Christine dans Deux

An Alternate Multiverse – A Phantom of the Opera Story

Nyasia A. Maire

© 2006

DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Seventy-Five – By the Hand of Fate

The young man saunters off the stage heading in the direction of Christine's dressing room and at the same time, another man smirks as he watches from the shadows….

"Erik! Erik!"

My wife's frantic voice fills my mind. She stands laughing and talking quietly at center stage, surrounded by the patrons and managers of the opera house, yet within her mind she cries out to me.

"I am here, calm yourself! What is wrong?"

"I feel there is someone here. Someone is watching and waiting for Christine. Please go watch over her. I … I am not sure, but she may be in danger."

I hear her sigh.

"Are you all right, my love?"

Another sigh.

"Just a bit of a headache. I think I will go lie down in my dressing room and take a short nap. Hopefully, when I awake, my headache will be gone. Tylenol, Tylenol, where forth art thou, Tylenol?"

Hearing her voice become thick with melodrama as she performs the mock-Shakespearean soliloquy, Erik pictures his woeful-eyed wife flinging her arm across her forehead as she delivers her line. This image of his wife dressed as Juliette in her dressing gown upon the balcony stirs him. For the last several weeks, they had both been so exhausted that their marriage bed had simply become a place to sleep. Her voice interrupts his thoughts.

"Dearest? Christine? Danger? Please check on her and I will be waiting for you in my dressing room. Perhaps, you can distract me from my headache?"

"I will ensure Christine's safety and then shall endeavor to relieve you of your pain, my dearest heart."

As I take my leave, I see my wife doing the same. She exits stage right and I from stage left. My last sight of her is of her retreating form. I admire the lithe form of the petite dark-haired woman who wears a crimson and orange sari with a transparent veil of sky blue covering her head.

"She even went to the trouble of finding authentic Indian clothing. Strange … no one made a single comment on her costume."

I shake my head wistfully.

"Her voice so enchanted us that it was the only thing of which we took notice."

Her graceful swaying step further arouses me as she walked into the west wings. I hasten my step, determined to quickly check on Christine and then hurry to my wife's side.

I instantly abandon the lascivious thoughts of my wife as I hear Christine's ear-splitting soprano shriek. At once, I break into a run, reaching the dressing room in record time. Grasping the door jamb, I swing myself into the doorway … only to find Christine in the act of delightedly throwing her arms around the neck of a man and the man drawing her into his embrace.

"WHAT THE HELL? ARE YOU TRYING TO LOSE YOUR VOICE?"

My voice thunders over the happy murmurings of the couple before me. I stop and clear my throat, embarrassed. Then begin again, this time my voice calm and quiet.

"Christine, the managers and patrons are ready for you to audition. They would like you to report to the stage now and bring your arrangement with you."

The man, barely loosening his hold on Christine, turns towards me. I swear lightly under my breath.

"Etienne! It is good to see you! I had no idea you would be arriving today. From the sound of the rather loud shriek and her look of delight, I take it Christine had no idea as well."

I walk to the couple and clap my hand to the man's shoulder.

"Damn good to see you, sir!"

Looking from Christine and back to Etienne, I smirk and sigh exasperatedly.

"Christine! Audition time."

Glancing about her room, my eyes seek and then find the folder containing her sheet music. Picking it up from her vanity, I check it and then hand it to her.

"Here, you need to bring this with you."

My eyes meet my friend's eyes and I can see his happiness. I am glad for the two of them, but now all I want is to be with my wife and nothing more.

"Sir, would you do me the honor of escorting Madame to her audition? My wife is not feeling well and I would like to attend her as soon as possible."

"It would be my pleasure, Monsieur le Comte!"

He turns to Christine, with a mischievous light in his eyes, his voice no more than a rumbling hum in her ear.

"As long as Madame has no objections to me acting as her escort…."

His rumble fades and the couple sighs contentedly, their heads resting forehead to forehead.

Christine sighs.

"Monsieur le Docteur, would you…."

"Say no more, Madame! I would be honored! Allow me."

With a smile, he offers his arm to her and she graciously accepts it, entwining their limbs together. Satisfied that Christine is in good hands, I beat a hasty retreat from their increasingly preoccupied presence.

The desire the two exuded had further enflamed my own lust and I hurried towards my wife's dressing room.

"I hope the divan in there is larger than the last one."

♥◦♦◦♥◦♦◦♥

Pleasantly anticipating the next several hours, I knock upon her door … I hear only silence. I knock again. Once again, silence. Cautiously opening the door, I frown. The room is empty. I call out to her anyway.

"Christine! Ma chère cœur, please, are you here?"

"Please let this be a game she is playing. Please, God!"

I turn and survey the room more thoroughly.

"Yes, she has been here. There is her sari and shoes. The room though…."

The room shows no signs of a struggle. Nothing is out of place.

"It's like she came here, changed and left … but she did not feel well. I could tell. She would not leave without telling someone or … leaving me a note."

I rush to the vanity table, but the surface is bare. Turning and rushing back into the corridor, I grab a nearby stage hand, who is leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette.

"Have you seen Madame de Mornay? Mademoiselle Maire?"

The man nods and points to her dressing room.

"I saw her go in 10, maybe 15 minutes ago. I was talkin' to me friend, so I weren't watchin' the door. She coulda' walked out and I weren't lookin'. Sorry, Monsieur."

Patting his arm, I nod and mumble my thanks, then stumble back into the dressing room. I softly close the door and lean back upon its rough surface. Drawing a deep breath, I hold the air in my lungs for a moment and then release the breath. I continue to breathe this slow and deliberate way until I feel myself begin to relax.

"Just calm down, Erik. Close your eyes and go to the cottage. She will be there and then she can tell you where she is."

I close my eyes and reach for Christine's presence in my mind. Instead of finding her comforting presence and the familiar walls of the cottage around me, I cannot feel her at all and where the cottage once was is an empty void. It is as if I am standing atop the precipice of a cliff overlooking a vast dark ocean. I gaze down at the breakers far below. I watch as they break higher and higher, each time retreating less and less. I stand impotent against the tide and watch as a black wave rolls in and begins to invade my mind. I choke on it as it pours through my mind.

"I am drowning! Christine, my dearest wife, I love you! Where are you? Are you all right? Somehow, I will find you! I will never give up! Please do not hurt her! Take me! Do with me, as you will, only let her go. Please?"

There is no response to the anguished cries of my mind, only the overpowering darkness, which is slowly suffocating me. I know the end is near when I feel the veins in my eyes burst. My dying mind knows the burst veins are the reason I see the brilliant flashes of light before me and not that heaven is preparing to welcome me home. I gather all of my strength for my last words. My last thoughts are of her. How much I love her. How much I care for her. How worried I am for her. How I would sacrifice all I am if it would save her. She is everything to me.

"Oh, Christine…."

And, then I am no more.