Chapter 16- We Might as Well Be Strangers

'Stand up straight!'

Christine stopped singing and blinked at the sharpness of Angel's tone. She took a deep breath and looked down at her fingernails, which she had recently taken to biting.

'You need to stand straight,' He repeated, a little softer this time. 'It's one of the most important things you will learn...'

'I'm sorry,' she said quietly. It was not the first time during their lessons that she had been chastised by him. Sometimes he would be a little blunt, making his point known quickly. She hated to admit it, she knew that she should not take it as an insult, but it hurt her feelings when he reacted so negatively.

Still, it was her own fault.

'You need to give your lungs more space to move,' he said, now explaining his point carefully, as he always did. He was a harsh critique but at least he had a constructive approach. 'That way your voice will reach the bigger notes and you will not sound so strangled,'

'Yes,' she said. 'Yes, of course, I'm sorry,'

'Don't apologise, Christine,' he said simply. The anger had gone from his tone but his authority remained. 'Just listen to me...'

Christine nodded, fighting away the feeling of dejection. 'I will listen... I do listen...'

'Then keep your body straight when you sing,' he said. 'Again,'

Christine took a breath into her body and let it out with song, the flow of her voice, even from her perspective, was much improved. When she sang, she concentrated, closed her eyes and letting the sound out.

'Stop,' he said.

She blinked.

'Do you know what you're doing wrong?' he asked. The silence that followed only highlighted Christine's embarrassment. No, she did not know what she had done wrong. She waited for him to continue to speak, to at least tell her what she was missing, what it was that she was doing wrong. There was only silence though.

'I thought...' she said, feeling a strain in her tone. Could she say this? 'I think it was... I didn't think I was doing anything wrong,'

The statement was met with the same deafening silence as before she had spoken.

'Are you there?' she said, when the stillness in the room finally became to much for her.

'I'm here,' he said.

'Did you hear what I said?' she asked gingerly.

'I heard you,' he said.

She nodded. 'Then what am I doing wrong?'

'Concentrating too hard,' he said simply.

She sighed. 'If I do not concentrate I make silly mistakes,'

'And if you do you sound like a wooden doll,' he responded.

The statement stung her. 'I...'

'I mean no offence,' he said quickly. For the first time in the months she had now known him, he sounded as though he did not want to hurt her feelings. Though this did not take the harshness out of what he had said she found some solace in the thought that he was now beginning to seem human.

For a while, she had begun to wonder.

'How do I find the balance?' she asked.

'I don't suppose you can find it, as such,' he said, this time his tone was soft, careful. 'I'm not entirely sure that it is something I can teach you...'

'Then how do I overcome it?' she asked.

'I fear that you either will or you will not,' he said. 'Either the emotion is there or it is not...'

Christine's heart began to sink again. The plunging feeling she had had so many times since her lessons began.

'If I were a gambling man,' he continued, causing Christine to look up again. 'I would bet that you have got it in you,'

A lift.

'But when you concentrate so hard you become very emotionless,' he said. 'It is hard to listen to because of your beauty and grace... that lack of emotion just seems so out of keeping,'

Beauty and grace...

'You understand what I am saying?' he asked.

'Yes,' she managed to say.

'Then maybe that is our lesson over for today,' he said. 'I will tell you what I will do for you,'

'For me?' she asked.

'Yes,' he said and she wondered if he was nodding, wherever he was. 'I will get you tickets to another opera out of the city and arrange for a chaperone,'

'I...'

'Wait, listen,' he chastised. She fell silent. 'Let yourself get swept away, enjoy it and when you return... perhaps it will have helped your own emotion,'

She nodded. 'That sounds wonderful but...'

'But?'

'Well,' she said, heart thumping. 'Can't you take me to the opera yourself?'

'I'm afraid I can't,'

'Why?' she asked softly.

'I don't go out much,'

She stared around her. 'Are you ill?'

'Not exactly,'

'I wish you would take me,'

'Christine...' his voice sounded pulled, strained almost tormented when he spoke her name. The sound of it like this made her heart ache.

'Please...'

'I can't,' he said.. 'Just be careful what you wish for, Christine, someday you might actually get it...'

'Why is that so bad?'

He laughed. 'Trust me,'

'I do,' she said, nodding earnestly

'I will arrange for a chaperone,'

'Do you ever go out?' she asked.

There was silence in reply to her question. Feeling a familiar ache in her chest she sat back on the bed, closed her eyes and rested her head against the cold wall.

'Sometimes,' he said and Christine opened her eyes, surprised he was still there, even more surprised that he had chosen to answer her question.

'Where do you go?' she asked. Perhaps she was pushing her luck a little, she knew he hated to talk about himself, but she had a hunger for information, a hunger to know him.

'Just out,' came his response.

'Do you walk?'

'Yes,'

'In the park?' she asked.

'Not really,'

'Will you tell me anything about you?' she asked, frustration grabbing hold of her.

'I don't deal well with other people's demands,' he snapped. 'You may ask your questions and I will choose whether or not to answer them. If I decide that I don't want to, then I will not,'

Christine swallowed.

'Lets get our relationship set out quite squarely here, Christine, so that there is no confusion,' he said. 'I am the teacher, you are my pupil,'

She nodded.

'You don't order me, demand of me or instruct me,'

Again, she nodded.

'You pay attention to me, rehearse and work hard,' he said.

'Yes,' she murmured.

'In return you will have anything you desire in this Opera house,'

'I'm sorry I offended you,' she said softly.

He was quiet for a moment. 'I'm not offended,' he said.

'I was only trying to understand more about you,' she said gently.

'I've told you before,' he said. 'It takes time to trust... I have been betrayed before and am unwilling to let it happen again,'

'I won't betray you,' she said, she had told him this before, time and time again, and every time it had come back to this.

'Only time will tell me that,'

'Who...' she stopped herself, heart in her mouth. She knew this was something she should not ask, knew that it was something he probably would not answer, but the words were on her tongue anyway. 'Who has betrayed you?'

The room felt suddenly empty, as it usually did when he left. Somehow, though, she knew that he was still there. She actually got the impression that maybe he was contemplating answering her. Perhaps it was simply wishful thinking, maybe he would never answer her questions, choosing always to keep her in the dark.

'Many people,' he said.

Surprised, she said, 'Perhaps you were too nice to them...'

The statement was greeted with a sharp laugh. 'I think it may have been quite the opposite,' he said.

Though she wanted to tell him otherwise she knew it was probably true. In their lessons he had been sharp and cold, a man not to be taken advantage of, a man to be listened to.

'Do you live alone?' she asked.

'Yes,' he answered. More information, something for her to feast on. He lived alone.

'No family?'

'No,'

'Do you not keep servants?' she asked and then chastised herself inwardly for the complete stupidity of the question.

'Perhaps I am not rich enough for servants,' he said.

'And maybe you are and choose not to have them,'

He laughed again, this time it was almost a real laugh, an amused laugh devoid of bitterness.

'Do you think a rich man would spend all of his time in an old opera house teaching a young woman to sing for free?'

'If he liked her he might,' she said. 'And if he wanted to protect her he would,'

His laugh was quieter this time, but just as warm. It was a warmth she rarely felt from him, something he did not radiate often and she basked in it for a moment. She let it wash her of her sadness.

'You told me you liked me,' she said simply, when his laugh had disappeared.

'I do like you,' he said, his voice soft like cotton. 'Who wouldn't?'

She fell silent at the compliment, stuck for words.

'You're beautiful,' he said. 'There must be many people who like you, many men in love with you...'

'There are no men in love with me,' she said.

'How do you know?'

'They have not told me,'

'Perhaps they are afraid to tell you?'

'Why would they be afraid to tell me?' she asked, thinking of the rose that he had left and the one he had given her.

She had not received one since.

'Because of your beauty,' he said, the statement so simple it implied a fact beyond anyone's argument.

'I'm not beautiful,' she said simply.

'But you are, Christine,' he corrected. 'So very beautiful, so wonderfully pure,'

She blushed. 'I have never been the pretty one,' she explained. 'I was the ugly one as a child, no one wanted to spend time with me...'

'It is hard not to be one of the chosen few,' he said and for that moment she got the feeling that he knew just how difficult it was. 'But at least you have been given the opportunity to shine now, a little later on,'

'I don't feel beautiful,'

'Well, you should,' he said and she could then hear a smile in his voice. 'Because you are,'

She nodded, felt suddenly hot. 'Thank you,'

'You're most welcome,'

'When will I be going to the opera?' she asked.

'I will get the tickets to you,' he said. 'I need to arrange a chaperone first,'

'How long will that take?'

With a laugh he said, 'I'm sure I will not be short of volunteers to take you out, but I need to send you with someone I trust,'

'I suppose you will let me know?' she asked.

'Yes,' he said. 'Of course,'

'And when will our next lesson be?'

'After you have been to the opera,'

She sighed. 'Will you come to speak to me before then?'

'Of course,' he said. 'I need to tell you where to meet your chaperone,'

She felt let down, as if someone had taken her favourite toy away from her. So she would not speak to him properly until she had been to the opera, but how long would that be? It could be weeks or even, God forbid, months.

'Don't leave it too long...' she managed to say.

There was a pause. 'I won't,' he said and with that he was gone.