Erik - Chapter 25

I sighed and said, "My mind is on other things."  After a moment, I added, "I saw the lawyer you recommended."

He looked up at me from the piano and said, "Indeed?  What did she say?"

"She said that she'll be making some 'inquiries', as she put it and she also said something else," I replied quietly.

"What else?" he asked.

I remained quiet for a moment, and then trying not to sound bitter or angry, I said, "I will probably have to become a French citizen."

"Really?  Is that all?  That's good, isn't it?" Erik asked, and then seeing the expression on my face, he quickly added, "No?  Don't you want to become a French citizen?"

I shook my head and said, "No, but I may have no choice.  If I don't, I'll lose my job and will be deported back to America and more than likely, jailed because that...female that dares to call herself the president of the United States is putting all who disagree with her and her policies in prison!"

"My dear, please calm yourself!" Erik replied, trying to remain calm himself.

"I'm sorry, Erik.  Please excuse me!  I just can't go on!" I exclaimed.  I then grabbed my things and quickly left the practice room nearly in tears, for I was quite upset.  You see, dear readers, I love America in spite of her faults, and giving up my citizenship was like giving up life itself.

The rest of the day was just as bad as that morning had been.  I found myself spending my lunch hour in Mme. Renard's office getting the information she had promised, and I found it most disturbing.  "Roberta, you may or may not like what I found out over the weekend," Mme. Renard said as I sat down in front of her desk.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I'm glad you're sitting down, because what I have to tell you is most...upsetting.  At least it would be for me anyway.  It seems that your daughter got a loan to pay for her tuition and fees and has been working part-time as a waitress to pay that loan back.  I was able to find employment applications and employment records on the Internet quite easily," she said as she took out a computer printout from her briefcase and handed it to me.

"What?  Then what's she doing with all that money I've been sending her every month?  She must be renting someplace then!" I exclaimed.

Mme. Renard shook her head and said, "I couldn't find any records of any rental agreements or even receipts, but I'm still looking.  In any case, I'm giving you a copy of what I've found so far.  I've also written a letter to your ex-husband's lawyer, advising him of the information I've found, and I have demanded that this agreement you have be either re-negotiated or voided altogether."

"I see.  Yes, of course," I replied softly, still reeling from the revelation.  Then, I added more forcefully, "Do you have anything else for me?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," she replied as she reached into her top desk drawer and pulled out some more papers.  "These are your citizenship papers.  I'll call my secretary, Margerite, to come in here and witness your signature, and after taking your oath, you'll be a new citizen of France."  Then, pushing a button on the side of her desk, she said, "Margerite, viens s'il tu plais (Margerite, come in please)."

I leaned forward in my chair a little and asked, "Don't I have to go to the hotel de ville to take my oath of citizenship?"

Mme. Renard shook her head and said, "That won't be necessary.  All that is needed is your signature and your oath to be witnessed and properly notarized.  Copies of the papers can then be sent to the hotel de ville and the prime minister's office to be recorded.  That's far simpler and quicker than in America, isn't it?"

I nodded, and said, "Yes.  No five-year waiting period and no civics classes to take."  But also, no public ceremonies or celebrations either! I thought as the secretary entered the room.

"Ah, Margerite.  You're here," Mme. Renard said as her secretary entered the room and then walked up to the large desk and sat down in the chair next to me.  Then turning to me, Mme. Renard added, "If you'll sign where I have indicated on these forms, I'll have Margerite notarize them."  I did as she asked and then she continued, "Now, if you'll stand up and raise your right hand and repeat after me..."

I rose from my chair, raised my right hand and repeated, "I...Roberta Martin...do solemnly swear...that I will defend the Republic of France and her constitution...against all enemies...and do hereby reject and renounce...my citizenship and all ties to the United States of America."

Mme. Renard then indicated that I should sit down and after I did so, she said, "There, all done!  You are now a French citizen and enjoy the same protection the rest of your fellow citizens enjoy.  I've given you an extra copy besides to give to your employer.  I'm sure he will greatly appreciate this new information."

"Yes, I'm sure the managers will, as do I.  I don't want to look like I'm thoughtless and thankless, but it's very difficult for me to give up my American citizenship.  You see, my father served in the army during World War II, and he was very proud to be an American.  I feel like I'm turning my back on him by doing this," I said quietly, as I took the papers she handed me.

"I understand how you feel, but are you turning your back on your homeland or has it turned its back on you?  You see, I'm descended from Vendeeans who fought for the Church and the king and against Robespierre and the rest of the revolutionaries.  I'm sure they felt the same way you do but they reasoned that their country had betrayed them, not the other way around.  Besides, should freedom ever be restored in America, couldn't you then petition to become a naturalized citizen?" she responded.

I nodded and said, "I suppose you're right but I have a feeling that freedom is gone for good in America.  It's not the country my father fought to defend.  Well, I need to go back to work.  There's still a lot that needs to be done before our performance Friday night.  Will you be coming to it?" I asked.

She shook her head and said, "I won't be at the live performance but I'll probably watch the taped broadcast when it airs Sunday night."

Rising from my chair, I then said, "Thank you again for these papers.  I'm sure the managers will be glad to have a copy for their records."  I took her hand and shook it and then left her office and returned to work.

When I returned to work, I immediately went to the managers' office with my citizenship papers, and as it turned out, it was a good thing I did so.  Carlotta was sitting in the managers' office, and acted as if she was waiting for me.  "Well, it's about time you showed up, toad!" she exclaimed as I entered the room.

"That's enough, Carlotta!" Mme. Giry exclaimed.

"She doesn't work here anymore!  I can call her whatever I feel like, and she's lucky I don't call her something else!" Carlotta retorted as she glared at Mme. Giry.  Then, turning to me she continued, "That's right!  Your days here at the opera house are over!  Le Pin signed a law last week that bars you foreigners from jobs and even deports you people!  Thank God this place is going to be foreigner-free!  And even better!  Thank God it's going to be American-free!"

Trying to keep my temper, I merely glanced at her and said, "You probably won't be interested in these but the managers might!"  I then handed my citizenship papers to Mme. Giry, who, after reading them, passed them to M. Hauptmann.

After he read them as well, he looked at Carlotta.  Barely able to retain his anger, he said coldly, "Mme. Martin has been a wonderful asset to this company.  As far as firing goes, it should be you that should be fired, and if it weren't for the fact we need you in the gala, I would do so immediately.  Roberta has every right to work here, especially since she is now a French citizen."

"She's what?" Carlotta exclaimed, and then added coldly, "Well, it makes no difference!  She must have become one after the bill was signed into law.  Getting her citizenship now doesn't make any difference.  She'll still have to go back to America."

Mme. Giry spoke up and said, "Actually, it does make a difference.  Le Pin has given foreign workers until the twentieth of this month to become citizens or face expulsion.  Roberta has met that deadline with time to spare.  She doesn't have to return to America unless she wants to."

Carlotta looked first at the managers and then at me.  Rising from her chair, she slowly walked towards me, and barely containing her rage, she said slowly and deliberately, "This isn't over yet, toad!  It's not over by a long shot!"  She then stomped out of the room.

After she left the room, M. Hauptmann looked at Mme. Giry and said, "I want you to draw up papers terminating Carlotta's employment here, effective Saturday.  Her last performance will be Friday night at the gala!  I've had just about enough of her!"

"Do you really want to fire her, monsieur?  After all, she is a major stock holder that owns nearly forty percent of the company, and she does have political connections," Mme. Giry reminded her fellow manager.

"I don't give a damn!  She doesn't own the whole company and her friends have their own concerns for the moment.  I want her out of here by Saturday!" M. Hauptmann replied coldly, and then turning to me, he said, "It's nice to know you'll be staying on.  By the way, what we have just discussed stays in this room, is that clear?"

I nodded and replied, "Yes, of course.  And thank you for coming to my defense."

"Good!  Now then, we'll see you Friday night at the gala," he replied, and after dismissing me, he turned to Mme. Giry and said, "Now, about those papers..."

I left the mangers' office and then quietly made my way back downstairs to the costume room, where I heard Michel and Jacqueline arguing over the costumes again.  "But Carlotta says her kimono is so old the material is completely rotten and she needs a whole new costume, Papa!" I heard Jacqueline exclaim.

"And I say that if she's careful with it, it'll last at least until the new production this fall!" Michel retorted.

Just as I entered the room, Jacqueline gasped and exclaimed, "Roberta!  What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean, what is she doing here?  She works here, remember?" Michel exclaimed.
"Not according to Carlotta she doesn't!" Jacqueline replied.

"Oh, God!  Not again!" Michel muttered.

"The managers said I could stay on, so I am!" I replied to both Jacqueline and Michel.

"I'm glad somebody's got some sense around here!" Michel exclaimed.

"But Carlotta's kimono..." Jacqueline protested.

"Tell Carlotta, that if she doesn't like it, she knows where she can put that damned kimono!" Michel exclaimed, and then added, "We've got other costumes to work on, people!  Let's get to work!"

Monday night's rehearsal went much better than even the director had hoped.  The only real problems at this point were with the stage hands and lighting crew.  I do not blame either group too much because both groups had to work with old equipment that was just barely adequate for the gala performance.  "Hubert, get that spotlight aimed at Carlos...No, for God's sake!  Don't blind the man!  Lift the fixture higher!  That's it!  Now aim it!  Good!" the stage director yelled at the hapless stage hand who tried to raise the entire light fixture to the proper level and then aim it at Carlos without blinding the performer.

While the stage director struggled with the lighting crew, the stage hands had problems of their own getting the Japanese tea house assembled ion such a way that it could quickly be dismantled and taken off the stage during the break between acts and yet not  fall apart while the performers were singing in it during their scene.  "Come on, Emile!  Put some elbow grease into it!" the senior stage hand growled to his younger helper.

"Just a minute.  I'm...having...trouble...with...this...bolt!  There!  Got it!" the younger worker exclaimed as he twisted his wrench and then finally loosened the bolt.

While this was going on, the music director had assembled the chorus at the back of the stage in order to have  us practice entering the stage.  "Is it always this chaotic?" I asked the alto standing immediately in front of me.

She turned to me, shook her head and said, "That's what they get when they wait until the last minute like that!  They should have had this worked out weeks ago!"

"I sure hope they get this figured out soon.  Our performance is Friday night!  I wonder why we won't be singing Sunday?  After all, it is Bastille Day!" I mused.

"Probably because the fourteenth is on a Sunday, and most people will have already started their vacations by then.  This will be a good send-off for them...if everything falls into place by then, but with this crew, who knows!" she replied as the line in front of us began to move forward.

"Okay, people.  Listen up!  Now, remember that we'll already be in place when the curtain goes up for the opening number, so we only need to come on stage like this for the national anthem.  Basses, you'll be leading the way followed by the altos.  Then the tenors follow the altos and sopranos follow the tenors.  Remember basses-tall ones follow in back of the shorter ones.  And altos, I want that order reversed-short ones start out in front followed by the tall ones.  Tenors, I want you to do as the basses.  Sopranos, do as the altos-short ones go first, then the tall ones in back!"  As we lined up as he directed, he continued, "Okay, let's go!"  We then practiced walking on and off stage for the next fifteen minutes, making sure that we did so as quickly as the director wanted.

Finally, nodding his head in satisfaction, the music director said, "Okay, I think we've got it.  Now, let's start rehearsing!"  Then, turning to the piano accompanist, he said, "Maestro, the introduction, please!"

  For the next two hours, we had our first semi-dress rehearsal.  I call it a semi-dress rehearsal because the choir was not in formal dress, although the soloists were all in costume.  The sound was rather thin as well, since we were rehearsing without an orchestra, but we were able to go through the entire rehearsal with only a few short stops, and those were due to the lighting crew not quite timing the lighting properly.  At the end of that rehearsal, after the chorus sang the national anthem, the director nodded his head and said, "That's a better balance but altos, you still need to bring it out more.  Other than that, it's been a good rehearsal, people!  Let's do this good tomorrow night!"

We had our final rehearsals every night that entire second week in July, and by Thursday night, I was convinced that we would actually be able to do the production without a hitch, at least until that night's rehearsal.  I was walking by the ladies' dressing room on my way to the stage for rehearsal, when I heard a loud, tearing sound coming from the room.  Oh, no!  What now? I thought as the women in the dressing room began to giggle.  "That's not funny!" I heard Carlotta exclaim as I walked by the room.  Opening the door, which had been slightly ajar, I looked in to find the female performers gathered around Carlotta.  "Well, just don't stand there, toad!  Do something!" she exclaimed.

"What happened?" I asked as I entered the room.

Sophie, who was standing next to Carlotta, giggled again and said, "She ripped her costume!"

I walked over to Carlotta, groaning as I did so.  "How bad is it?" I asked.

Turning her back to me, she said, "I don't know.  I'm afraid to look.  It came from the back, I think."

"Take off your obi and let's have a look," I said, hoping for the best but was expecting the worst.

She untied the obi and gave it to me.  Then looking at her back, I saw a long rip in her kimono that went from about her shoulders down to her hips.  I sighed and said, "Well, it could be worse!  Take it off and give it to me and I'll take it downstairs.  It'll take a few minutes but I think I can patch it up enough to get through tonight's rehearsal as well as tomorrow night's production.  It looks like you were right-the material's shot on this thing!  I'll make out a report tonight after rehearsal and give it to the managers tomorrow.  Hopefully, by next season, we'll have a new silk kimono for 'Madama Butterfly'!"  Damn!  That would have to happen, and just before the gala, too! I thought as she took off the kimono and handed it to me.

I made my way downstairs, and as I walked by the men's dressing room which was the costume room next to the workroom, I could hear the men talking and laughing as they dressed for rehearsal.  Good night!  They're worse than women! I thought as I got out some muslin scraps and quickly made and oblong, diamond-shaped patch for the kimono.  As I was rounding the horizontal points on the patch, I heard Carlos exclaim, "I tell you, she's cold because she doesn't like men!"

"Yeah, right!  And you want us to believe that any woman who resists your advances is automatically a lesbian!  Get real, Carlos!" one of the tenors in the chorus retorted, as the rest of the men burst out laughing.  That's your revenge, Carlos?  Can't you do better than that?  That might work in high school but not now and certainly not at our age! I thought as I pinned the patch to the kimono.  I hope this works!  I've never tried sewing a cotton patch to a silk garment before, so I hope it holds up at least until after tomorrow night! I thought to myself as I sat down to my sewing machine and began to sew.

I finished sewing it a few minutes later and exclaimed, "There!  All done!"

"Not quite!" I heard Carlos say.

I spun around in my chair and exclaimed, "Where did you come from?"

"I heard the sewing machine running and thought it must be you.  You're so predictable, Roberta!" he said as he shook his head.

"What do you want?" I asked in an exasperated manner.

"To complete some unfinished business.  No, don't get up.  This won't take long," he said as I started to rise from my chair.  Walking over to me, he leaned down and added, "I'm going to give you one more chance, mi corazon.  I'm a forgiving man, and I'm quite willing to forget our previous...differences."

"Oh, really!  Carlos, I've got to get this back to Carlotta, so you'll have to talk to me later!" I exclaimed as I rose from my chair and walked around him to exit the room.

He then walked up behind me, and putting his arms around my waist, he stopped me and said softly, "I know your little secret,"

Surprised at his actions, as well as feeling a growing sense of dread, I asked softly, "What secret?"

"That you're taking singing lessons, and that the managers don't know that you're taking them right here at the opera house, and on their time, not yours," he said softly in my ear.

"Is that all!" I exclaimed softly, struggling to get away from him.

Holding me firmly against his torso, he replied, "Oh, no!  There's more!  Much more!  I know that they don't know about the lessons, or where you're taking them, or even who your teacher is, or anything about him...but I do!" he exclaimed softly in a cryptic manner.

Trying not to act alarmed, and also trying to ignore the sinking feeling one gets when one is expecting bad news, I said bravely, "Oh, really, Carlos!  Don't be so melodramatic!"

"Don't laugh!  I'm quite serious!  I know all about your lessons that you have every morning upstairs.  I even know about the room behind the practice room!  Some closet that is!  Carlotta pointed it out to me early Monday morning, and if I hadn't have heard you sing, I wouldn't have believed her story about hidden rooms and clandestine lessons.  I also found some old floor plans in the managers' office that confirmed her story.  And as for your 'teacher'!  I know all about him as well.

Rat-catcher, indeed!  Mi corazon, I know enough about him to not only get him fired, but to put him back in jail!"  I turned my head to the right a little and stared at him as he continued, "That's right!  Your Erik's a jailbird!"

I broke away from his embrace, and turning to him, I exclaimed, "You're lying!"
Carlos shook his head as he moved toward me, saying, "I never lie about such things.  Mi corazon, I'm a forgiving man as I said before, and I can be forgetful, too...for the right price of course!"
"I don't believe any of this!" I exclaimed, as I backed my way towards the door to make what I hoped would be a quick exit.

Seeing what I was trying to do, Carlos cut me off by closing the door before I could reach it.  Then, pinning me to the same closed door, he said softly, "Oh, but it's true!  Everything I've just told you is true!"  Then, he added, "But for the right price, neither the managers nor the police will ever know what I know."

Police?  Erik, what did you do to involve the police? I wondered.  Then, realizing that Carlos was indeed telling me the truth, I took a deep breath and asked, "How much do you want?"
"Now, you see?  We can talk after all!" Carlos exclaimed softly.  Then, he shook his head and said, "I really don't want your money.  I want you!"

I rolled my eyes and said, "I don't believe this!"

"Don't treat me like this!" Carlos exclaimed between his clenched teeth.  "Don't ever treat me like that again!" he added.  Then, calming down a little, he continued, "I'm giving you a choice-move in with me, or give me one hundred thousand francs in cash every month, or your 'teacher' goes back to jail!"

Struggling against his body which had pinned mine to the door, I exclaimed, "This is ridiculous!  You can't be serious!"

"Don't believe me?  I wouldn't doubt my word if I were you!" Carlos exclaimed as he pinned me closer to the door.  Then, whispering in my ear, he said, "I've wanted you ever since I first saw you at auditions.  I know your little 'story' as well.  I really don't care how you've been treated in the past.  I only know that I will treat you better than any man you've know before, including your 'teacher'!  Just move in with me and I'll make you forget all the other men in your past."  Kissing my cheek softly, and then moving his lips down the side of my neck, he added softly, "Choose me and you'll never be sorry."

Trust a man like you?  I'd rather trust a rattlesnake! I thought as I moved my right hand over to the doorknob.  Finally finding the strength to push him away, I pushed him away from me and asked,

"And if I don't, what then?"

Glaring at me as much from my actions as my words, he replied coldly, "You'll rue the day you rejected me, I promise you!  And you'll rue the day you met your 'teacher' as well, I guarantee it!"

I shook my head and said, "I've got better things to do than listen to your stories!  If you'll excuse me, I've got to get this thing back to Carlotta."  Turning my back on him, I opened the door and left the room as quickly as I could and made my way back to the women's dressing room.

"What took you so long?  Rehearsal's almost ready to start!" Carlotta exclaimed as I entered the room.

I sighed and said, "I had a run-in with your dear Carlos!  Here, put this on and I'll tie your obi for you."

As I tied her obi, I saw Carlotta smile in the mirror.  Then she said, "Trying his charms on you?  He told me he's taken quite a liking to you!"

" He can go to hell, too, as far as I'm concerned!  I know his type!  There, all done!  Good!  My patch can't be seen from behind," I replied as she turned and walked to the door.

Turning around to face me, she said, "Thanks for mending my costume.  Take my advice about Carlos.  Don't cross him!  Ever!  He's been known to make life difficult for his enemies, even more difficult than I'm making life for you here at the opera house.  Trust me!  I've seen him in action!  And if you think I'm hell to live with, just imagine what it would be like with him!"  Turning around again, she then left the room.

I left the room as well, and closing the door behind me, I thought to myself, I hope you're wrong, Carlotta!  I don't know what Carlos thinks he has on Erik, but he can't make life here any more difficult than you have!

Making my way to the backstage area, I quickly got into my place with the rest of the altos.  "Where were you?" the one standing behind me whispered loudly.

"I had to mend Carlotta's costume at the last minute," I whispered back.  Not to mention dealing with Carlos! I thought as the orchestra began to play the opening overture to the gala.

"That's your cue, everybody!  Watch the conductor for your entrance!" the music director called out as the curtain opened, and with that, our final dress rehearsal before the gala began.

Rehearsal continued until quite late that night, due more to technical glitches than anything else.  The chorus sang very well during the final rehearsal as did the individual performers, and for once, I was able to actually enjoy hearing the arias that were to be sung the following night at the gala.  The stage crew, however, was still having trouble timing the spotlights, and for a few moments, some of the performers were literally singing in the dark.  Among them was Carlos, who was in a foul mood to begin with.  Finally, after one of the lighting crew missed the cue to turn the spotlight on Carlos, the tenor lost his composure completely and let out a stream of profanities in French and Spanish before stomping off the stage in anger and disgust, vowing to return only if the lighting crew was replaced immediately.

"Jeez!  And I thought Carlotta was bad!" I exclaimed softly, more to myself than anyone else.

The alto standing next to me, turned to me and said, "I don't know what you said to set him off like that, but it really must have been something!"

"Does it really matter?  I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't!" I replied sardonically, as I put my right hand up to the bridge of my nose to pinch it to stave off yet another one of my migraines.

"Is it true what he says about you?" she asked.

"Who?  Carlos?  What's he been saying?" I demanded.

"About how you prefer women to men," she  replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

"Oh, for...Look, lady!  I'm just another divorcee who was hurt too many times by my ex-!  You know the expression-once burned, twice shy?  Besides, if I was a lesbian, I wouldn't have bothered to get married and have kids in the first place!" I replied bitterly.  Before she could say anything more, the music director called our attention and the rehearsal proceeded, sans Carlos.

After rehearsal was over, I went to the costume room on the pretext that I had to check the costumes one more time.  Fortunately, no one questioned my actions, so I had a few moments of complete peace and quiet before Erik was to come to take me home.  When he entered the room, he must have sensed I was ill, for he said, "You look like you've had a rough day!"

I sighed and said, "Yes, I have, and now I've got another headache coming on."

He immediately took both my hands and exclaimed, "Indeed!  Your hands are like ice!"  After a moment, he added, "My dear, I'm taking you to the emergency room at Hopital St. Lazare right now!"  I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say anything, He added, "And I won't hear another word from you!  If I don't take you now, you'll be in no shape to sing tomorrow night!  And, I want to see you tomorrow night on stage hale and hearty!  Now, let's go!"

I was in no shape to argue with Erik, for he was right.  As it was, it was not certain that after having a darvon shot, I would even be able to stand, let alone sing.  After we had made our way down to the lake and he had me seated in the gondola, he asked as he propelled the boat away from the edge where he had had it tied up, "What set this headache off?"

I shook my head and said, "It's hard to say which one thing did it.  I've had so much happen to me the last few days.  Mme. Renard seems to think my daughter has been less than honest with me concerning the money I've been sending her every month."  I sighed, and then added, "Plus, she felt that with all the things that have been happening in America the last few months, that I should become a French citizen, which I did on Monday, by the way.  But I was so upset about the very thought of giving up my American citizenship...well, that's why I left our lesson so upset Monday morning.  And in addition to that, all the hours I've been putting in, plus putting up with Carlotta..."  And Carlos!  Why did the migraine have to hit right now?  Why couldn't it have waited until tomorrow night after all of this was over with? I thought to myself as Erik poled the gondola to the other side of the lake.

"That's a lot!" Erik commented sympathetically, and then added, "Anything else to add to that list?"
Should I tell him about Carlos?  Do I really want to hear Erik say 'I told you so?'  Carlos is really nothing more than a jerk!  And besides, after seeing the music director pull him aside after rehearsal, I really don't think I have anything to worry about.  No, Carlos isn't worth complaining about, and he's not worth crying about either! I thought to myself, and then seeing that Erik wanted an answer to his question, I merely shrugged my shoulders and replied, "Isn't that enough?"

Erik nodded and said, "Indeed!  Well, let's get you to the hospital, and then it's home and bed for you!"

Erik did as he promised, and after explaining to the doctor on call my problems with migraine medication, I was given a darvon shot and Erik escorted me back to the Fontaines.  As he dropped me by the door to the furnace room, he admonished, "Now remember!  Go straight to bed and don't even think of getting up before noon!  You don't even have to be at the opera house until six!  I want you to be well-rested for tomorrow night's performance!"

"But, Erik!  I'm only singing in the chorus!  It's not like I've got a solo or anything!" I protested.
"Nonetheless!  By getting your rest, you get yourself into the habit of always being well-rested before a performance.  That's very important for all singers!  Now, tonight when you go to bed, I want you to clear your mind of everything but the music you will be singing!  Do you still have copies of the music the director handed out?" he asked.

"Yes, and I have the tape of the accompaniment as well," I replied, puzzled as to how Erik knew the director had handed out copies of the music at the first rehearsal.  Then I added, "How did you know about the music?"

Erik hesitated a moment, and then replied, "I watched the first rehearsal from box five.  I always enjoy watching the gala take shape, and I particularly like seeing the director take a bunch of untrained singers and turn them into a professional-sounding chorus.  The music director at the opera house is truly an artist.  Watching him work with the chorus is like watching a sculptor create a masterpiece!"  Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "As for you, you can go over your music a few more times tomorrow-but not until you've gotten some much needed rest!  Now, I bid you good night."  Pulling me towards him slightly, he placed his hands on both sides of my head, tilted it down a bit, and kissed me lightly on the forehead before opening the door to the furnace room and motioning for me to go through the door.