15 years, I have tried to commit suicide five times…what a relief it would have been for everyone…" There was regret and dissatisfaction in his voice.
Christine and Margarite simultaneously gasped and put their hands to their mouths to silent their cries. "…all five times, Michél found me and nursed my loathsome body back to health…there were many more times I thought about suicide, but never attempted it."
Erik actually laughed at the ludicrousness of it all, "I suppose that the God that I abandoned years ago has seen fit to spare my life for a reason. I cannot tempt fate any more. I must determine who I am and where I came from. Then perhaps I shall die in peace. I think that elusive state is the one thing I desire now…more than anything…peace."
He looked at Christine and Raoul and knew that he held no remorse for the way that events had unfolded. Erik's eyes rested on Raoul, but it was Christine he spoke to, "I am sorry for all the melodramatic displays that I forced about you; I am sorry for letting what I mistook for love turn into something ugly and distorted…it will not happen again."
He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Raoul. Raoul opened the envelope and he and Christine stared, dumbfounded, at the contents. Two items stared back at Raoul. The first was the most elaborate and detailed structure he had ever seen. The designs were so complete – down to the last light fixture. The caption at the bottom of the last page of designs simply stated, "Opera de Chagny". The other item was a bank draft for enough money to, not only purchase and build the structure; but also hire personnel to handle all the business particulars that came with it; to hire instructors and also performers.
They were speechless. Raoul raised shocked eyes to Erik and Christine worshipped Erik with her eyes, "What is this all about?" Raoul questioned with a smile.
Erik sat aggravatingly still, "Call it a wedding present if that will make it easier for you to accept. I destroyed the Opera Populaire with my fits of jealousy and rage. The least I can do is pay you back for the investment you had in it. Once you get it built and do a few productions, it will be very lucrative."
Raoul blinked several times, as if in a trance. "Where did you get this much money…this is a fortune…I don't know one thing about running an opera house Erik."
Erik laughed lightly, "You can learn from the best…Margarite…and my needs are few…I simply invested the money I made off of each months salary." Noticing the concern on Christine's face, Erik assured her, "Don't worry my dear, there is plenty left…I will be fine. I am a rather shrewd businessman."
Erik leaned into Raoul, talking in hushed tones. "Your father has inadvertently conducted business with me, and I am well aware of his…shall we say…dwindling bank account. I am also aware of his less than enthusiastic reaction to your announcement about marrying Christine…this will give you independence from him…I trust that this settles any score there may have been between us?"
Raoul shook Erik's out stretched hand. Raoul asked, "I only have one question. From whom do I get the opera's? I need material to perform."
Erik had almost forgotten, "On the table in Margarite's parlor you will find a leather satchel; in it you will find several operas that I have written over the years. Some were performed years ago, others have never been seen. If you wish, you may use them. There is also a list of qualified composers and others that will help you."
Erik held up his hand as Raoul began to question his hospitality, "I seek no commission from this, just use them if you wish."
Raoul graciously accepted Erik's gift, considering this man to be one of the most giving men he had ever had the privilege of knowing. Christine, wanting to hug him but thinking better of it, raised her thankful eyes to him. He was making things so easy for them. She thought she could not love him any more than she did at that very moment.
Erik lounged quietly for a few seconds and then shifted his lithe body and stood up. "I am leaving in the morning and you will be rid of me for good." His tone was indifferent and unemotional, as if he expected them to have no feelings on the matter. "I will meet with Scotland Yard on Tuesday to obtain some help. I must leave first thing to get all of this handled"Erik looked longingly into the future "There is evidence that suggests I was born in Scotland…that is where my search begins."
He quietly left the room heading for the hallway to retrieve his hat and cloak. Christine and Margarite were fast on his heals, attempting to prevent him from leaving. He was oblivious to their efforts. He proceeded out the door and down the sidewalk, unaware of the admiring glances of the on-lookers.
Christine noticed how the young ladies watched him walk down the street with more than a little bit of interest in their eyes. It was apparently going around Paris that the "Phantom" was an attractive, eligible bachelor; and, to make things even more inviting, he was a genius.
His operas were the talk around town; people now discussed openly and freely the beauty of his music and the passion that was evident in every note and word he wrote. Now that he was not a public nuisance, everyone wanted to know more about him, especially the women – women of all social classes. The mask only served to add an air of mystery around him, increasing his attractiveness to the opposite sex.
All of Paris knew what the mask hid thanks to the opera incident; but when compared to the magnetism of the rest of him, the deformity paled. A pang of jealousy shot through Christine, a feeling with which she was completely unfamiliar. (What did you think Christine? You can see how attractive he is, did you think no other woman could? Besides, he's not yours – you chose the safe, secure road with Raoul; the road that would please your father and mother – and Raoul's father and mother…God forbid that you should actually think for yourself once in awhile!)
Madam Giry came up behind Christine, jarring her out of her thoughtful stupor. "Let him go; we know what hotel he is staying in and we will go there later. He's not walking out of my life without a fight."
Christine heard the stubborn assurance in the older lady's voice.
Margarite looked at Christine and smiled, "I have only just discovered the man behind the mask, I am not about to loose him know; I betrayed and abandoned him once, entirely on a bed of lies…I will not do it again." The two women turned back around and closed the door. Things were getting interesting.
Chapter 15 preview – Someone new enters Erik's life