When I got to work, Andre seemed surprised
to see me, so I asked, "Are you surprised to see me or surprised to see
me on time?"
"Both, madame. What happened to
you? You looked so ill Saturday, and then you seemed to disappear!
No one could find you anywhere!" he replied as he let me inside.
"A friend took me to a doctor and then home,"
I said, hoping that the half-truth would satisfy him.
"But how did you get past me without me seeing
you? I was here at the door all evening and I didn't see you go out!"
I decided to tell him another half-truth.
"I don't remember much about Saturday night. Andre,because I was so sick
but I do remember going to see a doctor Leblanc. Isn't he the company
doctor? He can vouch for me."
"Dr. Leblanc? Oh, yes. I guess
he is the company doctor. Well, if you say so, I'll believe you.
Anyway, Jean-Baptiste has been trying to reach you and of course the phones
are still out."
"Still?" I asked, "What's going on?
Why aren't they working?"
"PTT sent someone out this morning.
He thinks that when the chandelier fell, it may have damaged some phone
cables or something. The way everything is wired in this old place,
I wouldn't be surprised."
Just then Jean-Baptiste walked in the building.
"Roberta! Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you
since Saturday night!" he exclaimed as he walked toward me.
"Home in bed, getting rid of a migraine,"
I replied softly.
"But how...? Never mind. I'm just
glad you're all right! Do you feel up to working? Some of the
chorus members managed to pull the drawstrings out of their crinolines
again. Those damn things are more trouble than they're worth!
And...today is laundry day. The cast has today off since we don't
have any performances on Mondays but it's just another work day for the
rest of us."
I nodded and then, turning to Andre, I said,
"Nothing like getting back into the saddle again. I'll see you later."
Then I turned and followed Jean-Baptiste down the hall.
By that afternoon, I had finished putting the
drawstrings back into the crinolines and had washed several loads of costumes
in the washing machine, but when it came to cleaning Carlotta's costume,
I began to have problems. For some reason, she had decided to wear
a white silk bodice and matching skirt for her role in La Traviata, and
to make matters worse, she had managed to stain the bodice with her make-up.
I had washed the bodice by hand and even let it soak in soapy water for
an hour, all to no avail. Finally, I decided to go to Jean-Baptiste
and ask him what I could do about her bodice. As I walked up to the
door of his office, which was closed, I could hear him talking to someone.
"Why did you do it?" I heard Jean-Baptiste
ask.
"I had to warn them somehow," was the reply.
"But why a note? The way you worded
it, the managers think you had something to do with it."
"You know that's not true, Bouquet!
I love this opera house too much to see anything happen to it!"
"Management still doesn't think it was an
accident because of that note!"
"I was only trying to warn them that if they
didn't have those pipes fixed, there could be some major problems but even
I couldn't imagine that chandelier coming down like that! Thank God
no one was out there in the ampitheater! There would have been another
greater disaster!"
"Well, thanks to that note, the insurance
company is delaying it's replacement of the chandelier!"
"Now that's uncalled for! Even their
own investigator ruled this an accident!"
I could not believe my ears! Jean-Baptiste
was talking to none other than Erik! So I'm not imagining all this
after all, I thought. I wonder what's going on? I knocked on
the door, softly.
"Qui est la?" Jean-Baptiste called out.
"C'est moi, Roberta," I replied.
"Entrez," he called out a moment later.
When I entered the room, he was alone.
For a moment, I thought of asking about his conversation, then I thought
the better of it, deciding that he would only deny having one with anyone
but me. Instead, I said, "I'm having a problem cleaning Carlotta's
costume. She got make-up all over the neckline of her bodice.
I don't know how she managed to do that to an off-the-shoulder piece like
that but she did. I've used soap and water and even tried soaking
it but nothing seems to work." Jean-Baptiste had a look of horror
on his face and I thought, Oh, no! What have I done?
He composed himself and then said, "Let's
go have a look at it." We left his office and went to the laundry
room which was a little down the hall from the work room. I showed
him Carlotta's bodice and then he gave me a lecture on how I was not to
wash silk, not even by hand in cold water using very mild soap, which was
what I had done, and that her bodice would have to be dry-cleaned after
it dried. He finished by saying, "I can only hope that those stains
will come out. Normally, silk can be washed by hand if done with
much care, which you seem to have done, but as picky as Carlotta is, I
can only hope she doesn't find out it was you who cleaned her costume.
She doesn't like you, you know, and she'll try to do everything she can
to get rid of you."
"Can the bodice be replaced if the stains
don't come out?" I asked.
He shook his head and said, "I've been told
by management not to buy any more material for costumes this season, if
it can be helped. We have to make do with what we have. You're
not the only one at fault here, though. Carlotta knows better than
to insist on wearing costumes that are hard to clean. While we all
love the opera and want to look as authentic as possible, common sense
must be used as well. We'll let this dry away from direct heat first
and then see what we can do afterwards. In the meantime, are the
rest of the costumes cleaned?"
"Yes," I answered, "All I have left to do
is some ironing. I even mended those crinolines you asked me to."
"Good girl! Well, I'll let you get back
to the ironing. After you're finished, bring Carlotta's bodice to
my office. I can put it on a hanger and let it finish drying there
before I take it to the dry-cleaner. Hopefully they'll be able to
get those stains out." And with
hat, he left me alone with the ironing.
I had just finished the last of the ironing
and putting the iron away when I heard Erik say, "Will you be staying for
our lesson?"
I quickly turned around and saw him standing
at the door of the laundry room. Then I said, "Would it be all right
if we delayed your lesson until tomorrow evening? I promised the
Fontaines that I would have dinner with them tonight."
"Of course. If that is what you wish,"
he replied, with a look of disappointment in his eyes. Then he added,
"You must be feeling better to be having dinner with your French family,
for a change."
"Yes. I think that the shot the doctor
gave me and all the rest I got finally beat that migraine," I replied and
then I added, "Erik, there's something I've been wanting to ask you for
awhile now."
"What do you want to know?" he asked.
"How do you know Jean-Baptiste?" I asked,
as I hung the last of the ironing on the clothes rack.
He paused for a moment, and then asked, "How
do you know that I know him?"
"I heard you talking to him this morning,"
I replied as I put the ironing board up, and then pushed the clothes rack
next to it against the wall. I walked over to where I had laid Carlotta's
bodice and picked it up. Finding that it was still wet, I laid it
down again.
Erik waited until I was done and then said,
"Jean-Baptiste was the one who hired me to get rid of the rats and mice
here at the opera house. We've been friends ever since."
"How long ago was that?" I asked, looking
up at him as I emptied out the lint trap of the automatic dryer.
"It's been nearly five years," he replied.
"Five years? How long does it take to
get rid of rats?!" I exclaimed. As I looked in his eyes, I could
see first hurt and then anger in them and I immediately felt ashamed of
my outburst. Erik for his part was trying hard to control himself.
Finally, after a long pause, Erik said evenly,
"As long as the opera house has its lake, it will have rats."
"Oh, I'm sorry I got angry just now," I said,
"but it just seems as if everybody around here is hiding something.
Every time I have asked Jean-Baptitste who he's talking to, he denies that
he's talking to anyone but me."
"I'm sorry if you feel that I've been deceiving
you," Erik said softly, with his eyes downcast.
"I don't think that you have been doing so
on purpose," I continued, "I'm probably letting my imagination run wild
again, just like Jean-Baptiste has been saying. It's really none
of my business anyway--how you and Jean-Baptiste know each other, I mean."
"Then why did you ask?" Erik, asked, sounding
somewhat hurt.
"It's just that I've walked into his office
several times after I've heard him talking to someone and he's always alone,
which has made me feel like I'm losing my mind. Now that I know that
I'm not, I just wish both of you could be more open."
"It's been my decision to do things that way.
I don't want to have too many contacts here at the opera house," Erik replied.
"But why?" I asked as we left the laundry
room together.
"I have my reasons," he said quietly and then
added, "Since I won't be seeing you again tonight, I'll see you tomorrow
morning. A bien tot." He turned and walked back down the hall opposite
from the way we had come. I waited a moment, thinking that I should
try and call him back but for some reason, decided not to. Then,
remembering that I had left Carlotta's bodice back in the laundry room,
I went back and retrieved it and took it to Jean-Baptiste's office.
Even though it was still quite damp, he took it anyway and laid it flat
on his desk.
"It's still wet," I said.
"I see that, but it should dry nicely right
here, away from the heat. Right now, it still looks bad but it might
look better after it has dried. I know you did what you thought was
right. I'll take it to the dry cleaners tomorrow. It should
be all right. If not, Carlotta will just have to wear something else.
It serves her right!" Jean-Baptiste said as I handed it to him. Then
he added,"Are the rest of the costumes cleaned?"
"Yes, and ironed too. I left them hanging
on the clothes rack in the laundry room. Will that be all right?"
I asked.
"Yes, I can put them away later. Did
you say earlier that you wanted to go home early tonight?"
"Yes, Mme. Fontaine is making a nice dinner
for us and I'd like to be with the family tonight."
"Yes, of course," he replied and then changing
the subject a little, he said,"You know, I'm glad that you actually want
to take some time off for a change. I don't mean to nag but you really
haven't been taking care of yourself, especially the last several days.
You looked absolutely ghastly Saturday and I still don't know what happened
to you."
A friend came and took me to the doctor,"
I replied, repeating the half-truth I had told Andre.
"Andre says that he never saw you leave the
opera house," Jean-Baptiste persisted.
Repeating the same half-truth I had told Andre
earlier that day, I said, "I really don't remember much about that night,
only that I saw a Dr. Leblanc, who is supposed to be the company's doctor.
He gave me a shot for the pain and sent me home. I managed to get
home and spent nearly all day yesterday in bed."
"You've never given me a reason to doubt you
and I'm sure that the managers will be getting the statement from the doctor
in the next few days. You did pay your share of the co-payment, didn't
you?" he asked.
"Yes, of course," I replied. There,
you've done it, Roberta! Lied to the boss! What you won't do
to protect Erik's privacy! What a lousy day this has been!
First, you irritate Erik and now you lie to the boss! Now you'll
have to go to confession later this week. It's a good thing you found
a church that's still open!
I was so busy berating myself that I nearly
did not hear Jean-Baptiste say, "Anyway, the next time you get sick like
this from overwork, I may have to write a letter of reprimand. I'm
sorry but those are the rules I must follow. I would like to know
one thing though, why do you work so hard that you make yourself sick?"
"I'm really not trying to make myself sick.
I'm just trying to stay busy," I replied and then I told him what I had
told Mme. Fontaine that morning and finished by saying, "...and when I
read my daughter's letter, that was the last straw. While news of
my ex-husband's remarriage didn't cause the headache, it sure agravated
it. I apologize for all the trouble I caused. From now on,
I will really try harder to get my rest and eat regularly. That should
cut down on the frequency of the headaches. Dr. Leblanc said that
if my headaches returned or got worse, he would start treatments for them."
"Very well, then. It appears you have
learned your lesson. I don't need to say anything more. Anyway,
go home and enjoy your dinner. I'll see you tomorrow. I hate
to ask this of you but would you be able to resume working the same schedule
you worked out with Mme. Giry?"
"I think so. Since I'll be eating regular
meals instead of grabbing what and when I could and getting more rest besides,
this schedule should actually be better for me than the old one."
"I'm glad to hear that. I would hate
to see you and Carlotta fighting again. That would be worse than
your headaches, I am sure. Well, then, until tomorrow." He
got up and opened the office door for me and I quickly grabbed my jacket
and purse. As he escorted me down the hall to the outside doors,
he said, "Oh, there's one more thing I would like to tell you. I
know that this is somewhat early but you know that the opera house has
a masked ball every St. Sylvester's Night..."
"St. Sylvester's Night?" I asked, interrupting
him.
"Yes, but perhaps you don't celebrate it in
America," he said.
"What date is it?" I asked, more curious than
anything else at this point.
"The last day in December," he replied.
"Actually, we do celebrate that day but we
call it New Years' Eve. What about it?" I asked.
"At any rate," he continued, "we always have
a masked ball that evening and the public is invited, of course, as long
as they come in costume. We at the opera house must also wear costumes
but we always have a theme. Last year's theme was fairy tales and
this year it's going to be the Second Empire. Now I know that you're
probably sick of crinolines and work pants by now. I know I am!
I have no idea whose crazy idea this was but anyway, could you...would
you...be willing to make a costume for my wife? Nothing fancy, of
course. And you could do some of it at home, if you wish...of course,
if you don't want to do this, I would understand. You've done quite
a lot here at work already and there's still more to be done."
"What does she want to dress in?" I asked.
"Nothing fancy, really. She wants to
have a garibaldi blouse and a full skirt and she doesn't want it made from
anything fancy either. Cotton will do just fine, she says.
And as warm as it gets here in the opera house during the ball, I don't
blame her. If you'd like, you could make one for yourself as well.
I'm hoping that by telling you about this now, that you'll have enough
time to do this and maybe make one for yourself as well. It might
be cheaper than renting one--one hundred and eighty francs for material
is a lot cheaper than a rental."
"Aren't we allowed to use our own costumes
in the department?" I asked as we stopped at the doors.
"Absolutely NOT! Management says...and
I agree with themm...that it's hard enough to keep track of the costumes
during the season, not to mention keeping up with the mending and cleaning
of them without having members of the company use them for fancy balls
as well."
"Well, since it's only one costume, I suppose
I could do it at home. I'll have to rent a sewing machine, though.
I can't convert my machine to European voltage. I hope that Mme.
Fontaine won't mind me using her desk to put it on," I mused, and the said,
"Yes, I can do it. Does she have the material yet?"
"She bought some a while back. Will
nine meters be enough material?"
I quickly calculated in my head that nine
meters was nine and three-fourths yards of material. "That should
be plenty, but it depends on how tall she is and how full she wants her
skirt. I really should get her measurements before I start."
"I'll bring them and the material tomorrow.
We do have some patterns that we're allowed to use. Just make sure
you bring them back when you're done with them."
"Management doesn't mind you loaning out patterns?"
I asked.
He shook his head and said, "Management is
more concerned about the costumes, and the patterns, though expensive,
are still easier and cheaper to replace than the costumes. But what
about your costume? Surely you'll be coming as well?"
"Oh, I don't know, Jean-Baptiste. With
all that has happened, I'm not really sure I want to go."
"You really should go. We all have such
a good time. Everyone in Paris loves our masked ball and it's our
oldest tradition, dating back to when the place first opened in the 1870's.
Please think about it, won't you?" he said as we stood at the door.
"I suppose I could write to my brother Pete
and have him send my old outfit I made back when we lived in Colorado.
It's nothing fancy, either--just a white garibaldi blouse, skirt, medici
belt and zuave jacket. It sounds like a lot but it isn't, I assure
you. When do I have to have your wife's costume finished? The
ball may be eleven weeks away but I'll still be busy mending costumes,
not to mention Christmas will be here all too soon as well."
"If you could have hers done by the middle
of November, I'm sure she would appreciate at, and you're right--you will
be kept busy and Christmas will be here before you know it. The weather
we're having already makes it seem like winter is already here. Ever
since the good pope died in exile, it seems like things are going from
bad to worse, don't you agree? I know that I just broke one of the
rules around here, but work's over for the day. I don't think management
will mind all that much."
I nodded my head, remembering the news reports
of the pope first seeking asylum in France the previous year, and then
after France refused to grant that to him, he was forced to flee to his
native Poland where he died only weeks later. As I put on my jacket,
I asked, "Is that why everyone in the company is trying to do such a good
job in entertaining the public, so that the public can escape from all
their troubles?"
"Exactly," Jean-Baptiste said as he helped
me with my jacket, "We are trying to make a better place, a dream world,
if you will, where the people can indeed escape their problems, if only
for a little while. And that's why we were so upset when the chandelier
came crashing down. We've been able to compensate somewhat and we
still had performances both Saturday and Sunday nights. I'm sorry
you missed them. I've never seen Carlotta do as well as she did Saturday
night. She can really pull things off when she has to."
"Speaking of the chandelier, when will it
be replaced?" I asked, just before I went out the door.
"We're not sure. There seems to be a
glitch in the system. We hope to be able to get another up by the
end of next week. In the meantime, our ushers will just have to continue
using their flashlights when seating our patrons. Fortunately, we
have a very forgiving public. I think that the opera house could
burn down and as long as we gave performances, they would still come!
We'll see you tomorrow, Roberta. Bon nuit."
"Bon nuit, Jean-Baptiste. A bien tot,"
I replied as I left the opera house for the evening.