Christine dans Deux
An Alternate Multiverse - A Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2006
DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Sixty-Three – Scene Two Redeux
As our laughter subsides, I sigh.
"What a waste of a life."
Christine meets my eyes, "You have no idea …."
I raise an eyebrow in question.
She responds by mouthing, "After …."
She returns her attention to the stage below. As I am truly unimpressed with this production of Romeo and Juliet, my mind begins to wander. I make mental notes about each dancer's strengths and weaknesses, about the skill of each musician, about the quality of the costumes, about the stage design, about the abilities of the stagehands, about … well, about everything.
"I can see I am going to be extremely busy! This should prove to be quite interesting and entertaining (I have never been able to resist terrorizing those damn little ballet rats – they make it just too easy,) as I no longer need to hide behind my infamous notes to the managers. If our patronage is accepted … well, tomorrow will tell that tale."
My attention returns to the performance on the stage and I am quite pleased to discover that we are in the final moments of the opera. I turn to observe my beloved as she sits with tears streaming down her lovely cheeks, completely absorbed by the tale playing itself out on the stage below.
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We still have known thee for a holy man. Where's Romeo's man? What can he say in this?
I brought my master news of Juliet's death and then in post he came from Mantua to this same place, to this same monument. This letter he early bid me give his father and threatened me with death, going in the vault, I departed not and left him there.
Give me the letter. I will look on it. Where is the county's page that raised the watch? Sirrah, what made your master in this place?
He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave and bid me stand aloof, and so I did. Anon comes one with light to open the tomb and by and by my master drew on him and then I ran away to call the watch.
This letter doth make good the friar's words, their course of love, the tidings of her death and here he writes that he did buy a poison of a poor 'pothecary and therewithal came to this vault to die and lie with Juliet. Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague! See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate that heaven finds means to kill your joys with love. And I for winking at your discords too have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.
O! Brother Montague, give me thy hand! This is my daughter's jointure for no more can I demand.
But I can give thee more for I will raise her statue in pure gold that while Verona by that name is known, there shall no figure at such rate be set as that of true and faithful Juliet.
As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie poor sacrifices of our enmity!
A glooming peace this morning with it brings the sun, for sorrow, will not show his head. Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. Some shall be pardon'd and some punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of poor Juliet and of her Romeo.
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The audience apparently appreciates tonight's performance for as the players leave the stage, they stand and heartily applaud. The cast makes three curtain calls to a thundering ovation. Finally, the applause dies and we are now free to exit our box and join the mass exodus from the theater. As we attempt to make our way to our carriage, a thought occurs.
"Beloved, Monsieur le Vicomte did not make good on his threat. Do you think he has forgotten about us?" I use a soft voice, as this is the type of gossip we do not wish spread.
Christine surprises me by shushing me.
"Dearest, let us wait until we are in the carriage before we speak of such things. Also, now may be another one of those perfect opportunities to spread gossip. Maybe, a few well placed words about the reason Christine did not accompany Raoul to the opera tonight? I think the word, "beating," should be prominent in the gossip, as we should go on the offensive. We do not want him to begin rumors of her running off with another man. We want to maintain the moral high ground."
"As you wish ma chèr coeur."
I concede the wisdom of suggestions and spend the next thirty minutes being bumped and jostled by complete strangers! I try to shield Christine as best as I can and she returns the favor by sheltering my mind inside our cottage.
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"Finally!" I groan.
I twirl my cape off my shoulders and fling it over the back of the nearest arm chair. Christine has a similar reaction as she removes her cloak and runs through the open connecting door into her suite as she calls Miriam. I chuckle. Corsets!
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We spend the next three quarters of an hour divesting ourselves of our opera finery and preparing for bed. I feel fortunate in being a man as I am able to accomplish this task much quicker than Christine can. The wait is definitely a small price to pay when I am treated to the ethereal beauty of her presence as she sweeps into my room.
"Would my wife care to join with me …." I clear my throat then continue. "Join me in the bedroom?"
"Your wife most certainly would!"
She threads her arm through mine, hooking me to her side. The curves of each of our bodies a perfect compliment to the other's curves. We settle ourselves on the bed.
"All right, beloved. Seeing as you have been almost bursting to tell me something regarding Raoul all evening, I think it is time to enlighten me."
"Erik, we may not have to … what I mean is …. Nuts! I really wanted to just hate him!"
I feel my entire being still and stiff.
"And you are unable to do this for what reason?"
"Dearest, Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny is dying!"