Chapter Eight
Faust and Margarita
You've got to be kidding me! This can't be happening . . . why! Her golden eyes turned molten as they zeroed in on the stage. I don't believe this! Of all of the ridiculous, immature, FOPPISH things to do! Her breathing turned shallow and choppy as the orchestra started up the opening beats to the gardening act. Why . . .? Why? . . .Why. why!
Next to her, she noticed Phillipe study his program in puzzlement. "I wonder why they made a lead change this far throughout the show," He muttered curiously, "I don't see it scheduled anywhere."
"Oh it's not scheduled," Aria whispered darkly, her hands gripped the red velvet arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white."At least, it better not be." She took deep breathes trying to make her breathing calm and reasonably regular, her tries were in vain.
Phillipe glanced at her curiously. "Do you know something about this?"
Aria took a deep breath trying to quell the temper she had inherited from her infamous father. "i have an idea."
He arched a bleached eyebrow invitingly. Silent as his beautiful blue eyes asked her to continue. She considered her answer as she watched Faust and Marguerite take center stage. It had to be them. The mask, the cloak, the scowl on his face. They were things she had grown up with. She couldn't be wrong. "Those are my parents."
Phillipe's perfect face paled, and became slightly larger. "Your parents?"
She nodded uncomfortably, almost sure that she would die from embarrassment. How could he? She was almost sure that her father was behind this! She didn't know how, but she had an idea why. If he was trying to spy on her, then he'd be less obvious about it. He was smarter than that. All he was doing this way was draw unwanted attention to himself. Was he trying to make her die of shame? Maybe he had planned it this way. Maybe this way Phillipe would never want to speak to her again.
Maybe he'd want to find someone with normal parents.
She tried to quell her rising anger, and Phillipe had to hide a grin. Her parents would make for a very interesting relationship. He noticed her white knuckled grip on the defenseless chair. "Are you planning on releasing the arm chair anytime soon?"
She blinked away the angry haze that had covered her eyes, then looked at him as if she had just remember that he was there. A blush spread across her face as she caught his stare. She drew her hands away from the chair and tried to ignore the angry impressions left behind in the expensive velvet."I'm so sorry about this." She said. "I have no idea why they are here. They're not normally like this." She stumbled through her excuses.
Phillipe raised a eyebrow. "They're not?"
She gave a frustrated sigh. "Okay, but are you telling me that your parents have never done anything to embarrass you?"
Phillipe looked thoughtful. "There have been some instances, yes." He smiled in amussement. "Yet they have never tagged along to one of my dates, and somehow ended up onstage during one of the most prestigious operas in Paris."
Aria groaned in misery as she buried her head in her hands. When she looked up her eyes were burning with pain and indignation. "I'm so sorry Phillipe. I can't believe they would do this! Ah! Why doesn't he trust me!"
Phillipe laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as she looked at him tentatively. Expecting him to want to leave immediately. "Don't worry so much. I find the situation rather amusing. Let's just see what happens. I'm sure that everything will be just fine."
She turned a miserable glance back to stage. Everything would be just fine,
Just fine.
I'm back! I'm not dead. It was only a bad combination of writers block, laziness, and exams! Yet now school is done, and my muse is back!
Now review!
(Does happy dance)
MJ
