Chapter 3

"And after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade"

Lord Byron

I examined Meg as she finished up getting ready. Amazing what a costume, a mask, and a bit of rouge could do, it was if looking into a mirror. We both wore pale blue dresses with wings on the back. Our mask was white with feathers and reached down to the cheek bones. With our hair in an intricate braid, our only difference was the halo on my head, which I would pass on to her soon enough. We smiled at each other for reassurance as I left the room to put the plan in motion.

Like bees to honey they swarmed to me. Begging me to dance with them, to smile at them, to marry them, a constant chatter I could bear no longer. For what felt like an eternity I smiled and danced, evading their endless questions and proposals. Only the knowledge that I would never need to do this again kept me from screaming. Finally, I excused myself and returned where Meg was eagerly waiting to take my place. With a relieved smile, I passed the halo to Meg, happy knowing that I would never be anyone's "angel" again.

I hurried to my bedroom, where Clarissa was waiting to help me get ready for my departure. I changed into a sensible, easy to move in black dress and began unbraiding my hair.
"Here, let me do that." Clarissa said, shooing my hands away. I let her take charge as I studied myself in the mirror. I wasn't going to miss my face...not a wit. I looked down at the black silk mask in my lap. It was a simple, full face mask with a blue design over the black. It would keep people from recognizing me and free me to become my own person. I looked back at the mirror and caught Clarissa's eye. "I am going to miss having you to do my hair," I said with a grin as she finished up the simple braid.
"Why is that miss? You can do your own hair just fine." She replied, careful not to make eye contact again.

"But it will not be the same. What I am trying to say is that I am ready to be on my own, but I am still going to miss you." I said, trying my best to reassure her of my love.
"I know Missy." She said, pulling me into her giant embrace, "I am going to miss you too." Releasing me, she wiped away her tears and continued, "I have something for you, a going away present, if you will." Ignoring my protests she pulled a wooden rose out of her apron pocket. I stared in wonder at the beautiful, fake rose, curious why she wanted to give it to me.
"This rose, unlike the kind that grows from the dirt, will last forever. Someone put a lot of work and effort to make this rose before they gave it to me. Love is like this rose. With enough effort and thought, it can last forever." She said as she handed me the rose, then continued, "That is why I want you to have it, Dearie."

My eyes were starting to tear up at this point so I pulled her into a hug and whispered, "Thank you so much! I will treasure this forever." Then turning away quickly, I wiped away my tears and tied on my mask. Turning back around I asked, "How do I look?"

"Like a new person!" She told me with a bright smile.

"My luggage is already at the door?" When she nodded, I continued, "I better go say good bye to my papa. I will miss you both so much…but I am excited about this new life before me!" She smiled in return, and pushed me out the door. Laughing I returned to the ballroom to discover that, quite as I suspected, my absence went unnoticed. The men were surrounding Meg, trying to catch a closer glimpse, while all the women tried to drag their men away from her. Finally I caught sight of Papa leaning against a column, watching the spectacle in disgust. Carefully, so as not to cause any unwanted attention, I made my way to him. Realizing that even my own father didn't recognize me, I walked right past him, turned around and came up behind the column he was leaning on.

"They don't even notice that I am gone." I whispered in his ear. He jumped about a foot at the sound of my voice. Hand over his heart, he whispered back, "You scared me half to death!" I hoped that the mask would conceal my amusement, but considering his next words, I suppose my eyes gave me away.

"That is not funny! I am far too old to be jumping like that!" He exclaimed. We both started laughing hysterically, until tears welled up in our eyes. Then, as suddenly as we had begun laughing, we stopped abruptly. We examined each other closely, knowing it would be the last time for a while. I pulled him into my arms and tried to convey how much I would miss him. When I pulled back, he had that look in his eye that he was about to protest again.

"Papa! This was you idea! You know as much as I do that it is necessary for me to leave tonight. It is important that I find my way on my own for a while. And it is essential that I start out on that path now. This isn't permanent; we will see each other again soon!" I assured him.

"I didn't even say anything!" He protested. I gave him a look and he caved, "Fine, you are right… I really hate it when you are the voice of reason."

"I can't help the way I was raised!" I quipped with a twinkly in my eye. With one last embrace, I left my life behind, eager to begin a new one.

"What time is it?" I asked the cab man as he handed me down my luggage. As he looked impatiently at me to grab my suitcase, I once more thought of how grateful I was to live in Paris, where masquerade parties were considered the normal thing to do. One could go almost anywhere in a mask at night during the right time of year. He threw my luggage down at me before answering, "It is the queer hour miss." I smiled to myself, remembering how many times Clarissa had called it the same thing. "The queer hour" was midnight, a time like no other when darkness can be revealing and no one can hide from reality. When she told me this, years ago, I began staying up until midnight, eager to face reality. Not until tonight, did I truly ever feel like I was being true to myself. I looked in wonder up at the Opera Populaire as the carriage drove away. My new home beckoned me like a mother would a child. I made my way to the entrance unnoticed. For the first time in my life, I basked in the power of invisibility. Not a single soul stopped and stared, no one even saw me. It was a feeling I could get used to.

As I walked down the dark corridor to box five, the world seemed to get quieter and quieter, until the only sound I could hear were my own gentle steps. It was as if I had entered a separate world that only I dared to trespass into. A mystical world where ghosts and shadows prospered, a world I belonged to. Upon reaching box five, I went straight to where Meg said the Opera Ghost's seat was and placed myself there. The view wasn't the best I had ever had, but the spot was perfect. No matter where one was in the audience or stage, there was no way one would notice this spot. I got back up and began to walk around the box, looking for a good place to store my luggage. The box itself was small, but it would do until I found some of those secret passageways that Meg had mentioned earlier. At least that was my plan until I slammed myself into the hollow column. I was normally a naturally graceful person, but as I was unaccustomed to the darkness of midnight within box five, I found myself to be as clumsy as a child learning to toddle.

At any rate my lack of grace turned out to be a blessing, as I soon discovered when I realized that I had indeed found one of the secret passageways, much sooner than I thought I would. I took a step inside the dark path before realizing I had left behind my suitcase. Quickly turning back to get it, I narrowly evaded what could have been a disaster. Or so I would learn later on that night. At that moment, however, all I noticed was an eerie silence that seemed to shout that something was missing. With a shaking hand I dug my match box out of my pocket and strove to light it. Again, again, and again, I tried to no avail before I began to grasp at what the problem was. There was a constant, steady zephyr that prevented the flame as if it had a personal conflict against me. I sighed as I considered my options. I could turn back and wait until I found a better way, or I could take the risk and go forward. Closing my eyes, I faced my fears and took a step forward. At first was darkness was intimidating, given that I could not see my hand in front of my face. Clinging to the stone wall saved me from falling flat on my face. Despite the difficulties, I found that I became almost found of the inky black tunnel. I came to the conclusion that the darkness was a safety for me. For one, no sane person would dare to traverse this particular path. Also, I blended into the shadows of the darkness so well that even if someone was daft enough to try they would never be able to see me. It never occurred to me that I wasn't the first to think of this "novel" idea…

Suddenly I found myself at a fork in my path. Straight ahead the darkness continued on for who knows how long, but to my left the path seemed to lead to the light. I hesitated for no more than a moment before deciding to stick with the path I had already chosen. My rule of thumb was to keep to my first instincts until I was absolutely certain that I was wrong. Of course, staying in the darkened tunnel proved to be rather treacherous due to my unusual clumsiness. I was tripping every few steps, at one point I scraped my hand against one stone so hard my hand began to bleed profusely. Refusing to cry out or admit defeat, I pushed past the pain and kept going for what seemed like forever until finally I caught a glimpse of something different.

As it turned out, what had caught my eye was a small body of water. I had heard of underground lakes, but never in my life did I imagine I would be far enough underground to find one. I was about to decide that I had reached a dead end when I discovered a boat. It was an old dilapidated looking boat that almost looked as if it wouldn't float, but I got on anyways. I had thought that this boat was far too old fashioned to be in recent use. I reasoned with myself that perhaps there had once been another who had haunted this theater, but now there was only me. Ghosts weren't real, I told myself over and over. Rowing to the other side of the lake proved to be more difficult than I had imagined. I was in pain, I was exhausted, I was scared, but still I rowed. I focused on thinking of better forms of transportation to get across. When I finally got to the opposite shore I was so exhausted that I barely got out of the boat before I passed out.

When I finally awoke, I found myself being towered over by what appeared to be a dripping ghost. "How did you get here?" he whispered. I lost consciousness once more, my last coherent thought being, ghosts can't get wet…