Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine

by Theodora Bruns

  Still in tears, she repeated, “I can’t do this. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”

  I placed my palm on the back of her head and tried to be encouraging. “You once thought you couldn’t sing center stage, but you did it. You’re a strong woman, and you can do this.”

  “But I had you beside me at that time,” she pleaded.

  I looked at Raoul. “And you have a strong man beside you this time as well. Think of what he’s done for you. He jumped into the darkness of the unknown just to save you from a monster. He had no thought of his own safety, only for the woman he loved. He was ready to fight to his death for you. There’s never been a knight fighting a dragon who’s shown more bravery than your childhood sweetheart. Not many women can say that about their husbands, but you can. Take his hand, Christine, and let him lead the way.”

  “Erik,” she began again with sobs, but I had to stop her.

  “We can’t continue to prolong this torture. Sh,” I said softly while placing one finger on her lips. “Sh. No more words, no more tears, only happy thoughts of the future.”

  I kissed her hand once more, placed it in Raoul’s hand, and gave him a final nod. He nodded in return, and then held out his hand to me.

  “Erik, thank you.”

  I was actually surprised by that gesture, but we shook hands like two normal men passing on the street. I felt he wanted to say more, but he chose not to express it, and I chose not to question it. Then, with his arm around her, they climbed the stairs. I watched them until she glanced back at me.

  Then I whispered, “Goodbye, Christine. Au revoir, My Angel.”

  Fifty-Three

  Before I fell to my knees in sobs, I turned and began my journey back to my home alone. That was going to be my last glimpse of the woman I cherished and my last words to her. I didn’t make it far before my tears were so thick I couldn’t even make out the steps in front of me. Miraculously, I managed not to trip down the stairs or run into a pillar on my way across the lake.

  When I entered my parlor, I leaned back against the door and waited for it to click into place, thinking, that was one of the hardest acts I’d had to perform, but at least I managed to tell her goodbye with a measure of dignity; however, that dignity was short-lived.

  Silence. I listened closely, and all I could hear was the ticking of the floor clock. Yes, I hated silence, especially the silence that filled my home at that time. It wouldn’t matter if I played my music or sang, since the silence surrounding me was the absence of Christine, and nothing could change that.

  I pressed my head back against the door and closed my eyes tightly, trying to prevent any further tears, but what I’d lost spoke too loudly. I slid down the door, crying out in my agony. I crumpled in a ball, threw my arms around my head, pulled at my hair, crying out in my agony. I rocked and I rocked, crying out in my agony. I screamed, cursing my very existence.

  “Oh, Christine! My Angel! My Christine!”

  I rocked and I cried out her name, believing my lie to her was surely going to be my truth. It felt as if my heart was rupturing, and I longed for its last beat. Unfortunately, it kept beating, forcing me to face the silence. The only saving grace was knowing it wouldn’t be much longer and my heart could take its last beat. Less than 24 hours and I could finish it.

  With that realization, I got to my feet and prepared for my death. I locked the two black boxes on the mantle, turned out all but one light, and poured a glass of brandy. Then I headed for a bath and hopefully relaxation. I made it into the bath but not the tub. I was surrounded by all of Christine’s lavender things. The tears started again, so, before I lost my composure completely, I left her rooms and shut her door. Then, while sitting in my chair with my brandy and staring at the dead coals, I prepared my script for Oded.

  It was difficult to concentrate on it, since Christine’s tears kept getting in the way. Eventually, I knew I had to get out of my home and away from everything that reminded me of her before I could concentrate on anything. So I left for Oded’s.

  A summer storm was threatening to unleash its power when the brougham let me off at the entrance to the Tuileries across from Oded’s flat. I walked to a bench and sat down, going over my lines one more time, just as an actor does in the wings while waiting for his cue. I also used that time to catch my breath. I was exhausted. I couldn’t remember when I’d slept last, but then, my exhaustion would add to my dying script. I wouldn’t have to act nearly as much to make my story believable.

  When I felt I had the strength to continue, I climbed the stairs and knocked. The thick cloud cover made the night extremely dark, without even the moon to lighten the hallway where I waited. Darius finally opened the door with a look of surprise.

  “I need to speak to Oded. Would you get him for me please?” I asked, while beginning my act by leaning on the doorframe.

  I entered and wearily held onto the back of a chair, while he headed toward the back of the flat. He returned shortly with a sleepy Oded, who was rubbing his eyes and blinking in the candlelight.

  “Erik, what are you doing here?” he questioned with a frown and in the middle of a yawn.

  I wobbled and replied breathlessly, “I need to speak with you alone.”

  He motioned for Darius to leave us and then waved me to a seat. I removed my cloak and hat and laid them over the back of the overstuffed chair I usually sat in, and then I sank into that chair, panting for breath, while he went to the dark window and looked out. In those few moments of rest, I realized how weak I was, but I didn’t fight it. I would use it to help me play the part of a dying man.

  With his back to me, he questioned in an aggravated tone, “What makes you think I want to talk to you, after all you’ve done?”

  “I know you’re angry, Oded, and rightfully so, but I need you to hear me out. It might help.”

  “First, tell me where Christine and Raoul are. Are they still locked in your dungeon?”

  “I don’t know where they are.”

  He turned quickly and gave me a stern look. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I sent them on their way. Christine is in Raoul’s care. By now, they should be in bed, hopefully, their respective beds, but I don’t know.”

  He turned back to the window and huffed, “What is it you want to tell me? Make it quick. I don’t feel well, and I want to return to my bed.”

  Well, this is it, I thought. The stage is set, and the final performance of my life is about to commence. Now, if I can pull it off successfully, without stumbling over my words and raising his suspicions, I can move on. Oded was a difficult man to fool, especially when it came to our relationship. The trying times we’d spent together over the years made it extremely difficult for either of us to deceive the other, but I had to try. So, with a weak, shaky, and hesitant voice, I began.

  “She kissed me! She really kissed me, Oded. After 45 years of waiting for that special kiss from a woman, I can hardly believe it. I got my first kiss. She kissed me—right here.”

  As he turned and looked at me, I rested my shaky finger on my forehead and watched his expression closely. Through his anger, he almost managed to smile, but sadness filled his jade eyes. With that expression, I knew he understood how I felt, so, with a sigh, I laid my head back, closed my eyes, and relaxed even more.

  I heard his words, but their meaning was lost on me, since my thoughts had traveled to Christine’s eyes when she’d glanced back at me for the last time. Then I thought about the first time I saw her on that stage and how she made me feel. Even though the last few days had been a living nightmare, the knowledge that she loved me and gave me that kiss soothed the ragged edges of my heart.

  “Erik!—Erik!”

  Oded’s voice had a sense of urgency sliding between his anger, so I opened my eyes and found him holding my wrist.

  “Are you all right, Erik?”

  “I should be asking you that question after the horrific experience I put you through.”

  “I�
�m suffering, but I’ll live. However, you look horrible. You look like you need to see a doctor.” He released my wrist and stood up straight, still looking down at me with his disciplinary father expression. “I really wish you’d leave those cellars and live a normal life in the sunlight where you belong. I believe that would help your physical ailments and maybe help you monitor your sanity in the process.”

  His words could have caused a heated argument. I felt he should know by then that for me to live a so-called normal life among the world of mankind was unthinkable. But, rather than argue with him and perhaps leave him in an angered state, I had to reason with him and calm him somehow.

  “I’ve lived in the cellars for well over a decade, and I’ve done so while in good health. The cellars have nothing to do with my current condition. There have been a few traumatic events of late that have taken their toll on me. According to an expert opinion, the Opera Populaire will be free of its ghost soon.”

  His daroga eyes pierced through my words with accuracy, and I feared he somehow saw through my guise.

  “What are you trying to say, Erik?”

  “I’m trying to tell you that it’s the end of the road for my weary heart. It’s been damaged beyond repair by the repeated lung infections. My last visit to the doctor confirmed that it’s just too late. He believes my life, such as it is, is going to end very soon, my friend, and I’m here to ask for your help.”

  “Erik! What are you trying to pull?” he came back quickly. “You have to remember, I’ve seen you much worse than you are right now. What kind of a prank are you conjuring now? Whatever it is, I’m not amused.”

  Trying not to sound angered, I responded, “You have to remember, during that time in Persia I had a good reason to live, and that gave me the will to live. I had a wonderful girl waiting for me, whereas now, I have nothing, so there’s no longer a will or a reason for me to continue on. I’m much older now and my body has been through much recently, and it’s tired and giving out. I’ve done and seen more than most men do in many lifetimes. There’s nothing more I want to do—except to die.”

  “You can take your talent to the world,” he responded in defense of my life, although I didn’t know why. “You can share your genius and your inventions with mankind. That’s something that would be worthwhile to many and give you a reason to live.”

  Still trying to speak softly, I told him, “You’ve never really listened to me, have you? At the age of ten, I was run out of my hometown, and, shortly thereafter, I was kept in a cage and treated like an animal—all for the enjoyment of mankind. After escaping, I had to live alone and like an animal in order to stay ahead of mankind’s persecution. I really tried in Venice to be a part of humanity, but I was again shunned.

  “I don’t need to take you on that painful path through Persia, do I? Everything that happened there was because I wanted to share my gifts and live a normal life in the sun. I’ve never told you about all my near-deaths while working on the opera house and living in the cellars. You haven’t forgotten what happened to Dominick, have you? That was because they were after this,” I said as I tapped my mask.

  “I thought if I lived in its cellars, I’d be safe from persecution and others would be safe from me, but it didn’t work out that way. During the war with Prussia, I received a near fatal stabbing from a man who wanted to capture me and treat me as his trophy. You might think that happened because we were in the midst of a war, but it never stopped when the war ended.

  “Only a few months back, I caught a bullet in my leg from the opera’s chief scene-shifter. Remember that limp you questioned? Well, I nearly died from the infection that bullet caused. The doctor had pretty much given up any hope of my surviving it. Somehow, I did survive it, but my heart didn’t. The infection destroyed the biggest part of it, and what little is left is tired and giving up.

  “Just a month or so back, I caught another bullet—this time in the back and from our renowned Vicomte. That one also almost killed me. This has been my life, Oded, and I’m tired of it. I’m ready to give in to their wishes, only they won’t have anything to show for it. I’ll take my unique head to my grave with me, so they won’t get it as a trophy.

  “In addition, look what I almost caused last night—a near catastrophe for Christine, Raoul, and you, not to mention an opera house full of unsuspecting spectators. No, my friend, my body and mind are tired, and I can’t fight anymore. It’s no longer only a matter of my sick lungs, but now I also have a sick heart of the worst kind to contend with.”

  There was silence in the room while I watched the candle’s light cast dancing shadows across his questioning face. His eyes began to soften, but he continued searching mine for any hint that my words were only another hoax. He got up, and, after getting us two glasses of brandy, he stood at the window that was being pelted with heavy rain. I held my breath, waiting to see if he was going to nibble on the bait that was dangling precariously on my hook.

  He took a healthy swallow of his brandy, and, without turning from the window, he showed he not only took the bait but also the hook, line, and sinker along with it.

  “I’m sorry, Erik. I didn’t realize you were having serious heart problems. But I can’t bring myself to believe that there’s nothing more that can be done. Are you certain about this? Is there nothing more that you can do? Is there nothing more that I can do? Perhaps you should get a second opinion from another doctor.”

  Knowing him the way that I did, his reaction took me by surprise, and I almost felt guilty with the ease of it all. I tried to hide my shock and answer his questions without arousing his natural suspicious nature any more than I already had.

  “I can assure you, all that can be done has already been done. The doctor who’s been taking care of me has consulted all the medical books and his colleagues for a solution, but there isn’t one. He’s actually surprised that I’m still walking around. He thought I’d be dead a long time ago.”

  “I see,” he said softly with a nod. “We can make room for you to stay here, and we’ll take care of you until the end. You may have preferred to live alone, but you shouldn’t die alone in those cold and dark cellars.”

  “Considering your condition last night, my friend, you may not remember, but my home is neither cold nor dark, and it has everything I need there—especially my music. I want my music at hand until the end. I should at least be able to have that. You know what it means to me.”

  “Then I’ll stay with you in your home. I can’t bear the thought of you dying alone.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to think fast. He was checking my every move, and I couldn’t allow that. So I slipped into the next stage of my plans.

  “I’ve lived a solitary life, my friend, so it’s only fitting that my death be solitary. But I really didn’t come here to discuss the pros and cons of a solitary death, and I don’t have the strength to dispute with you anymore. I came here to tell my friend, my only friend, what was soon to take place, as a kindness, and to ask for one last favor.”

  “I understand. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  I took a deep breath and searched for the right words. I’d spent hours preparing my speech, but once the time had come to present it, I found my thoughts were all in disarray. They weren’t making any sense to me, so how was I going to make it simple and easy for that long-time companion of mine to comprehend? I took a sip and then another of the brown liquid in my hand, trusting it would give me the courage to face him with such a ridiculous request.

  Once I got him to sit back down in his chair, I again took a sip of my brandy and a deep breath before I began telling him much the same thing I’d told Raoul and Christine the night before. I told him about my pretend marriage to Christine, my gold band on her finger, and, at the risk of sounding even more insane, I tried to let him know that I felt she really loved me. Then I described how both Christine and Raoul were going to bury me in the cellar by the well.

  My words were even more ridic
ulous when I heard them out loud than when they first appeared in my head. I sounded more like a madman than I ever had before, and that was quite often. I wished I could have taken them all back and started over again. Unfortunately, I had no choice except to play the scene out. I could tell from Oded’s body language that I didn’t want to give him a chance to speak until I was finished, so I continued with my most unusual appeal.

  “I’ve arranged for a special package to be delivered to you. It will have some of Christine’s things in it. When you get it, you’ll know I’m dead, and all I ask is that you place an advertisement in the Epoque. It only needs to read, ‘Erik is dead.’ Raoul will be watching for it and will know it’s time for his part to begin—and my part to end.”

  He stared across the room at me and began wagging his head back and forth. I had to force myself to remain seated and resist the temptation to throw my hands in the air and run out of his home. I watched him slowly rise to his feet, and, once again, make his way to the rain soaked window, still shaking his head. He remained there for a moment more, while I moved forward in my chair and anxiously awaited his reply. Then, abruptly, he turned on me with his hands in the air, his voice raised, and that ever so familiar look of total disagreement on his face.

  “How can you do this, Erik? How can you do this to her? How can you be so selfish? Hasn’t she gone through enough? Haven’t you put her through enough these past months? What are you thinking? Are you mad? Do you want to make her insane? I can’t believe you’re really considering this outlandish scheme.”

  I sat back, lowered my head, and watched my brandy swirl around in my glass before trying to answer him in the calmest and softest tone I could. But as lightning and thunder flashed and rolled through the room, he stopped my words and began pacing back and forth in front of me.

  “No! This is all wrong!” he blurted out. “If you love her the way you say you do, then you can’t put her through this. Can’t you see how much grief this will cause her? Can’t you just let her go to live her life in peace? And do you really think Raoul will allow Christine to go back to your house after all that’s happened?”