Chapter Twelve – Friendship and Revelations

My dear son,

It was wonderful to hear from you and how you have made many friendships in Sardes, but I look forward to your return. I am pleased that you've made some lady friends, Reza, not just those who are of equality with yourself; it's good for you.

The world seems to be at a standstill here since you've been gone. There isn't someone to wake up with the birds every morning and make the house bright and cheerful; I'm starting to become increasingly bored. However, Erik Garnier (remember?) has arrived unexpectedly. I don't know he'll stay long enough for you to come back, as he's on the trail of that Christine Daaè he told us about, but he sends his well-wishes.

Write as soon as you are able, son. I sound neurotic, I know, but I am first and foremost your father and it's my parental right to worry!

-Your Father

Christine

Persia 1875

"What're you doing?" I ask Reza as I settle into a chair by his desk. In the last couple of months we've become very good friends, and, as it's my day to do as I please, I've stopped by his residence. He told me weeks ago to let myself in, so I did, only to find him writing at his desk.

"I'm writing to my father," he responds, looking up at me. His eyes go dangerously wide. "W-what is that you're wearing?" I furrow my eyebrows.

"What, you don't like it?" I reply coyly, rising from the chair to stand before him. True, it's a little…revealing, but nothing too bad.

"Risa, you've gone too far, dear. That is not clothing. It's barely anything! How'd you get here without being forced against a wall?" I chuckle, almost a flirtatious giggle, but I know all too well that nothing of the sort is worth anything with Reza.

"Reza, really," I say, crouching down beside him, my hand on his knee to steady myself. "Nobody's going to touch me, save if they wish pain brought to them by the Shah." Reza nods apathetically, not very interested in me any longer as he busies himself once again with the letter. It is true, though; since the first night I met the Shah he's had me as a personal entertainer, singing and dancing at all of his gatherings, much to Chandra's delight. It is worthwhile for me, seeing as I've been extremely wary of the ways of the harem since…

I dare not speak of it, nor think of it. That day I was introduced to the ways a woman is to pleasure her lover I have not been the same. Maybe I'm freer, but maybe I'm more reserved, I don't know which. Either way, I've changed. I suppose I shouldn't have taken this outfit from Indira. "Reza, I'm a grown woman," I add to my prior sentiments. "I can handle myself."

Reza signs off on his letter as I speak and turns to face me in his chair, taking my hands in his and pulling me to a standing position. "Listen, Risa, and listen well," he says, solemnity and seriousness in his eyes and expressions. "Do not take this the wrong way, I beg of you." I nod in agreement. "I care about you Risa, really I do. I care for you and I love you as any friend would. You are taking good care of yourself, I know this, but I know also that there are some things you're not telling me. Risa, I trust you and it's time you trust me."

Oh God, there is so much he doesn't know! Not only does he not know about my experience with Hamir, but he also does not know who I am! I am, to him, the young Risa taken in by the Khanum, the artistic European virgin. He knows not that I am really Christine de...Daaè. Christine Daaè, yes, the former opera star haunted by the infamous…

Stop, Christine. Just because you have a different life does not mean you can't keep your promises to the Holy Father. You've done well for a few years now; don't mess it up now! "Reza, I…"

"Please, Risa. I need to know." He squeezes my tiny hands in his own larger ones. "Tell me anything."

"Reza, I'm…not ready to tell you everything," I say, being completely honest. He looks a little let down at my refusal to say anything further, a frown creasing his face. "Don't look at me that way," I say soothingly, putting a hand to his cheek. "I promise to tell you when I'm ready. I swear it, Reza. And you have my permission to throw me over your knee and tan my backside if I don't." Reza scoffs.

"That's a little far, Risa," he says, kissing my forehead. "But if you do anything you shouldn't between now and whatever time that is, I may take you up on that offer." Would it be that I could avoid doing things I'd regret. If only life were so easy.

Later…

"Christine!" Indira runs into my room as I prepare myself for bed, out of breath and disheveled. "Christine, come quickly!"

"What's wrong?" I ask urgently, pinning my hair up at the back of my head, out of my eyes. "What's going on?"

"It's Reza," she replies, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the winding hallways of the harem. Reza? What could it be? I haven't seen him in two weeks, not since he asked me to reveal myself to him.

"Indira, what's going on?" I say breathily as she pulls me down more corridors. "What's happening with Reza?" Indira slows down and takes both of my hands in her own.

"Something's happened, Christine. I don't know what it was, but he's hurt. He'll be sent home on the morrow. He requested to see you," she finishes, her eyes sad and her face blank. I bite my lip. Don't cry, Christine. Please don't cry.

"Take me to him." I hold my head high as Indira leads me into a little antechamber off of the main hall where they must have brought Reza. My breath hitches in my throat as I see him sprawled out on a little pallet, his chest heaving. There is a large wound on his arm and one across his leg, as well as many scratches along the large expanse of his chest, many people milling around him. "Reza!"

The gathered people jump at my shout and back away from Reza. "Leave him alone! Go on! I'll call you if I need you!" His eyes are closed, I can see, and I don't even know if he's aware I'm here, but the crowd disperses, leaving me alone with my injured friend. I hear the door click shut behind the group, and I run to Reza's bedside, sinking down beside him. "Reza," I say soothingly, brushing his dark hair from his brow. "Reza, talk to me."

A single tear winds its way down my cheek finding a path through the air onto Reza's shoulder. The fabric soaks the salty water up like a lifeline, and it leaves only a dark spot. "Risa, is that you?" Reza says, his voice quiet but strong and his eyes still closed tightly, shutting out the world.

"It's me, Reza, I'm here now. It's all right, everything will be fine," I say almost breathlessly, laying a gentle kiss on his forehead. "What happened to you?" I ask, running a finger down the strong line of his jaw.

"Street fight got out of hand," he responds shortly. "It was political, of course, and I was in the Shah's favor, but the ruffians out on the streets don't see it the same as I do."

"Oh, Reza," I whimper, pressing my face down next to his, his left cheek against my right. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Risa, really I will." I sense one of his large hands playing with a loose curl of my hair, twirling it about his fingers. What will I do with Reza gone? He's my only true friend, the only one with a seemingly normal life, not one of prostitution, not one of inner turmoil.

"Reza?" I say, my voice nearly a squeak. Why am I so nervous?

"What is it Risa?" Reza responds as I tilt my head up to look at him. His eyes are open, the gold in them a little duller than usual.

I try to speak but the shrill squeaks continue. "You told me that when I was ready I could tell you everything, right?" He nods and I bite down hard upon my lip. I can't do this! I just can't! Say it, Christine. You can do it. "Reza, I'm not who you think I am." Reza's eyes show his confusion. "I am not here by my own free will and my name is not Risa."

"What do you…" but I cut him off. I'm now on a high and I'm letting everything out while I can.

"My name is Christine Daaè."