Christine dans Deux

An Alternate Multiverse - A Phantom of the Opera Story

Nyasia A. Maire

© 2006

DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Thirty-Three – Confessions, Conversations and Plans

"Dearest, you will not like my answer. My answer is … I do not know. I remember part of what happened, but … no, it's almost as if I skipped from one moment to the another. I have no sense of missing time. Although, I'm fairly sure I am. My body may have been there, but I was not. I do not know what happened to either of your Christine's. I've never felt anything like it before. And, I have no wish to feel it again. The things that I can do. I've never spoken to you of them, but I believe now is as good a time as any."

She stops and leans against the wall. Her gaze serious and I think somehow sad.

"I inherited my abilities simply from being my mother's eldest daughter as they pass from one generation to the next. My mother turned her back on her gifts. It frightened her. She was not an empath or prescient as I am. I do not know if there is a term that describes my mother's gift. My grandmother called it, "pushing." My mother could push people into doing her will. My mother never purposefully used her gift, but sometimes, when she was in the grip of an overpowering emotion, she would slip and things would happen." Christine shudders. "Anyway, my grandmother was a healer. She was the one who taught me how to protect myself." She pauses. "Did I tell you that I'm the oldest of six children?"

"I seem to remember you speaking of siblings."

She nods. "Yes, well, I have three brothers and two sisters. The oldest of the boys has what was called in your time, dementia praecox and is now called, schizophrenia. I was born nine months and eight days after my parents married; my brother, ten months after me; my sister, ten months after my brother. My brother's violent temper focused on me and my mother feared for my safety if I remained at home. She told me she loved me so much that she had to send me away. My maternal grandparents took turns with my godparents raising me. I spent most of my childhood living away from my parents. It seemed every time I would come home for a visit, something dreadful would happen. The scar on my left forearm, my hearing loss, the scar on the back of my right calf and the three concussions are but a partial list of the injuries inflicted on me by my brother. And yet, I feel fortunate. My brother's disease sent me to the one place where I could learn how to use my gift. If I had stayed with my parents, I most likely would have gone insane from the noise inside my head. My grandmother saved me from that fate. I love my grandparents very much." Her eyes brighten. "You will like this. My grandfather had a special name for me. He called me, "his dolly girl." It made me feel good." She chuckles. "It still makes me smile whenever I think of it. Yes, I am very lucky. It could have been much worse."

"I do not know what to say. You were turned out of your parent's home. Sent away from your family and yet, you make it a good thing. I would have hated my parents for sending me away."

"How could I hate them? My mother refused to have my brother committed to an institution for the mentally ill. She couldn't send my brother to live with my grandparents because of he was difficult and sometimes, dangerous. However, she could send me away because I was the good one. Erik, she sent me away because she loved me. I may have been lonely as a child, but I always knew they loved me. So, it is alright."

We continue our walk in silence.

And, yet again, I had no idea.

We enter the dining room and I hear Christine's small gasp of surprise. Where the foyer is grand, beautiful and cold, this room is intimate and warm. There is an abundance of wood in this room, wood floors, wood paneling, wood dining table and chairs and an open beam ceiling. The large chandelier is even made of wood. I can feel Christine's eyes drawn to it. I look at it with fresh eyes and see the 5 tiers of candles. The artisan who crafted it created a forest of light. The center of the light is a sculpted pine tree. The top four tiers are the branches of the tree and have various birds and small animals resting on the boughs. The bottom tier is the ground below the tree. Running from the tree's trunk are large gnarled roots. The roots end in circles of ivy vines and rambling rose. More small animals are carved here, but these animals are not in repose. These are depicted frolicking along the roots and vines. The years of candle smoke have darkened the wood, but it gleams from just as many years of polishing. The candles fitted about the fixture are short and dark green.

I think, "They have always been dark green." The brings me up short. "Where did that come from?" I wonder silently.

"Good afternoon, sir. Thank you for asking me to dine with you. Your home is a marvel and while I realize I have seen very little of it. I believe this chandelier will always be my favorite. It is absolutely lovely." Christine says to my father.

"Come in! Come in! So glad you could make it. How is the poor little thing upstairs? She has been most upset. I have been quite worried."

"Yes, I can imagine you have been quite concerned. And, father, please do not take this the wrong way. Having the Comtessa de Chagny give premature birth to a son in your home without the Vicomte knowing his wife is here, I would agree that is quite a cause for concern. I realize I have placed you in a difficult position."

"Please, come in and sit. Erik, you sit on my right. You child, at my left. Please sit."

I lead Christine to her chair. I pull the chair out for her, she daintily sits and I push her chair to the table. As I walk around the table, I suddenly feel compelled to pause behind my father's chair. As I round his chair, I pause again, lean down and place a light kiss on his cheek.

"Good afternoon, father." I speak the words lightly and hope he knows what I would really like to say.

He turns to me and as our eyes meet, I am surprised to see his eyes are shining. He blinks back the happiness that threatens to spill from his eyes and clears his throat.

"Good afternoon, son."

With everyone seated at the table, he rings a small silver bell.

Servants begin their well-rehearsed dance of serving the mid-day meal.

I wait until the servants have withdrawn from the room and then resume our conversation.

"Father, just how far are you willing to go in this matter?"

"Erik, the lady requested asylum here and I have granted her request. I do not know any person of our station who would withdraw support from a petitioner. I plan to go as far as the lady wishes. If she wishes, she may take up residence here. Does she have other children? I seem to remember hearing she did."

"Yes, six daughters."

"My God! What is that man thinking? Is he trying to kill her? She is such a delicate thing. And seven children. I never would have thought it to see her. I suppose after his brother's death having a male heir was foremost in his mind, not his wife. Although, I must admit I am surprised that he married her in the first place. She is not descended of title."

I glance down at my soup bowl and clear my throat to cover my smile.

"That was the most polite way I have ever heard anyone describe a person of common blood. Really, father, the more I speak with you the more I regret that we have not been on good terms."

"That was hardly any fault of yours, Erik."

"Well, we have now and must be content with it."

"Yes, that we do and I for one plan to make the most of it."

"Back to the Vicomtessa. It is my belief that the only reason he married her is because he thought I wanted her. He was wrong. Christine and I caused him to believe we were in love, but that was simply a ploy that went horribly wrong. As I told you earlier."

"Yes. Yes. I remember. My mind becomes entangled in the fact he was willing to murder you. It is a spider's web my mind cannot escape. How he could believe he was above the law of both men and God. And, how could he believe you were of no consequence? Did he believe he could take the life of my son and there the matter would end?"

"Father, most people did not consider my life important. My face was still the one I was born with, not this one. To most, I was simply a monster not a man. Father, you yourself felt that way at one time. Do not blame them too much. I do not. With help of the woman sitting next to you, I have come to accept that is just the way of our world and I forgive them. As to the Vicomte, well, he does not know I am your son. Most only knew me as the Phantom of the Opera or the Opera Ghost. Only three people knew my Christian name. Two are a part of the theater's company, Christine and Madame Giry. The other is Monsieur le Vicomte. Not a one of them knew my surname."

When I mention Christine, my father blinks and his eyes shift in her direction.

"Forgive me, my son. I did not mean to air this matter before your intended."

"Father, there is nothing to forgive. My Christine knows. She met me as the monster. And yet, her eyes did not see me as one. Her eyes saw the man within the monster. She saw and sees me with the eyes of love. She sees me as a man. The man she loves."

I look across the table. She of the green-hazel eyes with the golden-brown rings is gazing at me. Her eyes brimming over with love for me. For me!

"Father, my lady loved me for myself when all others feared or abhorred me. I would ask for your permission to marry her. She is not of the blood, but her soul is noble. I pray you grant my boon."

"Erik, you ask a question to which your heart must already know the answer. Erik, did I not at the end marry your mother? She was a servant, but not to me. To me when I gazed at her she was my queen."

He holds out his hand to me and I take it. Then he turns to face Christine and holds out his hand to her. She grasps his hand in hers and smiles at him.

"I would be honored if you were to join with this man as his wife and live here as man and wife. And indeed I would consider myself both blessed and greatly honored for you to call me father."

"Sir, I desire almost nothing more than that, but there is only one thing I require for my life here to be perfect."

She looks in my eyes once more and I know who she needs. Who we need for our life to be complete. We need Trystin.

"Father, in my overwhelming love for this lady, I neglected to tell you something about my good lady that you should know. She married young and now finds herself a widow and has a seven year old daughter whose name is Trystin Ariel, which means, bold lioness of God. Trystin and I are well-acquainted and she accepts me as the man who will watch over her since her true father has been called to God. At this moment, she is under the care of the good Madame Giry. While the purpose of this trip was indeed two-fold, we thought it to contain an element of danger and would not risk our little angel."

I stop and wait for his reply to this new information. His response is immediate and my heart leaps with joy.

"Do you mean to tell me that I am a grandfather already and you didn't tell me? Erik! Well, then we must handle the matter of de Chagny at once. I wish to meet my granddaughter as soon as possible. Oh! To have children in the château again! I never thought … Erik! Christine! I am too happy for words!"

He pulls both of our hands to him and we are involuntarily pulled up out of our chairs. He places our hands together with his around ours.

"This morning I awoke old and alone. Now I am still old, but I am alone no longer. I have a family! I cannot wait to meet Trystin. So, my children have you set a date?"

He lifts our joined hands, presses them to his lips and then releases them.

Christine and I still stand facing one another across the table with hands clasped. I see my ring sparkling on Christine's finger and feel my smile grow. I never knew there were so many reasons to smile.

I bend over her hand and kiss it then set it free. We take our places at the table.

"Well? Have you thought about when at all? Perhaps you prefer one season over another? Wait! I have a grand idea! You can exchange your vows in our Chapel." He turns to me. "You remember the stained glass window, don't you? I remember when you were quite small the first word I ever heard you say was pretty and you said it about that window." Now her turns to Christine. "Oh, my dear, are you a Catholic? Our family is and Erik was baptized so I believe that qualifies him as one although I am quite certain the last time he went to mass was when his mother took him."

He looks so animated and happy that it makes me happy.

"Yes, sir. I was baptized a Catholic. However, my faith lapsed after the death of my first child. However, if it would please you and Erik does not object, I would not object to being married in your chapel. And winter is my favorite season."

"And you, Erik? What about you?"

"I leave all planning to my bride-to-be. I trust her judgment implicitly. I have no objection to being married in the chapel if the church has no objection to us."

"Oh, I assure you they will have no objections or they will have to answer to me."

We all laugh and return to eating.

I sense my father wishes to say something, but is hesitating.

"Yes, father? What is it?"

"Would you allow me to post the bans of your betrothal? We can announce a private ceremony to take place in December? I think a Christmas wedding would be a wonderful date to have as a wedding anniversary. Do you not think so too?"

Christine replies, "I have no objections to you posting our bans. Do you, Erik?"

I shake my head to indicate that I have no objections.

She continues, "I think a Christmas wedding would be lovely. Now, I have a serious question I must ask you sir. Would you do me the honor of standing in for my father by escorting me down the aisle and giving my hand in marriage to your son?"

I could kiss for her sweetness! The look on my father's face is one of pure bliss. He pushes his chair away from the table and stands before Christine. He bows to her and informs her he would be honored to stand for her father. He then turns and walks out of the room.

"Beloved, I believe you just made my father so happy that he is spilling tears of joy which he is too embarrassed for us to witness."

"I do believe you are correct, my dearest."

We once again return to our food.

Christine surprises me by speaking again.

"Dearest, how will we tell him that I cannot stay in Genevieve's room? I do not wish to insult him, but I cannot possibly spend the night in that room. Come morning my mind would be lost. My mind would wander lost in a pit of your mother's sorrow and I do not believe I could easily climb from that abyss. The only reason I bring it up is that after healing Christine I feel drained to my very core. I would like to take a nap. I wish I could sleep wrapped within your arms, but that most likely is out of the question, correct?"

"Unfortunately, yes, you are quite correct."

"I wish we were already married. I am relieved that your father did not require us to have a lengthy engagement. What are we going to tell people when they ask about the bride's family? That I was orphaned and do not know my lineage? Erik, we never really discussed remaining here or returning to my home. I do not mind either way, but what if my being here or Trystin's changes the future? I realize women are still considered property and of little consequence, but what if one of us bears a male child? That could indeed change the future. Oh! I am tired to the bone. I babble. Please, disregard my words. I will lay my trust in us. Being here with you feels right, but then being anywhere with you at all is a wondrous dream. I love you, dearest."

We smile at one another and I am startled to see dark rings around her eyes that were not there when we first sat to eat. Her smile is wan and the skin of her face seems drawn too tight. Her lustrous eyes dim. To feel ten years of pain in minutes. I cannot even imagine. As if on cue, my father returns with regained composure.

"Excellent! I was just going to look for you, father! I need to make a small request of you."

"Anything, my son. Just tell me what do you require?"

I smile at Christine.

"We are deeply honored and appreciate the offer of my mother's room for Christine's use, but could she use another room?"

"Certainly. May I ask why? It is the nicest room on the estate, after mine of course."

I hesitate and glance again at Christine. Her rapidly deteriorating condition is alarming and yet she still projects an aura of serenity.

"Her trip has left her quite fatigued and she was never able to freshen herself as we were summoned to the Comtessa's room. Could I explain as we walk to her new room?"

"Certainly. Now, I would like to make an offer and I will not take no as your answer. Christine, I would be most honored to have you stay in my room while you are here. I quite often sleep in Genevieve's room anyway, so I do not mind moving my things there. I miss her so and sometimes I can still catch her scent as I walk about the room although I'm sure it is my imagination. Come let us go. Christine, child, are you certain you are simply fatigued?"

He leans down to look more closely at her, but she turns her face and waves him off with a laugh.

"Really, sir! I will be quite all right after a long nap and a hot bath. Do not concern yourself. I will not let your son out of his promise to marry me that easily."

We all laugh again. I help Christine from the table and offer her my arm, which she accepts gratefully.

"So, do you mean to keep me in suspense? Oh, of course not. Ah! To be young and in love!" He teases.

"Father, have you any experience with spiritualists?"

"Erik, your mother was a gypsy and could read cards. She was quite accurate, so I keep an open mind because of her. After all "… there are more things under heaven and earth than are known in your philosophy, Horatio." Hmmm, my boy?"

"Yes, father. Well, Christine is a sensitive and she finds mother's room uncomfortable."

"In what way?"

"I only pursue this matter for I am concerned for your well-being."

"I will keep that foremost in my mind."

His face becomes sober as a judge.

"When Christine went into mother's room, she was almost overpowered by the … how should I explain it?"

As I pause, Christine interjects.

"I have heard stories of a person's emotions remaining in a place and haunting it. The person is not there, just the guilt, pain, anger, hate or fear the person felt. It is the force of intense negative emotions that remain. I have never given it much thought before today. Not until I stood before the door of that room. Your lady wife's room is ablaze with remorse, sorrow, guilt and that just to name a few. Even the happiness she felt after your marriage could not drive away the dreadful feelings in that room. Her feelings have become an entity separate of your dear Genevieve."

"I would urge you, sir, not to sleep in that room. The sorrow creeps into your soul. After sleeping there you cannot be refreshed or rested."

She hangs her head tired and frustrated at her inability to find the proper words.

"Sir, I do not say these things to bring you pain. Only to protect you. Please feel no guilt. She never blamed you. She loved you. Her love was the only saving grace in the room. Her love for you and your son."

My father stares hard into Christine's eyes. She meets his gaze with an unwavering intensity, which surprises me as I can feel her exhaustion. My father is the first to break and turn his eyes away.

"Well then something needs to be done about this. What do you suggest?"

His tone is neutral and I cannot be sure if he mocks her or is serious.

"Sir, this is beyond my ken. I only suggest no one use the room until someone who does know what to do is found. The room is only a danger to those within its walls. Its influence is confined to that room and will not spread. You may heed me or not, but I say this only to prevent you from sleeping there. You are too dear to lose so quickly."

And then the most amazing thing happens or at least I believe it to be amazing. My father blushes in response to her last words.

"Well, my dear, I believe you are sincere in that. And, to please you I will not sleep in the room. In fact, I will order it locked. Now, let us escort you to my room. You seem to be fading before my eyes. Erik, doesn't she … she's very pale."

My father is correct. Christine is fading.

"I am losing my hold on your world. I need rest. I am exhausted." The voice inside my head is barely louder than a whisper.

Without another moment's hesitation, I scoop her up into my arms.

"Father, I am taking her to your room. Will you be coming up?"

I begin to take the stair two at a time.

"Careful! You fall down those and you will break both of your necks! No, you take care to your lady. You do not need an old man hovering. When you have a moment, I would like to continue our earlier conversation about the Vicomtessa."

"I will return as soon as I can."