It was a little difficult to find her way back up to the surface safely. There were so many winding stairwells and doors to choose, but eventually, Amelia found the surface of the opera house exciting through a stairwell through the main hall way. She tried not to remember how she left so she would not be tempted to go back down, but she doubted she could remember exactly.
The next tricky part was then pretending as if she had come in from the outside. She managed to find a cleaning woman who led her to M. Roux, the building manager of sorts. In the best way possible she explained that she was looking for any available work. He seemed a bit suspicious of her, but was in need of some maids as luck would have it. She accepted the work gladly but made a point to avoid his leering eyes as much as possible.
For a while she managed to hide in the Opera House corridors until she had earned enough for a tiny residence nearby. Each day she chastised herself asking why she would even bother staying. She told herself that she couldn't just give up but as time passed in the past, her resistance began to fade. Most nights her pillow reflected the torment of her indecision, stained with her tears, the only evidence of her sleepless nights. Erik's voice haunted her mind, trying to pull her back. But she couldn't obey. She couldn't interfere until she knew how it ended. Would she return to pick up Erik's broken pieces after Christine left or would she return only to find her returned to Erik, part of an unwritten ending mocking the tragic conclusion she had already known.
She saw her characters come to life as events she had read about for most of my life unfolded before her eyes as if she was walking around in a play. She saw Christine and Meg giggling down the hallway careless and youthful unaware of my presence. She heard La Carlotta sing her thunderous arias with the dark voluminous quality I'd always imagined. She saw her storm out of a rehearsal only to be replaced by the doe-eyed ingénue who's voice was so different in size and tone, but sweeter and lyrical, full of nearly completed potential. Her heart sank as she heard her, she knew how her talent had been nurtured, she knew who her teacher was even if she had no idea. The look in her eyes as she began that aria haunted her, such trepidation, yet full of hope and gratitude. Amelia envied her and yet couldn't bring herself to become part of the story any more than she already had, not yet.
Quietly, she snuck in to the theater on her opening night before my night shift, and crept backstage to hear the infamous debut of Christine Daae. She hid backstage peeking through the curtains where she could to watch her perform. She looked so comfortable and her performance was flawless, even my green heart couldn't disagree with that. Her high extension soared in to the rafters and the emotion behind every word was true.
As the performance ended in triumph Amelia listened to the audience respond in the form of a thunderous applause. She knew each and every patron in attendance was on his or her feet in appreciation of what they had just enjoyed. Her eyes sparkled with tears, overwhelmed beyond the senses in the midst of so much. Seeing her story come to life and being part of this moment and yet missing Angel, who seemed to have found a new muse. The rightful muse in Leroux's eyes.
As Amelia peeked out from behind the stage, trying to catch a glimpse of the rowdy house, she noticed the empty box closest to stage left. He was there, watching, enamored with his pupil who had done him so proud. She felt her gut twist into a wretched knot. He was there.
Sighing, she picked up my heartbroken self and shuffled along to start my cleaning shift. She waited for the performers and stage hands to finish their tasks so until then she began to get her supplies ready and tried to remain invisible.
One evening as she walked around the various dressing rooms picking up costumes and polishing the mirrors, she heard voices coming from the last room in the hallway. Erik and Christine were in the dressing room, of course! Their voices echoed in dulcet tones through the halls,
"Did my singing please you tonight, my Angel?" Christine whispered acoustically.
Amelia felt her stomach clench anxiously; he was her Angel. This woman was going to break his heart forever. She inched her way closer to the door, listening for his response.
"You sang for the Angels tonight, my Christine. As your teacher, I am most pleased."
"Where are you, my Angel of Music, when can I see you? I long to see you, you are such a part of my life."
Amelia heard the silence and could feel Erik's disappointment and even the anger, "My Christine… tonight you shall see the face behind your Angel." Shit, tonight was the night! Amelia thought, Christine is going down to the lair tonight. She's going to see his face. Amelia felt sick again, as awful as Erik had been to her; her heart broke for what she knew he was going to go through.
She sat in front of Christine's dressing room, in 21st century fashion, her knees up to her chest. Her breaths quickened and she felt nauseous, she stuck in head between her knees fighting the quick breaths that escaped her lungs. She tried to calm down. It then occurred to her that the room had been silent for awhile. Amelia stood up so fast she nearly collapsed, leaning on the door so hard it opened spontaneously and she tumbled in to Christine's dressing room.
Preparing for a quick explanation, dreading what Erik would say, she stood up rapid and red-faced. No one was there. No sign of Christine or her Angel, just an empty dressing room and a foolish maid, trying to catch her breath. Amelia sat down in Christine's dressing chair and stared at her reflection, trying to see beyond the glass into Erik's world. She buried her face in her arms wanting to sleep for awhile until she forgot him.
A calm voice behind her made her jump out of her chair, "Excuse me, are you alright?" She turned around and saw the big, doe eyes and curly brown hair that she had wished she possessed for years. Her rival, the infamous Christine. Where the hell had she come from?
Amelia remembered her place, and jumped up, "Oh pardon me Madamoiselle, I thought the room was empty, I came in to clean and had a dizzy spell. Forgive me, I will wait to come back."
Christine seemed only partially aware of her response, "Oh, yes, well, I will be leaving so you may continue your tasks." She was dressed in her evening cloak and muff, Amelia watched her leave and was glad that Christine did not seem to really notice her. Better she doesn't know her. Christine slowly sauntered out of the room and Amelia was left completely alone.