The Holiday: Chapter Three

I awoke before the sunrise the next morning, shocked that I had slept the entire night (in full dress, no less) for the first time in years, and eager to leave Antoinette's stifling chambers. I had to admit that her intentions were kind, but I was enormously uncomfortable with such a gesture. Not once in my life had anyone doted on me, and it was unsettling to know that the ballet mistress cared so much. Perhaps time had taught me never to trust. Indeed, I could not see a time when I would fully open up to anyone, even my dear Christine.

She had fallen asleep on the divan by the window, her tiny form elegantly draped over the plush surface. Carefully, I gathered her up in my arms and placed her upon the bed, tucking the quilt over her form as quietly as possible. She did not awaken, but merely sighed in contentment and snuggled into the sheets, a small smile tickling her full lips.

I scribbled a hasty note of thanks and left it on Antoinette's table before leaving, relieved that I would not be there to endure a force-feeding.

I took one of the many hidden passageways back home to the cellars, coughing less severely than the night before. The chilly temperature in the house stood in stark contrast to the toasty dormitories above, and for a brief second I considered nipping back upstairs until my cold settled down. The thought of work to be done pushed all doubts aside, however. If Christine planned on leaving so soon, (so damned soon) arrangements must be made, notes sent, traps secured.

Most of the day was spent doing just that. The first order of business was to be able to return to an immaculate home. Never one for housekeeping but always concerned with an impeccable living space, I eliminated every speck of dust that had dared to float its way into the house. Furniture was rearranged, clutter was tidied up, and the piles of compositions that once littered the writing desk were now organized into several neat stacks, all secured with smooth black ribbons. I polished every instrument I owned, careful to avoid the gleaming reflective surfaces, and replaced them in their cases. The piano was wiped off, and it took nearly three hours to dust the gargantuan pipe organ that sat proudly in its own private chamber. Sweating something terrible, I plopped into the solitary seat at the dining table and composed the following note, which found its way to the manager's office shortly thereafter:

To my kind managers,

The opera shall be devoid of my presence for the next few days, due to urgent business matters that must be attended to. I expect everything to continue running as it normally does. Believe me when I say that my eyes reach beyond my head, and I shall know if anyone attempts to deviate from my orders. Should you feel the need to be rebellious, you will find yourself wishing that a certain part of your anatomy was still intact. Be warned that I am not one known to break his promises.
Do enjoy your holidays.

Respectfully and most humbly yours,
Opera Ghost

I hardly paid attention to the shirts and trousers that I tossed into my only traveling bag, thinking all the while of the trouble sure to come. I wondered what exactly this “darling little village” had in store for me. As small and quaint as Christine assured me that it was, “small and quant” did not mean “entirely bereft of people,” which was my preference. I was born in an alleged “small and quaint” village, and it heralded nothing but disaster. Whenever people and I mingled, bedlam erupted. Memories of merciless taunting and abuse slithered before my eyes, visions of demonic leers and and screams of terror, all sounding at once to produce a miserable cacophony--and all because of me! I had not ventured out of darkness’ maternal arms for nearly a decade, much less stepped out of the theatre for a leisurely stroll, and this woman, (this wonderful, inexplicably lovely woman) expected me to vacation like a normal man and enjoy it? I tried to picture myself walking in the snow with Christine, bright neutrals in place of the funereal black that was perpetually draped over my frame, a bright cheery smile plastered on my unmasked face.

I tried to picture it, tried being the key word. It resulted in a grim bark of laughter at the hilarity of the concept.

For her, however, I would gladly do the unthinkable. Inwardly, I cringed at the thought of being in such close proximity to the human race and their sappy gaiety, but for her...for her I would laugh right along with them.

After much protesting, of course. There is only so much idiocy I can take before I simply lose what little composure I have left--

“Packing, I see. Where are you off to?”

I tensed and thinned my lips at the sound of the familiar voice, and did not turn around to greet the intruder, shoving articles of clothing in the travel bag with more ferocity than was called for.

“How did you get down here?” I demanded.

“I believe once, when you didn’t bristle at the sight of me, you showed me how to dismantle the traps,” Nadir explained, “In case your good friend ever decided to pay you a visit.”

“Remind me to tell that good friend to mind his own damned business.”

He heaved a sigh.

“That would be impossible. I’m in far too deep now.”

I reluctantly turned to face him and saw that he was leaning against the doorframe with a curious little grin beneath several days of stubble, one expressive bushy eyebrow raised.

“I came by last night to ask about your meeting with the Daae girl, but found, much to my surprise, that the house was completely deserted.” His jade eyes darted over to me with a barely veiled humor. “I wonder what Don Juan and his princess were doing together...in the middle of the night...”

“Perhaps if you wipe that stupid smirk off of your face, Don Juan will tell you.”

The smirk disappeared.

I snatched up the bottle of Merlot that sat on the bedside table for--ah--emergencies and poured myself a glass, offering another to Nadir. He waved his hand in protest.

“No, thank you.” He eyed the glass in my hand disapprovingly. “You do know it is unwise to drink on an empty stomach?”

“Indeed it is.” I took a sip and gestured to the solitary chair against the wall, “Please, sit.”

He settled into the armchair and wasted no time in saying, “Well, out with it. Where were you last night?”

“You know I was with Mademoiselle Daae. Where else would I be? The cafe?”

“Mmm-hmm.” The teasing gleam returned to his eye, “And what did the two of you do exactly?”

“We simply met by the stables and then retired to Antoinette’s bedroom for the evening--”

“Aha!”

“--because the weather was hell and I would have hacked up a vital organ if we’d remained outside, you disgusting twit!” I barked, hurling a shoe at his head. He ducked just in time and it slammed against the wall behind him.

“Alright, alright!” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, “Allah above, my friend, you shall die of a heart attack if that temper remains so strong! Don’t you ever relax?”

“Yes,” I snapped between clenched teeth, taking a rather uncouth gulp of the Merlot and coughing. Nadir suppressed a laugh.

“All jesting aside,” he said, “what did she wish to speak with you about?”

“We discussed our...potential whereabouts over the duration of the holiday season. That is to say, ah, where we plan to...revel in the Christmastime merriment with...erm...the traditional joyous feasting and song.”

“What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I shall be absent for several weeks while Christine and I rent out a cabin in some sappy little town and spend the holiday there.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Regrettably not. It was her idea. She enjoys those sorts of things, you know...I suppose most people do...”

“Well, Erik, you never know,” he said with a shrug, “Perhaps you will enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, I bloody well shall! Do you suppose it would be polite to bring fresh baked cookies for our neighbors? One of those disgustingly adorable little baskets with the pink silk bows tied to the handle?” I stared into my wine glass moodily. The Merlot was entirely gone. Funny...I didn’t remember drinking the rest of it...

“So there will be other people, then?” There was a hint of concern in Nadir’s accented voice.

“Now you see, Nadir! I was wondering when it would sink into that thick head of yours!” I stormed over to the table and poured myself another glass, gulping furiously before beginning to pace the room. “Yes, there will be others! Other people. I cannot seem to completely escape people, can I? No matter where I go, no matter how much I isolate myself, people will find me!”

“I doubt it will be that bad--”

“Of course it will! You and I both know that this will end badly! It always does! Every time--every single damned time--my presence is inflicted upon people, disaster occurs. Surely you recall the last time I spoke with someone in person? Excluding the lot of you who simply will not leave me be...”

“Ah, yes.” Nadir actually had the audacity to chuckle. “I stopped by that tailor’s shop just last week, as a matter of fact. The poor fellow’s gone gray and developed a nasty stutter.”

“Exactly! And it will happen again and again to every unfortunate idiot who happens to see me! I tried to reason with Christine, Nadir, but she is hellishly stubborn when she chooses to be. She cannot see, does not realize what my company will to do her. What if , God forbid, someone recognizes her while she is with me? I will bring her nothing but trouble. Her good reputation will be shattered. The majesty that I have so carefully crafted about her will crumble. I will not jeopardize her position in society. I will not have it. She is too marvelous, too perfect...she does not deserve it.” I do not deserve her.

Nadir shifted in his seat and folded his dark hands, fixing me with that intelligent, thoughtful stare that I’d become grudgingly familiar with over the years.

“You underestimate yourself, my friend,” he said softly, “Life has taught you to expect conflict, and as a result you are lost when a grand opportunity presents itself to you. The woman wants to spend time with you...I find it curious that such an astounding genius such as yourself is unaware of the naked truth that lies right beneath your nose.”

I coughed pointedly.

“Erm...figuratively, of course,” he said hastily and scratched his own rather large nose. “You see more than men can ever dream to see, but in many ways, you have not yet begun to open your eyes.”

A philosophical silence reigned for the next several minutes as I set the wine glass down and finished packing. Nadir sat comfortably behind me, for once his intrusive presence not heralding a headache. It was an odd sensation, but I found that I enjoyed these quiet, amiable moments. It was an unusual part of our fragile friendship.

I thought of the many traps to be set, doors to be locked, passageways secured, private transportation to be arranged. If I could just persuade Christine not to spend her holidays with such a despicable creature. (Ah, yet another task to complete!) So much was to be done before my departure, but I could only focus on what the Daroga had said.

The woman wants to spend time with you.

What did he speak of? Surely he did not refer to Christine. Surely he did not infer that she harbored feelings for me! He was mad! No one in their right mind...

You have not yet begun to open your eyes...

It couldn’t be...

Unaware of the naked truth that lies right beneath your nose...

Could it?