The clock struck nine.
Meg entered the room in her dressing gown tied over her latest costume. In the doorway, she halted.
There he stood, looking out over the blaring,swirling lights and swarming crowd. Though his eyes wandered distractedly across the skyline, she knew his mind was elsewhere.
Not wishing to disturb him, she stole quietly to the piano and laid down the letter her mother had penned, demanding that he paid what was owed them. Meg herself had no interest in the money - her only desire was a spark of attention from the debtor. Casting a glance his way and thinking how lonely he looked, she started toward the door.
His ears were sharper than her soft footsteps.
“Good evening, Miss Giry.” he said vaguely, not turning around.
“Evening.” she replied rather nervously.
“Have another message from Madame?”
She felt the accusation in his tone and lowered her gaze to the ornate Persian carpet. “It’s on the piano.”
He let out a hmm and continued to stare out the window.
She clasped her hands and looked about uncertainly. Clearing her throat, she ventured, “You know, I don’t always agree with her.”
His visible eyebrow rose and his head turned ever so slightly. “No? You bow to her every whim, so it seems to me.”
Meg bit her lip. “You don’t know what it’s like. It’s not as if I wanted to but...well, you try refusing her.”
He scoffed and placed his hand on the windowpane. “Oh believe me, I have.”
Her arms crossed around her waist, she tried to distract herself with the room. On the music stand stood several sheets of an incomplete score. Her attention was immediately drawn to it. “You’ve been composing again.”
She sensed him turn behind her, but kept gazing at the pages, the melody registering in her mind. She hummed the first few bars. It was difficult with her sore throat and warbling tone - which she hated - but the orchestration was already swelling in her head, and she knew this was the kind of work he lived for. She smiled.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s none of your concern.” he broke in sternly, snatching it from her sight and shoving it into a drawer.
Meg was mystified. “Then whose concern is it? Is it for an operetta? Have you been commissioned by someone? Hammerstein? It’s Hammerstein, isn’t it? Oh, Erik!”
“Must you be so meddlesome?” he exclaimed, exasperated. He looked at her, his eyes flashing. She flinched at the sight of the mask, at what she knew was behind it.
“I’m sorry…” she said, suddenly afraid. She had seen his temper surge before and wanted nothing of it. “I was only hoping...you might play a bit for me.”
Erik let out a heavy breath. “Not that. How about that new piece for the show?”
Meg knew the disappointment showed in her face, but she didn’t care.
“Well...alright.”
He brushed past her to the piano and struck up the lively vaudeville tune.
"Welcome, each and everyone
to our festival of fun,
something notable and new..." Meg sang the song, putting on her best showgirl airs. She could easily read the disgust in his expression, despite the mask, and stopped singing three lines in.
His fingers came to a halt on the keys as he looked up at her questioningly.
Meg put her hand to her face. “I’m sorry...I guess once you sing a song so many times, it just…”
“Loses its shine?” he said, his mouth twitching a bit.
Meg couldn’t help the tears that welled up as she nodded, trying to look flippant and failing entirely. Not wishing to upset him, she turned aside. He stood up behind her.
“What is it, Meg?”
His tone was awkward, as if he was suddenly as self-conscious as she was. She sniffed and brushed the tears away.
“Oh nothing. I just…”
No. She wouldn’t finish. It would only get her into trouble. She stared at the ceiling, willing every thought she was having to scurry back into the shadows of her head where they belonged.
“...Just...what?” he sounded confused, maybe even concerned, which was new.
Should she tell him? What would Mother say? Who care what Mother would say. But what would he say?
It was coming out of her mouth before she gave it permission.
“I just wish that for once I could sing something...something beautiful.”
And then all at once
“You know? Not that I mind singing all the happy tunes. I like to see people smile and laugh and elbow each other. They all seem to like me well enough for it, and I know I should be grateful and I’m not saying that I think you owe me anything because I don’t. Like I said, I don’t agree with my mother on everything. Not much, as a matter of fact. I mostly despise her, you know. But it’s just sort of a silly dream of mine. I mean, I always used to watch…” she caught herself. “...I always used to watch from the wings and I’d always feel so moved and this sort of sad happy feeling I couldn’t explain would happen and...well, I’d always kind of hoped to sing something that could make people feel that way. Silly, really. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
There was no response from Erik. She wondered if he was angry. What if he was? She must apologize.
“I’m sorry...I didn’t mean that I don’t like it. I’ll work hard, I promise, and I won’t complain again…”
He held up his hand, and her mouth slowly closed as she watched his cross to the desk and pull the music from the drawer. “You’re right. I haven’t given you chance enough to see what you can really do.”
Meg felt her heart beating faster. “You mean it? You really mean it?”
He set the music lovingly on the stand and began to play, motioning her to come closer. She did so timidly.
At first, she sang almost inaudibly, not wanting to disappoint him. As the song progressed, however, she felt the music stir within her, and the notes came free and pure and sweet, despite her sore throat and the fact that her hands were shaking terribly. She was sorry when the notes came to an end, but rapture flowed in her veins.
“Oh, Erik...it’s...it’s just like something Christine would sing…”
And she knew very quickly what she had just said was more true than she had thought. The immediate pain in his eyes told all.
“You wrote this for her...didn’t you?”
He turned away, taking the music and putting it back in the drawer.
Meg wondered for a moment what to do.
Then she saw a single tear run down his cheek and her heart flung itself toward him. She stole up beside him and placed a hand on his arm. He met her gaze tentatively and she smiled for him.
“I miss her too.” she said softly.
More tears cascaded down his face, and she took the opportunity to wipe them away. He stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She said nothing more, but wrapped her arms around him. He slowly did the same and, realizing that for some strange reason she truly cared, he held her close until the clock struck ten.
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