Chapter 4

I sat across from him. He looked so sure. Perfectly sane, so to speak and yet, he was insane, if he were to be believed. He deftly took the role, cool and collected, hardly the mark of a madman.

I stood up to gain confidence. "Why me? Why do you say this over the top nonsense with me?"

"Why indeed?. " He answered with a calm voice as if he had dealt with this nonsense before and he remained seated.

I decided to go with his story. To see which way it went. "The ring has decided your fate all these years. You are the Phantom, from the 1880's. Fine, I will leave and see what happens."

I marched out of the room with a determined step, and he did not stop me. Down the hall and out the door of the building, and I felt ill, a wave of nausea overcame me. I pressed onward, now was not the time to be sick. I willed the bile down my throat as I bent down at the waist. The dizziness threatened to fracture my world, the wind whipped, cars passed, people walked by. I huddle in an unused doorway, my arms wrapped about my middle. I tried but then it happened. I heaved and my breakfast came up mixed with my stomach acid in a puddle before me. Tears came to my eyes. I cradled my stomach, my throat burned. My skin was clammy and I shivered. I felt dizzy, another reason to stay still. The nausea hit me again, rolling my stomach and I let loose again.

Then I felt the feeling lessen. The apartment door opened and his partial shape came into view. He hesitated, glanced in both directions, then came to me. "Come back inside", he coaxed as he bent over me, his hands not touching, but there.

I didn't trust myself to speak and merely nodded. I tried to stand upright but a wave of dizziness hit me and I fell.

"Shh, it will be alright." I didn't care who or what he was, as he cradled me, to his side. And when he touched me I felt the nausea and dizziness lessen as the wind swirled. I gripped his right arm with mine. We made it to the main door. He opened it with one hand, edging into the foyer with me.

The stairs were before me and I hesitated. "I am here," he said softly.

I nodded and we proceeded to climb three flights of stairs. Side by side we took each step. We came to my door, slightly opened. He pushed it further. My unfinished plate was at the table and I felt my stomach protest. Then I saw a brown puddle or liquid adjacent. So he tossed up too. I glance at him. His eyes held worriment. I held on to his right arm. I steered us to the couch.

"Please forgive me. I forgot how horrible it is," he said. The couch sagged as we sat. I leaned into him, unable to think until my stomach settled. I felt the buttons on his vest and jacket, and his ribs, as I leaned in. I shifted, I should move and yet I didn't.

Finally I spoke, "Is it always this bad?"

I looked up at his face, so close. He pondered his answer, a thoughtful expression graced his face. His lip was thick, his features disappearing beneath the mask. His normally suspicious eyes were lost in thought, seeing, remembering.

"I don't think so," he finally said. I have only been passed to men. My connection to them has allowed a greater distance. I could go for days living in the theater without Hugh. He was a kind soul, bringing his dog, Soot, to keep me company during the shows," and he smiled at the fond memory.

Could he be real? No it was an illusion. Just a crazy guy that knows a lot of Phantom and can bring up the cast.

"How is this possible?" I found myself asking the question. I tensed waiting for a response.

He looked off into the distance, as if staring at a memory. "I don't know."

"But how were you found, I mean 1880 was a long time ago." My stomach had settled with our proximity.

"I remember letting her go,...Christine go. Deciding to die,... laying down to die. Closing my eyes waiting for death to come," he closed his eyes as if reliving the memory. "Then Crawford was before me, startled, looking pale, as if he were seeing a ghost. My ring was on his hand. We sorted it out, he and I. He said he found the ring while touring the Paris Opera House with Andrew and Sarah. He had pocketed it in the hopes of giving it to the guide, then promptly forgot.

The room was so light and foreign to me. I didn't know whether to flee or fight. He settled the matter for me by offering me friendship. He did not know me but took me at face value. He offered me a place to stay and a home. He is a good man. I think I read he is on the board of a children's hospital in London. Having nowhere to go I followed him to London then to L.A. He gave me hope and I opened myself to him. He is a good man."

"But how did you end up back on Broadway?" I asked.

"When he left the show in LA he tried providing me a home but it became problematic with a road trip with his daughter. I did not want to interfere any more and he had given me so much. Save, seeing the show of the worst part of your life was hard. Anyway I am not so easy to hide. So he confided in Davis while in LA. The look on his face, much like yours now."

He looked at me. I wanted to believe. Yet it was so farfetch'd, so out of left field.

"Davis took a while to believe. He went for a walk, then came back with a lot of questions as you have. We worked it out and I became his roommate. Davis cared and there was no question of abandoning me. He lived a quiet life, home and theater. We took a road trip to New York when the LA show ended and he took the role on Broadway, that was a fun time. New York became my home for many years.

"Explain to me why you have not aged. It's been 36 years. The men you speak of have passed you in age."

"I have no explanation. I don't know the rules, I may very well live forever."

"Are you a ghost?" I asked looking up at his face, his skin pale, yet I felt him. The rise and fall of his breaths pressed against my side.

"I don't know. I am tangible, I have need of food and water." How was this possible?

I stared down at the offensive ring on my finger. I had playfully put it on my ring finger. It glared back at me. I tried once more to pull it off but it did not budge.

I didn't know what to say. It was weird to be sitting here with a man professing to be the Phantom. So sit, we did, with me pressed against his right side. He felt warm, alive. He was thoughtful and I discombobulated. I wondered and puzzled about it all.

I didn't know what to make of his story. Was it a tall tale, a lie, a bit of truth mixed in here and there? Was he a madman? And why did I feel sick when I left him. After a while I spoke, "So what happens next?"

"The rules of the game have changed. I don't know what will happen next," he said solemnly as he looked at me.

I looked at him sharply. His brown eyes looked down at me, so sad. I didn't believe that he was the Phantom, well maybe.

"Are you really from the late 1890's?"

"I am," He said solemnly.

"Yet you understand modern things."

"I have had many years to acclimate to your world."

I suddenly wanted to test him. To out Phantom him. A battle of the witts. "Are you seen by other people?"

"If I want to be seen. It is still dangerous, in this world to be seen. But if people see me they assume its a stunt for the musical."

"Do you talk to many people, in the theater or outside?" I asked.

"I used to be the double for the Phantom. The part after the dressing room where he walks down the stairs with Christine. It gave me an excuse to be in costume and in the theater. The part was cut within the last year so I have been hiding out in the dressing room. I seldom venture out. I composed during the day and on Monday when I had the theater to myself."

Suddenly his life seemed a shadow of what it once was. Here was a man that once commanded an opera house. Now his theater was gone too it seemed. I pondered his story. He is spinning a good tale, meant to take you in. I wanted to ask, What did he want?

"But don't you go out?"

"Have you seen me? Is this a face for the world? For all of New York's progressive talk, beauty is still king. I am no fool to think I would be accepted."

I became bold, "What do you look like?"

He looked mortified I had asked and stood up. Then he began to pace.

"I am no shrinking violet. I am sure you do not look as horrifying as you believe." I suddenly wanted to see. If he was faking this would be the tell. I got up and approached him.

"You would not dare." He stood up as if to become imposing but he was on the defense, backing into a corner as I walked toward him. "No, no, no…" He kept repeating the word as if it would stop me.

I reached up and snatched the mask quickly, as if ripping a bandaid.

He let out a blood curdling scream, "No, How could you? No, now you will never..no" and fell to the floor, bent in half.

His sobs were gut wrenching and he tried to cover his face with his hands. Glimpses of twisted skin, so gnarly, and so raw. Gradually his cries reduced to whimpers. I crawled toward him, the wood biting into my knees and he shrank before me, cowering trying to hide his face. My heart swelled then broke, here was a man crying and in need of comfort. I wrapped my arms about him, his skeletal form digging into me. Gently, whispering, "It's alright. It will be alright." I felt him shudder. I felt his head come to rest on my shoulder, a wetness followed as he wept. I stroked his wisps of hair and the crying intensified, though I meant to bring comfort.