Chapter 2
"Without love we are birds with broken wings"
Morrie Schwartz
"I know you must leave, Helene, but this cannot be the only way." Papa objected. When I had come up with my plan, I had thought it brilliant and foolproof, but he did not agree. He hoped to persuade me to think his way. "What of love, Helene? You cannot live all by yourself. We are human creatures, without love we are nothing." He claimed defiantly. I was a different opinion on the matter, but wished to help him see things my way, not argue with him.
"I will not be without love. I have you and Clarissa. I may be leaving, but I am not dying! We will keep in touch. It will be like I never left." I assured him.
"That isn't what I am talking about and you know it! Your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me. All I wish is for you to have the same thing." He replied gently. I knew that he only wanted what was best for me, but I could not agree. I am still young; I have things I want to do with my life. I don't know what those things are yet, but I know that I must find out. How can I let someone in, when I don't even know what is inside? Self discovery is a dangerous path, not chosen by most girls my age. Instead those girls marry, and before they know it their whole identity is their husband. I didn't want to end up the same way. Love is powerful drug, and I want to be sober during my youth. I have seen what Love can do to a person. Sometimes it is kind, and brings out the best…but usually it is painful and cruel. If love comes to me, I would not object, but I would not seek out this tricky emotion. If only I could make my father understand…
"Papa…what if I could prove to you that none of the boys that supposedly love me are truly in love?" I asked slyly. He looked at me with curiosity and gestured for me to continue. "I believe in love as much as you do, but I think it cannot be found here. At least not now. Now I am simply a beautiful girl, but I wish to be something more. If I could believe that someone could love me for who I am and not simply for the way I look, I would be willing to give him a chance. But I can prove that none of my suitors are that man." I said with surety.
"You are as stubborn as your mother," he replied with a dramatic sigh.
I smiled at him and began to relate my plan, "You are going to have another party-"
"I don't recall the last one going so well," He interrupted.
"Ah, but this one will be a mask ball…" I replied with a sly smile.
Before I had found out the truth about the way I looked, I had always assumed that I looked like Meg. We both had blonde hair, blue eyes, and were similar in size. It was my hope that with a costume and mask, we could switch places. This way when my father saw that none of the suitors could tell the difference, he would know that they did not love me. Of course, my plan could only work if Meg would agree to it, so I made arrangements to see her in the morning.
The Opera Populaire is a peculiar place in the morning- quite, mystical almost. The stage hands mill around at a slower pace than usual, still swaying from the night before. The divas are silent only in their slumber. As for the Opera Ghost, he was nowhere to be found at this ungodly hour. But that would be changing soon…
Meg was happy to be part of my plan, thinking it to be a good joke. I couldn't bring myself to tell her about the whole plan however. It was as if it was my secret, a secret so sweet that I couldn't share it. Besides, she was a true believer in the Opera Ghost, and I wished to encourage that ideal. In fact, the more people believed, the easier this would be to pull off.
"So what is the famous Opera Ghost up to these days?" I asked, my voice full of sarcasm that was completely lost on Meg.
Her eyes widened and in all seriousness, she replied, "Something big is on its way. I am sure of it." I resisted the urge to laugh and tell her my plan. I needed more information first.
"Why do you say that?" I asked, this time without sarcasm.
"He has all but disappeared, playing at children's games with minor pranks instead of his usual madness. But it is the calm before the storm, I tell you! There is something big that he is planning, I just know it." Her discloser was more than I could tolerate. She was my friend, and I hated for her to be stuck believing in faerie stories.
"How can you still believe in this nonsense? Meg it is probably some silly stagehand pulling this pranks. What makes you so sure that this ghost, this phantom is real?" I demanded to know why she still believed.
"Be careful, Helene. He has secret passageways everywhere…he could be listening right now!" She claimed, glancing around furtively with genuine fear.
"Why should be frightened of something that isn't real?" I began to say before she clamped her hand over my mouth.
"I said be careful. He targets those who don't believe. The pranks may be childish, but they are still dangerous. I will show you why I believe, but you must keep quite!" She said, slowly removing her hand from my mouth. I nodded my head in acquiesce and followed her to the second floor balcony seats. She took me to Box 6 and pointed to the right. "This is where he sits. First row, all the way to the right where he can see without being seen. Box 5 is his; no one can enter except my mother. She says he is there at the second act, she hears his voice, sees his glove and opera glasses, but she never sees him. He is real, but he is a ghost. There is no other way to explain this phenomenon." She was deadly serious about this, and I found myself once more reluctant to burst her bubble.
"I cannot see from here! Let us go inside Box 5 to—"
"HELENE! Have you listened to a word I have said? No one goes into that room, not a single person, save for the Opera Ghost and my mother!" She told me once more. This time I did not object. My mind began whirling with plans upon plans. I admit, I did not listen to another word she spoke that day…perhaps, I should have.