Christine sat at her vanity undoing the braids and brushing them out, "Is the henna really that obvious?"
"To a degree, but it looks lovely," Erik walked up behind her and ran his fingers through it. "It is perfect for Marguerite."
"Am I right for Marguerite though? I know you've wanted to see me in this role, but I think you've waited too late to do so."
"You speak nonsense, Angel. Your voice has never been better."
She lifted the sherry glass from the vanity and took a sip, "And I've never been older. I heard the choir girls today. I'm 43, it's absurd I'm playing a character half my age."
Erik sighed and yanked the glass from her, "I should have never let you have this third glass."
"You're no master of me!" She stood and turned but he was faster and poured the remainder of the drink down the sink.
"I am the director and I will not have my star acting so reckless! You're going to have a headache tomorrow from drinking this much and be useless at rehearsal." He wrapped his arm around her and guided her to their bed, "Come lay down."
"I should retire, Erik," Christine curled into a fetal position on her side. "I can teach, or help you direct. My hair is greying, my stomach is soft…is this how Carlotta felt when I debuted?"
The Phantom paused, the covers in his hand. It had been years since that named was spoken.
"She lost a baby once; so hysterical over the events of the Opera Ghost. She and Piangi never had another child. She was as barren as I am now," The Soprano turned and looked up at her husband, eyes red and full of tears, "Would you die for me like Piangi did for Carlotta?"
His eyes widen. What does she mean? Did she really forget that I killed Piangi? And this sudden talk of children? Would she remember this in the morning? He pulled the covers up and smiled, "Yes, I would die for you in any way necessary." He kissed her forehead. It and her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, "Good night."
When Erik pushed open the bedroom door holding a tray, Christine was already sitting up, rubbing her forehead.
"You're going to want this," He sat the tray gently on his side of the bed.
She looked over at the plate full of egg, cheese, tomato slices, a Danish and a small pot of coffee with creamer and sugar. She looked up at her husband.
He smiled, "You're not singing today, might as well let you indulge."
"Oh Angel, I behaved horrible last night," she threw her hands over her face. "I hated when Raoul would drink and…"
"Christine, it was one time," Erik walked over to her side of the bed and sat down. He pulled her hands from her face, "We'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
"I don't even remember exactly what I said. I was upset that some of the girls made comments about my age." She leaned over and started indulging in her breakfast.
Erik looked out the window, out over the rolling waves of the ocean, out towards Europe on the other side. To the past. How did I not know about Carlotta and Piangi's baby? Did my antics really cause her to lose it?
"I want a second Danish, this is too good to only have one," She looked up at her husband. "Erik, did you hear me?" She gently took his hand.
He shook his head, "A second Danish?"
She smiled, "Were you letting your mind wander?"
"You could say. I am going to have to rework rehearsal with you having to rest. I guess I could go over the same part with Violet instead."
Christine groaned and flopped back onto her pillows. The plates and cups rattled on the tray.
Erik stood up, "You did this to yourself." He went into the water closet and came out with a blue bottle and sat it on her nightstand, "Take some Bromo-Seltzer for your headache, finish your breakfast and rest. I'll send up another Danish."
"You are being cruel," Christine crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"No, I am making sure my wife and Prima Donna are well," Erik put his wig on with no help from a mirror and then his mask. He adjusted it before walking back over to her. "Christine, I love you," he leaned in and kissed her passionately.
