I sat next to Henri and wondered what I should do next. How do I Plan for a funeral? What arrangements need to be made? I looked to Henri, praying he had some answers.
"What now?" The question hung in the air. Where do go from here? Our best friend was dead and we had to plan his funeral, I wasn't worried about the cost, I was making enough money to pay for it, but who did I talk to?
"We should talk to the doctor, he'll know what to do." I nodded numbly, not getting up; I had to perform today, didn't I? Everyone must be wondering where I am and why Henri was called to the hospital. I slowly got up, trying to remember how to walk, and went to the door.
"Will you stay here while I get the doctor?" Henri nodded mutely, I don't think he felt up to talking much yet. I left the room and walked to the nurse station. "Excuse me, I was wondering what to do now." The on duty nurse looked confused. "My friend is the one who died up in room 219, how do I prepare a funeral? Where do I get the coffin and plot?" Her eyebrows puckered, making a look of pity form on her face. I heard the door open and someone walk in but paid them no mind. What in God's name do I do now?" I covered my face with my hands resting my elbows on the counter.
"Are you alright my child?" Someone put their hand on my shoulder I shook it off; anger, anger was good, it was familiar, and I knew how to feel it.
"Alright? Alright? I'm standing at a nursing station asking about how to plan my best friends funeral, can't you think of something better to say, like, 'is there something I can do to help you?', there isn't, by the way." I turned back to the nurse. "Can you please tell me what to do?" The nurse was in a shocked silence, not knowing what to do.
"Please Miss, I might be able to help you." I turned back to the man I had almost yelled at. It was a priest, a young one at that, looking a little flustered in his black robes and clutching a bible for dear life. Shit, I'd just yelled at a priest.
"How?" What good would a priest do? All they ever did was marry people and give sermons that I'd never never listened to.
"I'd like to see the body of your friend, if you don't mind to deliver his last rites and absolve his soul." I can't stand overly religious people, if he found out Blaise was gay, he'd demand his body be burned or something.
"He's already gone, I felt his soul leave." I turned back to go find a doctor to help me. "Besides, a priest already came last night, I saw him walk out of the room."
"I'm the only priest in this area and I was gone all night, who was he?" I stopped and turned around.
"Just some guy, blond hair, black coat and top hat." The priest looked confused.
"No priest I know looks like that, are you sure it was one?" So, some random guy was just in Blaise's room last night as he died?
"No, but who should I have known? I only woke up as he was leaving, I never saw his face." The priest looked a bit worried. "He must have been some guy going to visit someone in his family and walked into the wrong room." I walked away, tired of dealing with a 'servant of God'. I asked for the doctor that had attended to Blaise. "Doctor, I was wondering what I should do now? How do I prepare a funeral?"
"Don't worry, we will keep him here for a few days in the morgue, we will get someone to prepare him for the funeral. You can go to a coffin shop down the street, they can help you with the necessary funeral arrangements. I'm sure there is a church near the Opera, St. Lucian's, that you can buy a plot in." The doctor must mean the cemetery where Christine's father was buried.
"How far away is it?" The morgue. Blaise was going to be put in the morgue. My Blaise.
"Only about a forty five minutes through the woods south of it." My Blaise was going to be put in a box in the ground.
"I want to do something special for him, I don't want him to just rest and be forgotten. Is there some way to get a statue for his grave?" I wanted to have a statue of him, so that for years to come people could see who he was.
"Yes, but it would take at least a month for them to finish it." I felt my heart sink. A month? I needed a gravestone in three days.
"Thanks anyway." I walked back to where Henri waited for me. I thought about my first time meeting Blaise that day before I'd really met Erik, how he had smiled, how well we got along with each other. As I stood outside the door, I could hear voices from inside; I opened the door to find the priest from earlier at the foot of the bed with his head bowed. I paused in the door frame.
"Danielle, Father Oliver-Clément has come to say a few words for Blaise." God, why didn't he just disappear?
"Blaise has never gone to church one Sunday in all the months I've known him, what makes you think he was a christian?" The bitch in me was coming out, any aversion that I'd had to being rude to a priest drained away. The priest, Oliver-Clément, looked affronted and embarrassed.
"Both his parents and siblings come to my sermons regularly." He gave his bible a squeeze. I felt an evil smile spread across my face.
"Didn't you wonder why he never came with his family? They shunned him, disowned him and pushed him into a world that he didn't know without so much as a franc to his name. Do you want me to believe that somewhere there is a God watching us all suffer? I abhor the illusion of the 'all mighty' and Blaise saw it too; that, if there was a God, why would he sit by and watch people suffer?" The outraged flush in his cheeks reached his hairline.
"How dare you-"
"No, how dare you? You come into this room, peddling your religion like a product and expect me to fall to the feet of a God that watched people die, and kill, in his name? Look over your bible stories and call me when you see the people suffer as I do, when you hear the children scream as the soldiers of 'Christianity' rape them and kill their family. How could I ever believe in a God like that?" I was really pissing him off. Good. He can go shove religion down someone else's throat.
"I know you are only trying to hurt me because you yourself are hurting, more than I could ever imagine." He turned to leave. "When you are feeling less manic please come to see me about your friends burial." As he reached the door I called for him to wait. He turned to me expectantly.
"Blaise was a man who didn't like women, he never was attracted to the delicacies of a female body; he was in love with a man. That's why his parents disowned him." The priest looked like he was trying to process this. "Since his parents kicked him out he worked at the Opera, where he met the man he would later fall in love with, where he met me, where his heart would be broken. If his parents hadn't believed so strongly that being... like he was not what God wanted he would still be alive. Sure, I wouldn't get the pleasure of knowing him but he would be alive." I let my tears leak out of my eyes until I was having a hard time speaking. "How can I believe in a God that let Blaise die? He is... was the most wonderful, kind, witty person I have ever known. He was my best friend." I looked back at the priest then, expecting him to abhor the fact that Blaise was gay. "Will you condemn him now?" I held my back straight and looked him in the eye. He looked away first.
"It is written in the bible that no man shall ever lay with another man." I scoffed.
"It is also written that we shall not eat shellfish or touch the skin of a dead pig, but I'm pretty sure that isn't followed." I wiped the tears from my eyes.
"Well, it has been proven that it was only recorded because people didn't know how to properly cook it and became sick."
"Yes, but it's in the bible, so you should follow it, right?" I rested my hands on my hips. "If you stripped the meat from my body and looked at my bones, what's the difference? They will be just as white and shapely as yours." I walked up to him. "Who are you to judge who people love? Love is love, gender doesn't matter." I walked back to the bed where Blaise lay. "I will talk to you tomorrow about his funeral and burial. If you still want him in your cemetery." I heard the door open and close, signaling the departure of the "Servant of God".
"He might not let Blaise be buried there now," Henri said. He had stayed quiet the entire time I'd been arguing with the good 'father'.
"Then we'll have him burned and I'll carry his ashes around."
"Are you saying that just to shock me?" Henri teased, smiling.
"Maybe." We laughed, but the laughter quickly turned into tears. I collapsed on the chair next to the bed. "Blaise, your lips are blue." I let my tears fall onto his face like rain on pavement. Blaise was starting to look like a corpse. "Blaise you're so cold." I cried for a few more minutes, Henri rubbed circles into my shoulders. There was a knock at the door and the doctor came in.
"Have you said your goodbyes? We are ready to take him to the morgue." I looked up at Henri who was looking down at me. I nodded silently and the doctor called a few nurses into the room; they put him on a stretcher and took him away. We sat in silence for a minute before Henri began to speak.
"We should get back to the Opera, everyone must be worried about us now." Henri helped me up and walked me out the door. I looked back to the room where Blaise died before Henri closed it and turned us away.
Back at the Opera everyone was buzzing around, talking about various rumors; that I had run away with Blaise and Henri, upon receiving word, went to fight for me. That Blaise and I had been kidnapped and stolen away from the Opera in the middle of the night. That the Phantom and killed both Blaise and I and Henri had gone for revenge. Everyone stood still and solemn as we gathered them together and told them the news. The stage hands took off their hats and held them over their hearts, some of the ballerinas covered their mouths with their hands and everyone that knew Blaise shed a tear.
Everyone began to get dressed and prepare for the next performance, trying to act like nothing was the matter.
"Danielle, I'm so sorry." I looked up and saw Christine and Meg standing in front of me. I knew they meant the best, they were even tearing up, but I felt a little hollow. Tomorrow I needed to buy a coffin, arrange for a few bouquets to be delivered to a cemetery where I had to find a plot of land to bury my best friend. Not to mention I had to give Blaise a simple headstone.
"Thank you guys, I just can't believe that we are still doing the show. Well, not really; the show must go on, I suppose, no matter what happens." They hugged me.
"If you need anything, please tell us," Meg said, looking at me with so much pity it hurt to meet her eyes. I tried to smile.
"Thanks, I just need some time to be by myself, gather my thoughts. I'm planning the funeral with Henri, it's going to be in three days, so I'll have something to occupy my mind for awhile at least." I took a deep breath to calm myself; there was still three hours to the show. "I think I'll go for a walk around the Opera for a bit before the show." This time they didn't object, just nodded and let me walk away.
I walked to the secret passage to Erik's home and stumbled over some stones, half blinded by the tears I allowed to fall. I walked until I finally saw the light of the candles Erik kept in his home, then I ran.
"Erik!" I called to him, I needed someone, someone I could tell anything. I ran into the doorway to his home and spotted him just getting up from his organ, a look of concern on his face. I stood there, breathing hard from my short run. I could feel a prominent frown tugging at my lips, pulling them into an upside down smile. "Erik." I held my arms out to him like a small child. He rushed over to me and I collapsed into his arms, crying again.
"Danielle, what happened? Who did this to you?" He lifted me up and carried me to the bench and sat me down, kneeling in front of me. He rubbed his hands up and down on my arms, as if to fight a chill. I lifted my hands to my eyes and hid behind them. "What's wrong?" I wrapped my arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. Erik tensed for a moment before he stood, picked me up and sat me on his lap, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close to his chest. It took me by surprise a bit, until I remembered I'd asked him to hold me when I was sad.
"Blaise, Blaise was hit by a cart last night. He- he died." I let Erik's shirt soak my tears up, not caring that I would look like a complete mess. I moved my arms from around his neck to around his chest, so it wouldn't be such an awkward hug. I relayed what had happened last night, omitting the reason we were out, sometimes sounding too garbled from the tears to make sense. I told Erik everything up to the point of Blaise's death before I stopped talking, not wanting to relive it anymore. "I said I was going to plan his funeral, but I don't know what to do, I can't even get a nice headstone for him."
"What did you want to do?" Erik rubbed circles into my back, trying to calm me down; all this physical contact must be killing him.
"I wanted to get a statue of him made, not life-sized, but not a figurine; they said it would take a month to make and I want everyone to see it when they come for the funeral in three days." I held Erik tight, not wanting to lose him as my rock.
"I'll do that for you." I looked up at Erik, disbelieving.
"How?"
"I think myself a good enough sculptor to create this." He used his shirt sleeve to wipe my eyes, frowning when they came back with a small black stain.
"Why would you do this? You never seemed to like Blaise much." I wiped my own eyes, not worried about the black left on my fingers.
"He always looked like he was keeping a secret," Erik said. I laughed, in awe that Erik could pick up on that.
"He did have a secret," I couldn't see the harm in telling Erik now, "Blaise was gay. He liked men, that's why I kept telling you he was never attracted to me." The look of shock on the great Opera Ghost's face was wonderful; if only Blaise was here to see this.
"That's why you always acted like that with him, because you were joking." Erik finally put the pieces together.
"Yeah, now do you realize there was no reason to get so jealous?" Teasing, teasing was good. Erik lifted his head proudly.
"I was never jealous."
"You were so jealous." I kissed his exposed cheek, took off his mask, and kissed the other. "But it was very flattering." Erik harrumphed. "Don't be so high and mighty, I might have no experience with men whatsoever, but I do know jealousy."
"How can you say that when every man in the Opera is pawing at you dresses hem?"
"You too?" I joked.
"I'm under it, it doesn't count."
"Well, where I'm from everyone knows my story, so boys would stay away from me, maybe a few were my friends but none of them wanted to date me." I shrugged; it didn't matter, the boys at my school were either ugly or arrogant from being one of the only attractive few. "It's not like I tried to hide it," I said, indicating to my scar, "I wore bikinis, short tops and belly shirts with the rest of them."
"You are an enigma," Erik said as he shook his head.
"Is that a good thing?" I asked, smiling a real smile for the first time in a while.
"For you, I suppose so." I smiled wider, thankful that the pain was going away.
"I told him about you." I admitted; Erik's eyes bulged a bit, but he quickly regained his composure.
"What did you tell him?" Erik's eyes were locked on mine, I guess he was hoping I hadn't told him about his past.
"Everything."
"All of it? My life, my past?" His voice was a bit strained.
"Yes. I told him about the future, my life, what's going to happen, everything." I looked out into the lake, not really focusing on anything.
"Didn't you think I'd object?"
"What do you care now, he's dead." It still hurt to say that.
"You should go now; you have performance to do and I have to sculpt Blaise in stone." I pouted.
"You don't want me here?"
"You need to work and so do I."
"How are you going to finish a sculpture in three days?" I was astounded that he could even think of doing that.
"I have my ways, now go." I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on to my elbows.
"Carry me," I said.
"Don't be spoilt." Erik huffed, angry I'd asked him to carry me around.
"Please?" Erik sighed and threw me over his shoulder, easily lifted my arms from his neck. "This is really uncomfortable." I called as he began to walk to the exit.
"You said 'carry', no 'comfortably' was at the end of that sentence." I blew a raspberry and stayed quiet for the rest of the trip up. "This is where you get off." I slid down to the ground and looked up; Erik's white mask gleamed in the dark, making him look like a real ghost.
"Thanks, Erik."
"Think nothing of it." He melded in with the dark and was gone. I snuck back to the populated areas and went to get my makeup done. After the show I'd go buy a coffin.
ERIK
I couldn't believe I'd promised to create a small monument to honor a man in less than three days, was I mad? But, Danielle has seemed to sad and... I guess it was the least I could do after misjudging him for so long, he had only been her friend, her dearest friend.
I sighed, already feeling the aching muscles that were to come with such hard work. I looked through my stacks of music and blank sheets for my chisel and hammer, making a mental list of what I was going to immediately need for my newest project.
DANIELLE
It had been two days since Blaise had died and I was just going to see about his plot. Great. Why had I put this off so long? Of course, because I wised off to the priest and was embarrassed to speak to him again. Regardless, I had to do it; I needed Blaise's grave to be as close to me as possible. I caught a coach and walked up the steps to the small church next to a gothic glory cemetery. I looked around, trying to find the priest's office.
"Good evening Madame, can I help you?" I turned and saw Father... whatever, I'd never learned his name.
"Do you have any plots for sale?" I didn't want to stay here too long, churches made me antsy.
"I do believe we have a few, were you looking for somewhere specific?" I looked at the hand that clutched the same bible as before.
"Somewhere easy to find, where people will see it and admire it." The Father shook his head.
"That is vanity." He lightly scolded. I scoffed.
"What's the fun in life if there wasn't a little sin? I know you'd be out of a job." He looked a little pained before he got it was a joke.
"Hardly, who else would preach the word of God?" Wow, was I joking around with a priest? Was I in the matrix?
"The nutters in the street." I held out my hand. "Danielle BellRose, how do you do?" He took my hand in his.
"Oliver-Clément Le Mans, Father of this little church, good to meet you." God, his name was a mouthful. "Would you like to see the plots available, I'm sure it won't take long." I nodded.
"I'll follow you, Father Le Mans." He smiled and led me to the door.
"Since I expect to never see you in church please, call me Oliver." I shrugged again.
"Whatever you say, Father Ollie." I heard him smother a laugh and I smirked. We spent half an hour walking around the cemetery looking at plots and comparing them.
"I'm sorry if it displeases you to walk through a cemetery on a day like this." I looked at the blue sky, screwing my eyes together and looking around the graveyard.
"It's not so bad."
"Aren't you worried the ghosts will get you?" I looked at him, unimpressed with his childishness. "Please excuse me, most of the young women coming to the cemetery always shiver about ghosts." I rolled my eyes up and down.
"I'm not most young women. Besides, who would think a ghost would haunt a graveyard? Where's the fun in that? Wouldn't it make more sense to haunt the place you died, or the place you have the most connection to?" Father Le Mans looked at me funny. "I mean, that's what makes the most sense to me."
"Yes, that does sound about right, why would the dead stay with their graves when they can be somewhere happier?" He fiddled with the bible in his hand. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to bore you with talk of a place you don't believe exists."
"Hey, if there isn't a heaven, I'm going to feel pretty cheated." I joked.
"Well now, what do you believe?"
"Whatever I want." We came to a stop in front of a plot in an area that looked vaguely familiar. I looked around to see a large mausoleum only one spot up. "Whose is that mausoleum up there?" I tried, and failed to read the name atop, the sun was shining right in my eyes.
"That's the Daae mausoleum, the resting place of Gustave Daae, the famous violinist." Christine's father. I looked back to the plot.
"I think I'll take this one." Without a word Father Le Mans led me back to his office and we began to negotiate the price.
It was the night before the funeral and I decided to check on Erik, I was worried that he wasn't getting enough to eat or sleep.
"Erik? Are you here?" I looked around the corner and saw a very tired looking Phantom with a small smile on his face. "Are you feeling okay?" Erik hardly ever smiled, well, unless he killed someone.
"I'm fine and your monument is almost done, all I need is the inscription." I let my mouth fall open. He had done it. He had built a statue in three days, how could I have ever doubted him?
"Let's see it." He led me to a mass covered in cloth and pulled it away.
The likeness was so perfect at first I thought Blaise was sitting there in front of me. I rested my hands against the face of the statute, it looked exactly like him. I was expecting it to be warm and alive, but it was cold and hard like the stone it was. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. Blaise was sitting, in what was clearly an angelic robe, belted at the waist that ended around his ankles. His legs were crossed at his knees, making it look like his robe was fluttering in an invisible breeze, hanging off the side of the platform and his left arm rested horizontally below the elbow of his right arm which held up his head. A teasing smile lit his face, just the way it used to. The most amazing feature was the intricately sculpted stone grey wings that lifted from his back so beautifully it hurt to look at them.
"All we need to do is add an inscription." Erik spoke gently from behind me, letting me have my small breakdown moment. God, what do I say? What could I put that would honor him the was he deserves?
"It... it should say 'In loving memory of Blaise Dion, May 17, 1853-September 3, 1872. Beloved son, friend, progressivist. Then there should be this poem:
The sun sets again,
It's fiery glory extinguished.
The deep blue ocean of the sky takes over,
Seeming to swallow it's gay colors.
The gold and yellow and pink and blue are gone
They seem to never come back,
Seem like they never existed at all
But, before the tears fall,
Remember the Dawn will always come." I shut out the nagging that the poem wasn't good, after all, it was made up on the spot but I knew it was right.
"That sounds beautiful, I'll have this delivered before the funeral, it will be there when you arrive." This time I didn't question how Erik would do this, how Erik could get it there; Erik was powerful enough to get this done. I stepped back from the stone angel with the impish smile and turned to leave, time for another show to begin.
Another sad chapter, I promise something good is going to happen soon! The poem belongs to me along with all my OCs, Erik, Christine, Meg and all the others belong to Leroux, Webber and their image holders. Review!