September 9th 1892: Erik
I didn´t know how long I walked through the streets till I finally reached the opera. Sometime I opened the usual entrance door, and sometime later I was on the path down to the cellars. All the time I could only think of my conversation with Christine. Not even the tiniest bit of my mind paid attention to where I was going. It was good that I had walked here so many times before. Otherwise I might have lost my way in my own world.
She didn´t love me. I had told her this was the only thing I was interested in at the moment, and it was true. I hadn´t wanted to hear her hasty explanations of how much I meant to her as a friend; it wasn´t friendship I longed for. For all those years it had been my secret hope that one day she would love me. Now that hope had been destroyed mercilessly.
´You´re a fool!´ I scolded myself. ´How could you have ever thought she´d return your feelings? Have you forgotten who you are? What you are? You should be grateful that anything happened between her and you at all instead of moaning about what you can´t have!´ Yet although I tried it, I couldn´t accept that opinion wholeheartedly, at least not yet. One day I´d perhaps be able to cherish the memories of good times with Christine, but at the moment the yearning for what could have been was too strong.
Maybe I shouldn´t have forced her to decide. Why hadn´t I realised that my chances to win had been slim from the very beginning? The Vicomte was the father of her children and her companion for many years. Besides… well, he was her husband. It was a legal bond, and though I was aware that this wasn´t very important for some people, I also knew Christine wasn´t one of them.
Still… there had been a few moments, precious moments which would be on my mind for a long time, which had given me hope. Our kisses had been so wonderful for me that it was hard to deal with the fact that they hadn´t meant the same to her. Apart from the time when she had taken the sedative and had hardly been herself pity had probably been her main motivation. What she, in her youthful innocence, had failed to understand was that she had only made things worse.
There were many negative emotions known to mankind, and I had experienced most of them. Yet nobody, no poet, composer or scientist, realised that the worst of them was not pain or grief, not even longing. It was hope. As terrible as it was not to get something one wanted, it was much more cruel not to get it after one had had a taste of how it could be. Perhaps the rejection would have been easier to bear if she had never let me come that close to her.
I was still lost in thought as I came to a halt in front of my home´s entrance door. There were a few reliable methods to make me stop pondering, and opening the door I decided that playing the organ would be the best option now. At least the loud music would make it impossible to think too much about something else. A few pieces by Mozart would be nice. I had always enjoyed Mozart when I was miserable. His fate was suitable for cheering me up. At least I was in no danger of ever dying of syphilis.
Yet as I walked through the corridor, a voice coming from the living room drove Mozart from my mind. "M. le Fantome? It´s so good that you´re back. All we got was a little note saying Christine was fine. We´ve waited for such a long time for you to tell us the details!" For a moment I was taken aback. What was Meg Giry – and it was certainly her voice I had heard – doing in my house? Only slowly I recalled why she was here. I also recalled that she wasn´t the only person present in my usually so quiet home. My hope for a nice, comforting night faded away.
Entering the room I spotted the two Girys sitting on either side of the sofa. Between them lay Philippe, his head on Mme.Giry´s lap. Blond strands of hair covered half of his face. Still I noticed his eyes were closed. The ballet teacher seemed to have followed my gaze, for she said: "After dinner we put both children in the bed. Antoinette fell asleep almost immediately, but Philippe didn´t. He was too worried about what might have happened to his mother. So we took him back to the living room with us and allowed him to wait. He felt a bit better when Meg came back from a little stroll with the message, but he wanted to stay awake till you returned as well. Sleep finally overpowered him about half an hour ago.".
I nodded, only too aware of the expectant glances Meg kept throwing me. Although her mother´s method was far more discreet, I knew she was just as eager to find out what had been going on between Christine, her husband and me. Of course I could have simply refused to tell them anything. I could have even asked them to leave right now. But then, they had spent all night in my house, caring for the children, so that the three of us had had the time to sort things out. They deserved an explanation.
Having cleared my throat briefly I said: "The Vicomte and I found Christine at the graveyard in Perros and brought her back to Paris with us. She had grown very cold, but recovered quickly. When we returned to their home, she made the decision we all wanted her to make: She told me that she does not love me. That´s all.". I was aware that these few sentences wouldn´t be enough to satisfy the two women´s curiosity, but I couldn´t go on. Talking about it hurt so very much.
My words were followed by an uncomfortable silence. Little Meg was staring down at her hands, which she had folded in her lap. It was a rather extraordinary experience to see her lost for words for a change. But I didn´t expect her to say something anyway. After all, she hardly knew me. She was only involved in this story because she was Christine´s best friend. I found myself wishing that her mother would remain silent as well. Yet at the same time I knew it wasn´t very likely. She had always been a woman who uttered her thoughts.
After a few moments she muttered: "I´m very sorry.". She gave me a warm smile. For a second I was afraid she might be tempted to stand up and embrace me as a sign of sympathy. Fortunately the boy´s head on her lap kept her from such nonsense. "But at least you know the truth now," she went on in a sickeningly gentle voice. "There´s a positive aspect about everything, even if you can´t see it at the moment." Her mother´s remarks seemed to encourage Meg to make a useless comment as well, for she interjected: "Besides, I´m sure Christine still wants you to be her friend. She has always spoken very highly of you and – ".
"Enough!" I hissed. "I don´t need anyone to interpret my situation or to tell me how to deal with it. All I want is to be left alone!" I turned on my heel and stormed out of my home and along the path I had walked down just a few minutes ago. I couldn´t bear being in the same place as other people now; I didn´t want sympathetic glances or good advice. But I also couldn´t throw the Girys out of the house, not with the little ones sleeping. So I had to leave myself.
Quite automatically my feet carried me to the roof. It always was a good place for pondering. Up here I was alone, but I didn´t feel lonely. There were millions of stars above me. At least, that was what it usually was like. Today it was too late… or should I have said ´too early´? The stars were already fading. Soon the new day would be here. Giving a deep sigh I sat down on my favourite spot.
Many people considered dawn as something positive, as a symbol of change. For me it had never been like that. In my life change had usually been for the worse. Still I had never given up. But now I felt terribly empty. There was no strength left in me to go on. I couldn´t even cry. I merely sat there, rocking back and forth slightly. So much pain I had endured over the years, yet this was the worst.
I dreaded to imagine what life without Christine would be like. Admittedly I hadn´t been with her too often, at least not in the sense that she had known I was there. But I had known almost everything about her, and it had given me a certain sense of security. ´One day´, I had told myself. ´I´ll be an actual part of her life again, and I´ll use my knowledge to treat her just the way she likes it best.´
And now? Why should I bother to observe her anymore? What difference did it make which dresses she wore or when she ate dinner? I´d never need those facts because I´d never be part of her life. Without Christine I was reduced to a mere shadow. But I didn´t want it to be like that. Every fibre of my being protested against me becoming nothing but a phantom again. Maybe it would be better to end it right now. All I had to do was take a dozen steps forwards, then it would be over. I´d be scraped off the pavement, and nothing would change. No one needed me anyway.
"There you are, Uncle Erik!" Completely puzzled I turned my head and saw Philippe walking towards me. I came to my feet hastily and approached him. It was only when I held his hand safely that I settled down again, the boy on my lap. "What are you doing here?" I asked softly. "Aunt Antoinette brought me here," he gave the reply I had expected. "She´s standing just over there…" He craned his neck, then shook his head. "No, now she´s gone. You know, I woke up because someone slammed a door. I hoped it were you coming back. Aunt Antoinette told me that you had had an argument with Maman, which made you so sad that you left again. I wanted to see if you´re better."
"I´m much better," I assured him, and in this one moment it was true. To my own surprise I realised that I had missed him, the sound of his voice and the feeling of his little hand in mine. "Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?" I whispered. He nodded, snuggling up to me closely. I wrapped my cloak around both of us, for it was still rather cold.
We only had to wait for maybe a quarter of an hour before the sky´s colour began to change. Gradually it became lighter, and finally the first rays of sunshine announced the new morning. "Where do all those pretty colours come from?" Philippe wanted to know, pointing at the different shades of purple, lilac and blue. "Well, in ancient mythology all that is the work of the goddess Eos or Aurora. Every morning she opens the gate of heaven and flies across the sky, following her sister Selene, the moon, and being followed by her brother Helios, the sun," I explained readily. "Will you tell me more about them?" he asked. "Of course," I replied, squeezing his hand lightly. There were still so many stories I could tell him.