"Her understudy didn't sound too bad," I said softly, as we hung the costumes on the racks in the costume room.
"It's not the same and she knows it! Sometimes, I wish she'd go back to La Scala!" Michel exclaimed as we finished putting the costumes away.
"Why doesn't she?" I asked.
Michel shrugged his shoulders and said, "Who knows? Management would prefer she stay on, and as much as they pay her, I can see why! I think she just likes playing prima donna here and knows she can't get away with that behavior at La Scala, but that she can here at Paris."
"Will she sing tomorrow night?" I asked as we left the room.
"Who knows? While she hasn't said that she wouldn't, she hasn't said that she would either. God, I hate artists like her! Well, I'll see you tomorrow night! Bon soir, Roberta!" Michel said as he left to go upstairs.
"Bon soir, Michel. A demain!" I replied as I went to the workroom to get my things and to lock up.
As I entered the room, I heard Erik ask, "Will you be in tomorrow night, Roberta?"
As usual, no one was in the room but myself. By now, however, I was used to this happening, so I answered, "Yes. Jean-Baptiste has me scheduled to come in tomorrow night to get the costumes out and to put them back after the performance is over."
"What will you be doing during the actual performance?" he asked.
"I really hadn't thought about it...watch the performance backstage with the rest of the crew, I suppose," I replied, somewhat surprised he would ask a question like that when I assumed he knew I was to remain backstage during all the performances.
"How would you like to see Don Giovanni from the best seat in the house?" Erik asked.
"The best seat? The only one like that here at the opera house is Box Five...but that's always kept reserved for the French president!" I exclaimed.
"Nevertheless, how would you like to see the opera from a real seat?" he persisted.
"That would be wonderful...but how? Besides, what would I wear? I don't have anything nearly as fancy as the opera goers normally wear!" I exclaimed softly, hardly believing that I would be worthy to see a real opera from the ampitheater.
"Leave the box to me! As for your attire, look on your worktable. You'll find a garment bag," Erik said gently. I did as he said and found a garment bag laying flat on my worktable, just as he said. "Go on, open it!" Erik urged quietly but firmly. I unzipped the bag and took out a long black dress from the bag. It was a sleeveless dress, made of crepe de chine, with a scooped neckline and a waistline which dropped in front. Although the waistline was smooth in front, there were slight gathers at the sides and back which (I hoped anyway) would give a slimming effect. In addition to the dress, there was a black long-sleeved cardigan jacket made of the same material and trimmed with silver braid at the neckline and at the front opening.
"It's lovely!" I exclaimed softly, as I fingered first the jacket and then the dress.
Before I could say anything more, Erik said, "Why don't you try it on. I want to see how you look in it." He must have sensed my apprehention, for he added, "Please...try it on."
"Well...all right," I said, hesitating somewhat. Not only did I feel uncomfortable with accepting what was obviously a very nice gift from a person whom I felt could ill-afford a luxury such as this evening dress but I also was unsure as to whether the dress would actually fit. I took off my skirt and blouse and put on the evening gown. It was a perfect fit! I no sooner had put the gown on, when I heard a small noise. I turned around to see Erik standing at the door. All the other evenings when he had come to the workroom, he had been dressed in a black sweatshirt and black jeans but tonight he was dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, open at the collar, and a pair of black slacks. I was pleasantly surprised to see him dressed in a more formal fashion but even more surprised at his accurate guess at my size. "How did you know this would fit?" I asked, incredulously.
"I didn't. That's why I wanted you to try it on. Well, it seems I got it right, right down to the color. Black becomes you, my dear. It brings out your hair and eyes very nicely,"Erik replied softly.
"Erik, this is very nice of you to do all of this but...what if we're...I'm...seen up in Box Five. I could get fired for being there instead of backstage!" I exclaimed softly.
"Leave that to me!" he said as he walked into the room. He then walked around me and looked at me from every angle. I was starting to feel even more uncomfortable, as if I were a mannequin on display, when he added, "Yes. That will do very nicely. The black brings out your dark blond hair and blue eyes, and the silver trim brings out your rosy skin much better than that ivory blouse you were wearing. Let's go to the next room and look in the mirror." He then took my hand and led me to the costume room next to the work room, turned on the light, and leading me to the full-length mirror on the wall opposite the door, he said, "See, I told you so!" He stepped back for me to look at my reflection. He was absolutely right in his choice of color and style for me. Up to that point, I had never considered black to be for anything except mourning, but this gown changed my mind. It may have been the style of the gown or the silver trim on the jacket which offset the severity of the color itself. At any rate, I was not disappointed in the results. Erik looked at me and at my reflection for a moment and then said, "Something seems to be missing and I think I know what it is." He took out a small box from the pocket of his slacks and said, "Open it." I did so, and took out a pair of silver teardrop-shaped drop earrings. "Put them on," he said softly. The earrings were for pierced ears, so I had to step closer to the mirror to put the earring posts through the small holes in my earlobes. He must not have been quite satisfied with this small improvement, for he frowned a little and said, "It needs something else. I know..." and then he put his hands on both sides of my head and gently lifted my shoulder-length hair up and back from my face, exposing the earrings and giving the illusion that I had a long neck. "There! That's exactly what you need! However, I don't have any combs or pins to keep your hair in place. Do you have any at home?"
"No, I don't," I said softly as I became transfixed by the change in my appearance, for I had gone from dowdy and frumpy looking to almost cool sophistication almost instantaneously. "I never thought I looked good in black," I whispered.
Erk chuckled softly and asked, "So you like the change? So do I!" Then, clearing his throat a little, he added, "Unfortunately, Cinderella, the ball is tomorrow night. Wear what you had on when you come in tomorrow evening and meet me here after the cast is dressed and on stage. No one will miss you, I assure you. You can change here but you'll have to hurry, though! I don't want you to miss any more of the opera than you have to." Removing his hands from my head and lowering them to his sides, he added, "All you'll need is something to keep your hair up and back. Your curly hair is becoming but even more so when the curls are to the back. Leave everything else to me. This will all be waiting for you down here under the clothes rack when you get here. Look for the garment bag lying on the floor in that far corner. I'll meet you down here after everyone has gone onstage. As for now, Michel was right. It's getting late and I need to get you home." He took my hand again and led me back to the workroom, closed the door behind me, and stood outside the door, allowing me to change clothes in privacy. As I changed back into my skirt and blouse, I felt perplexed, which is how I always felt when he seemed to change moods. What did I do to make his change like that? I wondered as I pulled on my skirt.
After a few minutes, he knocked on the door and I said softly, "I've changed my clothes. You can come in now."
He came in and said, "Let me help you put that dress into the bag."
As he helped me put it into the bag, I asked, "Did I say anything wrong just now?"
"Say anything? What makes you say that?" he asked as he zipped the bag closed.
"I don't know. I thought I said something that made you want to take me home right away," I replied.
The preoccupied look in his eyes disappeared and he smiled a little and said, "No, I was just noting the time. Besides, I want to see you good and rested for tomorrow night." Then he added, "Let me take this to the other room. After everyone is on stage tomorrow night, you can change as well. I'll be here at eight o'clock sharp, so be ready by then if you would, please." He left the room carrying the garment bag but returned a moment later without it and asked, "Are you ready to go now?" I nodded my head, so he added, speaking softly, "Let's go."
We left the workroom and went down to the lake and left the opera house by the route that was now becoming as familiar to me as the metro route I always took to work. It was a quiet trip back to the Fontaines. I was in a more somber mood, still unsure if I had said or done anything to change Erik's mood for, in spite of his assurances, I still got the feeling that he had been angered in some way by something I had done. Whatever it was, he had recovered by the time he left me at the apartment building, for he took my hand again, kissed it and said softly, "I'm looking forward to tomorrow night. A bien tot."
"I am too, Erik. Good night," I replied. Then he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
I got to work at five that Saturday evening, as scheduled and helped Jean-Baptiste get the costumes and small props out for the cast and chorus. Carlotta surprised everybody by showing up for that evening's performance. "Does Carlotta know her role well enough to go on in spite of missing rehearsals for the past two weeks?" I asked as Jean-Baptiste and I got out the fans and gloves for the performers from the locked cabinet.
As Jean-Baptiste began to record the items on the record sheets, he exclaimed, "She should!" Then, in a calmer tone of voice, he added, "She better know her role! It's one she's done for years and is one that she's noted for. Will you be staying behind? I know that off-stage is really not the best place to watch an opera but at least you'll be able to hear her sing. She's one of the best in Europe, you know."
If Erik has his way, I'll be able to both watch and hear her sing! I thought to myself. However, I did not say this to Jean-Baptiste. Instead, I said, "I'm looking forward to tonight's performance. Michel says that Carlotta's understudy wasn't up to the demands of the role last night and I guess he should know better than I."
By seven o'clock, the cast and chorus had arrived and began to change into their costumes. Jean-Baptiste had been right when he warned me about chaotic conditions backstage just before showtime. People were milling about backstage and in the dressing rooms. Up to that point, I had never heard such noise mixed in with talking and various cast members either warming up their voices or getting in some last minute practicing of their lines. It was even more chaotic than the opening night's performance of La Traviata had been the previous October, but mercifully, the chandelier hung from the ceiling as always and cast a glowing light down into the ampitheater.
By five minutes to eight, the entire ensemble was on stage, ready for the curtain to rise. Satisfied that all was in order, Jean-Baptiste dismissed me and bade me to go downstairs, no doubt thinking that I was going to either stay there or come back in a few minutes to watch the performance backstage along with the rest of the crew. I raced downstairs to the costume room to change into the evening gown Erik had left for me. I had done as he had asked and had worn my hair in loose curls but pulled back from my face and secured with hairpins and combs I had just bought that afternoon for that purpose. As I removed the dress from the garment bag, I noticed that there was also a full, long black slip made of tricot and black lace along with a pair of black patent leather flats in the garment bag as well. I quickly changed clothes and was just putting on the shoes when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in," I said softly, nervous that it might be Jean-Baptiste or Michel at the door. I need not have worried, for it was Erik. When he entered the room, I noticed that he was dressed in a black tuxedo with a black vest, black cummerbund and black bow tie which contrasted sharply with his pleated white shirt.
"Good evening, my dear. You look extraordinarily lovely tonight," he said and then lightly kissed my cheek. "Shall we go?" he added.
"Yes, but how are we going to get up there without anybody seeing us?" I asked softly.
"Watch!" he replied and then, pressing a spot on the wall that I had not seen before, a panel in the wall slid open, revealing a spiral staircase going up. "Now we must hurry or we'll miss the opening aria to Don Giovanni," he added. Gently taking my arm, he led me to the open wall panel..Then he took out a penlight from his pocket and whispered, "Quickly, now!" He turned on the penlight and we started to ascend the stairs. As we did so, the panel closed behind us, and if it were not for the very dim light from the penlight, I would have stumbled up the stairs instead of climbing them. As we ascended the stairs, I could hear the applause of the audience. "The curtain's going up. Hurry, or we'll miss Carlotta's singing entirely!" Erik whispered as he urged me onward. We reached Box Five just as the opera was starting. Erik must have known what he was doing, for he aimed the beam of the penlight to a spot on the wall directly in front of us, pressed the spot and another panel opened in front of us as if by magic. The box was empty, which was really not surprising, for the French president had made it known that he would not be attending this evening's performance. Erik then motioned for me to sit down behind the large curtain which framed the box. I sat down and Erik sat down beside me but a little behind me as well, and even though the curtains hid both of us, I, at least, was able to get a good view of the stage.
Both Michel and Jean-Baptiste were right about Carlotta. Up to that point, I had never seen or heard anyone perform in an opera as well as she. It was a magnificent performance. During the short intermission, Erik said very quietly, "The music director will have to watch her! Otherwise, she'll steal the show!"
"She has an incredible voice! No wonder Michel was disappointed that she didn't show up last night!" I replied.
Erik chuckled and said softly, "Hush now! The second act is about to begin!" The second act, like the first, went off without a hitch and all too soon, the opera was over. As the audience began to applaud after the curtain went down, Erik said, "That's our cue. Cinderella, I'm afraid the ball is over! Now, I need to get you back down before we both turn into pumpkins!" I could only smile at his little joke as we hurried down the same spiral staircase we had ascended earlier.
I had barely entered the costume room with the panel closing behind me, when Jean-Baptiste and Michel came in with the first of the costumes to be put away. Michel noticed me standing by the wall and said, "Well, don't just stand there! Pitch in and help us!" So, for the next hour, I helped put costumes and props away.
As Jean-Baptiste and I returned from the managers' office after leaving copies of the paperwork recording the props used, he asked, "Where were you this evening? Michel and I looked all over for you during the intermission!"
"I was watching the opera," I replied as we entered the workroom.
"Where? We didn't see you anywhere down here or backstage!" Jean-Baptiste exclaimed.
"Did you need me? I thought you said I could go downstairs just before the performance began," I replied softly, now afraid I was in trouble for not having been available during the performance.
"No, not exactly. But I can't have you running around backstage, getting in the crew's way, either!" he exclaimed.
I shrugged my shoulders and said, "I found an out-of-the-way place to hear the opera." I hoped that my little half-truth would satisfy him.
It may have worked, for he only said, "Well, next time let us know where you're going!" Then, he added, "Say! Weren't you wearing a skirt and blouse earlier this evening?"
"Uh...oui! I changed clothes earlier...I guess I wanted to look a little nicer," I replied, now embarassed that I was still dressed in the evening gown Erik had given me instead of changing back into the plain skirt and blouse I had worn earlier.
"Well, you looked pretty nice before, but now you look absolutely chic! Where'd you get that ensemble? It looks positively stunning!" Jean-Baptiste exclaimed.
"Well, I..." I began to stammer.
Just then, Carlotta came in very excited, and said, "Jean, I need your help! I caught the hem of my costume on these damned high heels and tore it! Could you fix it for me?" Then, seeing me, she stopped talking and looked at me for a moment. Now I'll get it! I thought to myself. "Well, I'll be..." she started to say.
I decided to get the subject off myself at this point, so I said, "You were wonderful tonight, Carlotta! I've never seen or heard anyone do the role of Elvira better than you!"
"You aren't such an ignorant little toad after all! Thank you!" she exclaimed, and then she turned back to Jean-Baptiste and said, "Jean, you must do something about these shoes! This is the second time this season I've done this!"
"All right, all right, Carlotta! We'll go to your dressing room to assess the damage!" he exclaimed in an exasperated tone of voice. Then, he turned to me and added, in a stern tone of voice, "I'm not through with you yet! We'll talk later!"
I can hardly wait! I thought to myself, as the two left the workroom. After a moment, I left as well, and went back to the costume room to change clothes. I had just finished changing back into my skirt and blouse, and was putting the dress and slip back into the garment bag when I heard Erik say, "See! I told you that black was your color!" I turned and saw Erik standing at the doorway. He, too, had changed clothes and was wearing a plain, long-sleeved white shirt and black slacks.
"Erik!" I exclaimed softly, and then added, "I'm glad you're back. I feel like I abandoned you earlier!"
He shook his head and said, "No, I'm afraid I was the one who had to leave you. I wanted to get you back as soon as I could." Then he changed the subject and asked, "Well, did you enjoy your evening at the opera?"
"Yes, I did. It was great!" I exclaimed.
"Would you like to go home now or would you rather wait until Buquet returns to quiz you on your whereabouts this evening?" he asked, changing the subject yet once again.
Somewhat disappointed that this magical evening was drawing to a close, I tried to keep my voice steady as I replied, "Actually, I would rather go home. It's after eleven, and I'd like to be able to get to Mass tomorrow before I have to come in for the matinee performance."
"Well, grab your things, then. It's home you go!" Erik replied, smiling as he did so. Then, after I got my jacket and purse from the next room, he grabbed the garment bag and we left the costume room and went down to the small room by the side of the lake. He handed me the garment bag while he took out the penlight he had used earlier that evening. Aiming the beam at the chair by the cot, he picked up his black jacket which was draped over the back of the chair. As he did so, I noticed his tuxedo laying on the cot.
"What will you do with that?" I asked, pointing to the tuxedo.
"That? I'll pick it up tomorrow morning when I come in to do my rounds," he said as he put on his jacket.
"You work on Sundays?" I asked.
"Why not? The rats don't take Sundays off so why should I?" Erik asked as we left the room.
"But Sunday is the Lord's day!" I exclaimed
softly as we walked toward the boat
.
"Maybe so, but I've got a job to do and besides,
I have to eat, too. Now, didn't Jesus Himself pick wheat on the Sabbath?"
Erik asked. At first, I thought he might be angry with me again for
questioning him on the way he did business, and then I saw the twinkle
in his eye in spite of the mask he wore, so I knew he was teasing, if only
a little.
"So, I'm not the only one around here who knows Scripture," I replied softly. Erik chuckled at my remark, so I was again reassured that he was in a good mood. He took the garment bag and then my hand and helped me into the boat, untied it from its mooring, gave me the garment bag before stepping into the boat, and as he retreived the pole from the bottom of the boat, I said, "I just thought of something. I forgot to ask you how you enjoyed the evening."
"My dear, I always enjoy watching opera, particularly when I am in the company of a beautiful lady such as yourself," Erik replied as he propelled the boat to the other side of the lake.
I felt myself getting warm on my neck and face, so I can only assume that I was blushing at his complement. After a brief moment of silence, I said softly, "This evening seems like a dream. I haven't enjoyed myself so much in a very long time."
"Good! I'm glad to hear that. We shall have to attend the opera together more often," Erik said softly as he guided the boat to the other side of the lake and then tied it to the pylon. He got out of the boat first, and then after he helped me out of the boat, we ascended the stairs and walked the rest of the way back to the Fontaines' apartment building in silence. When we got to the door leading into the furnace room, Erik took my free hand (for my other arm held the garment bag), kissed it and held it for a moment before saying, "I enjoyed this evening very much. Since you and I will both be in tomorrow, will you be giving me an English lesson?"
"No, I thought I'd give you tomorrow off. You may not honor the Sabbath, but I try to, if at all possible. Besides, you deserve a short break. I'll make up for it on Monday," I replied, trying to keep my voice light in tone.
He remained silent, and for a moment, I thought I had angered him, but he must have realized that I was teasing him, for he smiled and said, "Very well, then. I'll see you Monday morning for your singing lesson. Good night, my dear." He squeezed my hand, released it, and then turned and disappeared into the shadows like he always did.
The rest of the performances of Don Giovanni went as smoothly as the one Saturday night had gone. Even Carlotta seemed nicer to me, which made the month of January pass much more pleasantly as well as quickly. As for my unexplained absence that Saturday night, neither Jean-Baptiste nor Michel ever mentioned it again, for which I was very relieved. I had no wish to tell lies or any more half-truths, and I feared that if I told the truth, I would be fired, not only for not being on duty, so to speak, but also viewing the opera from the French president's private box, even though he was not present at the time.
In spite of Carlotta's civility toward me, both Jean-Baptiste and Michel were apprehensive, perhaps fearing another change in her moods. Quite honestly, I was happy that she was not picking on me for a change. Looking back on the events of that winter, however, I was to find that both men had been correct to feel the way they did. One day in early February, I was in the workroom, doing some last-minute alterations on some men's costumes for the upcoming performances of Girl of the Golden West, and as usual, I was humming. Jacqueline came into the room with an armful of men's vests and shirts, put them on her worktable, and said, "It's good to hear you singing again, Roberta! I was afraid you had given up singing for good!"
Startled, I looked up from my work and said, "Was I singing? Oh, Jeez! I didn't realize it until now!"
"Don't stop! It sounds very good! Maybe you can try out for the chorus this fall!" she said as she sat down to start on her pile of sewing.
Before I could voice my protest, Carlotta came to the door of the workroom and asked, "Has anyone seen Jean today?"
"I think he's downstairs with Papa and Joseph moving some props. He should be up here shortly," Jacqueline said as she looked up at Carlotta from her sewing.
"Would you please tell him I'm having trouble with my costume and that I'll be in my dressing room," Carlotta said, and then left to go back upstairs before either of us could respond.
Jacqueline sighed, and asked, "Do you want to find Jean-Baptiste or should I?"
"Could she wait awhile? These need to be done too!" I replied.
"No, I'd better go and hunt him down. If he isn't up there right away, she'll have a fit. You know, I don't always agree with Papa on everything here at the opera house, which I'm sure you know by now, but there is one thing I can agree with him on and that's her!"
"Oh, come on now! She isn't that bad! She hasn't been rude to me for over two weeks now!" I protested.
"That's what I'm afraid of. It's not like her to be that nice to you for this long! She's got something up her sleeve, I'm sure of it!" Jacqueline said as she rose from her worktable and then added, "If I miss Jean-Baptiste, would you tell him Carlotta needs him right away?" I nodded my head and she left the room in search of him. I resumed my sewing and thought no more of the day's encounter with Carlotta.
That was a mistake, for a few days later, both Jean-Baptiste and I were called into the managers' office. M. Hauptmann was at another meeting with the owners and had left Mme. Giry in charge for the few days he would be gone. When we got to the managers' office, we found her at her desk with a pile of men's costumes in front of her. She looked absolutely livid and was playing with the cap on her pen, no doubt trying to keep from losing her temper. After we entered the room, she asked us to close the door behind us and then motioned for us to be seated on the chairs placed in front of her desk. We sat down and waited for her to begin the meeting. After several minutes of silence and watching her play with the pen by putting on and taking off the cap of her pen, she finally sat back in her chair and asked tersely, "Monsieur Buquet. Do you know anything about this?"
"About what?" Jean-Baptiste asked.
"Please examine these costumes carefully," Mme. Giry replied. Jean-Baptiste rose from his chair and picked up one of the costumes. It was one of the pair of men's work pants we all had worked on the previous autumn. As he picked it up, it promptly fell apart in his hands. He picked up a second pair, and then a third pair, all with the same results. He turned pale, but before he could say anything, Mme. Giry said sharply, "They're all that way. Every one of the men's pants for the new production of Girl of the Golden West."
"Oh, my God!" he finally managed to exclaim.
"As you can see, Buquet. We have a saboteur in our midst and she's sitting right here in this very office!" Mme. Giry said coldly as she looked at me.
"What?" I whispered as I sat forward in my chair.
"Please observe!" Mme. Giry replied as she turned on a small television set that sat at her right on her desk. She put a video tape into the VCR that was next to the television, and then turned it on. She then turned the television so Jean-Baptiste could watch. I rose from my chair and stood next to him.
As we watched the video, I breathed in sharply and whispered, "That's impossible!", for what I saw both shocked and dismayed me. I watched in horror as a woman come into the costume room and slash and cut every pair of men's work pants we had worked so hard on. The view of the woman was from the back, and from that view, the woman looked like...me. Finding my voice finally, I exclaimed, "This can't be!"
"Oh, but I'm afraid it is!" Mme. Giry said coldly. Then, she added sharply, "Mme. Martin, you're fired! Get out!"
"Wait! There must be some explanation!" Jean-Baptiste exclaimed.
"There is! She trashed the costumes! Now we know what she's been doing on this crazy schedule of hers!" Mme. Giry replied, trying hard not to raise her voice.
"There must be some mistake!" I cried.
"There's no mistake, Mme. Martin! Now...get out!" Mme. Giry said as she rose from her desk.
I meekly left the room and passed Carlotta on my way down to the workroom to get my things. I will never forget the look of satisfaction and triumph I saw on her face that day. However, I was so miserable from the events of that meeting that I did not bother to think about what her role might have been in getting me fired. I went to the workroom and started to gather my things together. Jacqueline and Michel were both in the room that day as well, finishing alterations on the last of the men's shirts and vests. Jacqueline looked up as I entered the room and asked, "Roberta, is everything all right?"
I shook my head and was trying not to cry but before I could answer her, Jean-Baptiste came into the room and asked, "Would you two mind leaving Roberta and I alone for a few minutes?" Both Michel and Jacqueline looked at him for a moment, and then together, they got up and left the room. Jean-Baptiste closed the door after they left the room, turned and brought Michel's chair over to my former worktable and sat down. He motioned for me to sit down next to him as well, and after I did so, he asked gently, "Roberta, what's going on?"
I broke down at this point and said through my tears, "I didn't do it!"
In a firm voice, Jean-Baptiste said, "Stop crying and tell me what's going on! You've been coming in early and staying late for months, now what's going on?" I did not answer immediately, so he said, obviously trying to control his growing anger, "Answer me. What's going on?"
I finally managed to stop crying, and looking up at him, I said softly, "I've been coming in early, but not to work on costumes. I've been coming in early to take singing lessons."
"What?" he asked incredulously.
I nodded my head and repeated softly, "I've been taking singing lessons all this time. I didn't want anybody to know."
"How long has this been going on?" he asked tersely.
"Since October," I replied softly, still feeling bruised from my treatment at Mme. Giry's hands.
"Who in the hell's been giving you singing lessons?" he asked as he sat back in his chair.
"Erik," I replied softly.
"What? Who?" Jean-Baptiste asked as he sat forward again, seeming not to believe his ears.
"Erik...he heard me singing after I first started working here and said I really needed voice lessons, saying that my singing actually hurt his ears!" I replied, trying to smile through my tears.
"Erik! What the hell does he know about singing?" Jean-Baptiste growled.
I took a deep breath and then said, "He says he used to be a singer here at the opera house many years ago." After a moment, I added, "You've got to believe me, Jean-Baptiste, I didn't slash those costumes!"
"I don't think you did either. It wouldn't make any sense for you to first sew and then slash those costumes, but unfortunately, I can't do anything about your situation. After you left the managers' office, I spent several minutes trying to talk Giry into letting me keep you but she's adamant. The best I can do is to write a letter to whoever hires you explaining the reason for your termination here at the opera house. I'm sorry. I've done what I could," Jean-Baptiste said finally.
"I understand monsieur," I replied, reverting to my original formality with Jean-Baptiste Buquet.
I stood up and got my purse and jacket. M. Buquet rose as well and went to open the door. As he did so, he said, "You know, the day isn't even half-over yet. Maybe you can start job hunting today."
I could not believe my ears! I had just lost my job over false accusations, and M. Buquet was acting as if nothing serious had just occured! I could only manage to shake my head and say, 'I don't think so. Au revoir, monsieur." I walked out of the workroom and went upstairs to go out of the opera house, for what I thought was the last time. As I left the opera house, I noticed Andre smoking another one of his Gaulois.
He waved to me and asked, "Leaving so early?"
I stopped and went over to him and said softly,
"Oui." Then I added, my voice getting thick, "You've been very kind
to me, Andre, ever since I started working here. Thank you for being
my friend." Then, I took his hand and shook it briefly before turning
and walking quickly through the square toward the metro, for I did not
want him to see my tears.
Go to Chapter 16 of Erik by Rita Richards.