Chapter XIII: The Art of Lying
I was very shaken by Erik's note. Even though the idea to write in verse form was probably a display of some twisted sense of humor on his part, there was no mistaking the menacing implications between the lines. I had to become Erik's accomplice, stay out of his way and help him conceal his actions, or else... Knowing him, I felt sure that it was no empty threat.
Should I have confided in anyone, or gone to the police? Of course I should, it's what any reasonable person would have done. But I didn't. The primitive instinct of fear is always much stronger than any logic or reason, and at this point, I was afraid for my life. Erik had already spared me once, but he had made perfectly clear that if I annoyed him again, he would not be so sentimental a second time. As I stood by my locker with that innocent-looking sheet of paper in my hands, I weighed my options. If I went to the police, would they be likely to take me seriously? I doubted it, after all, the story sounded fantastic and I didn't have much proof to back it up. Would they be able to keep me safe from Erik? Again, I wasn't sure. He was no ordinary man - he had the ability to get inside people's heads with his voice and control them like puppets if he liked, or so I believed. I had a feeling that he was omnipresent, there was no escaping from him, no matter where I went and how hard I tried. If I told anybody else about the note, I might put them in danger as well, so that was out of the question.
Finally, there was another thing, something which went beyond both reason and fear, and which I am almost ashamed to admit. Erik had taken me into his confidence. He had trusted me, and only me, with information as to what had happened to Christine. I knew Erik to be a very private person, who kept himself to himself and guarded his secrets carefully. Yet, he had found me reliable enough to share this information with. I felt flattered, even proud in a way, to have been chosen like this. How could I betray him?
I am not comfortable with telling lies, partially because I am very bad at it. On the way home from the Christmas party, I made up a story to explain Christine's sudden disappearance to my mother and anyone else who might ask. Then, I rehearsed it carefully, trying out the casual tone of voice I would use when saying:
"Christine isn't here, she went away over the holidays with a friend from school. No, I don't know exactly when they will be back, but she promised to call and keep me updated."
Luckily, Mother was already asleep when I came home, so I didn't have to face her until the next day, when I had calmed down a little. I gave her the explanation I had made up and she seemed surprised and a little angry, but not worried. She probably guessed that Christine had gone off with some boy and asked me to cover for her, because I could hear her murmur to herself:
"Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I do hope they use protection, though."
Christmas was very calm and peaceful. Mother and I spent Christmas Eve and the following few days with my old grandmother in Lyon, who was happy to see us, as she had been very lonely since my grandfather's death many years ago. She was disappointed that Christine hadn't come with us, but accepted my story without question.
A couple of days before New Year's Eve, we returned home. I had just finished unpacking my bags when the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, I was very surprised to see Raoul de Chagny standing there. He asked me if Christine was in, as she hadn't returned his calls, and I gave him the explanation I was by now getting rather used to delivering.
"Christine is spending the holidays with a friend. She sent me a message, it was decided on the spur of the moment, apparently", I lied.
Raoul looked taken aback and rather suspicious. I felt sorry for him and offered him to come inside and have some tea, as it was a cold day and Mother was out shopping for the moment, so we would have the apartment to ourselves for a while.
"So, where did she go?" asked Raoul casually when he had sat down at our kitchen table and I had given him a cup of hot mint tea and some cookies I had brought back from my grandmother's. "Is she coming back soon?"
"She is in the country over Christmas and New Year", I said, weighing my words carefully. "After all that she has been through this past year, she wanted to have some peace and quiet, and a friend of hers from school has a family home in a small village near the German border."
Raoul looked even more concerned than before. It what obvious what question he would have asked, if his manners had not prevented him. I answered it for him, to put him out of his misery.
"It is not a boyfriend", I said.
Raoul gave a sigh of relief, but then shrugged and said:
"Why should I want to know that? It is Christine's own business what she does."
I smiled. He was so transparent, like a child.
"But you do care, don't you?" I asked. "Christine has told me you were childhood friends."
"What has she said about me?" Raoul said, suddenly very interested.
"That you were fond of her. She is fond of you, too."
Raoul leaned forward in his chair.
"Did she say so?"
"I know my cousin well enough to tell when she likes someone."
"She is a remarkable girl, isn't she?" Raoul mused.
"Yes", I agreed. "She is also going through a lot right now, after her father's death. Of course, you must have known him?"
Raoul nodded thoughtfully.
"I knew Martin Daae when I was a child. He was always very kind to me, used to joke and call me 'Christine's little fiancé'. My family owns a house in Sweden, by a large lake, and Christine and her father used to rent a cottage nearby, a few weeks every summer. They were the only French-speaking people in the neighborhood, and I remember being so impressed that Christine knew my language when I didn't know hers. But I guess it's only natural, since her mother was from here."
"Yes, Christine has visited us a lot. Martin was always very eager that she should know her French family well, especially since she was so young when her mother died."
"He always looked after Christine, didn't he?" Raoul continued. "I had the impression they were very close, much closer than I have ever been to my father. Martin used to play the violin for us and make up stories, which Christine always believed to be absolutely true. During those long summer evenings, before dark, Christine and I used to run to the lake hoping to see the fairies dancing on the surface of the water."
"I'm sure Christine saw them!" I laughed.
"Of course!" Raoul smiled as well. "I never did, but it didn't bother me. I was happy just to be with her. The lake was so beautiful at night, when the sky was a very pale blue and the water completely black and still and warm after a hot day. Sometimes, we would throw our clothes off and jump in, and then quickly run back home, laughing, dripping wet and chased by mosquitoes. It was a wonderful time!"
Raoul's eyes shone. I could tell that he had never forgotten about the little girl he had been smitten by as a boy. Even now, he spoke of Christine with incredible warmth and affection. It took all the strength I had not to blurt out the truth to him. He deserved to know and Christine was certainly in need of such a friend. But I had already made up my mind to keep the secret, and I only hoped that everything would turn out for the best eventually.
A key turned in the lock. Mother was home. Rising from the table, Raoul thanked me for the tea and put on his coat. As he left, he made me promise to let Christine know he had asked for her. I tried to avoid eye contact with him so he wouldn't see that in reality, I had no way of communicating with her until Erik decided to bring her back. And when would that be? I knew the college would be closed until after the Christmas break, so presumably there was only a very small chance of seeing Christine before then. All I could do was hope for the best and wait for school to start.
