Chapter 6:

Grave

"Trying hard to speak and
Fighting with my weak hand
Driven to distraction
So part of the plan
When something is broken
And you try to fix it
Trying to repair it
Any way you can"-

X&Y- Coldplay

In the state of anguish I was in, I felt it necessary to take it out onto something, but I couldn't find it in the proper way. I locked myself in the music room for the remaining night just to be safe, but ended up breaking one of the wooden music stands in half. I couldn't piece everything together. What am I to do now? How can I make any of this up to her without coming back and finding myself at her feet again? It's not like I have experience with these sort of things. Hell, the last woman to have seen my face landed onto the ground off of a roof thusly convincing myself that everything would turn perpetually bad once a woman sees my face. Despite what she said to me, I knew that things would be different the moment she ran away crying and I'm beginning to think it was just my face to make her do so.

So, what would help her forget the face behind the mask? What would help her to remember I was actually not a living corpse, and instead a man? The way it had been--the way she saw me as a gentleman, not some pitiful thing. I took a good deal of time in the library simply sitting there in the corner thinking about what would absolutely please Christine without it be me letting her go.

I didn't have to think too hard for I knew Christine very well. I knew what she loved and I knew what changed her attitude; music. It changes even the weakest at heart. Then, the brilliant idea came up that I should take her to the opera tonight. I'm not sure if she has ever seen one, and it would make sense for her to if she is to be singing opera. I knew her father listened to it a lot, and nonetheless probably has been cultured enough to have seen one. Would he not do the same with his daughter? She must know something...

Well, it was opening night, anyway for a production in Baltimore with Madam Butterfly. It is something popular, and might have been referenced to her plenty of times. It's not my favorite opera, but if it was, then she wouldn't enjoy it for I might just ruin the experience by my constant critique. No, one day I will take her to it in one of the many great opera houses in Europe, and she will be very pleased then. But for right now, we can make it an outing for the both of us to rebuild.

A date.

Oh. My palms got sweaty just thinking about it. It's so strange the way I get so nervous with Christine. I don't think I recall a time when I've been so nervous. Maybe once or twice, but it's not the same. Whatever she says is like life or death right now. Yes or no. Yes could define many great things, while no could mean that whatever she has done to try to revive me earlier was all a silly lie so that she could run without me stopping her. My face still means horror for her. And that, I'm afraid, might never change. She no longer viewed my mask the way I would like for her to-an attempt in high hopes that I would have a normal face, that people can look upon it without a second glance, which has always been a failure in the making. Though it's always been an illusion to anyone I've come across, I can't make anyone believe anything they were dead-set not to. It's another impossibility amongst the few that Christine has brought up.

Anyway, to get out of my terrible thoughts that seemed to hurt more, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. It was Christine because there is no other person that should be in this part of the house at this hour. The nerve dawned on me further. What might she do now? Will she grimace? Will she flinch if I touch her? Why is she even up at 5 in the morning anyway? She's never been a morning person. I understand if there's been nightmares.

I stopped asking questions to myself that only set myself up for disaster and I peered into the library once more to find her looking through the rearranged shelves to find another book. Obviously the last one wasn't worth looking for again. I think it's been shredded, now that I think back. She looked deeply distressed, her brow was furrowed as she searched through the titles in vain hopes. I watched her for a while before getting up the courage to go and make myself known. I doubt she'll ever know the trouble she's caused me. She's striped away so many walls away from me, that it's positively very hard to rebuild after years and years of hiding. And she's only known me for a month take or give a few days.

"Christine?" I called into the room, causing her to jump. She turned around quickly, her eyes big and cautious, as if she did something bad. "What are you doing at this hour?" I asked, and she simply shrugged, as if it was normal for someone who deeply enjoys sleeping in like her.

"I woke up randomly and couldn't go back to sleep," No nightmares, as far as my knowledge goes. I didn't hear her crying, at least. Not like some nights. "So I came downstairs and wanted to read. I think I'm going back upstairs now." She began to move toward the door.

"Wait," I called before her hand reached the door knob. "Please stay down here... please?"

She frowned."I'm going upstairs," she replied defiantly.

"How could you want to stay up there?" I challenged. How could anyone want to be locked up somewhere? Unless they have no better options, that is. And as much as I think against it, I could hope she'd rather be with people rather than being alone like she has spent the last few years. I could hope I might be a better way to go in search of company, which is why I don't put bookshelves in her room. But, as always, my hopes are deferred. "Do you hate me so?"

She sighed, annoyed. "I don't hate anyone." She's way too innocent to do so. She huffed, "And I don't hate you." That's positive. At least she doesn't hate me. As long as that's set, perhaps we can begin to work away from the terrible things... She looked at me... directly into my eyes, though mine were downcast, as if trying to search for understanding.

"When will I be able to leave?"

The question infuriated me. She tells me she doesn't hate me, and then expects, after a nice comment, she might get such a treat as to being able to leave me. Oh, I see. Does she need reinforcement? Have I not made it clear enough to her? She's mine now. I might just have yelled at her then and there, but couldn't... the words wouldn't escape my mouth. I wouldn't build a conversation only to ruin it by making her crumple away into a corner again. I changed the topic.

"How about a little outing tonight? You and I." I asked. She brightened up.

"Where will we go?" She asked, a smile almost coming to grace her lips. How adorable... she tries to hide her excitement.. it comes as an awkward sneer. I decided to play with her then.

"You'll just have to wait and see," I replied, "I suggest you wear something formal." By that it meant that she would be wearing one of the dresses I bought... Those that complimented her... some more than others, but it was her choice, but my mind filled with possibilities. How she might wear her hair... what makeup she might put on...

She looked like she was calculating instead of being excited over formal wear.

"How long have I been here?" Her voice was hollow.

"Four weeks, more or less."

"When will we be leaving?"

"Before dinner.

"But..." I was so happy that she was actually looking forward to lessons. I was happy she still intended on having them with me. It doesn't matter whether she was, of course. I would make her one way or another, to hell with her misjudgment.

"We will have to miss the lesson today," I inquired. "Now why don't you try to sleep a little more?

She nodded acknowledgedly, and then almost skipped off as my heart relieved itself... And only one thing mattered more than her kind obedience... she said yes.

Though she basically ignored me the rest of the day, after pining for a conversation, just to ask her opinion on a subject, she would blatantly ignore it. I normally wouldn't be so greedy for attention, but it seemed proper. Would I have a date only to be ignored?

The night came too quickly, and before I knew it, Christine locked herself in her room to get ready for our date. I, too, did the same thing, dressing into my finest suit and best fitting mask, I would attempt to look my best for Christine in return for her dressing up, keeping up the illusion that all this was normal. I even made myself look into the mirror, seeing for myself whether I looked perfectly suitable or not, and flinched away, realizing it was enough, reminiscent of my fifth birthday party... if you dare call it that, when I finally looked at myself. With lack of a better description to state here, I scared myself. It explains some of the scars that are ridden on both of my arms and hands that like to stay with me years later.

Once I finished torturing myself, I moved up to stand before Christine's door. Stupidly enough, I felt like a fool, my hand quivering from the door back to my side. It took a few tries before I recovered from the stupidity of a school boy, and knocked on her door.

"Are you ready to go, Christine?" I called through her door.

"Yes, hold on." She managed. I waited impatiently outside her door, feeling my hand already trying to grab for the door knob when she opened the door.

She wore a white summer dress, exposing her back and it went down to her knees. It really brought out her brown eyes and hair... and other things, but to be proper, I wouldn't like to discuss them. She looked beautiful, as always, and I felt flustered just thinking that I would have this lovely of a lady wrapped around my arm.

She waited patiently for me to finish studying her, thankfully not realizing too much, and out on a whim, I outstretched my hand for her to take. She looked at it skeptically, realizing how this was in the wrong. Disappointed, I put the hand back to my side, and then began to walk down the hallway to lead her to the front door.

Damon, my personal driver, was waiting out in the car. I opened the door for Christine, and helped her inside, as I sat in the backseat with her, hoping that this might leave it open for any sort of conversation to start. I never got up the words to start anything, and I don't think she wanted to talk. Sadly enough, she studied her outside surroundings, looking out through the window instead of acknowledging that I was even inside the car, and it was I who was taking to dinner and to the opera for the night. I sighed to myself. Well, at least she was coming, that's always the plus side. What if she thinks this as a way to run? She wore high heels... if she was planning on doing so, she might have picked more suitable shoes instead.

Baltimore is quite a character of a city... there's plenty of crimes, like most cities, plenty of the homeless, yet in the middle of it, there is at least some beauty. A small theater district, and high buildings that indicated business, along with a harbor that trailed along side of it with old battleships and models. Most cities are like that, I find... poverty, homelessness, broken down buildings on the outside, and inside, a heart that throbbed with every step that the boisterous crowds took, so full of life and the promise of growth and evolution with crystalline skyscrapers, museums, and pieces of art stationed at some corners. Yes, cities are quite amazing. Not a particular favorite to live in the middle of, but good enough to visit and work in.

The opera house we were going to was one of the best, but not quite, and the production we were to see wasn't it's finest. I had my own box, as in quite a few opera houses dotted throughout the US, and some in Europe from previous travels, and when the time comes to visit them, the boxes become empty with a simple request. Most knew better than to challenge me.

But however, Christine needed to eat. So I reserved an Italian restaurant for the both of us. I had to reserve the entirety of the place to make our meal the most comfortable. They obliged with the extra sum of money they would be receiving.

"We'll be getting off here," I announced to her.

The car stopped wherever it could stop in front of it, so I had to walk a bit with Christine up to the doors. I offered my hand once more insistently. She looked at it with the same look as before, reluctance written all over her.

"Dear, I insist this time." I said simply, stepping out of the car. She obliged slowly, and her warm hand was in mine before she knew it. I gripped it tightly just for precaution. I didn't think she was unwise enough to even think about running, anyway. I helped her out of the car, and walked her up to the restaurant, uncaring of the few glances we received.

"I'd like the table I reserved," I announced as I walked in, the waitress turned around, her eyes suddenly opened wide, and fake defiance took place of the obvious astonishment. Feeling her trying to work her way out of my grip, I realized that I was holding onto her far too tightly. Between the nerves and my cautiousness, I didn't realize that I hurt her. She rubbed her wrist, grimacing at my hand as the waitress led us to the table with the best view.

"Did you buy this place out or something?" She asked from beside me, astonished.

"Yes," I replied simply. Little did she know how popular this restaurant was particularly, that on a normal occasion it would not be emptied, making that a terrible question. I hoped this would not be a night of stupid questions and repugnant answers.

She began to look at the menu, and I did the same, though I know I wouldn't finish it. I would eat if it meant being normal to her, but on a normal basis, food meant so little to me.

"Are you actually going to eat?" She questioned.

"I might," I replied, but her asking already secured the definite yes.

"Interesting," She sighed, "Why don't you eat in the first place? Is food not good enough for you?"

Ha... she could say that. I was just glad that this wasn't her blatantly ignoring me.

"There are some things in life that are more fulfilling than a brief alternative." I answered. That took her aback. She averted her eyes back to her menu.

"But people have to eat once in a while or else you could die." She replied, monotonously.

"And that worries you?" I chided dryly.

"I'm not sure..." She trailed off. It was a strange conversation, it's understandable.

The waitress came and left, taking our drinks. I ordered a glass of wine, something I knew I would drink. A good wine was all I could need to distract me in case the event went down the wrong path. At least there was more than one relieving path open to me.

"So we have a truce, then?" She began. That automatically brought me out of my reverie about fine-tasting wine, and other brilliant things that didn't mean the pain of last night.

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked innocently, wishing to not even come back to this topic.

That bugged her, and she glared, saying "must I spell it out for you?" "You know... last night... I saw..."

I didn't let her finish. "I made the reservations beforehand," I lied simply to steer her away. I made them this morning, quite contrarily. I didn't want her knowing the extent of my desperation for her view of me... In a world where image is everything...

"You could have canceled, then." She huffed.

"That's correct, but I thought you might dearly enjoy the next place we are going to." I explained sincerely.

"There's more?" She was excited again, I could see it. Despite what I kept telling myself, she was really wanting to be here if it meant to be out of the house.

"You'll see," I teased.

"So... are we? You know..."

"Yes, I suppose so." Though I knew it would take a little more rebuilding on my part, but she didn't need to know that for now. As long as she was at my side, as long as she kept sighing with that relief that she just exposed now, I would be pleased. At least it means I haven't broken her. It means she respects me as a gentleman still, despite whatever means I'm not to her. I was perfectly content with that, as long as lines weren't crossed again.

I didn't bother to pitch another conversation for a while, trying to think through the topics I might be able to bring up. I figured it wasn't worth it to keep where we were going next from her, for it was such an awkward silence. I don't know why I thought that this dinner would be filled with conversation, or even a laugh or two, so far I don't know why I even thought it might be a good time at all to bring her here. I asked a question I already knew the answer to to spark further interest for myself for even doing this.

"Have you ever been to an opera, Christine?"

"My dad took me... once..." she sighed, and looked from me back to the food on her plate awkwardly, and looked at mine expectantly, which reminded me that I should be eating in order to please her.

"Do you remember which one you saw?" I asked before taking a bite, raising the mask a little, but not too much. As long as she continued to avert her eyes to her hands like that, I'll be fine.

"Don Giovanni, I think." She looked to me, her eyes expecting, lighting up more than they have lately, "Is that what we're going to do tonight? See an opera?"

Her excitement absolutely pleased me, though it was obviously a tie to her father in some way. Normally such young children wouldn't be taken to operas, unfortunately in this day and age, so it pleased me even more that Christine was so excited, though she probably was only 13 when this happened. If I spoke to anyone else, they would have rolled their eyes for that age. And yet, another reason why I love Christine... She's so different.

"You guessed correctly," I answered.

"Exciting." She smiled charmingly, and continued to finish her plate.

"I'm glad you're excited. The company that is in it is renown for their excellence which might be very enjoyable. But we'll see, won't we?"

She lost the smile, and said a subtle, "I guess." Whatever caused her to lose all that exuberance is beyond me, no matter how much I love her and can predict her more often than not, I'll never understand her and how she wants to come out to be. I took another swig of the fine wine before finishing the meal. She eyed the plate and then rolled her eyes, which suggested that whatever further conversation was at a total loss.

"I believe we should be on our way." I told her and as she rose from her seat, I grabbed her hand, more gently this time, but it's better to be safe with her than to lose her altogether, no matter how uncomfortable with her. For the record, I loved holding her hand.

"What opera are we seeing?" She asked while getting into the car.

"I intended on it being a surprise, but if you insist..." I said warily, waiting for her to give me a yay or a neigh, looking away from her.

"No, I'll wait," She replied lightly, and I looked at her to see if this sudden change in mood was real, and it was... she smiled and nodded. Such a strange creature who loves destroying and then rebuilding.

We arrived a few blocks later to the Opera house which I have often frequented while being here. My seat has always been reserved in the management's best interest. It was something she didn't need to know how or why... The only explanation to her might be the money, but even money needs more convincing. I won't say how I was convincing... Just that sometimes business people might be swayed other places in their demanding publics best interests. Whatever the circumstances were, nothing was going to ruin this performance for Christine and I, except perhaps myself, but I can hold it back until voice lessons once we can compare for her learning.

"Where are we going?" The poor girl was suddenly panicking as she gripped my hand even more tightly.

"We're going through the back for obvious reasons," I confided, which was another reason out of a few. I'd rather keep private for plenty of reasons. She gave me the oddest of looks.

"You didn't mind before now." She accused.

"I happen to have a reputation here hat might not peacefully be acknowledged." I answered quickly, wishing to resume as I led her into the side door to the Opera House.

"Like what?" She challenged accusingly.

"Something that can be explained when we get inside."

I led her to the box that was mine, Box Five, with a great view of the stage and house, with great acoustics which was not surprisingly why I always have such trouble trying to acquire it for the both both of us. She stared in awe as we arrived, obviously surprised about what we were going to sit in, which was rather silly of her... she thought we would sit down in the house after that I just told her? Whatever she was trying to pull here was nothing entertaining. I got her a playbill for I knew she loved those... I once saw her collection of 10 different playbills when she was fourteen while she was bragging to her friends about how many shows she's seen. Her friends didn't share the same interests often, for she didn't fit in with her own group of people with the same interests for she's much too shy, but nevertheless was she proud.

"I thought you might look through this with your interest in playbills." I noted. I looked over her shoulder out of curiosity as she turned through the pages seeking out the cast mainly, and gave my remarks to her so I wouldn't have to scoff at it later. She was rather confused about if I hated someone, namely the leading soprano who was called only by Carlotta for her name was well known in this company. She was only in the leading position because her father basically sponsored most of it... Christine was going to change it, I already knew, and not only that but I was going to take her farther than that petty company. I'm getting ahead of myself again... She would never have any idea about the amount of success I have ahead for when I knew she was going to reach it with me.

She was confused about the basic politics in the operatic world. It's a slow-moving world apart from the rest, yet it is so very intricate that many have no idea, which is why I take a very strong interest in it out of many reasons. I keep it moving.

The curtains finally lowered after a brief conversation with Christine about the rest of it, and it was utterly horrendous... the ballet was off by at least a beat, the lead was flat, and the orchestra had a hard time keeping up even when the lead stabbed herself... Making it anti-climatic, out of many things, and simply amateur for such an acclaimed professional group. Pitiful.

"That was really good," Christine stood and applauded, wiping... could it be tears?--from her eyes. She had a lot to learn, I just seemed to notice as if it was a big epiphany. Soon she'll learn that this was wretched, and she should be fully able to critique it... I'll give her that strength, as I know I should.

"It could have been better," I tied in, monotone... disappointed. I had truly wanted something she could try to model herself better for, but it seems that it only leads to something. It didn't matter right now, I reminded myself, after telling myself I wouldn't be so harsh about it. Of course it led to disappointment, fool, now enjoy Christine! "But yes, very good." I lied.

"Just because nobody else can pull off perfect music to the point of unreal beauty, doesn't mean it wasn't matching up to fulfilling standards," She noted dryly, rolling her eyes at me. I suppose that could most definitely be a compliment, so I took it as one.

"We will continue this conversation in the car, but first we need to get out. I would like to get out of here before the crowds do without taking a back way if you don't mind." I explained, rising from the seat and offering my hand she took without a second thought... or perhaps I grabbed it again. I can't tell the difference... The point is she didn't seem to mind so much when I touched her hand, which was a step up if I do say so myself, though only slightly.

It has been a good night, I have to admit, despite the few quirks, and jolts in our relationship, it's been rebuilt just as I intended for this date to be. The first and many more, I reminded myself positively. For Christine will be here as long as I want her to, she undoubtedly belongs to me. Perhaps it was karma that came to haunt me which brought the impeccably annoying to my halt. That maybe in my highest of spirits it all should come crashing down like nothing happened, and everything that we worked on tonight was coming to a close call... As if that could happen as long as I have a say.

I suppose this is pretty long... I had to fit it all in here before I get a new chapter. I actually intend on this being shorter than In My Childish Fears just because I want to give it my all, yet time and inspiration always seem so deprived for me. Sorry I didn't update earlier, as I had planned, 'cause I had a heck of a lot of time to do so, but I couldn't get this perfect. And about the other story I intended on posting... well... I'm still going at it, don't worry... It'll be up by the end of next month, I swear, but the beginning of next month is totally... AGH... I'm so damn busy it's just not fair anymore. I'll have a new chapter up by the end of next week hopefully.

I also want to take the space to thank my reviewers who consistently review such as TimeFlies. I really love you people who are so kind as to critique my work. You're better than my English and Creative Writing teachers... just put the lot of it up front instead of dancing around about what you got to say, LOL... Which means you have to KEEP REVIEWING, S'il vous plait.

Merci,

~The Phantom's Flutist~