Letter Three - There's No Such Thing as Ghosts...?
"Skeletal. Slender and towering and skeletal. He seems neither living nor dead; bones brought to life to dance upon this mortal coil once more. They say he cloaks himself in the trappings of a gentleman of old. A fine suit, a proper hat, a billowing cape. I've seen him. Seen his face, right over there, ladies -" a hiccup, and frightened titters and gasps filtered through the backstage.
Christine rounded a corner, and found a group of fifteen or so, made of dancers and a chorus member or two, surrounding Joseph Buquet.
"...yes! I have seen his face!" Buquet continued, combing a clump of stringy hair out of his eyes with grubby fingers. "Yellow and sallow. Thin. His skin is stretched tight over sharp cheekbones, and he has no nose! No one would fault you for thinking his head a living skull!"
The stagehand looped one arm around the shoulder of an unsuspecting dancer, and gestured wildly with the other. Christine shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. It had only been a couple of weeks, but already she'd heard to steer clear of Joseph Buquet. Her gaze slipped back to the dancer, who was wearing a brave smile and trying to slip out from under Buquet's arm. Lyla Jammes. Christine was almost positive that was the girl's name. She had almost managed to extricate herself from Buquet when he spun her dramatically towards himself, and wrapped both arms around her.
"His eyes are sunk deep into his skull, holes so black it looks as if he has no eyes at all!" Buquet was practically shouting now, trying to drown out the murmurs of annoyance from the surrounding crowd. The poor girl now struggling to push herself away. Christine looked around and made eye contact with the dancer next to her.
Christine had been doing a very good job of making herself quite miserable and lonely the past few weeks. She was sinking into a habit of avoiding eye contact, isolating herself, and as a consequence she was merely acquainted with sopranos who sat near her during rehearsal, and knew only a few of the ballerinas by sight. Christine hadn't met the girl next to her, but could tell from the girl's expression that she didn't like what she was seeing anymore than Christine.
"Unless, of course, it is dark! Pitch black!" Buquet pontificated. The crowd looked in equal measure enthralled by the story and discomfited. Christine took a deep breath and leaned over to the dancer.
"Wanna help me get her away from him?" Christine whispered.
"More than anything." The girl smiled back. "Follow my lead."
Christine was glad of the offer, because she hadn't had a clear plan of action. She pushed her way through the crowd after the girl until the two broke into the little bubble occupied by Buquet and Lyla Jammes.
"When it is dark, his light up, red as the devil, and glow like burning coals! His fiery gaze–"
"Ok, Joe that's enough." The dancer interrupted. Buquet, cut off mid-sentence, shifted so that only his arm remained on Lila's shoulder. Christine moved around the dancer and stepped towards Buquet and the girl.
"We've all heard this little story before, Buquet. You got us the first time, but it's getting a little old." The dancer continued, and nodded slightly to Christine. Christine stepped forward and grabbed Lyla's hand.
"Hey! I'm so glad I found you!" Christine said brightly, tugging Lyla away from Buquet. The entire crowd seemed to let out a sigh of relief. "I've been meaning to ask you something!"
Christine babbled on as she pulled the girl towards the chorus dressing room. The crowd was dispersing, and the dancer followed behind them.
"Just cause your mama's got a job in the box office doesn't mean you have to be such a square!" Buquet called after them as they shut the dressing room door.
"Oh my gosh, thank you!" Lyla said, throwing her arms around a surprised Christine. "I didn't know how I was going to get away from him."
"Well, he's the worst, and we girl's have to stick together!" Meg laughed as Lyla pulled away from Christine. "You're new here, right? One of the sopranos?
"Yeah, my name's Christine Daae. You're both dancers? "
"Yup, I'm Meg Giry, lowly ballet rat, and this damsel in distress is Lil' Jammes." Meg said with a sarcastic little curtsy.
"Lyla! It's Lyla, Meg! Stop calling me that!" Lyla interjected.
"Thanks for helping out." Meg said to Christine. "Brave of you, so early on in your career."
"Well, it's what anyone would do in the situation." Christine said with a laugh. "Was he serious about all that ghost stuff?"
Meg laughed as Lyla crossed the room and opened the door a crack.
"Don't get me started on Joseph Buquet. Ever since he found the 'Ghost's Lair' over by the flats, he won't stop talking about the Phantom of the Opera."
"Wait til you hear the one about the floating fireball head with an army of rats in the basement! Looks like the coast is clear!" Lyla called, peeking through the crack. "I've gotta get my bags. Thanks again!"
She slipped through the door and headed for the dancer's dressing room. Meg and Christine followed her to the door.
"He should keep his mouth shut." Meg mumbled.
"Every theater has to have a ghost story, I suppose." Christine said.
"It was nice meeting you, Christine." Meg said quickly, changing the subject and walking backward down the hallway. She spun, and called over her shoulder with a laugh, "Let's fight crime again sometime!"
o...o0o...o
Rehearsals were going well. Christine wasn't getting as lost in her own head, and the constant exposure to music was dulling the sensitivity to it that had arisen after her father's passing. Color was slowly bleeding back into the things around her, and she thought happily of her interaction with Meg Giry the day before. She'd felt like herself, unafraid to speak to a stranger, wanting to help someone. She sang a little stronger, and was enjoying the morning's rehearsal. The chorus was reviewing a particularly tricky few measures in Faust when there was a knock at the door.
With apologies and promises to be only a few minutes, the managers Debienne and Poligny entered.
"Greetings, all. Some of our newer members might not have heard, but there is a rumor going around concerning our retirement." Poligny said from the front of the room. Murmurs flitted about the room like sparrows, confirming that many had indeed heard the rumor.
"We are here to confirm that we are indeed retiring." Poligny continued, "We have had a long run, and we've loved every moment, but we find that we can no longer…We feel we can't...the pressure of taking –"
"We've gotten old, and we'd like to move on." Debienne cut in, shooting Poligny a cutting look. "There will be a Farewell Gala the Tuesday after opening night, where selections from our most triumphant shows will be performed by our best stars, both past and present, and we will introduce the new managers. We are excited to see all of you there. Monsieur Reyer has been provided with the choral piece you'll be performing from La Bohème. Thank you."
The two left the room hurriedly, Debienne whispering harshly to Poligny, and Christine thought she caught the word "phantom" before the door closed behind them. She'd been hearing bits and pieces about the Opera Ghost since she'd arrived, and Buquet's performance yesterday had been the most complete account she'd heard of the spectre. She wondered why the manager's might mention the ghost, but the thought slipped away as she took the music for the gala from the soprano next to her, and added it to her folder.
Hours passed, and the rehearsal flowed smoothly on. Reyer dismissed them, and the members of the chorus filtered out quickly. As Christine stood to leave, the strap of her bag caught on the seat. The jolt caused her to drop her music folder and spilled the contents of her purse. Pages of music slipped down the steps of the risers. She sighed, and knelt to pick up her belongings. A few girls helped her gather the pages, lip balms, spilled gum, and her small video camera. She thanked them and waved them off, telling them to go on without her.
It took ages to get the music back in order, and by the time Christine was finished, she was quite alone. She headed through the maze of silent halls toward the dressing room. It was eerie, being alone here, and thoughts of the Opera Ghost rose unbidden to her mind.
Footsteps echoed behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder.
The hallway was empty.
Christine quickened her pace. Rounding a corner, she saw the door of the dressing room and hurried toward it. She pulled the door open, but a hand shot in front of her face and slammed it shut.
Buquet loomed over her. He smelled of sweat and unbrushed teeth, and his body blocked the door.
"Please move." said Christine stiffly.
"You're new here, right?" Buquet said, ignoring her. An unpleasant smile oozed slowly across his face.
"Have you seen me here before?" Christine retorted. She tried to move around him. "I need to get in the dressing room."
"Don't be in such a hurry, sweetheart. I got something for you." Christine eyed him warily. He handed her a folded piece of paper with a wink. "See you around."
He leaned closer as he pushed off the wall, and sauntered down the hall. He was out of sight when Meg came out of the dancer's dressing room.
"Hey, Christine! What's up?" Meg said brightly.
"I just got this from Joseph Buquet." Christine held the note gingerly between two fingers.
"Oooh, a summons to see the managers?"
"Is that what this is? Oh no!"
"Hey, it could be good news!" Meg laughed at Christine's panic as she tore the note open.
"I'm supposed to see them in their office before I leave for the day." Christine groaned. "They're firing me. I suck, and they know it, and they're firing me."
Meg shook her head sympathetically as Christine re-read the note. Christine opened the door of the dressing room and grabbed her coat. Meg followed as she hurried toward the office.
"I'll walk with you. I'm meeting my mom in the box office. Hey, you're gonna be fine!" Meg said, pulling Christine, who was beginning to breathe a little too sharply, to stop. "Listen. I'm sure it's fine. Probably some new hire thing."
Christine nodded. She would be ok. Yeah. It was just a new hire thing. It had to be. Meg smiled and the two started walking.
"I've been meaning to ask you," Meg said, "Would you like to got out with us tonight? There's a group of us, some dancers and some chorus people."
"I don't know…"
"Come on, it'll be fun. We'll celebrate if you come out of this with a job, and we'll send you off proper if you don't!" Meg joked, and they stopped at door to the offices
"Ok, that sounds like fun." Christine said, and Meg grabbed Christine's phone from her hand.
"Awesome! I'm sending myself a text so I have your info. I'll text you where and when, mmkay? Good luck in there!" Meg pushed the phone back in Christine's hand, and headed down the hall. Christine took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
She sat where the receptionist asked her to sit and she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
She checked her phone. Only five minutes had passed, and she hated how the anxious feeling in her gut made it feel like twenty. She could hear voices coming from the behind the managers' door.
Christine blinked back the tears she felt growing in her eyes. She knew she had lost whatever spark had interested them in her. This was it. She thought she was sneaking under the radar, passable, but they'd noticed, and now she was going to be asked to leave.
The voices behind the door rose, and Christine stared hard at the floor in front of her. She didn't want to lose her spot at the opera, and she didn't know what she would do with herself if she did.
Shouts exploded from from within the office, and Christine felt her stomach drop.
"...I won't be pushed around, I tell you! This is the last time! Christine Daae!" Debienne barked, bursting through the door to the office, and motioned at her to enter.
She stood hastily, and Debienne straightened his jacket and motioned her into the room. She entered, and sat nervously at the chair in front of the desk. The two men exchanged glances and both visibly tried to calm themselves.
"Miss Daae." Poligny ground out through a tightly clenched jaw. "It has come to our attention that there are too many people in the chorus dressing room."
Christine took a deep breath. This was it. Why not just come out and say it?
"And we have decided to move you into a new dressing room to help the situation."
"Wait, I'm not fired?" Christine burst out in surprise. The comment seemed to ease some of the tension, and the managers chuckled. Poligny tapped an envelope addressed in red repeatedly against the table.
"No, quite the contrary. From reports, we hear you and the other new members are getting on quite well. Due to the overflow, we've chosen a few of you to pair up and move to the spare rooms. However, as the room you are assigned to is quite small, you'll have a solo room. "
"Oh. Oh, good." Christine was shocked by her good fortune. "Why me? I mean, um, thank you, of course. Sorry, I'm just surprised."
"Oh, you were chosen quite by chance. We chose at random from the chorus. Pulled your name out of a hat, so to say." Poligny crumpled the letter he was holding and the smile he gave Christine seemed forced. "Our secretary will show you the way to your room. We apologize for the mess, we just wanted to get this sorted as soon as possible. Good evening, Miss Daae."
o...o0o...o
The secretary unlocked the door for Christine, and apologized for the mess. Christine set her purse and phone down inside the door, and stepped into the hallway to thank the secretary. The door swung shut with a soft click behind Christine as she spoke with the secretary for some minutes, going over the rules for the room and the best route to the stage. She took the key, and the two shook hands. The secretary headed back towards the office, and Christine turned back into the dressing room, shutting the door behind her.
Her purse was open, and the phone was on the chair.
Christine felt a chill go through her. She was certain that she had set her phone on the table. This wasn't the first time she'd felt like her things had been moved or her purse sifted through. Could it be...
She shook the feeling off and forced her train of thought down more pleasant rails. She looked around. Her own dressing room! It was full of old props and costumes, and the make-up table was crowded into a corner next to a large gold curtain and full book shelf.
This was going to take a little work, but she was excited. She had a place to make her own. Smiling, she took the camera from her bag and sat down to film a letter. She was full of conflicting feelings and jumbled thoughts. Her words came out slowly, the thoughts processing as she said them. She laughed at how stilted and scared she sounded when she rewatched the footage, but she had a sort of one-take policy with these videos. She didn't want, or need them, to be too edited or polished.
She was glad she'd decided to make the "letters." She liked making them, and she'd even made a little title card and opening song. It was good to have a place to vent.
She took a last look around the room, needing to head home and change for her night on the town with Meg and the others, but unwilling to leave just yet.
She moved through the room, running a finger through the dust on the frame of an old poster, and brushing the fur of a costume cloak. Her eyes fell on a white sheet toward the back of the room, and she moved toward it.
The sheet hung almost from the ceiling. Grasping the edge, she pulled. She squinted and coughed at the dust swirling about her head. Dropping the sheet at her feet, she gasped.
A beautiful, gilt framed mirror was affixed flush against the wall, gleaming from floor to ceiling. She studied the room in the reflection, until she met her own eyes. The circles weren't quite as dark. She was sleeping better, she knew, and her wide, dark eyes seemed familiar again.
She felt happy. A little happy. She had plans for the evening and a room to decorate and her dream job. She tried on a small smile and was glad to see it looked genuine.
Something rustled in the room, and she spun. There was no one but her. She laughed at herself, and grabbed her bag.
She heard the noise again as she locked the door.
It almost seem like it came from behind the mirror.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Please review, and remember to watch the web-series The Private Letters of Christine Daae in YouTube for a multimedia experience!
