Chapter 8

What next?

She did it again, how did she always do it, consciously, unconsciously; she was able to take my resolve and throw it down stomping it to the rubble with just a few choice words.

"Mademoiselle, not Madame" My God, she was not married. Why? After all these months, when she thought me dead, why not then? As if that was not enough to send my poor heart into a turmoil, she touched my bare arms, she relied on my strength once more, unquestioningly, and trustingly. I was in pieces on the floor when I had to walk out of the room and leave her. I remained just out of eyesight for the rest of the night, never sleeping, checking on her intermittently when I would think she was sleeping. I heard her saying my name, I didn't know what to do, fear crept round my heart at the thought that she might know it was me. Suddenly she spoke clear as day and I was speechless, motionless, and unable to do anything for a long time after this for the tears I shed. She spoke the words I never thought I would hear her say to me; "Erik, I am so sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted to see you suffer, I am sorry. Please forgive me, my love, I miss you. Why did you let them kill you?"

Oh God, did she say "My Love" to me? The knowledge that she thought that they had killed me yet gave me the courage to believe that she was dreaming, though she was serious about her apology, I could tell that, and it made my heart soar. I began to sing quietly as I moved about the place, looking in on her and smiling at her. Once I even came up to her and tenderly, as a breeze, caressed her cheek, fighting the urge until it became too much, I softly placed a kiss on her cheek. She stirred but did not wake. I turned and left the room, my heart beating so fast I feared it would wake her with its frantic actions. She was a vision and she was not married, she was single, it was too much for me to believe. I still could have her? I had to devise a plan. Surely, I was ordained to be with her; she arrived here in my life once more when I was dead to the world and learning to live a solitary if not happy, peaceful life without her. Surely, it is with Your help she is here now. I will be smart this time and I will not let jealousy poison my emotions any more. "God, You will guide me, won't You?" I said quietly.

I know I was just so pathetic to feel this way yet. How unbidden the feeling was as well as unlikely that things would ever change, still I sat there and all I could do was hope. I still loved her as much as I had the night she arose from the child's body in the aria she brought to such astounding emotional heights. I could hear her singing yet again in my head; she was there just as much as I was in her head, I knew I was. Maybe we were both crazy, maybe we belonged together for that reason. I didn't know and was not sure I ever would though it was beyond belief to think that she was here and in my bed once more. While she was here, she was NOT with that boy she was mine for a time yet again.

Morning was coming, the brothers would be holding mass. I had to close the door to the room and depart; there was no way she would believe I was a monk if I did it not at least appear to be attending mass. Nor would the brothers believe that I had not ravaged her if I was to remain with her any longer. They were all curious as to the relationship that I had with this woman since they witnessed my reaction to her injuries the night I found her, as well as the fact that I had scarcely been away from her side since her clandestine arrival. Furthermore, I let no one else assist in her recovery up until now. Things would have to change. It was in their disposition to wonder, but they would not cross that periphery and ask, they waited in case I should wish to tell them someday. I further suspected they had resolved that their monastery would remain unchanged now that Christine was here consuming my every waking thought.

Standing up from the chair I had been sitting on resolutely, I dragged myself out of the room, closing the door quietly. My intentions today were to be preparatory to the remodeling of the sitting room and create a fine vestibule from their simple foyer. I knew that they needed to be done, I had to complete this for them, they were so good and now they were unquestioningly tending to my beloved, I was indebted to them, You too, if You have set the scene for me to get my Christine, and a chance at happiness after all.

My heart was actually feeling quite light once more when I began the journey to my room in the monastery to change into work attire. Christine had that affect on me most recently, when I thought about how she could be dead by now, the fact that she was still alive and here. I could not help but feel as if I was at last experiencing heaven in some way. It was getting cold out now, but I really never noticed the chill in the air as I ventured outside to return to the monastery. I had yet to procure the grapevine and my forgotten parchment, negligently left out that fateful night when my Christine reappeared into my existence. Then, contrary to what the brothers thought, renovation could begin.

I returned to my room in the monastery to freshen up and change before proceeding to retrieve my things outside and begin the restoration process. Before I reached my room, Brother Michael approached me and bade me come to his room to talk.

"Yes Brother Michael, what is wrong?" He is the monk who cleans the monastery. He looked quite shy as he turned to retrieve something that looked partially burned.

"Well, Erik, I was cleaning your room this morning when I ran across these and was wondering if there is something going on here that maybe Brother James should know about?"

I looked at what Brother Michael had in his hand and immediately looked away. Shit, the drawings, they didn't burn completely. How could I be so careless? You could see Christine's face in them and it was obvious that they were not entirely decent, even burned. They showed more than any monk would have thought to draw. More importantly, they showed that I had known Christine pretty well before she arrived on their doorstep. Though they may have guessed it by the way that I was attending to her and letting few of the brothers help. Now, they had intimate likenesses I had drawn, partially burned (though I thought totally) of her, and it was not going to bode well on her reputation among these pious men. How do I tell them that I am only slightly obsessed with this woman I taught her how to sing and had designs on her mere months ago? Was it possible that it was only months, it felt so much longer. Sadly, these were the workings of my angst-ridden mind, and she was the inspiration to my most beautiful and poignantly erotic musical interludes. I thought well, here is another cruel twist, they have discovered the perverse person I still am, and what shall I do now? Surely, God had abandoned me once more…

Brother Michael looked at me with a bit of disdain at my indiscretion. He acted as if he knew more than he was letting on and finally I met his eyes with a hard glint and just snarled reaching for the partially burned pictures saying very brusquely,

"From now on I shall clean and tend to my own room, thank you. I hope you will recall that I did not arrive here as a Monk, and I have not taken vows to be celibate. You have no right to pry into my life. As such, I have done nothing to warrant this questioning of my motives. Further, I thought I had destroyed these pictures. What I do in private is my own affair, pray you keep this to yourself, or I shall have to take matters into my hands where my privacy is concerned."

I grabbed the sketches from Brother Michael's hand; "I believe these belong to me!" I then turned and walked out of his room slamming his door for effect. I proceeded to the front door with heavy steps as I wanted to scare him into silence. Christine's safety and reputation depended on him remaining quiet about this. I felt the old anger and rage bubbling beneath the surface. I was in too much of a state right now to go and fetch anything for the brothers.

The sense that this place and their pietistical expectations were stifling me was too much. I needed release, so I went instead to the chapel to play the organ; my Christine, having been neglected for far too long. Then I thought, maybe it was time to lose the name; it was admittedly confusing with Christine the girl right next to Christine the organ. Ce la vie! It did not matter for now, I would do what I had to, and I was not in the mood to analyze anything right now. Placing the partially burned sketches upside down on the organ and removing my mask, which I found was now also becoming oppressive to me, I approached the organ and sat down. Her great and grand beauty enchanted me. I fervently touched her ivory keys and immediately began to feel the tension release from my rigid arms. The heat of passion for the music I loved and the beauty I played through my fingers returned to me like a lost lover, convincing me that no, this organ had to retain its name, for there could be no other love I wished to return to me. I played an old French melody I had learned from the Priest when he was trying to introduce me to the beauty of the world as a youth. One of the very few good things I held on to in the attempted religious education of my childhood.

Somehow, without realizing it, I began to play some of the simple tunes played for Christine when we were working on her scales back at the Populaire. I could almost hear her singing them with me as I moved across the keys deftly. It entranced me and led me further into the memories as I began to play music that was more seductive. In the heat of the moment, I could have sworn I heard someone singing the words to these songs, which fuelled my need to continue further. I could not help myself, absorbing the fiery emotions evoked by the music as I did. Suddenly I realized where I was and instantaneously the enchantment was gone. I lifted my hands from the keys and was sure that I heard someone continuing to sing, softly and ardently. Her voice had become so perfect in my mind; I closed my eyes and reveled in the beauty created by that long missed voice. God, she was an angel, her music spellbinding me as nothing before nor since. I picked up my hands and placed them on the keys, preparing to play more accompaniments to keep her singing in my mind. Before long, I realized that Christine must be awake and she must have heard me playing. It was not my imagination; she was softly singing the song, even though I had stopped playing the music. I sat and listened to her for a bit longer, before chiding myself for my carelessness. She would figure out I was here if I was not more careful about what I did. Abruptly, I removed my hands from the keys, deciding to write some of the improvements for the score I had been working on earlier. I lost myself in thought and left my hands to my side for a brief time in the process.

Christine…...

I was drifting in and out of sleep. I could not shake the peaceful feeling that somehow Erik was here. He was all around me, he was in this room, and it was so like my room in the Populaire. The mirror, my God, the mirror, I was half expecting him to walk through it and grasp my hand to lead me to his home. I could not believe the striking similarities in of all places, the chapel of a monastery. It was amazing to see that there was somewhere else I could feel this way.

Somewhere in my dreams, as if that was not enough, I could have sworn I heard some songs that Erik used to play to me. Fact and fiction were fast losing their difference in my mind. In this dream, I decided to lose myself for a bit. I began to sing softly to the songs playing in my head. I finished my song and rested back on the comfortable bed shaped like a swan. As the black filmy curtain descended around me, I wandered off to peaceful slumber with thoughts of Erik in my head. There he was, next to me on the swan bed, saying that he was alive and I would be all right; forgiving me for choosing Raoul and leaving him behind. He gently caressed and kissed my cheek then, I could swear I felt it and my eyes fluttered, almost opening while I smiled a serene smile for Erik.

Once more we were in his gondola and slowly, gently we drifted away, singing beautiful songs we made to express our thoughts of elation over being together in utter adoration of each other. There were no boundaries for our love now, not in my dreams. Suddenly my dreams got out of control and there were things happening that I could not stop.

I was frightened and confused, he was angry with me for leaving him and going with Raoul. I tried to tell him that I came back later and he was gone. I heard he was dead and it tore me into pieces. He didn't care because it was my fault he was dead. Somewhere in my mind I heard "Dies Ires" being played, my blood ran cold, I saw in my minds eye Erik lying in a coffin, then he woke. It was too much. I was crying so hard, he would not listen to me. I called out his name in a total panic.

Then I woke up. It was a dream, he was dead, and it was over. Nothing I could do would change that reality. Why was everything making Erik come to mind so much suddenly. The room, the music, the mirror, they conspired with my tortured memories to make me feel sure I am going insane. Above all the inconsistencies I gathered already, was the fact that this was a monastery, why would a monastery bring Erik to mind with such stubborn clarity? This was the last place I would consciously think to find him. It was all just so unlikely and it made no sense. Yet I sensed him in some strange and unreasonable way I could not explain. I had to get out of this bed. After trying to move at all, even to get a drink on my own, I realized I still needed more strength to deal with the intense pain I still felt everywhere.

Deciding that there must be something to help me to move around and get out of bed; I began to call out to try to get someone's attention. "Hello, is there anyone here?" Surely, there is someone in attendance of the chapel in case I wake. "I beg of you, please good brother, if you are here, come to me, I wish to ask you something." Suddenly the door opened slightly and there was a figure standing at the door. A hood obscured his face; I could not see which brother I was addressing. I tried to hide the fact that his sudden arrival was disconcerting. These men surely could not and would not know how to console a girl who was distressed.

The voice quietly rose from the robed man; it was so familiar, though very hoarse. "May I help you?" I half expected to hear 'my dear' issue from that voice in my ears. I knew then surely I was going insane my mind playing tricks on me, making me believe he is everywhere. Deciding that I could not face anyone right now after all, I bade him leave, which he seemed all too glad to do. I began to cry and hid my eyes the best I could. I do not recollect how long I was there crying, but I know that I uttered Erik's name several times in my distress. I could not help it, his name was all that was on my lips or in my thoughts and this room made it so painful for me it was the worst wound I carried at this time. I soon gave way to exhaustion once more and fell back to sleep.

Having slept for some time, I woke fairly well rested, lighthearted and sure things were going to be better today. I was so excited to try to move again. I knew that I had slept well and rested enough to try to walk this time. I would do it with or without help. Then I looked down, my leg having been bound even tighter sometime since I had last tried to walk. It was going to be even more difficult to move it this time; my resolve to do so was such that nobody was going to stop me. I was going to be involved in my recovery and get out of here. I had to return to Paris by Meg and Mme Giry soon. I knew now that Erik was still too fresh in my heart and mind for me to even consider marrying Raoul, besides, where was he, shouldn't he be here if he really cared and accepted the reality that I was still bound to Erik in my heart. He claimed to be able to accept me anyway, wanting whatever I could give him of myself. Obviously this was not true, there was no way I could marry him now, or ever, anymore. Not after he left me here as he has.

Raoul never understood how I could feel that way about a monster, and granted, his deformities and scars were not pretty to look at, but when I saw him I saw a soul and I saw his cruelty borne of the cruelty he endured by others in his life. He knew no compassion and could not practice what he had never experienced for himself. When I showed him betrayal he was denied the compassion he thought he finally had found and was so intrigued with in me. I was as guilty of those murders as he was for I had a chance to show him love and compassion finally igniting his soul and I ruined it with my fear and insecurity. I didn't trust my own soul when it was crying out for him. My soul saw his beauty and that was all I saw now in my minds eye. I missed the sight of him, for I had found his soul burning in his eyes when he looked at me and it sparked my ache now in memory. Those haunting blue green eyes, they were so deep and disturbing to gaze into, yet I saw them in my dreams and drew comfort and strength from them.

As I began to work my body forward to standing, I could not help but smile a sad smile at the course my thoughts had taken. When I thought of Erik lately, all I could do was to smile sadly. There was no regret at the way I felt, it was just a sad hollow longing I had grown used to in the months since his death. I longed for him so that I had aligned myself with that one monk, un-named and unknown by me, really, whose only similarity was in the fact that he reminded me so much of Erik. I knew it was dangerous to do that, but I felt such comfort in his presence yesterday evening, I hoped that he would be here again. I rose to my legs, and began to work my way across the room with the chair. I was considerably more immobile with the new binding on my leg, but it made it less painful for me to stand on it, being bound as it was. I was grateful for this surprise after all.

The sound of the organ beginning to play shocked me so much that I almost fell. Then I paused and listened for a moment. It was a Swedish tune I remembered my father playing on his violin to me when I was small. I listened still longer and decided to sit there and rest, listening for a while. The Swedish tunes turned into scales I had practiced with Erik, which must be a standard that all students of music must learn. I wondered if I was perhaps dreaming, if so I decided there would be no harm if I sang with them softly. Finally, I heard some of the seductive and alluring music Erik had played for me and taught me to sing towards the end of our association. I suddenly found tears in my eyes, I had to sing, I sat there singing. Suddenly the music stopped and I was not ready to do so yet. I continued to sing unaccompanied then. When I finished the song, I was intrigued. I had to meet the talented organist who knew of music even in a Monastery. Erik was the only soul I had met prior to this who could make music live and breathe as this soul now did.

Erik……

There was just no way that I could continue like this, I did not possess the strength to maintain anonymity from Christine if I persisted in tending to her. Alas, I had to allow Brother James to take care of her from now on. I would have to get reports and maybe come at night and look in on her as she slept, but I could not be here when she was awake. She was becoming too aware, and I had foolishly recreated the dressing room I frequented in Populaire too well when I built the room in which she was convalescing. How was I ever in my wildest dreams to know that Christine would eventually be there? This was the most unlikely of events I had ever witnessed, and the sense of irony was more than uncanny. I became more convinced that I had a very important part in Christine's life yet, and God was knocking me on the head trying to show me. Question was, did I feel inclined to listen to Him right now, after everything I had been through, and what He had allowed to befall Christine? I sometimes thought that there would be no way that I would listen to Him, now I wanted to listen to Him worse than I had ever dreamed possible. Not for the first time did I bow to the irony and sense of humor I knew God must have to have allowed this to transpire here. All I could do now was to figure out what I was supposed to be doing in all this and continue to do the most I could without harming Christine. The possibilities were endless, but I wanted to maintain my focus, so I had to think hard before I acted.

Christine……

I made it to the door and rounded the corner, there were two ways to go so I chose to go the way the music seemed to be coming from. Suddenly it stopped, again. This really was most infuriating. I wanted to see who was playing the organ. I had to see who was playing the organ, haunting my memories so torturously. I kept walking towards where I thought the music would be coming from and I found the entryway to the back of the chapel. There was someone on the bench. They were sitting there writing notes down on some parchment. They seemed to be so busy that I just stopped and watched. It was so like what Erik used to do. Suddenly their hands dropped to their side, where they sat in silent contemplation. Then I looked over on the organ to the left of the now abandoned parchment, there I could have sworn I saw a white half mask staring up at the ceiling. That is the last thing I remember until I woke in the bed once more.