The off season is interminably dull. There are fewer performances and fewer rehearsals. In short, fewer people about the Opera for my amusement. Oh, I don’t always garner enjoyment by scaring them. Most of the time, simply watching them, living a normal life vicariously through the people of the Opera, was enough for me. If you can call opera singers normal. But on that oppressively sunny and endless May day, there was no one about.
That damned director had announced a middle of the week break from rehearsals for “Tales of Hoffman” until the unusual heat broke, and the Opera was all but deserted. Normally, this would have suited me just fine, but this cast had been rather more interesting than most and I had, for once, enjoyed having my peace disrupted by the presence of so many people. So, on this hot afternoon, I found myself making my way towards the little side lobby where the tours started, fully intending to stir up some trouble, and add to the rumors of the Opera Ghost. One must do what is in one’s blood, after all.
I had several tricks for my amusement planned out. I was going to begin by dripping stage blood from one of the angels carved in the ceiling onto the tour manager’s book when I was stopped by the opening of the doors. A most striking personage walked into the little lobby.
If it weren’t for the color of her skin, which was pale as milk under the dust, I would have sworn she was a gypsy. Her hair was thick, waist length and an amazing copper color. It was bound away from her face by a bright scarf, but a few wisps had worked loose and floated angelically around her face. She wore a long and swirling red skirt of a light fabric that shifted in the slightest breeze and a jewel-blue blouse tied up some inches above her waist. She would have been quite pretty if she weren’t covered in dust and dirt, as well as being weighed down by a quite large pack. Pierre wasn’t going to like her. More than likely, he’d like her less than he would have my little trick.
To my surprise, and approval, she walked straight past him as if he weren’t even there. I chuckled. Pierre definitely wasn’t going to like her. I stretched out on the back surface of the ceiling and watched their confrontation through the cracks in the plaster. It was the best amusement I’d had in weeks! That girl, no, that woman played him like a violin and he ended up doing exactly as she pleased. She wasn’t really lying, but her reactions would never have been so extreme, I’m sure. I could tell she was acting, though she was good at it, but Pierre, despite claiming a great intelligence, was really not all that observant.
After she had cleaned herself up and come back out of the bathroom I could see that she actually WAS pretty, although looked slightly haggard. I guessed that she had been traveling for more than a few months. None of the other people who came in for the tour were nearly as interesting: the usual assortment of tourists bored Parisians and families from the country. This girl showed some rather good dexterity and manual cleverness as she did a few simple coin tricks for one of the youngsters. The little boy had made the same mistake, I had in mistaking her for a gypsy.
But, unlike the gypsies I had known, she was sweet and kind in her dealings with the child. From her conversation I determined that she was not native French; more likely English or American, but her grasp of my native tongue was not nearly as bad as she obviously thought it was.
As the tour group got started, my least favorite tour guide appeared to lead them. Normally, there mere sight of this woman would send me scrambling to the very depths of the Opera catacombs and banging indiscriminately on my organ simply to drown out her screech. The woman had a voice that would scorch paint! I only praise God that she hasn’t the least musical inclination, and I’ve never heard her attempt to sing. But, with the excuse of my sheer boredom, I decided to follow the group about. I found myself secretly hoping that I would have some excuse to communicate with this girl, if only to play my usual tricks.
Knowing the normal route of the tour I moved away from the lobby and settled myself in one of the old offices to wait the passing of the group. I sat in the musty darkness, my nose wrinkling at the mothballs, knowing I had a few minutes to relax until the group would pass by. Then I would trail behind, almost invisible and hiding in all the shadows. No one would see me, and if I were glimpsed, I could disappear like the wind in almost any space in the building.
I heard that woman long before I could hear the footsteps of the rest of the group. Mimi. Even her name irritated me. I really must see what I could do about getting her fired. It would make my life much more pleasant. I longed to flee from that voice. Nevertheless, I rose and moved towards the door, ready to slip out at my chance.
Great was my annoyance when I glimpsed a shadow under the door. Someone must be leaning right against it. Well, they would have to move on as well, I only needed to have patience.
When the door handle began to jiggle, I just stared at it dumbly, wondering if the person on the other side of the door was scratching their back on it or putting it to some other obscene use. But then the door opened and that gypsy girl leaned her head in. She stared right at me and I tensed in preparation for striking the poor child, but in the darkness she must not have seen me.
She withdrew her head, but the door did not shut. She must have been checking the hall to see if she would be seen. I didn’t waste time and leapt straight over the divan I had been resting on just a moment before, crouching in the deeper shadows. I had moved not a moment too soon, for just as I ducked my head the girl came entirely into the room and shut the door quietly. Being used to the darkness, I could see her lean against the door and watched her lips curl up into a pleased smile.
She was escaping the tour group!! Somehow, I should have expected it of her, but I certainly didn’t expect her to do so quite so soon and certainly not for her to make her escape nearly right on top of me. Adventurous child! I really couldn’t let her wander about too long, she might discover some things I’d rather remained secret. But as long as she was in my sight, I suppose I could allow her some leeway.
We both heard the tour group move on down the hall and as they did, she straightened and let out a held breath. Resettling her patched pack I saw her reach for something on her belt, and then a thin cone of light sprung from the small light in her hand. It was all I could do not to curse aloud as I ducked deeper into the shadows of the divan. She shone it about and with a quiet and satisfied humming moved toward the door on the opposite wall from where she came in. She passed so close to me that the hem of her skirt whispered across the knee of my trousers.
Up close her movements were both straightforward and graceful, and I found myself more fascinated by this strange and small girl who had manipulated her way into my realm. She seemed so lovely and brave that before I thought I found myself standing directly behind her almost reaching out to touch her hair. Fool! I thought to myself, pulling my hands back to my sides and slipping behind the door. I had been just inches behind her and she never knew, testament to my long years as the ghost. I didn’t know what I had meant to do myself. But then she turned around in the doorway, as if she had sensed me, and she smiled and shook her head.
I almost reached out again, but restrained myself, and she shut the door. What was I thinking?!? I had revealed myself to a girl once before and she had destroyed my life. Why should this one, no matter how different she appeared, behave any differently when face to face with me? And why was I standing here while this remarkable woman wandered unsupervised about my realm?
This time I did curse aloud as I slid open the secret panel behind the desk and entered the labyrinthine secret corridors. There was only one place she would be heading first, if I had figured how to read her at all. The stage.