It was overcast the day we went to bury Blaise. The church was fuller than I had expected it to be. All of the regulars from the bar, Fantasia, that Blaise and I usually went to were there, it was almost a funny sight, seeing all those effeminate men in bright colors dabbing their eyes delicately with soft cotton handkerchiefs and whimpering. I knew Blaise would get a kick out of this, especially seeing me in a church outfitted in a black dress.
The sermon was boring. Blaise would've been asleep by now, I can almost hear him yelling at the good Father to hurry it up. I was a bit anxious about what people were going to think of the statue and inscription. I sat in the front pew with Henri, Meg and Christine; Blaise's parents sat in the back with a few other people I guess they brought. I hadn't paid much attention to them, I was focused on the mahogany coffin in front of the podium covered in flowers. Blaise was in there. The whole thing reminded me of that Michael Jackson song Gone Too Soon. Born to amuse, to inspire, to delight, here one day, gone one night... I could choke on my tears.
"Now let us close with a hymn." Father Ollie shut his bible and directed us in the song I didn't know; I kept my mouth shut, I didn't feel like singing anyway. It felt like my voice had been pulled from my throat. I stood with them and kept my eyes glued to the casket. I'd asked some stage hands to be pallbearers with me and Henri, I don't think the others in the church will like it when they see me hefting the coffin with the men. I pulled on the white elbow length gloves and made my way over to the coffin, earning myself some strange looks. The others and I lifted the coffin onto our shoulders and walked out of the church and down to the open grave a bit away.
I would guess that the coffin was heavy, it did contain my best friend and in general is a heavy object, but I hardly felt it; all I could think was that my best friend was dead and I was carrying his coffin to his grave. What a cold shot of ice in my veins. I wish Erik was here, I trusted him only second to Blaise, but I knew he couldn't be there. Damn the Phantom of the Opera infamy!
We rested the coffin on the straps that would lower it into the ground and stepped back. Henri put his arm around my shoulders and rubbed my arms. I could hardly feel the warmth, what little was given to me dissolved into the ground. I could feel my stomach clenching and unclenching like a fist. What happens after death? Is there a heaven? If there is, why do we have no proof? Religion wasn't worth shit and here I was begging the powers that be for there to be a God. Let Blaise have something to laugh about. God, I could hardly remember what his laugh sounded like anymore.
Whatever Father Ollie was saying was finished, I could hear the leather bible he carried everywhere close with a dull thump. For a minute I thought that he was closing the book of Blaise's life. I looked up, ready to beg him to open it again, before I realized I was being ridiculous. I looked around at the small congregation, looked at all the faces, only seeing blurs. The funeral workers lowered the casket into the ground and rounds of 'I'm very sorry for your loss' were given to the family and close friends. I ignored everyone and sat next to the statue. What did Blaise see now? The inside of a wooden box? Clouds as far as the eye can see? Nothing? I rested my forehead on my hand and looked down. I want to be home.
"Excuse me, you are Danielle, right?" I looked up into the face of a boy who looked so much like Blaise; I could feel my heart clench.
"Yes." I didn't feel like talking, not to him, not now.
"My name is Louis, Blaise was my brother." I looked up at him, clean cut and never knowing of true hardship a day in his life; he lacked the spark Blaise had of making his own career, his own way of life.
"You look like him." But you aren't him, I finished in my head. He ducked his head, not showing me his eyes.
"People tell me that."
"Do you not like it?" I reached out and pulled his head up. "Don't duck your head like that, it's sickening." He looked at me, surprise coloring his entire body. "Don't duck your head in front of a grave, especially your brothers'. That's more that disrespectful." Maybe he knew why their parents had kicked him out and he hated his brother for being gay. "Do you hate him?"
"No! No, just," he looked around the cemetery, "I don't know. I don't know anything." His shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Do you miss him?" I asked. He nodded slowly. "Then you know you miss him, that's something." He let out a small, humorless laugh.
"I wish I knew why, what happened, what could make my parents so mad that they would kick him out." It surprised me that they hadn't told him. I wanted to, but it isn't my secret, it wasn't my life.
"Ask them; just remember that he's your brother and he loved you unconditionally, you should give him the same." I felt a small gust of air against my cheek and had to hold back another sob.
"You know what it is." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, I do."
"Why won't you tell me?" I closed my eyes and leaned against the statue.
"It's not my life, it's his." I pointed my thumb at the statue. "Just remember: before you judge him, try hard to love him." I'm sure I made no sense to him whatsoever. Ha, Michael Jackson quotes. I miss his music and since electricity is rudimentary at best my ipod was out of the question. I'd kill for thumping bass right now. Of course, I'd also kill to be home and have Phantom of the Opera be nothing but a story. Fat lotta good killing does. "You should go ask your mama and papa." I felt my eyelids grow heavy, I needed to sleep. Realizing he wasn't going to get anymore out of me he went to where his parents stood and they left together.
"Danielle, people are starting to leave, we should go back to the Opera." I looked up at Christine. She had her whole life ahead of her; yes, she was going to have some trouble with Erik, but he'll let her go and she'll live happily ever after. Unlike Blaise. Unlike me. Henri and Meg stood behind her, not wanting to overwhelm me I guess.
"You go on ahead, I'm going to say here a bit longer." They started to protest, but I turned away from them, not listening. I guess they got the message that I wasn't going to go and they left too. For a minute the entire world seemed quiet, it was blissfully quiet.
"Are you going to be alright?" I looked up at Father Ollie.
"No. Maybe." I took a deep breath of the cool air. "In time." He put a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me.
"Please come and speak with me whenever you think you have need to." I pulled his hand off my shoulder and brushed my lips to his knuckles.
"Thanks but I'm not into confession. Forgive me Father I have sinned..." I mocked my aria in Hannibal. "I don't think you'd like to hear half the things I say." I sent him a sarcastic smile. "I'm not a very good person." He looked at me skeptically.
"I've heard confession from murderers about to be put to death, I don't think anything you say could shock me." How wrong he was. I let his hand go and stood up, brushing off the back of my dress.
"I think I'll go wander around Paris for a bit, I don't really want to go back to the Opera."
"Don't you think that's a bit dangerous?" He again put his hand on my shoulder.
"I do as I want." I pulled my hair out its uncomfortable updo that Christine had put in and shook it out so it hung down my back.
"But it is highly improper to wear your hair like that." Are you fucking kidding me?
"Don't care." I began to walk off when Ollie caught me by the arm.
"You'll be mistaken for a harlot, would your employers want someone with a bad reputation to work at their Opera?" Goddamn it.
"Fine." I parted my hair down the middle and began the task of braiding it. "Hold this." I held up one long braid and began to work on the other half. Soon both sides were braided. I wrapped them both around my head and pinned them down. I now looked like a black milkmaid. Joy.
"That's better." I rolled my eyes.
"Whatever Priest boy." I wiped my eyes. "Later."
"Later?" It was almost funny how puzzled he was by my language.
"I will see you later." I mock curtsied to him. "Good day Father." I walked away without another word. I turned to look at the grave one last time before it was out of sight, Ollie was standing there staring after me, the back of his hand was pressed to his mouth.
I guess I'd been wandering for a while, the sky was growing dark. What had I been doing? Nothing I guess, my feet hurt so I guess I've been walking for a long time. I looked around, the streets had turned shabbier and I could hear water. I must be near the docks. The cold air didn't bother me, it felt nice on my skin; I'd been feeling too hot for a while.
"Well, if it isn't a lovely little girl? What'chu doing here?" I looked up at the annoying voice of a man I didn't know. "Isn't it a bit early for your kind to come out?"
"I don't know what you are talking about." I turned to walk away from him.
"Don't you turn your back to me you tart!" I spun around and faced him.
"Tart? You must be mistaken my good fucker, I'm no tart, I'm an actress who probably makes more money than you in one matinee than you do in one month." I flipped him off and walked away.
"Don't you walk away from me!" He pulled me by the arm and grabbed my shoulders. No matter how much it hurt now, it couldn't match the pain in my heart. He shook me then, rattling my teeth. I heard horse hooves and another man began to yell. One I knew.
"Get your hands off her!" The man was pulled off of me and Raoul pulled me into his arms. "Are you alright?"
"Raoul." What was he doing here? Shouldn't he be on a date with Christine or something? "I can handle myself, what are you doing here?"
"This shipping company is owned by my family and I was just finishing up with the books when I heard a racket down here, what's going on?" The man on the ground pulled himself up and ran at Raoul.
"Look out!" Raoul pushed me away and swung his fist, hitting the guy in the face. The sudden crack of Raoul's knuckles meeting the man's face made me jump. "Bastard!" The man looked unconscious.
"We should call the police." I tugged him away from the unconscious man and went to find some, what were they called, gendarmes?
"What happened, why were you down here?" He spun me to face him, placing both hands on my shoulders. I felt tears pop out of the corners of my eyes and race each other down my face. Raoul looked surprised, looking back I guess he thought he'd done something wrong.
"Blaise died." The corners of his eyes drooped, making him look sad.
"Christine told me. I'm sorry I couldn't come to the funeral." I nodded, wiping my eyes. "We should get you home." He gently lead me to where a coach waited for him. I didn't feel like fighting anymore. "To the Opera please."
"Yeah." The ride home was quiet. Ha, I'd started thinking of this place as home; I guess I'd resigned myself to die. I wonder how much longer I had, the giant bottle of pills was about halfway gone now. I'll be damned if I go counting how many I have left to keep me alive. I looked out of the window at the shimmering lights of Paris' nightlife. Blaise would never see this again. "We buried him today." Raoul put his hand on mine.
"I'm so sorry. You were close friends." I let out a deep sigh, the weight of all that happened dragging me down. "Is there anything I can do?" I rubbed my eyes, not caring that the mascara and eyeliner would make smears.
"No, I'll be fine." I could feel the events of the day finally catching up to me. I felt dizzy, dizzy and tired. I just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep for a month. I didn't want to have to have done this by seventeen, how the hell did I plan a funeral? I don't even know anymore. Raoul put his hand on my shoulder.
"You are not fine, let me help."
"And just what would you do? Raoul you are not my lover, you can't just kiss my pain away." Raoul pulled me to bench next to him and held me close.
"Just because we are not lovers does not mean I cannot kiss it better." He pressed a small kiss to my temple and held me until the carriage stopped in front of the Opera Populaire. I stood stiffly and went for the door. "Let's all go to lunch together tomorrow." I shook my head. "Come on, you know Blaise would not want you give up on life just because he is gone." I licked my lips.
"Nothing like a death to remind you of your own mortality. Blaise won't be too cold in his grave before I join him." Raoul looked either shocked or incredibly sad. "Did you forget? I'm going to die in a few months." Raoul pulled me into a tight hug.
"Is there really nothing we can do? No chance of recovery?" I could feel the sadness sink into our bones.
"No, your technology is too primitive to be of any use, other than killing me quicker. Jesus, why can't I just go to the year 3000 and get surgery, prolly would get better in an hour." Right now, I'd settle with going home with my brothers. I need a milkshake, they always made me feel better. How weird was it that I'd been here for months and I only just started craving a milkshake? "It's going to be okay, it happens to everyone sooner or later. Soon I'll finally be able to stop tangoing with Der Tod and can take me away from here."
"No." I looked up at him and raised my eyebrow.
"I'm tired Raoul, are you going to keep me dancing just so I can be around for a bit longer?" I tweaked his nose. "That's a bit selfish, don't you think?"
"You make it sound like a bad thing." He scowled a bit, I laughed.
"Don't sound like a spoilt little boy, shit happens, both good and bad. Give it a few years and I'm sure it won't hurt as much as it does now." Raoul fell silent, I guessed he finally accepted it but I was wrong.
"Did it ever stop hurting after your father killed your mother?" My stomach clenched.
"No, no it did not," I said quietly. We sat in silence for half a minute before I pulled away. "I'm going home. Thanks for the help." I opened the door and got out, Raoul caught my arm.
"I'll see you for lunch tomorrow."
"Yeah. Lunch tomorrow." He smiled down at me and closed the door, telling the driver to take him home. He was tougher than I expected. That was good, when the time came for him to face his great foe he'll be ready. When he does, not if he does. It was sad that Raoul and Erik would never be friends, they we both fiercely pigheaded. I should go down and thank Erik again for what he did for me and Blaise. I crept into one of the small tunnels that led to his home, making sure I wasn't followed. "Erik? You awake?" Erik looked up from what he was composing, most likely Don Juan.
"Danielle, are you alright? You look a bit peaked." I rubbed the black off of my face and smiled.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Erik, thanks for making the monument for Blaise, it was really sweet of you." I went up to him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He hesitantly hugged me back. " Who knew the Phantom of the Opera was a sweetie? Wonder what Gaston Leroux would say."
"Gaston Leroux? My maker, I presume." Ha, he sounded like a vampire from True Blood. Need to catch up on that when I get back.
"Yes, he made you famous. And creepy as all hell." The look on his face made me giggle. Funny how being around Erik can make it seem like the world will go on turning.
"Will you explain to me how?" I thought about not telling him, just to see to what lengths he would go to get it out of me, but I couldn't, not after what he'd done for me.
"Well, for one thing, he said your eyes were a glowing yellow, like a cat's." I looked up into his bright blue eyes. Robin's egg blue. "I think he got that wrong." I watched him roll his eyes. "There was also the matter of your age. He said you were around fifty to sixty years old." Erik looked revolted. "Ain't fun, right? Not the worst part, he got your body all wrong."
"Please explain." Erik looked like he was getting ready to cringe. God, if only he knew.
"Well, besides the yellow eyes you also are like a walking skeleton and have a horrible 'Death's head' upon your shoulders. And no nose." Erik looked both sickened and upset. He pulled away from me, we had been hugging the entire time.
"What is a 'Death's head'?" I pulled the braids off of my hair and let them swing at my waist.
"The face of a rotting corpse. Skin yellow and aged, a black bit of nothing where there should be a nose but it seemed it rotted off." There was a fire in Erik's eyes that made him look dangerous. "I'm actually surprised that you're not. Yellow I mean. You don't get sun because you don't go out, like, at all." Erik wasn't very happy with what was going to be written about him.
"That sounds cartoonish." I shrugged.
"Yeah well, no one sees you and the only thing they know is that you've got this," I nudged the mask, "on your face. Since they don't know what's under it they make it up." I lifted the mask a fraction, just enough to see the scarring on his chin. "If they did, all the girls would be getting lost in the tunnels trying to find you." I kissed his chin, the only thing I could reach.
"And that is supposed to mean?" Was he playing dumb?
"That you're a pretty man that brings all the girls to the yard." The best part of that reference was that Erik was never going to understand it.
"I hardly believe that." If only he knew how many fan girls he had. Wait, he'd most likely find it creepy.
"If only you knew what I do," I said in a sing song voice.
"You are not going to tell me, are you." It was a statement, not a question.
"Nope!" I jumped up and kissed his scarred face. "Gotta go, lovely; see you later!" I waved and skipped up the tunnel.
ERIK
I placed my hand over my cheek where she had kissed me. She was never afraid of me, not like Christine. Christine. That name made my stomach clench. Danielle would never say such horrible words about me. So distorted, deformed. She cares for me, Danielle cares enough to kiss the abhorrent face I lothe. She is my saving grace.
Another chapter! Sorry I'm taking so long, I got a lot of stuff to do right now, I'll try to update sooner rather than later. I hope you like this chapter. If I take too long with the next one, feel free to annoy me until I update again. Remember to review!