September 18th 1892: Christine
I started down at the ring, feeling completely stunned. Up to now, I had still been able to tell myself that Meg or Erik were making a joke with me. Yet the ring was a piece of evidence I couldn't ignore. Erik would have never taken it off as long as he was in his right mind. After all, he hadn't taken it off for ten years, so why should he do so now?
I turned the small golden loop around and around in my fingers, looking at it transfixed. Maybe, if I watched it long enough, it would reveal Erik's secret. I didn't honestly believe it myself, but it was better than the alternative, better than admitting that I had no idea what was going on or what to do about it. I felt so very helpless. If circumstances had been different, I'd have asked either Erik or Raoul for support. Yet neither of them was here. That was just the problem.
A hand shaking my shoulder roughly pulled me out of my reverie.
"Christine," Meg called, and judging by the sound of it, she didn't do it for the first time. "What is this you're holding in your hand?"
I turned my head slowly, noticing that she had sat down on the floor next to me.
"Erik's wedding ring," I replied in a whisper, my voice thick with suppressed tears. "He… he hasn't taken it off for ten years… How could he…?"
"Maybe he was forced to do so," Meg suggested. "Someone… someone abducted him after I left the dressing room."
I merely shook my head. If I hadn't been so miserable, I'd have laughed about it. It was a nice attempt to cheer me up.
"Nobody could abduct Erik, just like that," I told her. "He knows how to defend himself. Besides, you said yourself that he was behind the mirror when you talked to him. Not even I know how to open the mirror from the inside. He's the only one who can do that, and if he was in the state you described, he wouldn't have let anyone in."
"But what happened then?" my friend asked. "Why is the mirror open?"
I looked at the mirror, then at the ring. Meg followed my gaze, and I knew she was thinking what I did: The crack wasn't wide enough for a person to squeeze through, not even a very slim one. A ring, however, could have been thrown through it without problems.
Reaching that conclusion, I couldn't hold back tears any longer.
"He left!" I wailed. "He… he threw the ring into the room like rubbish and left!"
Putting an arm around my shoulders, Meg rummaged in her pockets. After a moment she pulled out a handkerchief, which she gave me.
"There, there…" she muttered soothingly.
I crumpled it in my hand, but didn't use it. What difference did it make whether there were tears running down my face? What difference did anything make? Erik had left me. He had gone, without a word of explanation, without farewell.
"How can he do this to me?" I whispered softly. "We had such a good time together. He never said anything about leaving. Yes, maybe I'd have decided against him in the end, but why did he leave before that? He didn't even know about Raoul's letter…"
"Which letter?" Meg wanted to know.
I looked at her, my vision blurred because of the tears. I had almost forgotten that she was there.
"Raoul wrote me a letter, telling me he'll come back tonight or tomorrow," I explained, snivelling.
"Oh, that's…" my friend stopped herself, clearly not knowing what to say. "Ho do you feel about it?" she finally asked.
"I'm not sure," I admitted honestly. If there was one person who'd understand me, it was Meg. "On the one hand I'm glad he'll return, but on the other… it means I'll have to make a decision, doesn't it?" I was almost hoping she'd say no.
"Well, not anymore, given the fact that Erik's gone," she replied, biting her lip as she saw the expression on my face. That had not been the right answer. "I'm sorry, Christine, that was tactless," she murmured. "But do you really think he left because of the decision you'll have to make?"
I shrugged.
"It's a possibility," I said. "I hadn't told him about the letter yet, but of course he knew I'd have to decide sooner or later. Perhaps he wanted to make things easier for me…" The thought made fresh tears run down my cheeks. He was so selfless.
"I think you're making a mistake," Meg told me softly. "The decision was the last thing you thought about, but was it also the last thing you talked to him about?"
"No," I admitted. "We were talking about Estella and about… about his plan to tell the chldren what's behind the mask. I guess they'll have to live without those explanations. Antoinette will be devastated."
My friend gave me a little smile.
"That's probably true," she agreed. Since I hadn't wiped away the tears yet, she gently wound the handkerchief out of my hand and dabbed my eyes. I let her do it, for I enjoyed being cared for.
"Do you think Erik could have left because he wanted to avoid the confrontation with the children?" I asked hesitantly.
She didn't reply for a few moments, and when she finally did it, it was in the determined voice of a woman who knew she was right.
"No," she answered. "I don't think he left at all."
I threw her a questioning glance.
"Of course he left," I argued. "He used to be in this room, and he's no longer here. That's usually called leaving." I was rather surprised by this momentary outburst of sarcasm, but thought it a good sign.
"Well, yes, he did leave, but not for the reasons we've just talked about," she gave back. "I should have contradicted you sooner, but I didn't think of it. You didn't hear him, Christine. He was completely serious about what he said. He really didn't seem to remember what had happened between you and him. So you can't blame him for having left. Yes, I told him to wait, but since when does the Opera Ghost take orders from a mere chorus girl?"
"Maybe he was only pretending to have forgotten everything," I said. I refused to believe that he could have actually forgotten it. The thought was too terrible. Yet Meg shook her head, destroying that shred of hope as well.
"I've grown up at the opera," she reminded me. "I've been around actors for nearly all my life. Believe me, I can tell whether someone's lying… or acting. Erik was doing neither of it. He meant it. And then there's the ring. You told me yourself that he has been wearing it for ten years."
I nodded slowly. Even I couldn't ignore such facts. I had to accept that Erik hadn't left because he had wanted to help me or escape from me, but because… because he had wanted something I had no idea about. That wasn't exactly comforting either. But in a way, it was better than the other options.
"At least he didn't run away from you," my friend remarked, proving once more that our thoughts were working along the same lines. "That's good, isn't it?"
"Well, yes," I replied. "But it leaves us completely in the dark about why he left."
"Maybe he simply didn't want to be here anymore," she suggested. "Or he had better things to do. We've got to stop thinking of that person as Erik. It's the Opera Ghost we're dealing with."
"But why?" I asked in a small voice. "Why isn't he Erik anymore?"
"I don't know," she answered. "I have no idea of how the mind works. I'm not sure whether such things can be caused by a knock on the head or a difficult situation. Erik's the one who'd have answers to those questions. So we'll simply ask him once we've found him and he's willing to talk to us. But the first step is finding him at all. If it turns out to have been a joke afterwards, we'll still be able to laugh about it. At the moment, however, it's best to accept the worst scenario as likely."
"That does make sense," I acknowledged, trying to get used to the idea slowly.
"Let us go then," Meg said, coming to her feet.
"Where?" I said, puzzled. Things were moving a little too quickly for my taste.
"We've got to search for him," she explained. "And we've got to start right now. The longer he remains in that state, the worse it'll be for him… at least that's what I think. So what are you waiting for?"
The truth was that I was still waiting for someone to wake me up from this nightmare, but I had the sneaking suspicion that this wouldn't have been an answer she'd accept. So I let her pull me to my feet as well.
"Where do we start?" I wanted to know.
"I'll go and fetch my mother," Meg replied. "When I talked to Erik, he hardly reacted ot me. The Opera Ghost doesn't seem to think too highly of me. But he respects my mother. If there's one person except you he'll listen to, it's her. So I suggest that her and I search the upper floors of the opera together, and you go down into the cellars."
"All right," I agreed. I was very glad that Meg was with me. She had always been better at organising things than me, and in my present state of mind I was rather useless. There were simply too many thoughts in my head. Yet for Erik's sake, I had to pull myself together. Quickly I slipped his ring on my finger, above my own. Erik had worn them like that for years. Perhaps doing the same would give me strength. I'd certainly need it.