Okay, I was thinking the other day (as I tend to do) and began singing Learn to be Lonely. I realized the song doesn't necessarily deal with only Erik... but with Christine for her choice. By the way, I really hate Raoul... it may not seem like it at first... but he's a jerk, so forgive me, any CD/RdC fans out there. R&R (Flames are welcome... I can take it...)! -- MBD
Child of the wilderness
Born into emptiness
Learn to be lonely
Learn to find your way in darkness
Madame Christine de Chagny paced the long corridor. A full moon shone upon the court far below her, the court opening upon Monsieur le Vicomte's estate in Bordeaux. This had become her ritualistic habit: to contemplate her past actions against the backdrop of new fallen snow in a rustic December.
The wedding in July had been glorious. Raoul had objected to her having anything but the best, which was why she had floated down the aisle, an angel in a froth of silk. A froth of silk that ebbed in lace behind her for seven feet. He had been waiting at the altar, dashing in a dark black frock coat.
After the elaborate ceremonial vows and exchange of those intricately forged rings, the wedded couple had not stayed long. Her husband was eager to consummate the marriage.
This explained Christine's presence in this immense hall, a miniature to say the least of Versailles' Hall of Mirrors, five months later with a gradually rounding figure. Dark brown curls fell into her face as she glanced down at her stomach. Everything had to be a dream. The gleaming frost without, the shadows within, all reminded her of Erik.
Who will be there for you?
Comfort and care for you?
Learn to be lonely
Learn to be your one companion
Erik… that mysterious presence that still lurked at times in the back of her mind. His voice had awakened passions within her that she had never felt before. Those passions had terrified her, kept her awake countless nights. She could not walk the opera house or perform upon its stage without feeling his eyes glittering, feasting on her flesh. And yet…
Never dreamed, out in the world
There are arms to hold you
You've always known
Your heart was on its own
Yet he was so alone. Secretly, she empathized with him. Since her father's death, she had had no friends. True, Meg in the ballet corps had been a girl to talk and laugh with, but they had never connected as genuine companions do. Then Raoul had arrived.
Desperately did she cling to him. He was a familiar face in a sea of neglect. Creating a pretend wedding had been the childhood times of princess and lover knight returned. However, he could not fulfill the hole in her heart that had disappeared the last time she heard her father's gentle fingers cast magic on violin strings. That satisfaction had only come in Erik's arms, arms of fragile glass. Those shards were scattered on the floor the night she gave back his ring.
So laugh in your loneliness
Child of the wilderness
Learn to be lonely
Learn how to love
Life that is lived alone
Mon Dieu, she could still see his face… the ravaging defect angrily attacking his face and neck… the angelic, naïve expression of broken trust trembling just behind his eyes…
"Christine?" A sluggish voice called from behind her. She did not have to turn to know it was Raoul. This episode recurred every night. A few padding steps: he was now directly behind her. "What are you doing up and about at this hour?"
She uttered the incantation to make everything better. "I had trouble sleeping." Her breath caught in her throat as two arms slid around her waist. His elegant fingers spread over the taut surface of her abdomen.
The entire situation was immoral to her. Her growing burden should have had Erik's rich dark hair and piercing blue eyes. It was Raoul's. 'It is to be a noble child. He will have whatever he dreams of,' she reminded herself.
These arms around her did not hold love. They were cold and callous. Love was the sensation that had coursed through her bloodstream as the Angel protectively held her against him, bursting forth in his opera Don Juan Triumphant.
"Come back to bed, Angel." Raoul huskily whispered. Christine flinched. Did he even realize that she could not bare that name coming from any lips but those of her Phantom? That was all he was anymore… a fleeting fantasy that made reality possible.
Christine brushed her fingertips against the backs of Raoul's hands. The appendages she envisioned were just as pale but elongated and flexible from years at the organ. She felt him come alert behind her. In revulsion, she found a finger hold in the image of Erik's lovely black satin mask.
Raoul firmly turned her head towards him and hungrily began to kiss his wife. Christine's eyelids fluttered… she must not cry. His hands, awkward and groping, called for a complete mental retreat. Her imagination focused upon what she truly wished. She desired that Erik had been beside her during her silent midnight contemplation, that it was his breathing gradually growing harsher against her cheek. The hurt made her choke back a sob. Craftily, she metamorphosed it into a gentle laugh and collapsed in Raoul's arms.
All was still. Christine pulled away. "Come… I've grown tired." She began walking backwards with his hands in hers. She forced herself to nearly skip down the hall, a tiny child again.
Learn to be lonely
Life can be lived
Life can be loved
Christine glanced as an afterthought out of one of the hundreds of windows of the corridor. Against the edge of a pine copse, a shadow seemed to flit upon the snow. Bitterly, she rejected her own sight… it was merely a memory's ghost. She could feel her heart turn to ice inside her. She was the snow, cold and unforgiving… silent and…
…Alone