Chapter 5 - The Bikinis

Sleep drifted lazily from my mind as I snuggled deeper within the blankets. I used to go days without sleep, but in this new, alien world I needed it as much as the next man. I yawned, feeling a book sliding off the bed. I stared at The Phantom of the Opera in abhorrence. Leroux had got it right, for sure. I thought sourly that I could find his great-great-great-great or something grandson and kill him, but what good would it do?

The thought that both girls knew what lay behind my mask haunted me. They knew my worst secret. They could use it to destroy me. But I did not think they would do so. They were the closest things I had to friends in my entire life. Abbey and I had not much in common, and Roselle was ever so quiet and withdrawn around me- a mystery as to why- but they did speak and they didn't scream when I appeared.

And the memories. The memories the horrid book brought back. I remembered like it was yesterday...

"I've never seen him in daylight. It...it must be horrible!" Christine stammered, staring at Raoul with distress. "Oh, the first time I saw him...I thought he was going to die!"

"Why?" that fop of a boy asked, sounding worried, but more interested in staring down Christine's dress. "Why did you think he was going to die?"

"Why? Because I'd seen him!" she answered.

Unable to contain myself, I moaned. Oh Christine, my Angel, my life, why did you have to do it? Why did you have to take off my mask and look upon my demon's face? I must have moaned louder than I thought, as Raoul said,

"There's someone here in pain, maybe someone who's been injured. Did you hear?"

"I can't really say, because even when I'm not with him, my ears are full of his sighs..."

That was the night, that night, when I knew for certain that my Angel of Music- my lovely little Scandinavian, my blonde little bird- did not love me. She was frightened, so frightened of me. Not love, never love. Ah, how I wept that night, in my coffin. The satin of it was stained with my devil tears. For only a beast like myself could ever wish to have an Angel.

My trail of thoughts were broken as the door opened, very, very softly. Bare feet tiptoed over to the desk, stopping tense when the floor creaked. When I did not move, the feet belonging to Roselle picked up the laptop on her desk and began to back up. I feigned sleep, out of sheer ornery-ness. Then the footsteps inched closer, and I could feel her nearby. What was she doing? I shrunk away slightly. But all she did was pull the blanket back up onto my shoulder and creep out of the room.

I studied the computer screen, completely entranced by the information I was reading. A musical publishing company by the name of Quarter Note Publishing had a very good reputation. They'd been in business for 50 years, and-

"Hey Erik?"

I turned and fell out of my chair. Roselle and Abbey in the doorway, dressed in not but underclothes! I could feel myself blushing hot red, down to my neck. What the hell? Mon Dieu, we were becoming friends, but not that much! I averted my eyes in total embarrassment. Abbey giggled. "Don't worry Erik. It's a swimsuit. Women wear them all the time- and there's some more obscene than these."

I turned back to them, but after one small glance their way, I still couldn't look out of complete abashment. Roselle's was blue, going half-way down her stomach, but still revealing a lot of...s-skin. She had a pair of shorts on and modestly slipped a shirt over her swimsuit.

But Abbey...she was practically falling out of hers.

"Anyway, we're going swimming for an hour or two...will you be okay?"

"Yes, yes, of course." I replied, relieved I could endure my shame alone.

Abbey left, but Roselle came up to me.

"Are you sure you won't get bored? I really hate leaving you by yourself."

I gave her a smirk. "I will not get bored, or lonely. I've survived much worse, to be sure."

But as I watched the two leave, laughing- probably at me- I felt slightly lonely. I wished...I wished. I wished I could go swimming with them, enjoying friends. But no, Erik, of course not. You are too ugly.

"Hey Erik we're back!"

I closed the Algebra 4 book- the most interesting one yet- and went to greet the girls.

Roselle's pale face was red from sunburn, and she was rubbing blue aloe vera cream onto her skin. "If only I could remember the stupid sunscreen. Then I wouldn't have to look like a cherry."

I smirked and Abbey laughed. "If only you'd sit and tan instead of splashing around with 10 year olds and diving off boards."

"If only I didn't have a mask, and I'd gladly burn my face." I froze. I hadn't meant to say anything.

"That reminds me, Erik..." Roselle grabbed one of the bags at her feet and rummaged thru it until she produced a tub labeled "make-up wax, Wal-Mart, $9.99".

"In Leroux's novel-" Roselle chewed her lip apologetically-" He mentioned you wore these paper machè nose things when you went out in public..."

I raised a rather menacing eyebrow. She even knew about that black hole in my face, the absence of a nose which was so disgusting. "And so?"

"And so you need something like that. You're gunna have to get out of here sometime- get clothes at least."

The girls had bought a few shirts and pants for me, but they were too big, and the pants were short.

"Anyway, movie makers-" I had learned about this. But, for lack of time, we hadn't watched a movie yet- "They use this wax to add, like, wrinkles to younger people and larger noses for actors. So I was thinking we could make something together."

I was, at first, panicked that she knew that I had no nose. But I realized the sense in her words, and appreciated her efforts. I forced a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

"That is a good plan."

"So let's get started."

Abbey began dinner- barbequed steaks, a meal I was now partial to. The very smell made my mouth water. Roselle pulled out the wax.

She nervously said I should measure-the place where it should go. I nodded, my manner cold.

Roselle lowered her voice and spoke quietly. "You could just take it off. The mask."

I recoiled as though struck, and she flinched. "I-it was just a thought, you don't have to, I just-"

Abbey glanced over in slight alarm.

"Do you really want to see?" I whispered, my voice deadly. Roselle, fear clouding her blue eyes, nodded nevertheless.

"Do you want to see, and then scream with abhorrence and horror, and watch Erik's temper spill over?"

Roselle was fair trembling now. Tears sprung to her eyes. Deep with in my head, I was ashamed and abashed. What a way to treat her! But I could not stop myself.

Roselle cowered further into her chair, then said, in such a small timid voice, "I wouldn't scream, really I wouldn't..."

I glared icily at her, but Abbey stepped over and put a hand on Roselle's shoulder. She was not afraid of me, at all. "Erik, that's enough." Her voice was sharp in a why I'd never heard before. "Enough. Don't you say another word to frighten her. Instead of terrorizing her like a giant, you could have just said no."

Mortified, and indeed feeling stupid and terrible as I looked at Roselle. She was trying so hard not to cry. I dropped my gaze and sighed. "I apologize, mademoiselle."

Abbey, satisfied, went out to grill. Roselle nodded, trying to act as though she'd never reacted. "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have said anything. Should we continue?"

I nodded, picked up a measuring tape, and went to my room. Staring at the mirror, I slowly let the mask fall from my face.

Ah, there it was. The wretchedness of the devil combined with the horridness of humanity.

Patches of dark hair that never lay flat unless I gel it; those skull's deep eyes, so that you could only just see my greenish-gold orbs; the agonizing lack of a nose- the gaping, black hole that disgusted even myself; and the thin lips, malformed at one end. Not to mention the yellowish, parchment-like skin. I sighed despondently. Would this age accept me any better than my native era? Like as not, I would become a recluse...I wondered vaguely as I measured about how long my wax nose should be, if being a recluse was like an addiction; an old habit that dies hard. I sighed, deep, hollow, agonized sigh, and walked back to Roselle, muttering the dimensions.

She smiled suddenly, a chuckle trickling out of her full lips.

"What?" I mumbled, not looking at her.

"Just think; oh, it'd be hilarious..."

"Just say it."

"You could make, like, 5 different noses! A beak, a hook-nose, a squashy one... that'd be so amusing."

Her thought struck me, and I laughed with her. "Indeed! Why did I never think of this?"

We proceeded to finish a nose- a normal one, we decided to make funny ones later- and I realized the awkwardness was gone. Roselle and I had forgiven each other for our misunderstanding, and went about the nose-making business with amusement and sincerity.