Chapter 26
The Incomparable Cathedra di Carlo ended her long-time reign as principal soprano two days before Fidelio was supposed to close.
Her leave was abrupt and jarring to the theater as a whole as she seemed to be at the very pinnacle of her career and no one thought her health would decline as it did.
The morning of what was to be her final performance was spent in the chapel at an earlier hour than anyone would have expected, and I happened to stumble upon her purely by coincidence.
It was four in the morning when I heard her whispering a prayer inside the chapel, and the urgency in her voice made me hasten my pace. I had overheard her prayers many times, but this was different.
Given that the halls were easy to navigate now that I knew my way around, I no longer brought a lantern with me as I feared the light would draw attention if someone else happened to be skulking about in the middle of the night. As I neared the chapel I noticed the glow of candlelight dancing in the hall, a sharp, triangular shape of light setting the stone ceiling aglow along with a slit of light on the opposite side of the hall.
I abruptly stopped about ten paces from the servant's entrance once I realized the door was ajar and I could not pass without potentially being seen.
There were others paths I could take that would lead me back into the cellars, I knew. I had walked most of the tunnels at one time or another given the amount of free time I had at my disposal, but rather than turn around, I stopped and pressed my palm to the cool stone wall and held my breath as I took another careful step forward, then another.
I heard Cathedra's muffled weeping along with her whispered prayers, and against my better judgment, the sound of her despair drew me forward until I stood outside of the door. One more step and I would be able to peer inside the chapel.
"Please, I beg of you, come to me. Show me there is time still. Allow me one more chance to prove I am the most gifted singer in all of Europe."
Her prayer seemed a little selfish to me, but I was not one to believe in a higher power. Given how many nights I had begged to sleep with a full belly or a single night of resting without pain and constantly been denied, I had lost what little faith I had in any sort of deity. No one had listened to me. I wondered if God reserved himself for someone like Cathedra instead.
"I can hear you breathing," she continued.
My mouth dropped open as the words registered. I clamped my mouth shut, pursed my lips, and held my breath, unsure of what to do. Surely if Cathedra could hear me breathing she would hear me sprint down the hall. Unfortunately seconds turned into what felt like a lifetime without air, and I was forced to take a breath.
"You may step forward," Cathedra said.
My feet refused to move. The moment she saw my masked face, she would react either by screaming or fainting. I wanted neither.
"Are you mocking me?" she questioned, her voice tinged with anger.
"No," I said without thinking.
Dreadfully long silence followed my single word reply. I looked up at the drab stone ceiling still aglow with candlelight and racked my mind for some brilliant, poetic reply. Fear not, gentle lady of the stage, I wanted to say, for I am your loyal opera ghost.
But I was not her loyal ghost. I was a thirteen year old boy skulking through the early morning hours after a night of indulging in sweets and lying on the rooftop to view the stars.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
The honest answer was hunger, boredom, and terrible sleeping habits. Rather than answer, I reached for the door and started to close it, but Cathedra pushed it further open.
The threat of being discovered made me pull back. "Please do not look at me," I blurted out. My voice sounded different to my own ears, deeper and yet more childlike and desperate.
"Why not?" she calmly asked.
"I would rather not be seen."
She paused, perhaps considering my answer. "You wear a mask."
My lips parted. She knew precisely who I was without seeing me. "How...how did you know?"
Cathedra chuckled to herself. "I saw you. Or did you forget?"
"I could never forget."
"That was not my best performance."
"Last night was better," I agreed.
Cathedra grunted. "My beloved ghost is a critic, I see?"
"No, I...I…" Ashamed, I took a step back.
"Please do not leave," she said gently. "I did not intend my words to be harsh or mocking."
"Neither did I."
Cathedra stayed quiet for a long moment. I stared at the barrier between us and watched the candlelight flicker. I could picture her red hair and all, her fair skin with a warm, golden glow.
"When I did not see you again, I thought for sure you were part of my imagination. Then when I received your note I knew you were really there off stage. Why have you stayed away?"
I leaned against the wall and considered my words with care. "I did not intend to frighten or harm you. Please accept my sincerest apologies."
"You broke my fall," she mused.
I started to protest, but figured it did not matter if she thought I had caught her when she passed out in the chapel. If anything, Cathedra sounded comforted by my presence. After all of the time spent chained on display, I was glad to have someone else unafraid of me. The very notion made me smile inwardly.
"Do you have a name? Or shall I call you Opera Ghost?"
"I cannot give you my name, Senora, which I deeply regret."
"Your secret would be safe with me, I assure you." Again she gave the door a slight push and I stepped further back, retreating from the threat of being discovered.
"Your actions say differently."
I hoped she took my words as a gentle warning, but if she opened the door any further, I had every intention of bolting down the hall.
"My curiosity has gotten the best of me," she explained. "I will take two steps back."
She purposely dragged her feet against the stone flooring and counted her two steps. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw her shadow on the wall behind me became smaller and sharper.
I heard the wooden bench scrape against the floor and knew she had taken a seat again. Her breath sounded more labored, hissing past her teeth. I fought the urge to ask if she was feeling unwell as that seemed rather uncouth. Hearing her raspy breaths, it made me wish I had been uncouth enough to ask my uncle such a question.
"May I ask you a question?" she asked at last.
Now that Cathedra was at a distance, I felt myself relax in her presence. "You may."
"Are you a robber?"
Sweets and violin strings aside, I shook my head. "I am not."
"Are you a molester of women?"
Heat rose to my cheeks and the back of my neck. "Not in the least," I answered without a moment of hesitation.
She chuckled at my response. "I suppose considering the length of our pleasant conversation you are no murder either?"
My heart stuttered. She spoke lightly-indeed with a hint of flirtation that at the age of thirteen I did not understand-but still I hesitated to answer.
"I will do no harm to you, Senora. I am your obedient servant." Despite standing behind the door, I offered an awkward bow.
"Why do you wear a white mask?"
"I do not want others to see my face." I attempted to keep all emotion out of my voice despite my sudden discomfort.
"What is wrong with your face?"
I stared at my boots and envisioned my once filthy, callused feet partially hidden beneath wet straw. I thought of the crowds and the stench of too many people gathered in a tent.
"It is injured," I answered at last. My voice to my own ears sounded wounded. Head bowed, I silently begged her not to ask anything further.
"Very well then. I do not want to know if you are truly an angel or a ghost," she said. "I rather enjoy the intrigue. However, I will call you my ghost, my shy I cannot have your name, then I will give you one."
"As you wish," I replied. "Since you have asked several questions of me, may I ask you something, Senora di Carlo?"
She made a noise, a sound I likened to the sigh I made when chocolate melted in my mouth. "By all means, my beloved."
Again I felt heat rise up my neck and to my face at her flattering term of endearment. Her words made me forget what I wished to ask her.
"I...I, um…"
Her laughter was soft and musical, lacking even the slightest hint of mockery. I smiled, imagining the soprano with her head tipped back and her hand resting against her jiggling breast. This time I made myself blush with unchaste thoughts.
"Would you call me Cathedra, my sweet ghost?" she asked.
"I would."
"Then tell me, what is your question?"
I had many questions for her, many different inquiries about the stage, her career, what her apartments were like across the street from the Opera House, and if she liked coffee. The last seemed like the most foolish. Being a foolish boy, that was what I asked.
"Is this a trick?" she queried. Her voice rang with amusement.
"No, it is not."
"I prefer tea. Do you like coffee?"
"No." I grinned to myself, finding the small talk at a safe distance pleasant. My shoulders relaxed, my heartbeat more slow and steady. I reached into my trouser pocket and felt the note I had written to her beneath my fingers. I wanted to slide it beneath the door and sprint away, but I enjoyed her unseen company far too much.
"Then that makes us perfect companions, a soprano and her lovely spirit."
I wasn't sure if I blushed again or if there was fire now permanently on my cheeks.
"Cathedra." I liked the way her name sounded as it rolled off my tongue. It was a beautiful name, one I thought suited her.
"Yes, my spirit?"
"You were not afraid when you saw me?" I asked.
I heard the rustle of skirts and a long, deep breath drawn in and released. "There was nothing to be afraid of," she answered. "You were simply another member of the audience, one who appeared most attentive and appreciative of the arts. I would much rather have you in the first row than some stuffy old man who cannot be bothered to sit through a performance without falling asleep on his wife's shoulder."
I snorted. Cathedra giggled.
"You were entranced by the performance," she continued. "I could see it in your eyes and the smile on your face. All of the rose bouquets and chocolates fail to express what you did that night. I thank you, my gentle spirit, you truly reminded me what it is like to be appreciated.."
Her words summoned an unexpected lump in my throat. I took another step closer to the door, shy as a fawn inching from the safety of a tree into the open. I paused before she could see me and swallowed hard.
She did not fear me. In fact, she did not think of me as any different from other faces in the crowd. No, that was not entirely true. She thought I belonged in the front row. The concept of being accepted would have been wholly foreign for me, if not for Madeline and my uncle.
"My dear," Cathedra said softly. "There is someone coming. You should make haste if you do not wish to be seen."
My heart stuttered. Without a second of hesitation, I bolted past the chapel door, dashed down the hall, and rounded the corner. I did not stop until I reached the cellar door, and only then did I pause to grab my lantern. Only then did I realize the note I had kept in my pocket for several days was no longer with me.