Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine

by Theodora Bruns

  “Oh, yes!” I exclaimed emphatically, moving forward again and clenching my fist on the edge of the chair. “I know for a certainty that he’ll not only allow it but also insist on it. Can’t you see? That will be his moment of triumph, to see his monstrous opponent finally dead and buried once and for all. I imagine Christine will cry, she cries quite easily you know, but I’m certain her young lad will be jumping for joy. In fact, I can picture him now, dancing on my grave after he’s pounded the earth solidly over my lifeless body.”

  He stopped right in front of me, his hands spread in a pleading gesture, and his jade eyes looking down at me like an angry father disciplining his wayward child.

  “Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Erik. This is neither the time nor the place for it.”

  I leaned back, trying to rest my aching shoulders, relax my tightening jaw, and slow my rising temper. I took a long deep breath and told myself to be patient with my friend. So I looked away from him and focused on my hands, gently rubbing my naked little finger. Again my hand looked and felt strange without my father’s gold band, but the warm expression in Christine’s eyes when I’d placed it on her delicate finger was worth it.

  Oded deliberately cleared his throat, reminding me he was still waiting for an answer. I looked back at him and tried again to satisfy his incessant need for a logical explanation.

  “You need to understand, Oded, it’s for Christine that I’m doing this. She needs to know for a certainty that I’m gone. She can’t just be told or it will always leave a doubt in her mind—is that shadow at the end of the drive Erik? Is that man across a crowded restaurant Erik?

  “You were never able to see your family buried, and I’ve often seen the look in your eyes when you’ve seen a Persian woman or child. I know you’ve wondered if, perhaps, just by chance, one of them might have escaped the horrors of that day. Isn’t that true, my friend? I know I’ve hoped—wished—that even one of them could have escaped.”

  He didn’t have to audibly answer, but I saw it in his eyes nonetheless.

  “This death—this burial of mine, is the only way she’ll be able to leave all of this behind and go on with her life in peace. What I want, more than anything else, is for her to have peace—complete peace without any doubts. She has to see my dead body and watch the dirt being shoveled over me until I disappear—this time, forever.

  “I want her to go away with Raoul, away from this city of memories, and start a life and family with him. And I never want her to pick up a newspaper and read about some strange occurrence at the Paris Opera House that is blamed on the Opera Ghost and then wonder. I never want her to have one moment of doubt—ever.

  “Believe me, I know only too well the necessity of seeing firsthand the final curtain drop before you can accept that it’s over. She has to accept my death before she can put that special relationship we shared to rest. She’s been torn between Raoul and me for far too long. This is the only way, Oded. I’ve thought this through thoroughly. This is the only way.”

  His hands slowly dropped at his side, and his eyes softened with his understanding. After a moment or two, he picked up our glasses, left the room, and returned with more brandy in them. I looked closely into his eyes, using what I knew of him to determine if I’d pulled off my act successfully, and if he was going to let it rest.

  He held the glass toward me, and I reluctantly took the sparkling liquid from his hand, contemplating if I could afford to be any more relaxed than I already was. After placing it on the table beside me, I knew I had to bring the conversation, the last of many, to a conclusion.

  “Thank you, my friend, for your understanding. I’ve said all there is to say, and I’m extremely tired, so I need to return home and rest.”

  I managed to get to my feet, threw my cloak over my shoulders, positioned my hat, and turned to take one last look at a very good man. Our eyes managed to exchange the feelings concealed in our hearts—the ones our lips were unable to utter. We looked at each other for a moment, before I placed a finger on the brim of my hat and made a slight nod in a gesture of farewell. Then I turned and headed for the door, believing I’d played out my last act triumphantly. But I was premature in my thinking, and he was instantly in front of me, blocking my way out of his home.

  “Erik, look at me!”

  I quickly glanced at him, with an irritated sigh, telling myself I should have known I couldn’t get away that easily, not from him.

  “No! Really look at me!” he repeated, with that tone that told me he wasn’t going to let it rest, not just yet.

  Our eyes met one more time. Then, just as I feared, he began those questions again that he was so famous for.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there, Erik? You’re not going to die a natural death, are you? You’re planning something, aren’t you? Are you planning to use some of your own expertise on yourself? Poison perhaps? Morphine? Or is it your own lasso? What is it? What are you going to do?”

  Silence filled the room, and I could hear the small pings as each rain drop hit the window. The seconds ticked away, along with my supposed control of the situation. Our eyes remained fixed on each other’s, and our bodies remained perfectly still, resembling two alley cats just waiting for the other to break eye contact before the final, fatal pounce.

  “You talk like a crazy man, Oded. Perhaps, you’ve been reading too many suspense novels. Why would I take my own life? You know how my health has gone up and down. Well, right now, it’s gone down and it refuses to get up.”

  Without a second’s hesitation, he came back at me, and that time I recognized his tone all too well. He was not only on the scent, but, like a hound dog, he had his prey cornered and was sounding his triumph. Within the next second, his daroga teeth had sunk into my lie, and I knew he’d never let go. His olive brow wrinkled, his eyes narrowed, and he ruthlessly threw more questions at me.

  “Is that it, Erik? Do you plan to take your own life? Answer me straight. Don’t try to drown my questions in a sea of carefully placed words. They don’t work on me.”

  I again felt so weak in the knees, and I just couldn’t endure the thought of dealing with him and his infernal questioning any longer.

  “Oded, please don’t push me, not now. I don’t want our last goodbye to be a heated one, so don’t force me to leave without another word. I’m trying to accept my death with a measure of dignity. Will you please do the same?”

  My tone didn’t ruffle him in the least, and he showed no sign of letting up on his infuriating interrogation. I knew then that he wouldn’t give it up until he received the answer he was expecting. He had that intense lock on my eyes, as if he feared I would vanish into thin air somehow if he let go of it.

  “Curse you, Oded,” I shouted. “I only want to live the remainder of my days in peace—can’t you understand that? Can’t you just let me be?”

  I placed both my hands on his shoulders and tried one last time to receive his acceptance, only that time in a softer and controlled tone.

  “Oded, I know your religion teaches that a suicide can be considered a righteous act if done for the right reason. Now, I admit I’m tired and want out of this cursed life, but what I’m doing is for Christine. It’s right and righteous that I do this, one final, unselfish act, to atone for the multitude of wicked ones.”

  He motioned for me to sit back down, and at that moment my weary body was most willing to comply. He again looked intently into my eyes and continued to question me, not with his daroga mind-set, but as the friend that only he had ever been.

  “Erik, do you have any idea why I risked everything I had, even my own life, so you could live? Why do you think I didn’t arrest you for the death of those men the first time I met you? And all the time I spent following you around the Paris Opera House, do you think I was doing that for my own health?”

  His questions went unanswered by me, but I did sigh and take a large swallow of my brandy. Then I got up again and moved to the windo
w, leaning against its frame. The unusual rain had stopped and a large silver moon was peeking in and out from behind dark, fast-moving, and menacing clouds. I watched a mother carrying her bundled child quickly across Rue de Rivoli. Then I thought about all the things I’d never been able to do, nor would I ever be able to do. With all the knowledge and powers I possessed, I’d never be able to accomplish the simple things in life that so many people took for granted.

  The simple things, sitting in the park on a sunny spring day with my wife by my side, watching our child play ball with a dog, or lying beside my wife on our wedding night, full of love and with our passion satisfied. Simple things—yes, simple things, but they were all as far away from me as the elusive moon I was watching.

  Oded’s voice broke my gaze, and I looked at him standing beside me. From the expression in his genuine eyes, I knew I owed him honest answers to his inquiries, along with whatever time he asked of me. So back to the chair I went, sat down, and took another sip of my brandy. Then I motioned for him to be seated. He responded to my gesture, sat down, and after taking a slow breath, continued with his compassionate plea.

  “That morning when I first met you on the road to Mazenderan, I knew you weren’t just another man, Erik. There was something different about you, and it wasn’t your mask or the rumors about your mysterious ways. I saw something in your eyes that you don’t see every day, and the more I learned about you the more I was sure I’d made the right decision in not taking you into custody.

  “Erik, if I were to live a thousand years, I don’t believe I’d ever find someone else like you. Your brilliance and genius, your music, your love and passion for life, you can’t just throw all that away. You’ve made it clear to me on more than one occasion that you’re capable of doing anything you put your mind to, and over the years I’ve seen that to be true.

  “Remember, I was there in Persia, and I saw you singlehandedly save over a thousand men’s lives and at great risk to your own. If someone else had built that palace, they all would have been killed. But because of the impossible you made possible, they went on to have children and grandchildren. You have so much you could give, Erik, and I know you could find a way to give it if you would only try.”

  He paused again and looked even more deeply into my eyes, if that were possible, before he finished his plea. “I realize your life has been far from an easy road, but, please, Erik, please think about what I’ve said before you do anything that can’t be undone.”

  With that having been said, he leaned back, and with a simple movement of his hand, he let me know he was finished and waiting for my reply. I bent forward, lowered my head, and removed my mask, rubbing my face and eyes while trying to find the right words to convince him I was right.

  I was beginning to feel quite ill, but I knew I had to find the strength to finish what I started before I left. I was so fatigued physically, emotionally, and mentally that I only wanted to lie down and sleep. Oh, if he would only let the conversation go and me along with it. I replaced my mask and leaned back, searching my so-called genius mind for the right words before turning my attention back to him.

  “You make a sincere supplication, my friend, but, you have to remember, I have spent a lifetime trying to share my genius, as you call it, and where has it gotten me? No one wants my genius, not if it comes with this face, no one,” I said as I tapped my knuckles under my chin. “Just think about it. I’ve been forced to live as a total recluse in the bowels of one of the most populated structures in all of Paris—no, in all of France. No one cares, Oded, no one except you. No one will miss me when I’m gone.”

  I hesitated a moment and glanced out of the window and then straight back at him before I continued, “No one will miss my genius, because they never knew it existed. No one knows about the contributions I’ve given to the Opera House or any other edifice for that matter. No one knows or cares about the scientific achievements I’ve made or could still make if given the chance. No one.

  “The Opera Ghost will be gone, and there’ll be a celebration because of it. When most men die, people cry and grieve, but, when I die, people will be joyous and celebrate. In fact, I can imagine the opera management might produce a special gala event in recognition of this one-time happening. What kind of a legacy will that be?”

  I took a deep breath and fixed him a special look. “No, my unique friend, I’m now convinced, more than ever that it takes a very special person to be able to see beyond this mask. They are few and far between, and I’m simply too weary to search for them any longer. Is that so difficult to understand?”

  He didn’t answer me, at least not in audible words, but I could sense in his expression that he had to acquiesce to my final conclusions. I paused long enough to take another sip and then reflected on my past.

  “In all my 45 years, there have been only a few special individuals who cared enough to see me for the person I really am, you being one of them. At this rate, I couldn’t live long enough to put together a quartet, no matter how hard I tried. Therefore, this is the best thing I can do for the two people who do care about me.

  “I once warned you not to befriend me, Oded, but you chose to ignore the warning, which has brought you so much unhappiness, and my remorse over that is impossible to describe even to this day. Now it’s time to put an end to the suffering of all concerned, and, more importantly, to prevent any more tragedies from occurring.”

  We watched each other for a few moments, and, as I saw his jaws clenching, I hammered in what I hoped would be the final nail. “Oded, you do remember that I almost killed you in anger at the palace, don’t you? And I know you couldn’t have forgotten what I was responsible for at the campsite—all because of my anger.”

  I lowered my eyes, took a deep breath, and then looked back at my friend. “Last night, I came so close to ending the lives of perhaps thousands of innocent people all in a matter of seconds, just because of my painful anger. While you and Raoul were in my mirror chamber, I couldn’t have cared less about your life.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying to you? I knew the two of you were going to die in there, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about my best friend’s life ending at my hands. I was so out of control with hurt and anger that I didn’t care who I injured or killed, and unlike that time in Persia, I can remember all of it, all the anger and uncaring hatred.”

  Then, looking down at my hands and again running my fingers over my naked little finger, I said softly, “I was even going to let Christine die if she made the wrong decision. I just didn’t care any longer about anyone’s life, including my own and that of the only woman I’d ever loved.”

  While thinking how he was the only man, other than my father, that I’d let get that close to me, I looked back at him and added, “I didn’t care about the life of the only man I’d ever let into my heart.” Then with all the strength I had in me, I poured my soul out to him and pleaded, “Do you see and can you understand what I’m trying to tell you?

  “I don’t think you ever understood why I locked myself down in the fifth cellar. It wasn’t only to spare myself from the hurtful actions and attitudes of those around me but, more importantly, it was to spare the lives I could have taken if I’d stayed among mankind. I haven’t trusted myself since we left Persia, and I made the mistake of listening to my lonely heart long enough to fall in love with Christine, and, in doing so, I almost did more harm than in all the rest of my life. I can’t take the chance of letting that ever happen again.”

  I leaned forward, placed my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands, then finished softly. “If I wasn’t such a coward, I’d turn myself into the police. Then maybe they would hang me for the crimes I’m accused of, even if I didn’t commit them. But I fear they would only lock me up and not bring my sorry life to an end. I don’t deserve to live any longer, Oded. I’m a danger to everyone.” Then, looking back up at him, I whispered, “Even you.—Please—help me end this—just let me go.”

&nb
sp; Fifty-Four

  With that having been said, those caring eyes began to fill with tears. That was my cue to leave the scene before I also lost my composure and cast myself as the imbecile in my mournful tragedy. I rose and stood before him, silently willing him to let this be the last of it. He took a deep breath, and I closed my eyes, picturing him starting up again, but he merely exhaled slowly and turned his gaze to the darkness outside. I moved beside him and placed my hand on his shoulder as a gesture of farewell.

  One more time he questioned, “Are you sure you want to do this?” Then he looked up at me. “I understand why you fear to live around people in general, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you have to stop living to do it. You could still live in your home in the cellars, and I could visit, and we could play chess or just talk like old times. Perhaps, from time to time, we could even take a ride in the country on horses as we once did.

  “And then there’s your music. You’ve made it clear on many occasions how much it means to you. Live for your music, and let your music give you a reason to live.”

  I lowered my shaking head. “Perhaps in another lifetime that was true, but no more. Without Christine, my music is voiceless.”

  “But you had your music long before you knew Christine.”

  “That’s true. But just because I can enjoy the marvel of a beautiful sunset doesn’t mean I’ll always enjoy it. If I go blind, I can no longer see it and enjoy it. Music without Christine in it isn’t music, and life without music in it isn’t a life worth living.”

  There was silence while I watched him searching for a way to change my mind, and I felt pity for him. We’d been friends for over 24 years, and to hear me talk about death the way I was had to be painful for him. I know it would be for me if he was the one talking about death. I was searching for comforting words for him when he tried again.