"Oui, Andre. I know I'm late. I was talking with my brother and didn't notice the time. Is anyone else in yet?" I asked as I took off my scarf, folded it and put it in my purse. It was cold that January morning but mercifully, it was not raining.
"Just myself and Joseph, as usual. Why? Are you afraid Buquet will find out you're late again?" Andre asked as he closed the door behind me. I nodded my head and he added, "Well, don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."
"Thank you, Andre," I replied, feeling a little calmer. I hope Maestro doesn't mind me being late just this once, I thought to myself as I went down to the fourth level of the basement. I felt reassured as I found all the doors unlocked as usual. However, as I made my way through the maze of sets and old props, the feeling of confidence evaporated quickly, for usually, I could hear Erik playing the piano whenever I descended to that level. Today, there was an eerie silence as I made my way in the dim light emitted from the single lightbulb in the ceiling. When I got to the corner where we usually had our lessons, I found it empty! No piano in sight!
I stood for a moment in complete shock. This can't be! I thought to myself. Where's Erik? Where's the piano? Just then, I heard a man's voice ask, "What are you doing here?" I wheeled around, hoping that it was Erik, but it was not. It was old Joseph, standing there and holding a push broom in his hands. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" he asked again in a demanding tone of voice. Then, straining to look, he added in a kinder tone of voice, "I know you. You're the new girl--the American." I nodded my head and he continued, "Well, what are you doing down here? Aren't you supposed to be upstairs in the workroom?"
Finding my voice at last, I nodded my head again and said, "Oui, but I left some...music down here yesterday at the piano that was here." I felt terrible for lying, but I felt I had to make some excuse for being down there at that time of day.
"You are mistaken, madame. There's no piano here," Joseph said in a stiff voice.
"But there must be!" I said, somewhat excitedly, remembering all the lessons Erik had given me at that very spot.
"No, madame," Joseph said in a more demanding tone in his voice, "There's never been any pianos down here in the basement. It's too cold and damp for them to stay in tune down here. But you get upstairs!" Then, his voice becoming kinder in tone again, he added, "Do you work with her?"
"Her?" I repeated, softly.
"That Carlotta!" he exclaimed with a note of disgust in his voice.
"No. I avoid her as much as I possibly can," I replied, trying to keep my voice even.
"She's a bad woman, that Carlotta! Evil woman, she is!" Joseph exclaimed as he resumed sweeping the floor.
Feeling nervous at the point, I began to walk away from Joseph. After taking only a few steps, I stopped and turned to him. "Joseph, how long have you worked here at the opera house?" I asked
Joseph stopeed sweeping, turned to me and said, "I've been here forty-five years, madame."
"Then you've seen a lot that goes on around here?" I asked. I did not know if I was more impressed with the number of years of his service, or the management for keeping him at the opera house for that length of time.
"Oui, madame. I've seen a lot of things...and I've seen the ghosts, too," he replied as he began to sweep the floor.
"Ghosts?" I repeated, feeling foolish and yet, somehow relieved to learn that I was not the only one to see things there at the opera house.
"Oui, madame...many times," Joseph replied.
"What...ghosts did you see?" I asked nervously, wishing I could find a place to sit down among the props and sets.
Joseph resumed sweeping, and for I moment, I thought he had not heard me. However, he stopped sweeping after a moment, and said, "I saw the same skull you saw, madame, when you first started working here," Joseph said softly.
"Where did you see it? Up there?" I asked
as I tilted my head to the side and looked upward.
He shook his head and said, "I saw it down
at the edge of the lake. Several times I saw it." He shuddered
as he spoke.
"But you said 'ghosts', Joseph. Are there more ghosts here at the opera house?" I asked.
He nodded his head and said, "There are at least two other ghosts that I've seen. One is of a lady that always sits directly underneath the great chandelier in the ampitheater. That's the ghost of the lady that was killed when the first chandelier came crashing down over a century ago. That's a nice lady, that ghost is. The second ghost lives in the lake itself--right in the middle of the lake, he does. That's a ghost of a prisoner who died here under the Paris Commune. If the Commune didn't like you, they'd kill you, and that's what they did to that poor man. They drowned him, you know. They held his head under the water until he died, and then they just dumped his body right there in the lake. No one knew anything about it until several years ago when the lake was drained and his skeleton was found right in the middle of the lake." Shuddering again, he resumed sweeping.
"How do you...know all these things?" I asked, both frightened and fascinated at the same time.
"Oh, I talk with them sometimes, madame. They tell me all kinds of things--what they like and what they don't, who they like and who they don't. They told me they like you. madame. You're a kind woman, you are. But they don't like Carlotta! No, they don't... and she'll meet with a bad end, I'm sure of it she will!" Joseph exclaimed softly.
I stood there, stunned. Is this guy for real, or is he just playing tricks on me, just like the others? I thought to myself, and then I remembered Jean-Baptiste's comments about Joseph that he made when I first started working there at the opera house. Is Joseph senile or merely insane? I wondered and then I decided that, in any event, he was not trying to play pranks of any kind whatsoever.
Looking at my watch, I saw that it was nearly eight-thirty, and I knew that there would be no lessons for me that morning. I might as well go upstairs to go to work. How strange this feels without seeing Erik! I thought to myself. Then, finally speaking, I said, "Well, it was nice to talk with you, Joseph, but I have to go back to work. You're right, I need to go back upstairs. I'll see you later." He only nodded his head as he began to sweep again. I went back upstairs, more troubled than ever. In addition to Joseph's story, I felt that something was not right with Erik. It's not like him to cancel a lesson without saying anything! I thought as I ascended the stairs and went to the workroom. I wonder what happened? And what happened to the piano? I know it was there yesterday. I'm not imagining this!
Work that day went very well but it was also hectic. So much so, that when Pete came to say good-bye before his return to America, I was forced to escort him back upstairs in order to get him out of the way of our work downstairs in the workroom. Before he left, I got him to promise me that he would send me the books on the list we had made earlier that morning. He said he would do so and then added that he might be sending more of our mother's things since neither he nor Sharon wanted them. I reluctantly agreed to accept whatever he would send, hoping inwardly that I could find more room in my already crowded accomodations to store yet another box of items.
The rest of the day seemed to fly by and I attribute that to the amount of work we all had to do. I managed to get yet another set of paniers finished, as did Jacqueline but I had to work through my lunch hour to do so. Surprisingly, Carlotta was nowhere to be found that day but it was just as well, for after my upsetting morning, I was in no mood for her usual rude behavior.
Everyone left by seven that evening and I stayed behind, as I usually did. Since I had gotten so much done by seven-thirty, I started picking up my work and placed it on the corner of my small work table. I did not know Erik was even in the room until he said, "Bonsoir, madame," with anger in his voice.
Startled, I spun around and tried to be polite by saying, "Bonsoir, Erik. How are you this evening?"
He remained silent for a moment, and then strode over to Michel's work table, pulled out the chair, and sat in it. After another moment of silence, he asked angrily, "Where were you this morning?" Before I could answer, he added, "I waited for you and you didn't show up!" I could see that he was extremely agitated, so I remained silent, hoping that he would calm down. My silence seemed to irritate him further, for he lowered his voice and said scowlingly, "Madame, I had great plans for you this morning and because you didn't even bother to show up, I could not see them through!"
I finally managed to ask, "May I have a chance to defend myself?" He turned his head from me for a second, and then lifted up his hands briefly before placing them in his lap. Trying not to get angry myself, I said, "The reason why I was late was because I wanted to spend a little more time with my brother before he returned home." Erik looked at me and I could read doubt in his eyes. Trying to reassure him that I had not forgotten him, I added, "Pete and I spent more than an hour making a list of books to send me to use to teach you. I told him about our conversation we had the other night and I told him what kind of books you like to read. I didn't realize how much time had passed until Mme. Fontaine reminded me I had to get to work. I tried getting here as quickly as I could but by the time I got here, you were gone. And so was the piano, I might add. Now just how did you think you could carry out your plans without a piano?" I finished by asking.
Thoroughly calmed down by now, Erik put his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. After opening them again, he then brought his head back down and said softly, "I moved the piano...for you."
"What...why?" I asked, not quite believing what I was hearing.
"I spent nearly all day yesterday moving the piano to a small practice room upstairs. I did it so you would have...a better place to learn to sing properly. I planned on surprising you this morning, and when you didn't come..." he replied, his voice trailing off.
"So, I'm not losing my mind after all. Joseph said..." I said softly, more to myself than to Erik.
"I heard what Joseph said! Joseph talks too much!" Erik said with such vehemence that I nearly jumped out of my chair.
"Erik! This isn't like you! What's wrong? You've never lost your temper with me like this before! Am I really that inconsiderate of you?" I asked, still seated and afraid of what and who I was watching.
After a moment, Erik walked over to the far wall, and leaning on it with his right elbow, he placed the forefinger and thumb of his right hand on the bridge of the nose of his regular mask that he wore and pinched the digits together. He remained silent for some time before he finally said, "No, Roberta. You're not that inconsiderate. It's just that I had all of this planned so carefully..." He paused for a moment before he continued, "And as for Joseph...don't listen to his stories. He's just an old man gone senile. He doesn't know what he's saying..."
Reasonably sure that the storm had passed, I rose out of my chair and walked over to Erik. I placed my right hand on his left shoulder and said softly, "I didn't mean to make you angry with me, Erik. I'm sorry."
He stood perfectly still for a moment. I was not sure if he wanted me to touch him, but he did not resist me either. Finally, he put his right arm down and turned around to face me. Taking my hand off his shoulder, he held it and said softly, "I'm sorry, too. You'll have to forgive me for I still have a problem...with my temper. Even after all these years, I still lose my temper when things are out of control...like today. I had wanted to show you what I had done, so I stayed down there...where we always had our lessons...I hid when I saw Joseph coming. Then I heard you walk in and talk with Joseph. After both you and Joseph left, I went down to the room by the lake and stayed there until it was time for my English lesson. I...have a problem with my anger...especially when I start to brood over whatever it is that makes me angry...I'm truly sorry I frightened you...or hurt you...I didn't mean to...forgive me," he finished speaking finally, his lower lip and jaw trembling as he spoke.
Still holding my hand, he looked at me with such a pleading look in his eyes. I shall never forget how he looked at me that evening. When he first entered the room, his eyes were black with anger--so black that it looked as if he had no eyes at all, only holes where his eyes were. However, by this time, his anger had been replaced with contrition and his eyes had returned to their normal color of saphire blue. He acted as if he were truly remorseful, but I had seen him angry before, although not as angry as he had been this evening. I paused and took a deep breath. What am I to do with you, Erik? What am I to say? What should I say? I thought to myself. Finally, I said, "Erik, you must never lose your temper with me again! I can't take that and I won't take that from you ever again! What happened this morning...was, if not unavoidable, certainly was unfortunate but it does not justify your actions just now. Promise me that you'll never lose your temper with me again!"
He lowered his head for a moment, and the said softly, his head still hanging, "I don't know if I can do that."
Looking at him sternly, I replied, "Erik, if you don't stop losing you temper, I shall cease giving you English lessons!"
He lifted his head finally, his eyes open wide with fear. He sputtered, "You wouldn't dare do that to me!"
"Oh, yes, I would! I mean it, Erik! No more outbursts or no more lessons! Your choice!" I replied sternly, deliberately keeping my voice level.
Dropping his head again, he remained silent for a second, and then raising his head again, he said meekly, "You win, Roberta. I won't carry on like this again."
Satisfied that he truly meant what he had just said, I replied, "There now. This is finished. Forgotten!" Looking at my watch, I added, "Since it is after eight-thirty, I can't give you a formal lesson tonight. We'll have to try again tomorrow night." Well, Erik at least when you lost your temper, you spoke in perfect English, except for the accent. We'll have to work on that, I thought to myself as I took my hand from Erik's grasp.
"Please, Roberta. Let me make things up to you. Let me escort you home safely, tonight," Erik spoke quickly, grabbed my hand again and looked at me pleadingly. He looked so pitiful that all I could do was nod my head. The look in his eyes changed from petition to gratitude instantaneously. He then slowly released my hand and said quickly, "You'll see, Roberta! You'll see me turn into a new man! You won't regret your decision, I swear it!" He then helped me put on my jacket and allowed me to grab my purse. As we left the workroom to take the same route through the steam tunnels back to the apartment building, I thought to myself, I hope so, Erik. I certainly hope so!
The next day passed quickly. After making his peace, Erik showed me what he had done the next morning when I came into work. After meeting me in the workroom, we went to the second costume room--the one Jean-Baptiste had shown me on the disasterous first full day on the job and that same first day that I had been late to work. Erik showed me a set of stairs hidden behind a wall panel that was itself hidden by a rack of costumes. We ascended the first set of stairs to a small landing only to find another set of stairs that led to another small landing which led to yet another set of stairs. The sets of stairs were all quite narrow and steep and reminded me of servants' stairs one finds in large houses in America. That was, in fact, their purpose, Erik explained as we climbed the last set of stairs, for in by-gone days at the opera house, all the principle singers had servants to attend them. But by now, nearly a century later, the stairs lay hidden and forgotten until Erik came upon them one day while making his rounds. He took them often, he said, for in addition to giving him much needed exercise, they also provided another benefit--a much needed step-saver between floors. By taking these stairs, he could pass unnoticed as he made his rounds. Otherwise, he said, he would have to take the main stairs or the freight elevator in get in everybody's way as he made his rounds and they got about their daily duties.
After we reaached the head of the third set of stairs, we went through the door and entered a small room, not much bigger than a large walk-in closet. "As you can guess, this was a servant's bedroom as well as sitting room for the servant as she waited on her mistress in the next room," Erik explained.
"But where is the next room? I don't see any doorway," I said as I looked around the room.
"There's a narrow panel in the wall just behind the piano bench. I found it when I was making my rounds one day. I fixed it so it will open and close easily," Erik said softly. Then seeing the look of amazement on my face, he added, "I only open it when it gets too warm in here. As for the panel, it must have hidden the original doorway..My guess is, that when these rooms were remodeled sometime after the First World War, the panel was put over the doorway when the next room was made into a practice room."
Changing the subject, I then said, "But I thought no one was allowed to stay at the opera house."
As he showed me the coat hook on the wall right next to the door, he said, "You may hang your jacket on that coathook." Then returning to my comment, he said, "You're right. No one that worked here regularly was allowed to spend the night here, but for guest singers and their armies of servants, it was a different story. Both the singers and their servants were allowed to stay overnight. The managers at the time felt it would be cheaper to fix up rooms on the third floor for this purpose than to pay for hotel accomodations."
"How do you know all this?" I asked.
Erik smiled and said, "I kept finding ghost marks on the walls and ceilings when I did my rounds, so I did some research a while back and found that bit of trivial information."
"I'll be darned!" I exclaimed softly. Then I asked, "Are these rooms still being used for guest singers?" Even though I had taken off my jacket, I was still too warm. I had worn a sweater that day, but nothing other than underwear underneath, so I was unable to take off my sweater that morning and the steam radiator that heated the room was heating the room all too well.
Erik shook his head and said, "No, most of the larger rooms were converted to practice rooms sometime after the First World War. There was a change in management, and so now all guest singers are lodged in one of the big hotels in Paris. I'm afraid those good old days are gone forever. As for this small room, I'm not even sure anyone knows it's here. I came across this room only a short while ago myself. I suppose the managers think it's only a closet...if they even know it's here at all! But, as you can see, I found enough room for the spinet piano, its bench, and a couple of chairs besides." I looked around the room again and found Erik was right. The room was quite small, but he had managed to place the piano at a slight angle and placed one chair by the door and the other chair in the corner facing the first with the steam radiator in the wall perpendicular to the door. Seeing that I seemed uncomfortable, Erik asked, "Are you warm enough? I can turn the register up if you like."
"Actually, I'm too warm," I replied.
"I'll turn the register down. The reason I moved the piano up here was to make it more comfortable for you. This winter is the coldest and wettest I've ever seen and the basement really isn't the best place in the world for singing lessons. From now on, I'd like to hold our lessons here...at least until summer anyway. We'll make other plans then, if this summer proves to be unbearably hot," Erik said as he walked over to the register and turned the dial on the side of it.
Changing the subject again, I asked, "How did you move the piano up here all by yourself?"
Erik smiled again and said, "Well, it wasn't easy but I found that the opera house does have a freight elevator so I used that to get the piano up here. As for the piano itself, I found I had to put wheels on it in order to move it anywhere. I spent most of the day, the day before yesterday, putting heavy-duty castors on the thing. Once I had done that, the rest of my job was easy, for I could wheel it quite well to the elevator. I got it up here after everyone had left, so I wasn't seen by anybody, and I even managed to get it through the narrow doors by myself. Then I spent another three hours just tuning the piano. So now you know why I got so angry last night, and again, I'm sorry for my behavior last night...but now I must insist we get started on your lesson." He sat down at the piano, and after lifting the lid, began to play warm-up exercises, and for the remainder of the hour, gave me my singing lesson for the day.
The next several days passed quickly. I managed to make a follow-up appointment at the hospital as I had promised and after going to the doctor's on Friday, was given a clean bill of health. On Wednesday, a full week after Pete had gone back home, I found two heavy boxes sent by express mail sitting in the hallway next to the Fontaines' door when I came home for lunch. I was surprised to find them but was glad that they were delivered directly to the Fontaines rather than going through the concierge for I dreaded giving Marie more francs for holding my packages. I had not been joking when I told Erik I was nearly broke, for between the large increases in rent over the last several months and my medical bills, I had little cash left to work with, and the month was not quite half-over. Just like the old days! I thought to myself as Mme. Fontaine and I dragged both boxes into the hallway of the apartment, where I opened them. The heavier of the two contained books, which is what I had expected to find. Pete's such a dear! I thought to myself as I took the books out of the box and looked at them.
Pete had risen to the occation once more, for I found paperback editions of both English and American authors as well as some books I had not expected to receive. One of those books was a book on stone masonry, which included instructions on how to build a fireplace and another was on camping and outdoor survival. That's strange! I didn't know I had these! I thought to myself and then I remembered where I had seen them before. The book on stone masonry had belonged to my father, who was always trying to be the handiman around the house, usually successfully, I might add. The other book had belonged to my nephew, who had been a boy scout in his younger days. Some boy scout he made! He doesn't have time for this anymore, not with all those child support payments he makes to all those girlfriends he has! Well, at least Sharon tried with that boy! I thought to myself as I set that book aside and took more books out of the box. When I finally reached the bottom of the box, I came across two thin paperback books and a magazine. What are these! I wondered as I took them out of the box and looked at them. As I read the titles, I exclaimed softly, "Oh, yeah! I remember these!" One of the books and the magazine were on spinning and the sole remaining paperback book was on weaving.
"Comment?" Mme. Fontaine asked as she came out of the kitchen on her way to the dining room.
"Rien. If faut mettre les livres dans ma chambre, (Nothing, I'll take the books to my room)" I replied as I began to gather the books together to get them out of her way.
"Merci. Les boites sont lourdes, n'est-ce-pas. Pete a envoye les deux?(Thanks. The boxes are really heavy! Did Pete send them?)" Mme. Fontaine asked as she went back to the kitchen.
"Oui," I said as I began to carry an armful of books to my room.
"Je lui manque. Il est si chouette!(I miss him. He's so neat)" Mme. Fontaine said as she came back from the kitchen again, carrying plates and flatware.
"Oui, Je le sais," I said as I came back from my room to get another armful of books. Returning to the hallway, I opened the second box and looked inside. All I saw was rolls of scraps of material that had belonged to my mother. Sharon must have packed this box, but what did she put in here to make it so heavy? I thought to myself as I began to empty the box. I was soon to find out, for underneath the first layer of scraps, I found a small hand loom. I remember this from that mini-course I took in college! I thought as I took it out of the box and placed it next to the growing pile of material. After taking out another layer of material, I found another box that was perhaps ten by fourteen by two inches in dimension. I wonder what's in here? I thought to myself as I opened the box and pulled out a small folding table loom. Oh, Yeah! A gift for my tenth birthday from Pete and Sharon. I never could figure out how to warp the damned thing! I thought as I took out yet another layer of material. Underneath that layer of material, I found yet another box, only this one was long and narrow and I could tell just by looking at it that it was an old bead loom that had belonged to my nephew. Along with the bead loom, I found several rolls of material, but one seemed to be too heavy to be just material, so I unrolled it only to find a long drop spindle attached to a small, wide whorl. I remembered the item from the same mini-course I had taken so very long ago and then thought of Pete's jab the previous week. With all those no-brainer courses I had to take in college, Pete wonders why I didn't learn anything! I thought to myself as I began to repack the second box.
After I finished, I picked up the box,which was much lighter at this point, and took it to my room. On my way back to the hallway, I heard M. Fontaine and little Colette come in. Colette saw me and came running to me. "Bonjour, Roberta! Ca va?" she cried.
"Ca va bien," I replied as I knelt down to catch her as she ran into my arms.
After giving me a hug, Colette looked around and saw the remaining box and the looms next to it. "Qu'est-ce-que c'est?" she asked as she picked up the hand held loom.
"Il est un metier a tisser (It's a loom)," I replied.
"C'est si etrange! Et si petit, aussi. C'est un jouet?" she said as she looked at it.
"Mais, non. Ce n'est pas un jouet, (It's not a toy)" I tried to explain. Then seeing that she probably would not give it back , I added, "Ce n'est pas pour toi," I said as I tried to take it from her.
"Mais, non! Ce le mien! (It's mine)" she cried.
"Les mettiers a tisser ne sont pas les jouets. Donne-les a moi!" I said as I finally managed to take the small loom from her.
"Tu n'est pas gentil! Maman!" Colette began to cry and then ran to her mother who was carrying a large platter to the dining room table from the kitchen.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est, cherie?" Mme. Fontaine asked as she walked to the table and place the platter in the middle of it.
"Roberta n'est pas gentil! Elle a pris les jouets!" Colette managed to say through her tears.
"Oh, Colette. Ca va," Mme. Fontaine said
as she picked up the little girl and held her. Then, looking at me
over Colette's head, she mouthed the words "Ce les votre," and then added
"On mange!" as she took Colette over to the dining table and placed her
in her usual chair. I took both of the looms to my room and returned
to the dining room just as the family was sitting down to lunch.
I sat down as well and had a good meal in spite of Colette's temper tantrum.
Go to Chapter 14 of Erik by Rita Richards.