Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.
A/N: Thank you for all the nice reviews! I really have been trying to respond to them... hopefully soon the email alert problem will be all sorted out. Until then, please know that I am thankful for the encouragement.
Dear Journal,
Not much to report today. We have fallen into a sort of routine. Lessons in person are much different from lessons in my dressing-room. For one thing they are much longer. It's strange though, even though I sang for hours, I still feel as if I could sing some more.
"Are you tired, my dear?"
"Not too much."
"How does your voice feel? Are you hoarse?" he asked, knowing the answer already.
"Now that you mention it--no, not at all."
I know that it is my voice and I am the one singing. But, all of me feel's like, when I am down here, my voice is Erik's instrument. It is odd. It is like loaning someone your violin… only entirely different. What is even more strange is that Erik has the ability to touch my voice in a way that it never tires or hurts. I probably should ponder this awhile… but I don't want to, so I will just leave it at that.
He smiled. She couldn't see it, but she could hear in his voice that he was pleased.
"Excellent. One must always take care of one's instrument. If they do, it will never tire and serve them for a long time."
"Yes, Erik." she said obediently.
"Now, let us have some supper. Come along, Christine."
What has been bothering me lately is my eyesight.
I have always been extremely shortsighted. However, until now I had been able to function with relative normality. See, even now I am writing in this journal without too much of a problem--though, for what it's worth, I am probably squinting.
When I had lessons in my dressing-room, he always chose songs from the opera and I sang them from memory. It was a good system, I believed.
However, now that we have unlimited rehearsal time, he wishes for me to sight-read new pieces.
"Christine, I think it is time we began some new music."
"As you wish, Erik. What would you like me to sing?"
"Something of my own composition."
"Don Juan Triumphant?"
"NO! Do not ask me that! That music was not meant for your innocent ears. Don Juan burns, but not with fire struck from Heaven."
Well, I could ask him what that is supposed to mean… but I don't think I will. Actually, I think I'll steer clear of as much burning hell-fire as I can down here. Moving right along then…
"What then, sir?"
"Here is a song I wrote for you months ago."
Now my eyes are fuzzy and out of focus. Something between the poor lighting and trying to read a bunch of little, tiny dots for hours on end has made this activity very difficult and tiring.
"That's not right. Begin again." he said for the hundredth time
She began to sing again, but he stopped her again after a few lines.
"Christine!" he snapped, he was getting frustrated.
"What is it?" she asked, clearly annoyed but trying to stay calm.
"It is not right!"
"What is not right?" her voice was elevating
"The rhythms, the notes, the words, for goodness sake!" he was yelling now
She crossed her arms and scowled at him, not trusting herself to speak.
He continued to shout at her. "Have you been listening to anything I have been trying to teach you? Are you trying to aggravate me on purpose?"
She did not answer, but returned his angry glare.
"What is the matter with you? Why can't you do this?"
"BECAUSE I CAN'T SEE IT, DAMN YOU!" She screamed at him, throwing the sheet music on the piano and storming out of the room.
Anyway, when I get tired, I get grumpy. I am afraid I didn't handle the whole thing in a very lady-like manner.
For a moment, Erik sat there, stunned. Never before had he seen his angel lash out like that. He really wasn't sure what to make of it. His first impulse was to be angry, to break down her door and demand an explanation. That however, was quickly replaced by the urge to fall at her feet and beg forgiveness.
All in all, the poor man was very confused. He moved to the sofa and poured himself a glass of brandy. Then he sat and reflected on the situation.
Of course she snapped at you, you fool! You have been working her too hard! Even the most lovely of angels can only stand so much.
Why didn't she tell me she was having trouble seeing the music?
Would you have listened? You have the poor girl so scared out of her mind that she's afraid to breathe around you!
She is not scared of me… she can't be. I love her. I would die if she was afraid of me.
Blast it all! I should have noticed she had a problem. In all this time… so many months of work… how could I have missed something so obvious?
Because you were too selfish think about her needs.
NO! That is not possible… all I think about is her.
You think about her? Do you think about how much you want her? Or do you think about what's best for her?
I am what is best for her… she has nothing but me!
STOP THIS MADNESS! I cannot… I will not let her go. Not yet. Not after I finally have her here with me. There must be some middle ground. She can learn to be happy here. I know it…
After much deliberation, he rose from his seat and grabbed his hat and cloak. Without speaking to her, he carefully locked Christine's door--can't have her wandering around alone down here--and left the flat.
I had just about calmed myself down enough to apologize for my outburst when I heard my door lock. Then my foul mood returned with a vengeance. It is not like I was going to go anywhere. Where would I go? Still, it irks me to no end that he locks me in here when I become an inconvenience. I am just like one of the little pet animals he keeps here. Shut the cage properly, or I might fly away!
Anyway, for a while I paced my room, feeling trapped. I tried thinking of Raoul. I have enough fond memories of him to cheer me up on most occasions. No such luck this time, though.
Actually, it had the opposite effect and depressed my quite efficiently. I wish I would have had the luxury of time to sit and work out my feelings for him, but it's too late for that now. I will never see my Raoul again. He is probably gone now anyway--moved on to another place and another girl. It's best that way, I suppose. At least that's what I have to tell myself.
Raoul burst through the door of his brother's study. He had just spent another unsuccessful day searching for Christine. He paced around furiously, tearing at his hair and shaking like a madman. His brother looked at him indifferently, setting aside his book and pouring them both some brandy.
"It went that well?"
"Idiots! The whole lot of them!"
"The managers didn't know anything?"
"They said she was out sick."
"Did you offer to send a doctor?"
"Of course I did!" he snapped, "They said she didn't want one. Then I asked to speak with her and they said it was not possible. AGH! Why is this so difficult?"
"Did it occur to you that, perhaps she does not want to see you?"
He sighed miserably, "Yes, brother, the thought occurs to me every day."
"Then why beat yourself up over this?"
"You didn't see her back in Perros-Guirec. She was so frightened. No, something is not right. I will not oppose her wishes if she truly does not want me… but I have to know for sure. Please understand, Philippe, I cannot close my mind to this if I am always wondering what might have been."
Philippe nodded in acceptance. While he was not thrilled about his obsession with a chorus girl, he had yet to deny his little brother anything. And, as a man, he could identify with Raoul's desire to protect the pretty young woman--should she need rescuing. He just hoped the boy could get this madness out of his system before his heart broke too badly.
"I will speak to the managers myself tomorrow. I'm sure the prospect of losing the de Chagny financial backing might do something to loosen their tongues. In the meantime, why don't you go see that guardian of hers. Madame Valerius, if I remember correctly… I am fairly certain she and Christine have a flat nearby."
"Good idea. Thank you brother."
As Raoul turned to leave, Philippe called back to him.
"Raoul, a letter came for you today. There is a ship leaving soon for the North Pole. It is a search and rescue mission that should last about six months." he noted his brother's tense expression and continued slowly, choosing his words carefully. "If, for some reason, this whole thing with Mlle. Daae does not turn out how you would like… I think you should honestly consider taking the assignment. You might do well to get away for a bit."
Raoul began to protest, but Philippe held up his hands. "I'm not saying you have to go. I'm not even saying you have to answer now. Just… think about it. Ok?"
It would be best for me not to think of him anymore. My feelings for him are now inconsequential and they distract me from my mission here. Besides, if Erik were to find out that I was sparing Raoul even the slightest thought… well, I shudder to think of what would happen. No, my time here must be spent thinking of nothing but Erik and myself. Once this is over, I'll do my grieving.
Finally, for lack of better things to do, I forced myself to take a nap. Some people can't sleep when they are angry, but I find it tremendously soothing. It means I can forget all my problems for a few hours.
Anyway, I fell asleep. I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up, there was note on my dresser with a pair of eyeglasses.
My dearest Christine,
These are for you. I believe they will be of some use to you. I wish you had told me sooner that you were having problems. I know that you do not trust me yet, but I want you to know that I will always take care of you. Please do not hesitate to tell me if there is something else you need to make your stay here more comfortable. No request is too great or too small. I would do anything for you, Christine.
Eternally yours,
Erik
I suppose it was a nice gesture. I don't know if I will wear them or not. They are useful, as he said, but I don't want to look like an old lady. Goodness, that sounds worse on paper than it did in my mind! When did I become so vain?
Anyway, it was still a nice thing to do for me. I think he really does want to take care of me. If I wasn't so very angry with him I might find it endearing.
But, there is no time for that. I need to work on my game-plan to get him to let me go. I have ideas, but they need refinement.
I can't allow him to make things more complicated.
For now I must sign off. Two days left if he keeps his promise!
-Christine
