Chapter 2
"What have I done? What madness have I agreed to? What have I done!" I mumbled to myself as I rocked back and forth on my piano bench. Even the keys, which normally seemed to hold the answers to all of my problems, just sat blank. I could sense Christine coming up behind me, but I was completely numb. I heard her speak, (how could I not with a voice as rare and beautiful as hers?) but I only made out the words "...count on you!" Words seemed beyond me at the moment. Me? In a dance contest? I know people have been questioning my sanity for quite some time now, which of course I always denied. After the events of last few minutes, I was officially at the top of my list of doubters.
"Now scamper off and leave me in peace to contemplate the most pleasant method of suicide," I said, half joking when I found my voice again. Actually, I wasn't joking at all. This whole thing was suicide, public suicide! The least I could do was to figure out a way to oft myself in private. I was beginning to feel that the fire, brimstone, and perpetual torment of Hell sounded like a nice alternative to this public display of lunacy. Christine then proceeded to call me a curmudgeon and informed me that my impending death would occur in one week's time. Fabulous.
Minutes passed after Christine left the lair before I dared look at the flier sitting before me on top of my piano.
"Dancing Divas: 20th Annual Ballroom Dancing Competition," it read on the bright pink paper. "Benefits Friends of the Opera House..." I kept reading in utter horror. I had only skimmed it before and nothing really sank in.
"Open to the public...Most anticipated event of the year...Tickets will sell out fast..." I tucked my knees up to my chest and nervously started running my right hand through my black slicked hair. Panic attack, I was getting a panic attack! Breathe, Erik, I told myself trying to calm down. Breathe in, breathe out. Breahe in one two three, breathe out one two three... My heart stopped racing so much but I could still feel sweat beading on the back of my neck. I forced myself to continue on.
"Carlotta Guidicelli, 3-time defending champion, returns to defend her title...Special appearance by Miss Christine Daaé and partner, The Phantom of the Opera a.k.a. the Opera Ghost." My heart stopped and any color that had returned to my face evaporated instantly. Good Lord. I know I have become quite infamous and legendary over my years residing here under the Opera House. An advertisement like this was sure to draw the entire city and beyond to witness the 'dancing demon'. This was not good. Oh, this was really really not good. This was most definitely bad...bad bad bad...
"Erik! Are you here?" I snapped out of my mental breakdown and fell over backwards off of my bench. I just lay on the cold stone floor and hoped this was just a nightmare. How in the world was I going to survive this week?
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"Ok, we only have seven days to turn you two into ballroom dancing champions," Madame Giry said while pointing her cane at us. I looked over at Christine who was all smiles. I held my face in my usual expressionless manner as to not betray the nauseous feeling I was getting.
"We need to get started right away," she continued. "We first need to figure out what style of dances you want to pursue. Waltz? Foxtrot? Mambo? Quick step?"
"What about music? Would it not make more sense to choose our music and fit the style to that?" I inquired.
"Well," Madame Giry relented. "You could do it that way."
"That settles it then," I stood up to leave. "If you three ladies will excuse me, I am off to compose..." Christine grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down.
"Oh, no you don't. We're not finished here. We still need to decide on costumes and..."
"I will take care of it. I will design and create the costumes myself."
"And the music?"
"I can do that too. I will compose something spectacular."
"Erik! When are you going to find time to compose and record music, make costumes, and learn a new dance! We do only have a week, you know." Christine stood up and faced me, hands on her hips. This was her defiant stance. I knew anything I said during the course of the next five minutes had a good chance of upsetting her. I had to choose my words carefully.
"Christine, dear," I started hesitantly. "You do forget that I used to run every aspect of the Opera House only days, sometimes hours, before the productions and had the added challenge of coercing the staff to perform my wishes."
"Oh, yes. I remember that quite well," she spat sarcastically and narrowed her eyes at me. I could see the train wreck coming.
"I remember running around frantic because everything had changed and I remember the stress of not being sure if everything was going to work out right until the curtain closed at the end of the first performance!"
"B-but everything always worked themselves out in the end," I insisted. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I should have just kept them to myself. Christine's normally fair complexion turned bright red and let's just say that if looks could kill, there would be nothing left of me to bury.
"Worked out! WORKED OUT!" she shouted. "Joseph 'committing suicide' during the ballet chaos you created...Piangi's mysterious demise during Don Juan and your Houdini stunt afterwards...and oh yeah, and you dropped a freaking chandelier on the audience!"
She yelled the last part so loud I cringed and covered my ears. She took a breath and composed herself.
"Is that what you call 'working out alright'?" she asked in a strangled tone.
Even with my head down and my eyes staring at my shiny black shoes...oh, a smudge. I reached down and wiped it clean. There, much better...even with my head down and my eyes staring at my now perfectly shiny black shoes, I could feel her eyes boring into my skull, waiting for an answer. I had none to give as I was at a complete loss of words. Anything I said would only dig me that much deeper, yet not saying anything could lead to the same consequence.
"I think what Christine means is that you only told people what to do. You did not have to go around and actually put the changes into effect," Madame Giry said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I don't really believe in God and this whole "divine forgiveness" stuff, but I thanked God right then and there for that woman. I truly believed she saved my neck.
She shot Christine a look that said, 'You have made your point, now drop it.' Christine folded her arms over he chest and stormed across the room in a huff.
"Now look who's acting like the obnoxious diva, " I mumbled quietly to myself. Obviously it wasn't quiet enough because Christine immediately turned and threw her shoulder into me, knocking me roughly to floor. I lay their gasping for breath and cursing my damn tongue. Marveling at how often I seemed to be picking myself off of the floor lately, I glanced at the doorway and wished I built a trapdoor right here to disappear through.
"Well, now. This is certainly a spectacle to behold," smirked an amused Raoul de Changey with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Oh Lord, now my hell was complete.
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"Excuse me, could you tell me where Miss Daaé is?" I asked one of the stage hands. He shook his head and continued working. I straightened my sport coat and continued my search. It had been almost a since I had seen Christine so I figured I would pay her a visit since I was in town. Several of the ballet girls came skittering up in their satin toe shoes and giggled some sort of greeting. I politely said hello in return and proceeded to ask them where I might find Christine.
"Oh, her," a lovely redhead said darkly, her smile fading into a look of disgust. "She's in the small studio with Madame Giry."
"Thank you."
"Whatever." She turned and walked away. It was obvious that she was jealous of Christine and would like nothing better than to see her gone. Oh well. She wouldn't have had a shot with me anyhow, I thought with a shrug.
I turned and headed in the direction she carelessly gestured towards. I wove my way around set pieces and backdrops being set up for the next production and finally found the door I was looking for. As I approached, I could hear raised voices, especially that of Christine. I turned the corner not knowing what to expect and what I witnessed was about as far from my mind as it could possibly get.
Erik was sitting on one of the warm-up benches with Meg and Madame Giry sitting on one perpendicular to that. Christine was halfway across the floor, clearly upset about something. I heard a mumble from Erik and suddenly saw Christine lunge at him. He fell off the bench and lay sprawled on the floor for a few moments. Christine stood upright and returned to her place. I crossed my arms and leaned casually against the doorframe, completely amused by the sight.
"Well, now. This is certainly a spectacle to behold," I said when laughter threatened to burst forth. The emotions that showed on Erik's features were priceless. Within the span of a few seconds, he had gone from surprise, to embarrassment, to panicked, to anger, and finally over-exaggerated composure.
"Hello, Christine. Erik," I nodded a greeting.
"Hello, " Christine replied. A faint smiled played on her lips, telling me she was somewhat glad to see me. I heard a grunt from Erik's general direction which I figured to be the extent of greeting I was going to be receiving from him. I turned back to Christine.
"So, what was it exactly that I walked in on? If this was a let's-beat-Erik gathering, I am insulted that I failed to receive an invitation."
"Oh, it was just Erik being his incorrigible obstinate self," she fumed, glaring at him over my shoulder.
"I'm most certainly not..." he began but dropped off.
"Here, sir, this may help explain it," Meg handed me flier which I began to examine.
"You may want to sit down," she added. At first, I was confused and didn't see the connection, but soon I realized why I was advised to sit down. I collapsed in a fit of laughter onto the nearest chair. Tears began to overflow my eyes.
"You?" I addressed Erik. "In a dance contest! Oh, this is too much. This is really too much!" I broke into hysterics and slapped my knee. I heard a menacing mumble from Erik but all I could do was shake my head in disbelief, sending my shoulder-length dark blond mane into waves. I finally regained my composure, but my sides and cheeks were aching. I don't believe I have laughed that hard in a very long time.
"So how did this all come about?" I asked. Christine informed me of Carlotta's challenge and her exact feelings about the diva. I tuned most of them out as I never cared much to be involved in women's issues. Erik had retreated to the far corner of the dance studio where he was carefully straightening a stack of folding chairs and stared at me darkly. I knew he was silently warning me, but this was all too ridiculous to be ignored.
"And you two are actually going to compete?" This was all just too out of character to for me to accept easily.
"If Erik would stop being so pigheaded, yes, we are going to compete and we are going to win."
"Can you even dance?" I inquired, turning to Erik who was still arranging folding chairs.
"Can you breathe?" he asked darkly.
"Of course I can breathe, but that doesn't..."
"It'll be a lot harder when you're hanging from the rafters!"
"GENTLEMEN!" Madame Giry halted the situation with stern tone and a sharp rap of her cane. "In case you have forgotten, we have a competition to get ready for. We do NOT have time for these childish games!"
We hung our heads like scolded children but shot each other a mutual look that said, 'This is not over.'
"Erik, you go and prepare music. Christine and Meg, you begin on costumes. I will start thinking of choreography," she commanded.
"But, I..." Erik argued. I could see he was wrestling with his perfectionist side and losing, but Madame Giry interrupted.
"I said GO. We will run everything past you when it's done. Now be gone!"
Everyone dispersed to start on their tasks and I soon found myself alone in the studio still in shock. Erik? In the Dancing Divas contest!
A.N. Hope everyone likes my humorous take on Erik's fragile sanity and Christine's new-found inner strength. Do you think this story is worth continuing? Please review. The more I get, the more motivated I am to write