September 14th 1892: Christine
"What did you just say?" I whispered, clinging to the hope that maybe I had not understood him correctly. It couldn't be. It was impossible that he knew about the kisses. Erik and I hadn't spoken a word about them during our conversation, so there was no way in which Raoul could have found out that we had even met, was there?
My husband rolled his eyes, a very untypical thing for him to do.
"Christine, please…" he said in a low voice. "I'm not stupid. I know something has happened between the Phantom and you. Even our children would have noticed the glances you kept throwing each other if they hadn't been too busy talking. And I know it must have taken place in the second interval, for that was the only time when I wasn't with you. All you have to tell me is what happened. Or would you rather have me start guessing?"
At least I knew now why Raoul hadn't taken part in the discussion about Philippe's progress. He had been absorbed in his observations. In the face of such logical conclusions I broke out in a sweat. Frankly I hadn't even thought about whether to tell him about the kisses. There just hadn't been enough time to sit down and ponder about that question yet. But if I had had a choice, I'd have certainly not told him right now, without as much as a minute for preparation. Yet I didn't have a choice.
I took a deep breath.
"Well, I saw Erik leave Box Five with Philippe during the second interval and decided to follow them," I started slowly, assuming that the earlier in my tale I began, the later I'd come to the delicate part. "You know, I remembered what you and I had talked about when returning to our box before, about me taking singing lessons again, and I wanted to tell him before he'd overhear it somewhere else." I thought it best to leave out the fact that he had already known it by the time I had tried to tell him. It would have only made Raoul upset.
"So you met him and talked to him," my husband stated, and I nodded. "But that can't have been all, or you wouldn't behave the way you do. So… what else happened?"
I sighed. The difficult part had come more quickly than I had assumed. For a moment I considered using euphemistic words to make the truth sound better, but dismissed the idea as I realised such words didn't exist.
"We kissed," I murmured simply.
I wasn't sure which kind of reaction I had expected from him, possibly running out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him or shouting at me and asking how I could have done that to him. Yet he only sat there in his armchair, the gaze out of his beautiful eyes so sad that it made my heart ache in compassion.
"Again?" he breathed, his bottom lips trembling ever so slightly.
"Pardon?" I gave back. Now I truly didn't understand what he was referring to.
"You told me you had kissed him before," he explained. "I… tried not to think… about it, but now… I have to. What is it that makes you do it again and again?" He was talking slowly, as if every word caused him terrible pain. It was reflected on his face, which had turned a pale grey. It hurt me to see him like that and to know it was all my fault. He at least deserved an honest reply. If only I had known what to say!
I shook my head, as if to clear it of unwanted thoughts, only leaving behind the ones I'd need for the explanation.
"I'm not certain," I told him after a few seconds' hesitation. "In those moments when it happens… it's as if kissing him were the only thing important. I forget everything else and just… do it." Stopping myself I looked at him anxiously. I had no idea whether this had been the right answer, but it was the best I could come up with now.
"And you can rule out that he influences you in one way or the other?" Raoul asked. Now he was the one clutching at straws, which only made me feel more miserable than before, for I knew I couldn't give him the reply he longed to hear.
"I wish it were that easy," I muttered. "But it isn't. The first two times Erik and I came that close to each other I could blame circumstances, yes. The last time, however… there was nothing like that. I kissed him because I wanted to. I'm sorry," I added, aware that this was the most inappropriate utterance I could have made.
Raoul took a gulp of wine, then stared into the half-empty glass as if the solution to our problems could be found there. He swallowed once, twice. Whatever it was he wanted to tell me, it was nothing he could get over his lips easily. I braced myself for the worst.
"What does it feel like to kiss him?" he finally asked in a hoarse whisper.
Quickly I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep myself from bursting into hysterical laughter, a reaction to all the tension. This was exactly what Meg had asked me after I had kissed Raoul for the first time. Hearing it repeated by him was very strange. He looked at me, and the hurt expression on his face made me regret my outburst at once.
"I'm sorry," I said again. Perhaps it was a little more appropriate this time. "It's just… Why are you asking that? What do you want me to reply?"
"I don't know!" he all but shouted, making me jump. Instinctively I turned my head away from him to protect myself in case he'd go on yelling. Yet just like always, it only took him a moment to pull himself together again. Then he started talking in a normal voice. Facing him again I noticed a feverish gleam in his eyes.
"I just want to understand you," he said. "I want to know what it is that makes him this appealing to you. Is it your mutual past? But we have that as well, don't we? Or is it something about him?"
He grabbed my hand and pulled it towards him so forcefully that it almost felt as if he wanted to rip off my arm. Yet he merely held my finger in his. I could only guess that the physical contact gave him the strength to go on.
"Is he a better kisser than me? Is it that? Does he so something I don't? Please, Christine, you have to tell me, so that I can adapt. I'm sure I could change if I knew how you liked it better…"
By now his voice had turned into a soft pleading. He glanced at me like a boy who had misbehaved and was willing to do everything to make things right again. Seeing him humiliate himself like that brought tears to my eyes. He was begging me to tell him how Erik kissed me, so that he could do it the same way…
"I don't want you to change," I whispered. "All that has nothing to do with you. I… I've never even compared Erik and you when it comes to kissing." It was true, yet I doubted he'd regard it as a good reply. So I wasn't surprised when he shook his head.
"Of course it has something to do with me," he contradicted me tiredly. "But let's not talk about that now. Just answer one more question: Would you like it to happen again? Would you like to kiss him again?"
I only thought about it for a moment. I had gone too far with being honest to start lying now.
"Yes," I muttered.
He let go of my hand immediately, his gaze growing distant.
"But that doesn't mean I'll do it," I added hastily. "Please, Raoul! You have to trust me. If you want to, you… you could come with me every time I'll meet Erik. So you could make sure nothing happens between us." It wasn't an offer easy for me to make. Yet if it gave Raoul new trust in me, I'd be willing to do it.
"That wouldn't make me trust you any more than I already do," he said. "No, I have another idea. But I have to think about it for a little while. Go and look whether the children are asleep."
Though it was far from an order, there was something in his voice that made me obey without a comment. I stood up from my chair and left the room, closing the door behind me.
When I arrived upstairs I passed my daughter's room first. The door was ajar, so that I could see it was dark inside. It was something one always had to check with her. She loved reading in her books far longer than it was healthy for a child of her age. Yet today there was no danger of her doing that. Surely she was dreaming about the opera. Smiling to myself I continued my way.
It was dark in Philippe's room as well. I threw a glance inside, just to see whether he wasn't having a nightmare. The light from the candlestick I had brought with me illuminated his small form. He was lying in bed, slumbering peacefully. I felt like going to him, stroking his dishevelled hair and kissing his tiny nose, but I pulled myself together, afraid he could wake up. With a content nod I acknowledged the slightly open door to Marielle's former room. Jacqueline was sleeping there now in some nights because Philippe needed someone at his side more often than Antoinette.
As good as it was to know the children were fast asleep, it had only managed to distract me for about five minutes. Walking down the stairs I vaguely wondered if I should go to the kitchen and wait a little there, yet I was too nervous to do so. How could I sit patiently between pots and pans while Raoul made a decision about our future? No, I had to return to the living room.
For some reason I knocked before entering.
"You can come in," my husband called.
Opening the door I saw him sitting in the same armchair as before. But that was about the only thing that was as before. The expression on his face had changed completely. He had put on a mask of indifference to hide his true feelings.
"I have found a solution," he told me as soon as I had closed the door behind me. His voice was just as cold as his face. "But you have to promise that you'll do whatever I ask you to."
"Only if it doesn't involve sending me away," I whispered, seized by a terrible suspicion.
He shook his head, a short gesture that didn't give me any hint about what his solution might be.
"All right. I promise," I said hesitantly. "So what is it?"
Raoul smiled, but it was a smile without the tiniest bit of warmth in it.
"I want you to make love to the Phantom."