45) Somehow I´ll be strong
When Mme.Giry had said that she had an ill daughter to look after it hadn´t merely been an excuse to get away. Right after leaving the managers to ponder over the situation she had gone home. The conversation with Erik had given her new impulses, and she wanted to act immediately. It would only be for Meg´s own good, even though she´d probably not understand it.
"Meg?", she called as soon as she had entered the house and stood in the small corridor. There was no reply. Mme.Giry threw brief glances into the kitchen and the living room. They were both empty, free of any signs that the girl had spent as much as a minute in them this morning. So the woman went upstairs, noticing at once that the door to Meg´s room was the only one closed. She opened it without bothering to knock; she guessed correctly that her daughter had pulled the blanket over her head and couldn´t hear her anyway.
The room was plunged into semi-darkness for the curtains at the only window were closed. Coming in Mme.Giry pulled them open immediately, letting the bright sunshine in. Even Meg, who was indeed lying in bed, realised something had changed. Her head appeared from under the blanket. With her hair dishevelled and her eyes puffy she looked as if she had been crying for hours.
"Why are you not working?", she asked. "Aren´t you supposed to teach Christine to dance a role I should have got and to support Erik with an opera he should have written for me?" She had intended her voice to sound bitter, but it only was full of misery. It made her mother´s heart ache, and she had to remind herself of what she had to do.
Ignoring her questions she pointed at a tray on the bedside table. "You didn´t even touch the breakfast I left you.", she remarked. "I wasn´t hungy.", Meg muttered. Why should she eat something? The emptiness inside her, that vast hole where her heart had once been, couldn´t be filled with food.
"You need your strength.", the woman argued. "Ballet dancing is very exhausting; you´ll never do well in the rehearsals for the new opera if you don´t eat enough." Meg turned around to lie on her other side. She didn´t want to hear pointless pieces of advice. "In case you´ve forgotten it: There is no place for me in the new opera.", she mumbled. "Christine will play the Ballerina and Erik will watch his favourite student from Box five, congratulating himself for having got rid of that stupid temperamental dancer."
"That´s enough.", Mme.Giry interrupted her strictly. "Have you done this all morning – lying in bed and wallowing in self-pity? I´ll no longer allow such an immature behaviour. You´ll get up now, go to the opera and re-join the chorus. The next lesson begins at half past two, and I expect you to be there."
Meg sat up, looking at her mother with the stubbornness of a spoilt child. "And what if I won´t do that?", she hissed. Half a lifetime of dealing with a dozen adolescent girls had made Mme.Giry immune to such provocation. "You will do it.", she said simply. "You´ll do it because you´re my daughter. We Girys don´t give up that quickly."
"I won´t go to Erik and apologise for something that was not my fault.", the girl exclaimed. She didn´t think she could stand seeing him, let alone touching him or hearing his incredible voice call her name… "But that´s not what I´m asking you to do. I was only referring to the dancing. You´ll have to leave the chorus if you don´t attend the rehearsals." Meg gave her mother a helpless little smile. Of course she knew all that. But what was she to do? After all, she couldn´t just… "Wouldn´t it be possible to join another corps de ballet?"
The idea made her excited for a moment, but her mother brought her back to earth mercilessly. "No.", she told her flatly. "You will not run away." "Please, maman!", the girl begged, grabbing the older woman´s hand. "You once thought about sending me to Marseille. Aunt Beatrice could take care of me, and after Erik´s opera I´d return." Mme.Giry shook her head, once more showing that she possessed more stubbornness than her daughter. "If you leave now, child, you won´t ever come back. Your fear of seeing Erik would grow with each day till you wouldn´t even dare visit me at the opera. But at the same time you´d always ask yourself what would have happened if you had stayed. This is not a fate that I wish for my only daughter."
Looking into her mother´s honest face Meg began to understand. She didn´t want to have a life dominated by "What if…" questions. And, most importantly, she wanted to dance. It was her greatest passion and she wouldn´t let her own stupidity stand in her way. "So I´ll go back to the opera…", she said. Mme.Giry nodded enthusiastically. The girl threw the blanket aside and swung her legs out of the bed gracefully.
Yet coming into a sitting position next to her mother a sudden thought made her slow down again. "What if I meet Erik?", she asked in a small voice. "You won´t.", the older woman assured her. "I talked to him. He´ll only show himself if you want him to." This piece of information had a strangely comforting effect on Meg. It was good to be the one in control for a change. Smiling tentatively she reached for the tray and picked up a small pear. Why hadn´t she noticed before how hungry she was?