Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine

by Theodora Bruns

  Later when I left home, the first time I felt happiness was when I began having compassionate feelings for Jean Luc and truly wanted to help him. After that, when I learned the skill of the Punjab lasso with the purpose of saving lives, I felt contentment. And when I was traveling with the gypsies, it was the happy expressions of those I entertained that made me happy.

  Even when it came to Persia and building the palace, it was the thought of doing it to protect the Shah and make him happy that gave me the most pleasure. Oded’s family was the same. His happy reaction when I agreed to stay with them, Sari’s happiness when she saw her new kitchen and bedroom, and Vashti’s happiness when she learned how to play the piano and when I agreed to marry her brought me my most memorable and happy thoughts of Persia.

  And then the happiness and change in attitudes of the Marseilles when I built their home, and the gratitude and happiness in Dominick’s family when I helped them, and Madame Giry and Meg and how happy they were when I helped them, those were the times that were the most important to me. All along it was about others and not my sorry self that gave me the most happiness. Helping others and making them happy is what life was about, I finally concluded.

  And that went a hundredfold for Christine. When I thought back over our time together, it was when I was making her happy that I was happy. Even when she was a babe in arms and I held that necklace up to her and laid it in her small hand, what I felt in my heart was priceless. While I began our relationship with the selfish motive of being close to her, in the end, it was the happy look in her eyes when she accomplished a piece of music, when she arrived at center stage during the gala, when I read to her, when she opened a present, and when we sang together that made it all worthwhile.

  I thought, if I could go back in time and change the outcome of our time together, I would do anything to prevent her tears and broken heart. Just as an artist, with one swipe of his brush, erases what he no longer wants on his canvas, I would erase that last night with Christine and Raoul in my home. Then his near-death and her fearful cries wouldn’t even be a memory.

  When I entered my parlor and leaned back against the door, I thought, it’s all about making others happy. The majority of my life, making my father happy was what kept me going. Even after his death, I pictured him looking down at me from heaven and felt contentment when I knew my actions would make him happy.

  I knew my father, Oded, and Christine wouldn’t be happy with my death, but that would be the price we’d have to pay to prevent the unhappiness to the multitudes of others if my life continued. With those thoughts in mind, I knew how I was going to spend my last day on earth.

  I changed into my work clothes, grabbed my tools, and then systematically went through all my passages and dismantled all the trapdoor latches, with the exception of the ones I might still need. Those I would have to dismantle when I used them for the last time.

  While I was working on the one to Christine’s dressing room, I couldn’t prevent my memories from taking me to our time together, but I didn’t allow them to go too deep before I moved on to the next latch. Once all of them were dismantled, the doors were nearly impossible for anyone other than me to open. That would prevent anyone from accidently finding my lair or my horrible mirror chamber.

  That project took a big part of the day, and then I did something I’d never done before. I went to the stable and started a conversation with the grooms, after they got beyond my mask, that is. I have to admit, though, that I did lie to them. I told them I was recently hired for a certain project in one of the cellars, and that I’d heard about the great horses in the stable and wanted to see them. But first I asked them about themselves, their lives, families, likes, hobbies, and anything they wanted to tell me about. I was smiling most of the time, thinking I then understood why Christine did that same thing so often. It was actually enjoyable to hear their stories.

  Then I went to all the horses, talked to them, felt them, smelled them, and listened to them. I left César for the last, and, with tears in my eyes, I ran my hands under his mane and around his ears, reliving all the times we’d spent together. When the pain became too great, I kissed his nose, looked in his eyes, told him I wouldn’t be coming back, and then told him goodbye. He nickered in response and shoved his nose against my chest, making my eyes fill with tears. Without making eye contact with the grooms, I thanked them and left the stable for the last time.

  My next project was a gruesome one, but I’d given my word and I had to fulfill it. It was difficult, but eventually I had my casket across the lake and up to the third cellar. Then, with a shovel in my hand, I prepared to dig my own grave. I walked the area by the well until I found the spot I’d told Raoul about, and then I started digging. As I did, I remembered the ones I’d buried there and the situations that surrounded their deaths. Deaths, I hated them, and I had to count each shovel-full of dirt to keep my sights set on my goals and not on my death.

  Once I was finished, I stared down into my casket in the dark pit for only a moment, and then I began backing away from it, feeling repulsed and frightened. I shook my head. I didn’t want to finish what I’d started, but I had to. So, with an angry cry, I slammed the shovel’s blade down into the unearthed mound of dirt and ran away like a frightened coward.

  I entered my home out of breath and knew I had to prepare for my final hours without thinking about what I was doing. So I made a plate of food, poured myself a glass of my best wine, and then took them and my journal to my chair. I ate calmly while writing some of my last thoughts in my journal and one final note to Madame Giry. I kept an eye on my tall clock, and, when it was the right time, I took a warm and leisurely bath before preparing to take in my last opera. Once arrayed in my finest attire, I made my way through one of the passages still open to me.

  After entering Box Five, I took a deep breath and allowed memories to surge through my heart. I made sure the door was locked, sat down, and placed my last box of English Sweets on the ledge along with an envelope, containing my last note to Madame Giry and the sapphire. The note held my sincere appreciation for all the help she’d given me over the years and a final goodbye. I explained I’d be leaving the Opera Populaire for good, and I wished both her and Meg many years of happiness.

  I didn’t think Christine would be performing Marguerite that night, and I was right, which was good and bad. There was no one who could portray that character better than Christine, so it was difficult to sit through my last opera, but then it would have been extremely difficult to sit through it if I was watching my love for the last time as well.

  I leaned back in my chair and surveyed the captive audience as I had so many times before. As I sat there, my thoughts went to my first visit to an opera house in Venice with my father by my side and then to all the other times I sat all alone in that box as the Opera Ghost. I looked at the empty de Chagny box and felt sad about the Comte’s death, and then wondered where Raoul and Christine were at that time.

  I sighed and looked at all the colorful costumes on the performers as well as the ones the spectators were wearing. They were all nothing more than actors in one form or another. Then I gasped and threw myself back farther in my chair when I saw Oded standing off to the side on the main floor. He was talking to an usher, and they were both looking up at my box. That tenacious daroga, I thought. He’s not going to give up until my final breath.

  Fifty-Six

  Instantly, I slid out of my chair, grabbed my hat and cloak, and crept along the wall until I reached the column. Within a minute, I was in the passage and the latch clicked into place. I waited silently for a few more minutes until I heard the key in the lock. Next, I heard whispered voices.

  “I shouldn’t let you do this, monsieur. I don’t think he’ll be pleased; however, since you say you’re his friend, I’ll make an exception. But, as you can see, he’s not here.”

  Surprisingly, that voice belonged to Madame Giry, and my jaw dropped. Oded! He could talk a wild lion into eating
straw for lunch instead of him.

  “Hmm,” was Oded’s response. “But I know I saw him.”

  “Many say they do,” Madame Giry replied, “but no one really does. I talk to him often, and even I’ve never seen him. He’s a ghost, monsieur. He can’t really be seen—not the way you think.”

  I looked through the hole and saw Oded look at her thoughtfully and nod, and then he began looking around. When he spotted the box of sweets and note, he started asking her questions, and I thought, no, don’t fall into his trap of questions.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “Oh,” she nearly gasped as she moved toward the ledge and picked up the box and note. “He’s been here. He’s left me another gift. He does that often. He’s very kind.”

  Oded nodded again. “Yes, that he is.” He hesitated a moment and then asked another question. “I don’t mean to be forward, but it’s important that I know what that note says. Do you mind reading it to me?”

  Madame Giry huffed and looked down at the note in her hand. “Well, I don’t know, monsieur, it might be personal, and I really don’t know you.”

  Oded looked at her kindly, and drove home his last question.

  “Then would you read it silently and tell me anything that is not of a personal nature? This is very important or I wouldn’t be asking. You could say it’s even a matter of life and death.”

  Like so many others before her, including myself, she was hooked by his savoir-faire and did as he asked. Almost cautiously, she broke the seal, opened the envelope, and pulled out the note and the sapphire. She took in a quick breath as she looked at the large stone lying in her palm, and so did Oded.

  “See,” she said. “He is so kind.”

  “Yes, I recognize his generosity,” Oded replied reflectively. Then he added, “The note? What does it say?”

  She began reading it, and after a few moments, her small hand covered her trembling lips, and she shook her head slowly.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered plaintively.

  “Madame? What is it?” Oded asked while moving closer to her.

  “Our Opera Ghost is leaving us. I can’t believe it. This is his last performance,” she replied with her hand still over her lips.

  Oded took a deep breath, nodded slightly, looked around at all the walls, and began knocking quietly on them—even the column, while I held my breath. Then, abruptly, he opened the door.

  “Merci, Madame Giry. You’ve been most helpful.”

  He then left, leaving my humble protector in tears.

  “Don’t cry, Madame Giry,” I said softy. “You can now let the management know that I no longer need my box so they can sell it. As I stated in my note, I’ve always appreciated your gracious assistance, and I feel the next owner of this box will also appreciate your attentive support. The sapphire is my final gift to you. Enjoy it in good health.”

  She straightened her shoulders back, nodded, and said, “Merci. I’ll miss you.”

  She then slowly left, and I stood there in the dark not knowing what to do next. I felt Oded was heading for my dock in an attempt to find me, so I couldn’t go home by that route. But then I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t going to be waiting for me to appear by the trap door he’d entered that fateful night. Or, he could be outside the box door, waiting for me to leave. Those were the only ways I had left of getting home, so, at first, I felt trapped, but not for long.

  I had to stop thinking and acting like a trapped rabbit and think more like the fox. I needed to be the hunter instead of the hunted. I needed to think like Oded who was trying to think like me. He knew I saw him looking at me, so he knew I was hiding. He knew I wouldn’t expect him to try to use the passage in the third cellar since that one nearly got him killed; therefore, I would think that was a safe passage for me to use.

  But, au contraire. For that very reason, and the fact that there were plenty of places for him to hide behind sets in that location, that’s where I believed he would wait first for me. After that, he would check the lake. If my boat was still there, he would wait there in the dark for a while and then head home, hoping to catch me when I left the box.

  Consequently, I rushed down the passage I was in that let me out in the fourth cellar. From there, I ran down the corridors toward the lake and where I’d hid Sari’s box, and then, with it in hand, I ran back up to that same passage and through it to my outside door.

  There were many broughams on the street, waiting for the opera to end, so I didn’t have a problem hailing one. I gave the driver Oded’s address and told him to hurry. Shortly, I stepped out of it on a side street close to Oded’s flat and told the driver to leave quickly. I then checked Oded’s window for any sign of life inside.

  There was a faint light, probably coming from the kitchen in the back, so I ran up the stairs as quietly as I could. Once at his door, I opened it with my personal key, cautiously stepped inside, and set Sari’s box on the small table where my wine glass usually sat when I was in his home. I then left just as quickly and quietly and ran back down the stairs and around that same corner.

  I waited a moment to catch my breath, and then I peeked around the corner for any sign of a carriage before crossing the street toward the Tuileries. But I didn’t cross right then, since I saw a carriage heading quickly toward me. I pressed myself back against the wall and waited for it to stop or pass by.

  Sure enough, it stopped, and then I heard Oded run up the stairs. Again, I waited until he came rushing back down and into the street where he turned in circles, looking for me. All the while his plaintive call tore through my heart.

  “Erik! Please! Please! Come talk to me! Please! Erik!”

  I silently told him, no, please don’t do this, and then I pressed my head back against the wall, closed my eyes tightly, and shoved my hands over my ears. I couldn’t bear to hear the pain and fear in his voice. I visualized his body lying in my torture chamber, with his blue lips and nail beds, and I understood how he felt. However, I was barely holding onto my resolve to put an end to it all, and another conversation with Oded could force my king to lie down, so I couldn’t be plunged into another confrontation with him.

  He kept calling and I kept telling him and myself, no. I almost gave in and answered him, but then I knew there was one big difference in his pain and mine. Oded was a good and kind man who never hurt anyone, whereas I was a monster who hurt many. He didn’t deserve what I did to him, but I did deserve what I was going to do to myself.

  He stopped calling my name when he began whistling for a brougham. Soon I heard one approaching and Oded enter it. Then it moved around the other corner, circling the Tuileries, but he kept calling my name, and I again silently asked him to let it go—just let me go.

  When the coach was far enough away, I entered the park and crept my way through it in the moonlight. But then I noticed that same brougham continue to circle the Tuileries. That didn’t surprise me, but it did make it necessary that I be more cautious as I moved through the park toward the opera house.

  When I reached the other end of the park, I waited for his carriage to begin another circle before I crossed the street to the next block. From there it was more difficult to stay hidden, since he continued to circle one block after another, and I didn’t have the cover of the trees.

  Then, what made it worse was my desire to buy two more roses, so, when I spotted a flower vender who was just closing up his stand, it took strategic timing to approach him and purchase those two red roses and disappear again. Eventually, I reached my outside door and had it opened. Then one last time I heard the faint call of my name in the distance.

  I turned, looked in its direction, and whispered, “Au revoir, Mon Ami.”

  With a deep sigh, I entered the opera house without being seen by him, which left me with mixed emotions. I almost wished he had caught me and tried again to change my mind. If he had, I would have had an excuse not to follow through with my suicide.

  Once in my home, I put the two ros
es in a vase and set it on Christine’s dressing table next to her jewelry box. I hoped she would understand that gesture was telling her that I still wanted her future to be a beautiful one. Then, without giving myself too much time to think, I grabbed my tools and headed out to disable the last of the trapdoor latches. Once I was finished, there was only one way into or out of my home and that was by way of the lake.

  I’d already left my boat at the dock for Raoul to use, so I only had a few other tasks to do for him. I turned on the light in my docking room, climbed the steps to the viewing window and opened it so it could serve as a beacon leading him to my home.

  I then entered my parlor, leaned up against the door, and waited for it to click, just as I’d done a thousand times before, but that would be my last time to do so. Then I checked my mental list to make certain I’d secured everything. When I knew I had, I sighed, knowing there wouldn’t be any accidental deaths due to my diabolical genius, especially considering I still felt I was a curse and could always cause someone harm even after my death.

  I stopped for a few minutes and gave myself the chance to enjoy the last glass of my best wine and the warmth of a fire while thinking, not many people had the opportunity of knowing exactly when they will die, and, in some respect, I felt I was strangely privileged to have that chance.

  I’d been able to use those four days to see my life as a whole, the good and the bad times, the strong and the weak times, and the laughter and the tears. But that trek through my life left me with serious doubts about what I was planning to do with the rest of it, which I knew was exactly what Oded was counting on. At the heart of it all, I believe I’d healed somewhat from the trauma of that frightful last night in my home, and I didn’t want to die—not yet.