CHAPTER 20 Confessions of another life
Erik had awoken the first morning in the mansion regretful that he'd divulged so much about himself. He was risking life and livelihood by confessing even a snippet of his dark history. He concluded that his weakness had been caused by the stresses of the day and only a momentary lapse in his judgment. He began to formulate a plan to combat the retribution that he expected, but the kind and charitable looks he received every day from Lisa were far from what he imagined.
Erik couldn't understand her attitude. She wasn't daft, so how could an intelligent woman accept his history? She wasn't ridiculous, so how could a sensible woman accept a murderer in her home? She wasn't naïve either, so how could a worldly person who'd seen the horrors of violence tolerate such a monster in her midst?
The phantom in him wanted to challenge her. To draw out the fear and horror he'd always seen painted on the faces of all those who'd seen and known him. He could understand the reproach of being viewed as a demon. Lisa's quiet acceptance was wholly foreign to him, and yet appealing like a sirens song. If he didn't reveal the bare truth of himself he felt the whirlpool of his need would consume him; the tension inside drawing him down to a blissful death.
His regret would be in losing the sense of normalcy both he and Gustave had experienced over the last week. Erik knew it would be far beyond him to ever be able to offer such comfort to Gustave who would surely crave it forevermore. He found himself hoping that after this ordeal was over, he and Lisa could at least achieve a comfortable accord in regards to Gustave. The thought made a strange electric charge tickle Erik's skin.
Like on most late nights, the house sat quietly and comfortably. After Gustave had drifted off to sleep, Erik took up his position at the small table near the hearth, waiting. She would come soon as she had the last week, and sit in the accompanying chair.
They would chat about the world, the weather, music, literature or nothing at all. And then it would happen. He would tell her. Then she will look at him with disgust, anger, even hate. Perhaps she would expel them from the house right away, or say that once Gustave was recovered she never wanted to see either of them again. Or maybe she would run to alert the authorities?
Lisa didn't knock before entering so she wouldn't wake Gustave. She also knew he would be there, possibly expecting her. Lisa had heard him not to long ago go downstairs for his tray of tea, so he might even have a cup prepared for her. The room was in semi darkness. It was big enough that the light from the small brazier or the lamp closest to the window didn't impede the cloak of shade surrounding the bed. The door opened slowly with only a small creak.
Lisa looked into the room first to see the lump under the covers that was Gustave. Then she stepped lightly onto into the room, swiveling her head to find the table and man. She couldn't help the grin that grew on her face when she saw him, but she fought the pull of her muscles to make it a full smile. He didn't react and only watched as she made her way to the chair that had been placed for her.
She didn't expect him to put on the gentlemanly airs other men did by standing when she entered the room or pulling out her chair. Lisa doubted he'd ever been schooled in such niceties. She didn't mind either way, it made all the other gestures that much more sincere.
When she settled, he immediately moved to pour her a cup. He knew how she liked it and didn't have to ask. Each motion of his hands was calculated so that he didn't seem anxious or overly careful. Lisa accepted the cup, took a small sip to test it, and gave him an approving nod. A strange look crossed the visible side of Erik's face, causing even the mask to seem animated for just a moment before he looked away.
"You played beautifully tonight." She said in a small voice.
"Thank you. That piece was one of our favorites many years ago." He replied.
"Our?" Lisa asked.
"Mine and Christine; I wrote for her to sing with me as a duet." He spoke in that way that made it sound like it meant nothing, which meant it was very important information.
"It was full of passion and very expressive; she must have enjoyed singing it. What were the words?" She said.
Erik closed his eyes against a torrent of memories. In his mind's eye a young Christine enters a dark stage dressed as the ill-fated Aminta. Her voice was ghostly in his memory as she began to sing. When he joined her on stage and in song his black cloak seemed to shimmer like it was touched by starlight.
The words flowed as they moved around each other. There was no audience in his memory, only the young woman that was his world moving closer and closer to him with each passing note. Finally standing nose to nose with him, she reached up and whipped the hood away. There was no mask to hide his hideousness, and the screams that surrounded him had no end. Erik's eyes popped open and he was once again in the present, and a wave of relief washed over him.
"That's Don Juan Triumphant isn't it?" Lisa asked tentatively. Erik looked at her questioningly, had she been there? "You were just singing it, and the papers wrote an excerpt of the lyrics the morning after the Garnier burned." Lisa gut twisted as an unbelievable pressure landed on her. She hesitated only a moment before continuing.
"Yes, we performed it together. Just once on that night." He said in a voice deepened by emotion. Lisa's throat dried. She enough about the night the chandelier fell to discern what his words revealed.
"You?" Lisa was unsure of how to voice the inquiry. Erik only waited, knowing exactly what she wanted to know, but not wanting to be the first to say it. More than a minute passed before Lisa was able to formulate the words. "The papers said it was a ghost that killed those men, crashed the chandelier and set the blaze that consumed the Opera Populaire. That it was all done to win the heart of Miss Daae and the phantom was really a crazed man obsessed with her. Are… you that man?" Lisa held her breath.
"It was a long time ago, but yes, I was that man. Now, I'm a successful businessman and a father." A loud silence filled the room as it all sank in.
"Do you regret the lives you've taken?" she asked. It definitely wasn't the question he expected.
"I wasn't exactly raised with a strong sense of fraternity with my fellow man. No love, no compassion, only fear, hate and anger. But I've learned what it is to respect life and each person's right to live their own torment until its natural end. So in a way I do regret what I've done and there is no excuse for such evil. I may have avoided prison, but I have paid for my sins. I am still paying for them and probably will until I breathe my last. Death is a gift for those who are worthy. Life is the punishment for those of us who fail."
Erik heard Lisa swallow the lump in her throat as she tried to digest his admission. His comments weren't exactly encouraging; they were filled with bitterness and resentment. Dangerous emotions that Lisa knew could poison the soul, and they had been all he'd known his entire life, or at least until Christine and Gustave.
"Why tell me all this?" Lisa wasn't a priest set to here confession or a lawyer working on angles to acquit a client. Surely it put him, his empire and even his son at risk to divulge such sensitive information. Even though his crimes were many years old now, he'd still be a wanted man. Would she betray them, could she?
"I don't know. Perhaps some part of me desires judgment… or absolution, and I'm not the type to seek out a priest." Strangely enough, after having admitted some of the darkest deeds of his life, Erik did feel different. He felt lighter and cleaner, as if his heart had been dipped into sacred springs and rinsed of filth. "Anyway, I'm sure you've had suspicions from the information Gustave has given combined with what you already know." Lisa looked over to the boy, whose profile seemed all the more precious to her now. There was no question that Gustave had taken up residence in Lisa's heart, and she cared for the child as if he was her own flesh and blood.
"How much does Gustave know?" Lisa asked. Erik closed his eyes for just a moment before answering. The question touched the core of his shame in regards to whom and what he was.
"He knows his father is a monster, but not the kind that kidnaps, kills and defrauds. He's only been given the pretty version of events, and if you don't mind I'd like it kept that way. He's already suffered so much from the loss of his mother, there's no need for him to carry the weight of my sins with him as well."
"Of course, you have my word." She assured him, but there was no levity in her voice. The two of them sat in companionable silence drinking tea until the pot was emptied. Lisa knew she would not betray the trust he'd so unexpectedly given her. If she was able to be honest with herself, even if she'd known about Erik's past from the very beginning she still would have kept that confidence. That realization unnerved her even more than thinking she sat in the presence of, and had actually been living 2 weeks with, the infamous Phantom of the Opera.
"It's very late, or very early depending on your point of view. I'm going to try and get some sleep, and I recommend you do as well." Lisa stood and looked over to Erik, but he didn't acknowledge her. He could sense her trepidation in the feel of her eyes on him. There was another crack inside of him, and although he desired to rub the ache in his chest he remained stoic under her gaze.
"Do you want me out?" It surprised Erik how much anxiety he felt waiting for her answer, though he wouldn't allow her so see it.
Lisa walked around the table to stand next to the man. There was something deep from inside directing her. When she reached over to collect his hand in hers there was no resistance. Eric slowly shifted his eyes to find hers.
Never in his existence had anyone made such a gesture of compassion toward him, even Christine, who'd kissed him only under duress. Usually his first instinct would have been to pull away, but nothing had been usual for the past 3 years.
"Despite the evidence to the contrary, my instincts tell me we have nothing to fear from you." She glanced back to the child. "As you said, you're a father now. It's not my place to judge you either. Gustave will be alright, and everything will work out in the end. You both have friends here, and I hope we can learn to trust each other more." She released his hand and made her way to leave the room, but his voice stopped her just before she exited.
"Thank you Lisa." It was perhaps the first time in his entire existence that he'd spoken those words to another human being.
Lisa kept her composure all the way to her room, but when the door closed behind her she started to shake. It wasn't fear, or anger. Strangely enough it was the most intense feeling of disappoint. She wanted to slap him, to punish him for having been that person.
She walked over to the fireplace in her room and gripped the mantel, seeking to hold something strong and solid. The warmth from the brazier stung her face as she looked down into its glow. A part of her had known, but another part had hoped, while another secret part of her had desired. Now what did she have?
Feeling the dismay well up within her, Lisa grabbed a small painted nick knack from the shelf and flung it into the fire. It shattered instantly. The fire ignited the paint and caused a sudden rush of colored flames to burst forth. Lisa stumbled back from the unexpected spurt, and for several moments she just watched the shards of pottery become blackened by the flames.
The fire wasn't hot enough to warp the fragments, only stain them. At their core they remained the same in spite of the heat. When the fire cooled she could possibly collect the shards and reassemble it, she just had to be careful not to cut herself. But once broken the ornament would never be the same.
How many times had Erik been broken, only to pick up the pieces of himself, even when knowing that he'd just get broken again? How many people had been cut by his jagged edges?