The Girl Next Door
It was December 22nd. Firmin, wearing a Father Christmas hat, patted Christine's shoulder heartily.
"Excellent wine, Christine. Thank you." He kissed her cheek and she smiled. Clearly a little too much wine had been consumed.
"You're welcome, Richard."
It was the Populaire Advertising Christmas Part and spirits were high. With drinks a-plenty, food in abundance and entertainment blaring, the staff were letting go and enjoying the fun. A karaoke machine provided a cacophony of sound whilst general party games took place on the opposite side of the office. Meg and Sorelli were pelting out I Will Survive, interspersed with hysterical giggles as they stumbled over words. Firmin went to chat with other people and Christine helped herself to a drink, laughing as Meg and Sorelli took their bows, cheers and whoops sounding for them. They made their way to Christine who smiled.
"You two are nuts."
"It's fun! Don't see you getting up to have a go." Sorelli pouted. Christine was about to reply when Carlotta pushed past to claim the machine. They watched curiously as she selected a song. Christine was perfectly prepared to laugh at any attempt she made. But, of course, Carlotta ruined it for her by singing beautifully. Perhaps a little sharply on some of the higher notes, but still irritatingly good.
Meg whistled.
"Wow… she's good."
"Hmm." Christine replied in a non-committal tone. Sorelli elbowed her in the ribs.
"C'mon, you have to have a go. Let's make this rivalry thing complete hatred!"
"She is not a rival. I just don't know why she's still here, what does she even do? I've never seen her working." Christine complained.
"She's only interning. I think her dad is making her do it." Sorelli replied. Carlotta finished her song, winked cheekily at the adoring audience of men who had gathered around the platform to listen to her, and leapt down, striding past. A few moments later they overheard her talking with a couple of co-workers.
"Well, yes, I've always been a good singer. Dad heard me and insisted that I take lessons. Oh, no, I'd never take it up professionally; it's just not reliable, although people have often told me that I could…"
"Oh, god." Christine muttered, disgusted. Meg grinned at her.
"Go on, have a go. It'll be fun."
"Oh, you sing, Christine?"
Christine winced as Carlotta's voice drilled into her brain. She turned to look at her.
"A little."
"Well, you must sing! After all, it's only for fun." Carlotta insisted, a very faint sneer playing about her mouth. Christine forced herself to count to ten.
"I don't think so."
"Don't tell me that you're scared? It's only karaoke." Carlotta said with a careless shrug.
"I'm not scared. And I'm not going to be psyched into singing." Christine said, putting her glass down. Carlotta sighed.
"Fine. Your choice." She turned back to her admirers and said in a voice that was clearly not for Christine's ears, "Lots of people feel like that after hearing me sing. I suppose they feel threatened…"
Christine bit back a snipe and Meg nudged her.
"Go on. You can do this. You can prove yourself." She whispered. Christine glanced towards the silver microphone.
How long had it been since she'd sung? Not just singing along to the radio, but singing properly? The way she had learnt at school, standing straight, head held high, mouth wide and voice clear… too long, she guessed.
Could she still do it? Could she still sing the way she had when she was young? Did she still possess the emotion and heart that was necessary to create a song? Or had everything that had happened since then destroyed her music?
"No. I have nothing to prove." Christine said flatly, draining her drink and walking away.
"Do you want to go first or shall I?" Stuart grinned. Christine lifted an eyebrow.
"Call me old-fashioned, but I thought that Christmas presents were for… Christmas."
"Three days, I think our terrible sin will be forgiven." He reached for the wrapped gift. "Gimme."
Christine laughed at his childishness and pushed the parcel towards him. He tore it open and his jaw dropped.
"Christine… where did you get this?"
"Santa's workshop. Come on, hand mine over." He smiled and passed her a flat box. She took off the paper carefully (earning an eye-roll from Stuart) and looked down at the box of black velvet. Definitely not a ring box, thank God. A necklace perhaps?
She opened the box slowly and smiled. A charm bracelet lay inside, shining silver links with two charms already hanging from it. A tiny piano and a violin. She took it out and admired it carefully.
"Stuart, it's beautiful."
"I know. I saw it and thought of you." He said with that cheeky smile. Christine laughed.
"You talk a lot of rubbish, you know that?"
"I do it so well though. Here, let me put it on for you." She held out her left wrist and he clipped it on, straightening it out. Christine smiled.
"Thank you. It's wonderful."
"What am I going to do without you for ten days?" Stuart sighed.
"Find another way to entertain yourself." Christine suggested.
"Well, what are you going to do without me?" He demanded.
"Become a recluse, shut myself off from the world, and yearn for the day when you will return."
"Hey, no need for the sarcasm." He reprimanded her.
They spent the afternoon and evening basking in each other's company and when Stuart realised exactly how late it was and how much packing he still had to do, they said their goodbyes.
"I'll call you on Christmas Day. Well… the cottage doesn't actually have a phone and there's no chance of getting a reception but I think there's a phone box in the village. I'll see what I can do." He promised. Christine smiled and kissed him.
"Have a good Christmas, Stuart."
"You too. Love you."
"Love you too." Christine replied.
He ran back to his car, head bowed against the harsh wind. Christine glanced up at the sky. It was cloudy and snow threatened. She waved goodbye to Stuart as he drove past before entering the warm shelter of the apartment building. She crossed to the boxes where their post was placed and opened the one with 5b written on it. There were two letters and a parcel inside. She glanced at the letters. One was her bank statement and the other was a Christmas card from some woman she'd been at college with. Christine guessed she was now just a name in an address book, rather than a meaningful person.
She looked at the parcel as she went up in the lift. There was no return address. She pulled off the paper and found a cardboard box inside, with a label on top. Christine walked along and was just outside her apartment door when she recognised the handwriting. Her heart skipped a beat and ice flooded through her veins, quickly replaced by burning rage. Without bothering to open the box, she marched along to the rubbish chute and threw the box and its wrappings into the dark hole before returning to her apartment.
The music acted as a kind of anaesthetic. It numbed him from the core of his soul and made him forget that today was Christmas Eve.
For, try as he might, Erik could not help but imagine what other people were doing on this frosty evening. They might be at home, watching television together. They might be greeting friends in from the cold to celebrate the arrival of the holiday.
And he was sat at his piano, playing some piece he had written so long ago that he did not even have to look at the music to play it anymore. Eventually he lifted his fingers from the keys and turned his head slowly to look out of the window. It was dark and he clearly saw the reflection of himself in the mirror.
No… all he saw was the white mask.
He grazed its cool surface with his fingertips and then turned away from the reflection. He hated this feeling. It was easy to be numb and empty the rest of the year. But he always found that at this time it was harder.
Because she was no longer here.
No!
He shook his head swiftly, shaking the thought of her from his mind. That way lay insanity of the worst and most painful kind and he would not suffer it again. He had already suffered from it too much.
Erik got to his feet and walked swiftly to the door. He pulled on a long, dark coat in the black leather. Black leather gloves, a black scarf and a black hat, pulled low over his face. He opened his door and for the briefest moment contemplated the door opposite before heading for the elevator.
On the cold street outside, he paused for a second to watch his brief form into white clouds. It was comforting, in an odd sort of way. It reminded him of his humanity.
There were few people out on the streets at this time. He walked swiftly, purposefully heading towards nowhere. He thought of everything and nothing, of life and death, of love and hate. So many contrasts that he could relate to. Separate times in his life had given him everything of just one kind. He rarely had both at the same time.
A family were walking past, laughing and talking warmly. The father nodded to him with a wide smile before hurrying past, eager to escape the coldness that Erik welcomed. Erik watched them pass before continuing on his way.
The ground had a thin, crisp layer of frost, freezing blades of grass in suspended existence. Erik stepped past, watching a world that had slowed and stopped, in anticipation of the day that was to come. He took in a breath of air, relishing the coolness of it, flooding through him and assuring him that, yes, he was alive.
As if waking from a daydream, Erik looked around to see where he was and was surprised to find himself outside a church, of all places. The lights were shining brightly and he heard singing come from the door. Slowly, he moved to the open door and stood in its shadow, observing the people within.
It must have been near the end of the service, for people were beginning to pull on coats and scarves as they sang.
O Come All Ye FaithfulJoyful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem.
There was something wonderful about that sound, Erik thought vaguely. The sound of so many people singing together in the joy of one thing.
Come and behold Him,Born the King of Angels;
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.
The music came to an end and people began to move towards the doors, talking and embracing, the words "Merry Christmas" sounding over and over again as people went their separate ways, to their own homes, their own families, their own celebrations.
Erik waited until the church was near enough empty before stepping inside. He walked tentatively, feeling very much unwelcome until he stood before the altar at the front of the church. There were few people around, a few women collecting hymnbooks and some other people carrying guitars and music stands from the church. Erik made sure that they were all duly occupied before removing his hat and looking up at the crucifix on the wall. The tormented figure that hung there looked down, his eyes emotionless.
Erik looked away, uncomfortable with the closeness he was feeling from the man. His eyes were averted instead to the Nativity Crib nearby. He moved over to look, breathing in the heavy scent of incense and the fragrance of the poinsettias that were set around, their red leaves colourful and appealing.
Erik looked down at the figures gathered around the manger, where the tiny figure of the infant saviour lay. Did he already know what his fate would be? Erik wondered. A basket of coins was sat nearby and he dropped some money in before turning to leave. But a sweet, female voice stopped him.
"Mr Destler?"
He looked around and saw Christine Daae stood by a pew. She looked at him in surprise.
"I didn't expect to see you here." She admitted with a smile. "I thought you weren't coming."
"I only arrived at the end." He said quietly. Christine nodded and tilted her head.
"I thought that you didn't like Him." She looked up at the crucifix.
Erik scratched his exposed cheek.
"I felt that… I should come and pay my respects."
"Well, that's good." Christine smiled, moving over to stand by him. "After all… it is his birthday."
They walked home together. Christine laughed at him.
"You just decided to go for a random walk and ended up at a church? That, Mr Destler, is called Divine Intervention."
"It was not divine, it was convenient."
"Nonsense. Just admit that He felt you could use a break. I'm not exactly a good Christian; I'm not a regular at church. But He's still there when I need him." Christine said. She reached into her coat and pulled out the cross that lay around her neck. "It's not as if He just ignores us, even if we do it to Him."
"And how do you know?" Erik demanded. Christine smiled.
"Because otherwise He wouldn't love us. And He does."
"But how do you know?" Erik repeated. Christine looked up at him, her dark eyes smiling.
"Because if He didn't, we would be alone. And we're not."
Erik didn't reply to that. Christine noticed his silence but didn't comment on it. As they reached the apartment building, she paused outside and looked up at him.
"Mr Destler?"
"Yes?"
"What made you go into the church? You said yourself that you ended up there by accident. You didn't need to go in, but you did. Why?"
Erik considered the question carefully. It was a good one. He wasn't entirely sure why but he settled for saying,
"I heard singing. I suppose I wanted to see what could cause a sound so joyous."
"It's called faith." Christine explained.
"I'm afraid that I'm lacking it."
"There's time." She said with a smile, putting the door code in and stepping into the warmth. Erik lifted an eyebrow as he removed his hat.
"Is there?"
"Of course." She laughed suddenly. "Would you listen to me? I sound like some born-again Christian! I hardly ever go to church and here I am pressuring you about believing. Talk about hypocritical."
"Does going to church make you a Christian?" Erik asked. "Can't you talk to God anywhere?"
"He is everywhere. So I suppose you could." Christine shrugged as they stepped into the elevator.
Erik was silent for a moment.
"I don't think he would listen if I prayed."
"Of course he would. He listens to everyone."
"He wouldn't reply."
"Does he need to? Haven't you ever just wanted to talk to someone just to get something off your chest?" One look at his face told her that he hadn't. She chewed the inside of her cheek. "It does you good. It makes you feel… peaceful."
He could not remember the last time he had felt peace. That was a little troubling. Erik watched the buttons light up as they passed the floors, contemplating the idea. What was peace?
Christine clearly noticed his silence, because as they walked to their doors, she said,
"Are you… offended?"
"No, why should I be?"
"I don't know." She admitted. She glanced at him and then an idea struck her. She reached up and unclipped her cross. It caught the light briefly and Erik watched it, until he was distracted as her slender fingers wrapped around his bare hand, lifting it up. The metal cross, still warm from her skin, fell into his palm.
"Take this for tonight. See if you can find a little peace." She said. Erik was astonished, not sure of how to react. But he had no time for Christine simply smiled and said,
"Goodnight Mr Destler."
"…Miss Daae?"
She looked over her shoulder, as she slid the key into the lock.
"Yes?"
"I would… appreciate it if you called me Erik." He said, a little awkward. Christine nodded and smiled in pleasure.
"OK. But you have to call me Christine. Goodnight Erik."
"Goodnight Miss- Christine."
She closed the door behind her and Erik went into his own apartment. He took off his outdoor clothes and then walked the piano where he had been at the evening's beginning. He still clasped the small cross in his hand. Once sat at his beloved instrument, he examined it more closely. It was very simple, made of silver with no noticeable pattern on it.
Simply a cross. Yet Christine Daae truly believed that this could bring her closer to God. Erik swallowed and then tightened his hold on the cross. It pressed into his skin. He was not quite ready to hold conversations with the Higher Being.
But he could still say a prayer. For Christine Daae, for Nadir Khan.
For her.
A/N: I'm actually quite pleased with the way this chapter came out. It seemed very different from my usual writing. It's a very Christmassy piece, because I just watched 'Scrooge' and I'm in the Christmas mood! I think we got to know Christine a bit better, got inside her head. And it was nice to write from Erik's point of view for a change. There's a lot going on inside of that character and I'm always afraid that I won't get it right.
The song is 'O Come All Ye Faithful', in case you didn't guess. Don't know who wrote it, but it's sure as heck not mine!
Lotsa luv
Katie