The footsteps receded into the vom along with the sound of laughter and talking.

    “Good night Andrea.  Good night, Jonathan,” I called out to the receding actors.  They were always the last to leave.  Just slow to gather their things, I guess.  If I were them, I’d want to be out as quickly as possible.  Empty dark theatres are creepy.  But, I’m not them, and I like the empty theatre.  It’s a job perk.

    I took my time putting up my script and notes.  The rehearsal that night had gone exceedingly well.  Especially for so early in the process.  We cut a good forty-five minutes off the show and clarified a few blocking notes that were giving us trouble.  And for once, I didn’t have to remind Patrick that the stage was not a football field and throwing passes is not acceptable behavior.  Sometimes I wondered whether they thought I was their mother instead of their stage manager.

    The thought made me chuckle under my breath as I picked up a stray piece of garbage and deposited it in a can.  Humming softly to myself under my breath I began the process of running a door check and closing up the house.  This was the time when the theatre was all mine.  I was responsible for taking care of it and in some strange way, it of me.

    The soft whir and click of the ventilation fans was as familiar to me as my own breathing as I made my way into the lobby.  Check the doors, turn off the lights in the bathrooms, close the doors into the house.  I mentally went through the checklist as my body went on auto-pilot through the familiar routine.

    Then, I went back into the stage space itself for my favorite part of the night.  I slipped backstage to the circuit breakers going through the elaborate process of shutting off the lights.  One would think that they could have put all the lights on one or two switch panels rather than scattered among two switch panels and three circuit breakers, but I suppose that would have been too simple.

    The third and final breaker panel was currently in narrow alleyway between two stacks of platforms and it only controlled two of the lights. It was quite dark by the time I got there, but I knew by touch which switches to flip and the narrow confines didn’t bother me much.  As I left the narrow passage I thought I heard a strange sound, like fabric whooshing, but shrugged it off.  Most people don’t realize it, but and empty theatre is never silent.  The catwalk shifts, lights pop as they cool down, the breeze makes the roof hum when it hits it just right, all varieties of sound that usually terrify the uninitiated.

    Chuckling at my own brief nervousness I made my way back onto the now dark stage.  The only light about was the dim glow of the aisle lights, and I was quite careful as I made my way off the stage to retrieve my belongings.  I found my purse by feel and my bag with my feet, and I remembered exactly where I had left the short cloak I wore instead of a fall jacket.  Flinging it over my shoulders with a long-practiced motion I made my way, unerringly in the dark, back to the stage.

    Taking a deep breath, I just stood there, letting my eyes accustom themselves to the darkness.  This was why I did it all.  Those few brief moments at night where I could stand on a stage, wrapped in darkness and the curious small sounds, and just feel right, feel like I belonged.  Feel loved and needed, even, though it sounds strange to get that from an empty building.  Those moments gave me a very proprietary view of the theatre and my show.  They were my babies; mine to take care of, at least until my show was over.

    I took another, satisfied, deep breath and was about to turn for the back door when I heard a door open behind me.  By the sound I could tell it was the green room door and the footsteps were so soft, it had to have been Andrea.  I guess she forgot something.

    “Andrea?  What are you doing here?”  I heard a soft gasp and realized I probably startled her.  Seeing the theatre dark and not hearing any movement when she came out the door, she must have thought I was already gone.  “For God's sake, if you forgot something come back in the morning and get it.”  I didn’t hear her moving and began to make my way over to her location.  “Here, I'll come get you and take you to the door, it’s too dark in here for you to walk around safely, but I’m not going to turn all the lights on again just so you can leave.”

    Only when I got next to the figure in the dimness next to the door that I realized it was much too tall to be Andrea.  Had to be Jonathan.  “Geeze, John, don’t just stand there and let me mistake you for someone else; say something next time!  Here, give me your hand, I'll lead you out.”

    “As you request, I'll inform you.  You have mistaken me for someone else, and your hand is not necessary.”  The voice wasn’t one I knew and as soon as the comment was completed it moved away at speed with a swirl of dark fabric.  Suddenly, whoever it was simply wasn’t there anymore.

    Gasping, I backed up slowly until I was back center stage in my previous spot.  “Who's there?” I called into the darkness.

    “A person who is none of your concern.”  The voice came form everywhere.  Damn theatrical acoustics.

    “I beg to differ.  You are in my theatre, and I don’t know who you are.  That means you're not involved in the show and you don’t belong here.  Please, leave at once, or I’m going to call security.”

    “Your theatre?  Oh, no, my dear, I believe you are mistaken.  It is my theatre and you are the one who must leave.”  I began to hear the noise form earlier again, just like swirling fabric.

    “That's it, get out.  You don’t belong here and it certainly isn't your theatre.  Now leave!  I'm not going to ask you again.”

    “No, you won't.”  The voice was from right behind me and cold as ice.  Pure instinct made me duck.  A shadow shrouded figure hurtled past, arm outstretched right where my head had been.  He stopped and turned in the stage left wing, cloak swirling, watching me.  As I stood up, I slipped out of my bag and purse, just in case I’d have to do some swift moving again.

    “I congratulate you, mademoiselle, you have dodged one of my blows.  You are obviously more formidable than I imagined.  This should be quite a battle.”  He turned to disappear into the wings again.

    “Wait,” I yelled holding out my hand.  “This is ridiculous.  I’m not going to fight you for the right to say which of us has the theatre, when I’m pretty sure neither of us owns the deed.  Now come over here and talk to me, let's behave like reasonable people.  Or, at least as reasonable as theatre people can get.”

    He shrugged, or seemed to.  “Very well.  I will humor you, if it will get you out of my theatre.”

    Fuming at his last remark, I waited until he walked over to me center stage.  Then I leaned forward and screamed in his face with all my might, “It’s not your bloody theatre!” with a smirk.  As I did, I caught sight of his face, which he had been concealing under a broad black hat.  Well, half of it.  The rest was concealed by a white mask.

    I jerked back with the fright, nearly stumbling.  Then, incredibly, I began to laugh.  I couldn’t help it.  My life was in utter danger, but the circumstances were just too funny.

    He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at me as my slightly hysterical merriment caused me to sink to me knees.  “Now, I’ve experienced many reactions to my face and presence, terror being foremost, but this is entirely new.”  He sounded a bit miffed, which made me laugh even more.

    “Oh, I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp out between sobs of laughter, “but, it’s. . . just. . . . too. . . funny.”

    “I see nothing funny about the mask.  It’s a necessity, and you do not wish to see why.”

    “No, not. . . the mask!”  I was laughing so hard I had to wrap my arms around my ribs just to draw breath.

    “Then, pray tell, what!?”

    I managed to control myself long enough to gasp out an explanation.  “I’m having a screaming match in the middle of the stage, in the middle of the night, with the Phantom of the Opera, of all people,  over, of all things, who gets to call this miserable little theatre theirs.”  It was too much; I fell over on my side, curled up in the fetal position and laughed until I cried.

    He tried looking down on me sternly for a while, but in the end began to chuckle.  “And the stage manager is lying at my feet in a fit of helpless laughter rather than helpless terror, as I would usually expect.”  He folded his long legs under him and sat at my side, laughing a bit himself.  “We are a rare pair!”

    It took me a little while to recover from my fit, but I finally managed to sit up.  The thought of the two of us in our cloaks sitting in the middle of the stage almost started me on another fit, but I managed to restrain my mirth.

    “I’m Jessica,” I managed to say with only a small giggle.

    “I know, I’ve been watching the theatre for quite some time.  You're good at your job, you know.”

    “Thanks, I know.”

    “Cocky, aren't you?  Well, you may call me Erik.”

    “Erik.  You've been watching me?  That's a bit odd.  May I assume that you're no longer trying to kill me?”  This point was more than a little important to me.

    “No, I’m not trying to kill you any more.  I was only half trying to begin with."  He sighed.  "I would have never hurt you, but I thought you'd already gone home and you startled me when you saw me.  People usually don’t.”

    “What do you mean, ‘people usually don’t?’  And why do you keep trying to lay claim to this place anyway?”

    He sighed a deep breath.   “People usually don’t see me, and I live here.”

    “What?” I immediately snapped.  “That's impossible, I know every inch of this place and there's no place for a person to live where they wouldn't be found…unless…”  My gaze traveled to the seats.  Our house was steeply raked and there was storage under each section, called the caves.  It was rarely, if ever used, however, because it tended to get very dusty and dank under there.

    “Yes, I live in the cave.  No one knows I’m here, but you.”

    I smiled up at him.  My eyes had become adjusted to the dimness and I could see nearly perfectly.  “I won't tell anyone.  Who would believe me anyway?”

    “Thank you.  Why is it that you ‘lay claim’ to the theatre?”

    “I’m stage managing this show, as you know.  Until we get into runs I am the one in charge of everything around here.  I feel responsible for this place and everyone in it.  It’s my job.  I guess I just feel that I can call it ‘my theatre’ at least until the house manager gets here.  The theatre doesn't seem to mind.  Maybe it calls me ‘my stage manager’ in its head.  I feel like I belong, that's for sure.”

    He smiled back at me.  “I think we can both call it ours.  You love it enough that I don’t mind sharing the title.”

    “Fair enough, I like that solution.”  I go to my feet and retrieved my bags.  “I’d like to stay and talk to you but I have to be getting home.  I have a lot to do tonight and not much time to do it.”  I turned towards the door, but something made me turn around.  He was already sinking into the shadows.  “Will I see you around?”

    He also turned, “Yes, I think-“ he began but then just broke off running right towards me.  I was to startled to do anything but stare as he approached.  Grabbing me around the shoulders with one arm, he threw both of us to the floor to one side. There was just a split second to hear something skittering across the stage before the resounding crash of a light hitting the floor from a thirty foot drop deafened me.  It fell right where I had been standing.

    Roundly cursing at the theatre ghosts, electricians in general, and the master electrician in specific, I worked on disentangling my limbs from Erik's.  I was the first to my feet.

    “Thank you, Erik,” I breathed with a sigh of relief as I reached for his hand.  “Are you all right?  You took most of the force of us hitting the floor.”   I still remembered his body cushioning mine from the impact and the feel of his arms around me.  It was the familiar and unsettling feeling of attraction that I long ago learned to identify in its beginning stages.  I looked at him as he rose gracefully.  Well, no wonder, despite his face, the man simply exuded sex appeal.

    He rolled his shoulders and cocked his head, looking around for his hat, which had gotten displaced.  The sound of popping joints was loud.  “Yes, I think I'll be all right.”  He looked at me strangely.  “Thank you for your concern.”  I just smiled up at his face and offered him my hand.

    “Goodnight Erik, I think I'll see you tomorrow.”  Instead of the handshake I had expected, he turned my hand over and kissed it very softly his lips barely brushing my skin, and staring up into my eyes.  My gut took a flip and I thought, there are definite possibilities here.

    “Good night, ma Cherie,” he responded and released my hand.  Walking out, I saw a pale object glowing dimly in the reflected light near the door.  I bent down and picked it up.

    “Oh, Erik!” I called as I turned around.

    “Yes?” he responded, still standing where I had left him, watching me.

    “You seem to have lost something when you saved me.  Here it is.”  I waved his mask at him and his hand instinctively went up to cover the scarred side of his face.  I tossed the mask in his direction and he caught it easily with his free hand.  He looked at me in utter confusion, not even having replaced the mask immediately as I had expected him to.

    “I don’t understand…  My face-“  He stared sadly at me.

    “You, forget, Erik, I’m not an actress.  Why should I make a big deal out of something that doesn't really matter?”

I winked at him and turned to go. At the door I turned, leaning on the jamb.  Erik still stood in the middle of the stage, staring down at his mask in his hands.  “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night, Erik!”  I blew him a cheery kiss then headed out into the night, humming.  It had proved to be a very good night.