ghost3

Chapter 3 ~ To Love a Ghost

As I returned to my hidden abode beneath the Opera House, I played over in my mind the delicious events of the evening. Christine�s kiss still lingered upon my lips and her words echoed sweetly throughout my being. She had consented to be my wife! Ah! Who could have guessed that fortune would favor me so greatly?

I stopped mid-stride, as the image of Meg Giry�s downcast face came to mind. I cursed myself for being so insensitive, and tried to remember what had become of Meg when Christine appeared before us. I vaguely recalled bundling her into her cloak and sending her off into the night. I did not even remember hailing a cab for her.

�Careless cur!� I muttered to myself. What if something had happened to her?

Meg had treated me so kindly, had inspired me to come out of my deathlike trance and re-enter the realm of the living. Had it not been for her, Christine might well have stumbled upon my corpse when she came looking for me.

I dashed back up through the Opera House and burst forth into the cold night air. The streets of Paris were quite empty.

Would she have gone home? I hoped.

I sped through the darkness, looking carefully at every beggar and street urchin who slept on the rues. I hoped that Meg would have the sense to return home to her mother, but she was an artist after all, and artists were known to keep unusual hours.

At the thought of Madame Giry, I suddenly wondered why the ballet mistress had allowed her daughter to stay away from home so late at night. Did she know of Meg�s nighttime lessons? I wondered what excuses Meg had made when she crawled home at the crack of dawn.

I cursed myself for being so wrapped up in my own misery that I had never thought to ask Meg of her own well-fare. She had been just a pet project to me, something to help distract me from my gnawing hunger for Christine.

I scolded myself for my thoughtlessness and continued to peruse the streets, looking for mon petit danseur. When at last I felt certain that she was not on the street and had had the sense to go home, I returned to the Opera.

As I made my way back to the Rue Scribe, I noticed a cloaked figure who seemed to hover near the door to my secret lair. I hesitated for a moment, wondering who would walk the street so late at night. Of course, it was Meg.

�Mademoiselle,� I called out to her.

She whirled about at the sound of my voice. �Monsieur le fantom!� she gasped in surprise, and she made a movement as if she would run towards me, but then she caught herself and cast a shy glance down at her feet.

�What are you doing here?� I asked as I approached her. �You�ll catch your death of cold!�

�I was waiting for you,� she chattered. Indeed, she was trembling from the cool night air.

I removed my cloak and threw it about her shoulders to keep her warm.

�Why didn�t you go home?� I asked gently.

�I wanted to see you,� she nearly sobbed. �Oh, Erik! I love you!�

I gaped at her in shock. It was the second time that night that a beautiful young girl had pledged her love to me, and I wondered if I had heard her correctly. I perused her face for some sign of mischief, but her eyes shone brightly with hope. I knew her declaration had to be in earnest.

�Meg,� I said with a verbal caress.�I find myself at a loss for words....�

She looked up at me with tears spilling down her cheeks, and she seemed to tremble slightly.

�This is completely unexpected,� I continued. �I am unworthy of such a gift.�

She seemed to weep all the harder at this proclamation, and I was not sure of how to comfort her. On impulse, I gathered her into my arms and hugged her gently.

�I knew you were not a monster,� she sobbed. �Everyone said that you were a madman, the frightening Phantom of the Opera!�

�But Meg,� I almost chuckled, �you were often the one to tell those tales.�

�But you are an angel!� she cried passionately. �You are the Angel of Music!�

�No,� I sighed. �I am just a man. A very homely man, at that.�

�But�� she blubbered on. �You are so much more! You are magic and mystery and fantasy combined!�

Her brow furrowed as she made her impassioned speech. Then she grew quiet and thoughtful and looked up at me with a great sense of yearning.

�Erik...� she said breathlessly. �Do you�find me attractive?�

That set me back on my heels, and I shook my head in disbelief.

�Of course,� I answered. �I would be a fool not to see you for the beautiful girl you are.�

She grew more introspective at this, and turned to wipe the tears from her eyes. I was so perplexed by all that she had said that I was not quite sure of how to proceed.

�Perhaps I should walk you home,� I said absently.

She sighed and took hold of my arm, allowing me to lead her through the dark streets. It was so strange and yet so natural to walk with her thus. I felt like a gentleman chaperon, escorting my young charge home, and that thought warmed my heart. But I could not ignore what she had said to me, and I was curious to know what had prompted her to make such a declaration.

�Meg?� I asked as we walked.

�Yes?� she responded shyly.

I hesitated a moment and then gathered my courage. �How did you come to... love me?�

�Mon ange,� she sighed sweetly. �What woman would not love you?�

I turned from her as she said that, and thought painfully of my mother. She had been so terrified of me that I doubt love ever entered into the equation. And every other woman who had ever crossed my path had always turned from me in fear. Yet here was Meg Giry, offering her heart to me without so much consequence. It seemed unreal to me that a lovely young lady like herself should offer her love to me so freely.

�Are you sure it is me you love?� I asked quietly.

�What do you mean?� she inquired.

�Perhaps you are in love with love,� I mused.

�Oh, no!� she exclaimed. �That cannot be! I feel so wonderful whenever I am with you! My spirit soars at the mere thought of you!�

I smiled at that, but I also felt a little sad. My heart belonged to Christine, and I did not know what I could say or do that would remedy this for young Meg.

�You puzzle me, Meg Giry,� I said at last. �Our paths have not intertwined except for the past few weeks, yet you offer me the priceless jewel of your love. I have been a harsh teacher. How could I have gained your love so easily?�

�My dear Opera Ghost,� she replied. �You may not have been aware of me until the past few weeks, but I have been keenly aware of you.�

I gazed at her intently, overcome with surprise. I had thought I had known everything that took place in the Opera House, yet I had completely underestimated the mystery that was Meg Giry.

�I remember when I first heard you,� she said dreamily. �I had come to the theatre early to practice my dancing, and I heard what sounded like two angels singing together. I tiptoed down the corridor and followed the beautiful voices until I was standing outside of Christine�s dressing room. I recognized her voice, of course, but I did not know yours, and I found myself hypnotized by the mere sound of you! I begged Christine to tell me all about you, assuming that she'd found a new tutor, but she was rather vague and only said that her father had sent her the Angel of Music from Heaven. Now, I knew this had to be a ruse, but Christine was quite serious about the whole thing, so I accepted her response and decided to find out for myself who you really were. Eventually, the Vicomte got in the way, and I could not find out as much as I would have liked to. But I trailed Raoul about, hoping he would discover something pertinent, though he seemed rather useless. Even my own mother would not help me to uncover the mystery of you!�

I smiled at that and silently thanked Madame Giry for her discretion.

�I finally lucked out the night of Il Muto,� Meg continued. �When Christine and Raoul ran to the roof, there was so much excitement that I easily followed them. I saw that a mysterious shadow also seemed to accompany them, so I held back a bit. Fortunately, you were just as preoccupied as they were, so I could sneak up on all three of you without being discovered. I listened to Christine ramble on about you and about how terrified she was. And that was when I first heard your name.�

I blushed uncomfortably, remembering that night as well. It was possibly one of my worst memories.

�Then Raoul and Christine left,� she continued, �and I waited to see what you, the Shadow, would do. I heard you weep, so softly at first that I thought it was the wind. But then I heard you moan, and it seemed as if one of the angels had been cast out of Heaven.�

�He had,� I said hoarsely.

�But, Erik,� she exclaimed, �you didn't deserve that! You deserved something and someone better! Someone who could truly love and appreciate you!�

�Meg,� I began. �This is old history. It is not something we should dwell on.� I sped up my pace, hoping we would reach her flat soon.

She struggled to catch up with me, holding tight to my sleeve.

�I wanted to be that person, the one who could give you that love!� she exclaimed.

�You?� I said stupidly. �A silly little schoolgirl, who is barely old enough to know what it is to be in love?�

I was angry with her, upset at her words and the memories they evoked. I did not want to be reminded of a history I was not proud of. I did not want to think of the anger I had felt at Christine�s betrayal � especially when she had just come back to me and given me the love I had craved from her.

Meg tore her hand from my arm and let out a fierce cry. �You are a beast! You think you are the only one to have suffered a broken heart? How do you think I feel knowing you will never love me as you love Christine?�

I stopped dead in my tracks and found myself gaping at her.

�Meg,� I stammered, �I... don't know what to say...�

�If Christine had never come back, would you have loved me?� she asked desperately.

�I don�t know,� I answered honestly.

She looked absolutely crushed and a tear slid down her cheek. I reached out to cast the tear away with my gloved fingertip, and tilted her face to look up at me.

�You brought me back to life, Meg Giry, and for that I will always be grateful. I do not know what I have done to deserve your love, but I do know that I am unworthy of it. You are a beautiful girl with an amazing future ahead of you. Please do not lose hope of a true love for yourself.�

She seemed to tremble as tears poured down her cheeks. I sought to gather her into my arms, but she kept me at arms length, and looked steadily into my eyes.

�Just know that I love you for who you are, Erik,� she said. �I always will.�

I reached out to touch her cheek again, but she seemed to draw back as if my touch was too much for her to bear. Her response nearly broke my heart.

�Please forgive me,� I said sadly.

Her fierce stance melted and she threw herself into my arms. �Erik!� she cried. �Never forget that you are worthy of a great love!�

Then she fled from my arms and ran off into the night. I followed close behind her, again playing the part of the elusive shadow. I watched her enter her flat, and I gave a sigh of relief. I peered through the window and saw that Madame Giry had indeed been waiting for her daughter. She rose to her feet at Meg�s entrance and launched into a vehement reprimand. Meg accepted the tirade then threw herself into her mother�s arms, unleashing a torrent of tears. Madame Giry must have assumed that her young daughter was suffering from the pangs of first love, for her scolding abated and she rocked her precious child in her arms. It was a sight that both saddened and comforted me all at once.

                                   *          *          *          *          *

The next night, I packed my bags and gave one last look at the darkened palace that had once been my home. A flood of memories washed across my mind, but I did not let the past detain me. I had the future to look forward to. I climbed the cellar steps for the last time and left by way of the Rue Scribe. Christine was waiting for me in a handsome coach piled high with her trunks. Her face was radiant, beaming with love at my approach, and she reached out to pull me into the coach with her.

I resisted slightly and cast a glance back at the Opera House.

�What is it?� she asked, her voice full of concern.

�Can you wait a moment longer?� I asked. �The Opera Ghost has one last appearance to make.�

                                  *          *          *          *          *

The orchestra was cueing up as I slipped into the shadows. The chorus had not yet been called to their places, and I knew I had a few minutes to do what I must. I slipped through darkness and found my way to Meg Giry�s dressing room. I cracked the door ajar, and saw that she was applying the finishing touches to her stage makeup. She did look beautiful, and I knew that someday she would make some man incredibly happy.

�Mademoiselle?� I entered with a knock.

�Monsieur!� she gasped and she stood to greet me.

I withdrew a dozen red roses from my cloak and handed them to her with a bow. �I will not be the only man to ever give you these,� I said earnestly.

She pulled the flowers to her breast and buried her face in the red rose petals. Tears were already forming in her eyes.

�Please know that you mean more to me than words can say,� I said gently. �I will always hold your words and deeds close to my heart. Now, go out there and dance, and let your spirit guide you on your way.�

I kissed her hand and turned to take my leave.

�Erik,� she called softly. �Thank you.�

�Thank you, mon ami,� I replied with a bow. �And remember: you, too, are worthy of a great love.�

                                  *          *          *          *          *

I left the Opera House with a full heart. As our carriage sped into the night, I hugged Christine to me and thought deeply of my encounters with Meg Giry. She had opened my eyes to a whole new world of compassion and understanding, and I thanked the gods for the gift of her presence in my life. I prayed that happiness would be hers, that she would come to know a true and deep love worthy of her.

I wished I could have stayed to watch over her, but I had relinquished my duties as guardian angel. I longed to live the rest of my life as a man. I knew that not all people would treat me as kindly as Meg, nor would I likely ever find such unguarded friendship. But these things did not concern me. With Christine beside me, and Meg�s love forever locked away in my heart, I knew I could live and die a happy man.

                                                        The End

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