35) I can see the truth so clear in your eyes
Erik was a wonderful composer and teacher. Yet he wasn´t an easy person to work with, as Christine soon discovered. She had known before that he was a perfectionist, but the indefatigable eagerness was new. They had started practicing the moment he had come home with the good news that the managers were willing to let him stage his opera. There had been a short break, in which the girl had eaten a quick dinner, then they had gone on.
It was past midnight now, and Christine could hardly keep herself from falling asleep right there in the comfortable armchair. Astonishingly the only part of her body not tired was her voice. Sometimes Erik hadn´t let her sing, but showered her with explanations of which feeling he tried to convey with a certain scene or how the steps for the dancers would be. This had been as exhausting for her mind as the actual singing, yet at least she wasn´t hoarse.
"Could we continue tomorrow, please?", she asked, using her hand to stifle a yawn. He looked up from the organ and turned around to her for the first time in an hour, noticing in surprise how sleepy she was. "Of course we can do that.", he told her gently. "But why didn´t you say so earlier?" A slight blush spread across her cheeks. "I didn´t want to disturb you.", she admitted. "You seemed to be so… happy."
Erik gave her a small smile as he walked over to a side table and poured himself a drink. "Cognac, sherry?", he called. "Water.", she decided quickly, the thought of consuming alcohol making her stomach turn. Having prepared the two glasses he brought hers to the armchair, so that Christine didn´t have to stand up to get it. Then he settled down next to her. "I´m always happy when I can work with a singer as talented as you.", he said. He took a first sip of his cognac and sighed contentedly as warmth spread through his body. "Besides, it keeps me from…" He made a vague gesture with his glass, the expression on his face becoming sombre. "Thinking?", the girl suggested quietly. "I know the feeling."
Watching her intently he remarked: "You´ve changed a lot lately. You´ve grown up… yet not in a good way, if I may be that honest. I rarely see you smile these days." He had expected her to deny everything or to justify herself. But Christine nodded. "You´re right, Erik… as always.", she muttered. Remembering the accusations he had hurled at her she asked in a small voice: "Do you hate me for my way of living?".
"I could never hate you, child.", he replied softly, drinking a little more. "What I said earlier was nonsense. I just wanted to hurt you because I couldn´t deal with your sympathy. Still, I don´t understand what you´re doing with the boy. When we were talking about him a few months ago I got the impression that he meant very much to you. And now… I´ve watched you treat stray dogs in the street better than him…"
"There´s nothing you should take back.", she stated. "Everything you said is true. Raoul showers me with expensive presents and he… well, he satisfies my other needs, and I don´t give anything back to him. It wouldn´t be that serious if just the financial and physical aspect were involved; some of the chorus girls have such relationships, and they´re working well. But Raoul truly loves me."
Exhausted from the long speech she took a sip of water and looked at Erik to check whether he had understood her. Yet he still seemed to be confused. Of course he knew the kind of relationship she was referring to; it was quite common at the opera. All men needed was money and power, and women gave their beauty in return. But what exactly was Christine´s problem? If she loved the Vicomte and he loved her, everything should be all right, shouldn´t it? If… "And you don´t love him.", he completed her sentence.
"I like him very much.", she said. "Otherwise I wouldn´t do all those things I do with him." Suddenly she had the urge to tell Erik about their encounters, even though it could make him disgusted. "I only meet Raoul when I´m miserable. Then I go to him and we make love at once, without even talking to each other. Occasionally we do it several times till I´ve had enough. Sometimes I can´t wait for us to reach a room and he has to take me against the wall or on the floor. On one of these days the coachman must have seen us. I know how this has to sound for you, but I… I simply need it." The words streamed out of her mouth with increasing speed, stumbling over each other just like Raoul and her in the hours she told Erik about.
He had to take a large gulp of cognac to swallow these pieces of information. He didn´t recognise his naïve little Christine anymore. "Why do you need something like that?", he breathed. He did know the wild lust which could take possession of one´s body every now and then, but her way was almost destructive. "I feel so empty.", she confessed. "When I´m with Raoul I can take over some of his liveliness and energy. It makes me feel less lonely." "You´re not lonely.", he argued. "You have Mme.Giry and Meg and…" "None of them can stop the burning in me. It´s as if my heart was on fire. Raoul can at least make me forget for a while."
"Forget what, Christine?", Erik wanted to know instantly. His hand clutched the glass more tightly as he wondered what could have happened to her in the past few months. Was someone at the opera treating her badly? Had she been mugged in the street? Or was it something even worse? She couldn´t have been… "Please tell me!", he added urgently. Christine looked up from her glass, suddenly wishing she had chosen alcohol. She had heard it could numb pain as well. "Forget that I love you, Erik.", she whispered.
Author´s note (at the end for a change): This was a very emotional chapter for me. I´d love to know whether I´ve managed to convey Christine´s feelings to you. So please let me know!