CHAPTER
2
Pride and Prejudice
We screamed as the backdrop fell onto Carlotta, and she dramatically collapsed to the floor.
“He’s there! The phantom of the opera!” We nervously squeaked. Of course, the managers wouldn’t believe us. It was true, though. Since forever, the phantom had been terrorizing us. We used to send him twenty thousand francs a month. I could feel him everywhere, haunting the opera house.
“Until you stop these things from happening, this thing does not happen!” Carlotta pointed at the managers and stormed out. I cursed her under my breath. Oh, of course, it was just like her to leave us before the gala! I know I didn’t care before, but now it was serious. Would we have to cancel? We’ve almost never canceled any show before. And I wasn’t expecting us to, anytime. The opera house had a reputation to uphold!
“There must be an understudy!” Oh, how unexperienced and naïve. There is no understudy! Even if we wanted one, Carlotta never would have allowed it. She would have started complaining in that pretentious accent about how we never respected her! This couldn’t get any worse. At this rate, Carlotta would be gone for more than two shows. I know two shows doesn’t sound like a lot, but with our lavish sets and costumes, we needed an abundance of funding. And if she would be gone for longer, I don’t think that even the Victomte could support us! And would he want to? Carlotta was boasting backstage that he loved her he loved her he loved her. It’s my habit to never believe anything Carlotta says, but if he ignored Christine and smiled at Carlotta, he must really be in love.
“Christine Daae could sing it, sir.” That was when my heart skipped a beat, and I nearly fell. Again.
“What, a chorus girl? Don’t be silly.” Yes, Evelyn. Don’t be silly. Deep breath, deep breath.
“She has been well taught, by a great teacher.” Evelyn, having a great teacher does not mean that she is necessarily great herself.
Christine nervously stepped up. “Think of me...” I gasped. Her voice was as soft and sweet, pure as a nightingale in the dead of autumn sunset. Around me, performers started crowding around her.
“Told you she’d be amazing!” Meg playfully punched me, and smiled at me. Madame Giry stroked her hair, while smiling at Christine.
“I’m dizzy. I need to go.” I ran out of the stage, hurried to my room, and slammed the door. I sat onto my bed, and started thinking about Marius Pontmercy. He used to be my friend, some time ago. I met him while taking a walk outside of the opera house. I went to see his garden, filled with beautiful blossoms, crystal fountains, exquisite statues. I had to go because Christine was calling me, but we made plans to meet again. We never did, though. My schedule grew more hectic, and more chaotic. I was so caught up that I never had time to see him anymore. But it was nice knowing that someone appreciated me, and couldn’t see Christine.
“Evelyn?” Someone was knocking on my door.
“Okay, I’m coming.” I opened the wooden door on its rusty hinges. Madame Giry greeted me.
“It was never about dancing. Was it?” She asked softly
“No.” I admitted. I felt my cheeks flush, and a tear ran down my cheek.
“Evelyn, remember that you matter in the Opera House. Christine worked hard to improve her voice, you worked hard at ballet. Both of you have strengths.”
“But Christine- she-“ Madame Giry interrupted me.
“I know, darling. I know. Christine is indeed one of our stars. But we have seen your improvement as well. I know how much you love singing.”
I raised my head slowly. “With more funding... can we start singing lessons?” She laughed.
“I’m afraid not. But don’t stop improving your dancing. One day, you will shine. Your footwork is almost impeccable, but your jumps need improving. I really understand how passionate you are about singing. But your mother, Evannia Fantine Sader, sent you here to learn dancing. Remember, you are a Sader. Dancing is your forte.”
“Dancing is my forte,” I repeated slowly.
A few hours later, I stood beside Christine as Meg put some diamond flowers in her hair, and adjusted the ribbon at the back of her dress.
“I’m nervous.” Christine glanced at her.
“You’ll be great!” I comforted Christine as the curtain rose. I bit my lip, and tried to sound as cheerful as possible.
“Thanks for supporting me, Evelyn.” I knew that she deserved happiness. I should be glad for her. Dancing was my forte. Let her have singing.
“It just feels so... surreal.” She glanced around, like she was in a trance.
“It’s so beautiful. This isn’t like ballet preparations. It just feels like a dream. And I just can’t believe it.” She clasped Meg’s hand.
“Meg, isn’t it perfect?”
“I know! I can’t believe Carlotta gets so much jewelry every time.” We laughed.
The red curtain rose, and the light came on.
“Think of me...”
The show was a wirl Of curtains rising, falling, spinning motions. I remember Madame Giry looking fondly at Christine and smiling at Meg. Roses rolled around the stage as she sang, the audience in raptrures. Applause rang out all over, and the whole cast was mesmerized. Black, white, gold. Curls, braids, tiaras. Diamond necklaces, crystal purses, pearl bracelets.
Our white dresses were pristine with white silk, but Christine’s was perfect. Little waves of ribbon, frilly lace edges, and small sprinkles of starry glitter lined it. It glowed under the chandelier, with the faint aura of moonlight. Every of her words were enchanted. I knew that her voice was soaring and that she was beautiful.
It was after the show that I remembered. I was walking, extinguishing candles along the edge of the stage. The darkness was like a wind, billowing each time I blew. I ran my hand along the rough banisters leading into the stage, and picked up a wilted rose left on the stage. Then, a voice called me.
“Evelyn? After all these years?”
“Marius?”
