"No, no!" snapped Erik, "You must breathe from your diaphragm! How many times must I tell you?"
He crossed the distance between us in an instant in order to correct my posture. He lengthened my neck, straightened my shoulders, and pressed a firm hand on my abdomen – the first physical contact between us since the brief handshake, which had occurred nearly a week earlier "breathe from here. Now try again."
Try I did for the following forty-five minutes, filled with continuous stops as well as Erik's frustrations. Once he was meagerly satisfied for the night he sent me away to bed, reminding me not to be late tomorrow. I had noticed a slight improvement in my technique, despite how I disliked his stern rebukes. Before leaving, I murmured my gratitude, "thank you, Erik, for all you have done for me."
I blushed, he stiffly nodded, and I disappeared into the hatch. When I returned to the dormitories, Meg sat, poised on her bed, bursting with questions. "Ahah!" she exclaimed (as quietly as possible, so not to rouse the other girls), "I knew you had been sneaking out. Where do you disappear to every night?"
I felt heat rising to my cheeks again, but it was dark so Meg would not have noticed. "I like to get a bit of air before bed... I used to live in the country with my family before they sent me here. Just a habit of mine, I guess."
I felt bad lying to Meg since I thought perhaps we might eventually become good friends. I had never had many friends before. Father and I always traveled too much for me to make real relationships, other than Raoul–"So you don't have a secret admirer that you sneak away to see?" Meg inquired, interrupting my train of thought.
"Of course not. And if I ever have a suitor, you'd be the first to know," I reassured, unaware of why I suddenly felt so guilty.
Meg sighed, and resigned her string of questions, electing to go back to bed. I followed suit and found that I actually got a decent amount of rest that night.
The next day was Saturday, which allowed me the good fortune of sleeping in and no rehearsals. Meg and a few other ballet dancers decided to venture out into the heart of Paris and dictated that I was to join them. I obliged, and eventually, we found ourselves at a small but bustling café with delightful tea and even tastier pastries. Soon after our arrival, the girls decided to go shopping, but since I had no money yet, I elected to meander around a park for a bit before we met up again. I sat done on the bench, our designated meeting spot, and soon noticed a discarded newspaper. I skimmed the headlines, full of politics and scandals that did not interest me. However, it was a few little words on a back page of the paper that caught my eye. Under a list of missing persons was my name and portrait, "Mademoiselle Christine Daeé."
I felt my heart stop. Suddenly, every stranger around me was a potential threat. How many people in Paris read the newspaper and had seen my portrait? My hands felt shaky and clammy; at least it did not include "Murder Suspect Mademoiselle Christine Daeé," I thought to myself. However, this information indicated that the gendarmerie had discovered my uncle's body – of course they had! I disappeared nearly five weeks earlier. Dead bodies begin to smell much earlier.
Meg and the others soon returned with an array of hats and ribbons, and I had successfully managed to calm my racing heart done a bit. "Are you alright Christine? You look a bit pale," commented Meg, touching my hand gently.
"Yes, quite alright. I'm rather tired, that's all. I suppose I am not used to this much activity."
They accepted that response, and we all returned to the opera house just before sunset. However, I felt a pang of guilt in the back of my mind, for I was late to singing lessons.
I rushed up to the roof as quickly as a could, but by then the sun had already fully set, and the air began to feel much cooler as it had before in the park. "You're late." The voice stated, eerily, his tone made me feel colder than the early winter air did, "Where in heaven's name is your jacket?"
"I forgot it... I suppose I did not have need of it earlier. I apologize for being tardy, it won't happen again." My voice shook a little, be it from the cold or my mix of emotions, I was not sure.
"You seem distressed..." he carefully approached me, as though he might approach a wounded animal.
I suddenly realized how close we were in proximity, but could not increase our distance (for proprieties sake) without drawing dangerously close to the edge of the rooftop. "Let us not have a lesson tonight," he said gently, or at least not laced with condescension and frustration, as I was now accustomed to.
His softer tone surprised me, but not as much as when his gloved hand was suddenly at my cheek, gently wiping away an unwanted tear that had managed to escape. This action triggered a cascade of tears that broke free, flowing down my reddened cheeks. I turned away, graciously accepted the handkerchief proffered me in order to compose myself. "I'm not usually this emotional–" I hiccupped, "I think I am just a bit overwhelmed."
He did not say anything, which prompted me to continue, "You see, everyone I happen to care about always seem to die, and today I have come to the realization that for the first time in my life I am truly alone." I sobbed a little into my hands; somehow, despite all my blubbering, talking to Erik made me feel a bit less alone.
"Dear Christine," he said barely above a whisper, "You will never truly be alone, so long as you want me for company in your life."
I turned to face him and saw my loneliness and despair mirrored in his own eyes. "Come with me, it is too cold out here, you'll catch your death."
I chuckled slightly, and he swiftly removed his cloak, draping it around about my shoulders. He lingered there a moment, close enough for me to notice that he smelled like pine and cinnamon, and I thought briefly that he might try to kiss me, though he quickly moved an appropriate distance away. He did, however, offer me his arm, which I accepted and was glad that I did because I soon found myself beneath the opera house.