The Phantom's Daughter

Chapter Eight

I was so pleased with my protégé tonight, I felt the urge of tears and the tightening of my chest as the audience roared its applause and my beautiful young angel bowed low on the stage tonight sobbing—her tears only enhanced her beauty.

My heart kicked inside me, oh how I wished I was in the wings backstage to swoop her in my arms and press my lips against hers, hug her close to my bosom, sharing in her glory.

How my passionate joy turned to passionate hate when I saw the young man in my box five seats no less (I would have to have a talk with Madeleine about that; she’s usually the one in control of that) with his sobs matching my dear Christine’s. He had to be either an old old friend, from before when I knew her, that or he was a scout—and gay at that.

I would have to make my move quickly now to present myself before my student and proclaim my love for her. Before that stupid boy with mouse-brown hair and boyish features that reminded one of a renaissance statue of the old Greek gods did. Quickly I slipped away.

*****

“My dear….”

…..

“My dear Christine…”

“Oh…maestro….?” she replied softly.

I could see her through the double-sided mirror, she was lounging on her fainting couch, gazing at the single black rose I had presented to her with a white ribbon this time (usually I had red).

“Christine….your voice tonight was superb…the angels wept tonight my darling! God Himself could not have done better tonight…you’ve made your father proud….you’ve made me proud.”

“Oh maestro I am exhausted. I gave my heart to you tonight. It felt like my soul had been on a divine sojourn…I wasn’t myself. Please let me rest now, I’m very tired.”

“Of course! My dear….of course! Take rest, drink some tea. Next up for us…..you shall see yourself in the roll of ‘IL Muto’! “

“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking up at the ceiling where I made my voice tranquiloquate and took my leave. I still had what felt like butterflies in my stomach. My body begged me to turn around, burst through the double mirror, and hold her in my arms, kissing her pretty soft face, touching her rosy cheeks, burying my face in her hair…but I could not and would not. I would not invade her space where I would not welcome; I would invite her in and she would either take in or reject the offer. But I prayed to God she would let me in…

Of course, now I had to do something about this whole, “I’m your father and your father’s angel” business as she was a faithful Catholic and true to her religion—I was lucky in that in the beginning, as I had heard a branch of Protestantism had become popular in her home country of Sweden and all of Europe with a growing resentment towards the One True Faith—it gave me the open door to introduce her into the divine speaking; I had the voice and extended knowledge for it and yes I used that against her. But now I had to backtrack. I would go in Confession to her and tell her my heart…I was scared to reveal myself to her because of my cursed face…

….My stupid cursed malformed face…oh why couldn’t it have been a half??? Why God why??? I could at least get around in public without much harassment. But no…He had cursed me with a face that of a cursed demon.

At least anything below my sorry excuse of a nose was spared and I only had to cover the entire top half…I considered myself lucky in that aspect…my perfectly formed—though discolored—lips had been spared…that and the bottom half of my left cheek…as if spared to have some cruel divine joke.

I sighed, desperate for all of this to work out. My body was starting to actually feel the signs of aging and living in such a cruel underground dark road. I had grown used to, even to the point where on the rare occasion that Madeleine was able to drag me outside it hurt to feel the sun and skittish to feel the smoosh of the grass under my feet, but I stilled dreamed of going home to the little cottage my mother and I had been in before she abandon me. I felt the calling of life to a wife and a child like everyone else seemed to have and took for granted as a normal part of life. I had no normal life….I was a creature of darkness. I am almost 40 and starting to take on the consequences of this horrid life and the longing for another.

Madeleine promised that she would not let me die here…she promised me that when she’d retire, (or I…that was the running joke on who would retire first, she only being a decade older than me) she’d take me out into the country. And we would have horses, and my horse Reyer could run and run as much as he’d please, never being cooped up in the back stalls of the abandoned part of the underground stables again. And I would not die seeing the cold black stone with the algae and water dripping down from its cracks again….that I would look upon a lake at sunset instead of down here in permanent darkness….she promised me that was true to her word.

And I knew that she would keep it.

I had to believe in at least that one dream.