1In the cramped bistro, Erik took small sips of his red wine and took occasional bites of his breadsticks, mostly eaten by Meg. She was telling him about Henry Davidson, an American who had rented a box for the next La Sorelli dance season at the opera. She had gotten that information from her mother because she was the usher of that box among the three that she accommodated.
In a low voice, she confessed to Erik that Davidson had paid her a good sum to observe Sorelli and record her likes and needs, to cover her with expensive gifts. He rolled his eyes; the silly eagerness of wealthy men to have a beautiful woman with a story, skill, or talent to show off as a toy. Erik put the piece of bread down on the plate and the morsel in his mouth lost its taste.
Sorelli was a beautiful woman, of that there was no doubt. She was the tallest of the dancers. With a long neck, red hair and swan elegance. Erik had confessed to Meg that he admired her great professional career, her discipline and the dedication to the ballet. But Meg took the curve ball, and thought his words were beyond the respect and professional admiration of her. Erik resented it a bit, but he wouldn't deny that Sorelli was beautiful, as well as a good woman and an very nice art partner.
"Erik, Sorelli is very alone at that table. Why don't we invite her to our table?" and she nudged him, as if wanting to instill courage on him.
"What I see, Meg, is that she is already leaving the bistro. She is gathering her things and fixing her hair."
"Hhmm. Then its time to do my thing. Erik, I'll be right back. If I don't see you here when I get back, don't make me look for you in the haunted dressing room!" Little Meg carefully lifted her skirts from the wooden bench and gracefully moved between the chairs and tables until she found the opera prima ballerina.
When Erik looked away from Meg to take another sip of wine, he saw Faye and Renée, two opera rats, looking at him over their shoulders as if Erik had a third eye on his forehead. They were an arm's length away on the opposite table, but Erik could feel their gaze even across the back of his neck. Those four judging eyes like bullets.
"You've been in the haunted dressing room-" Renée said,
"For own will?" Faye finished.
Erik looked at them confused. "It was just for a moment of privacy" both white rats looked at each other at the same time with twin sister instincts, and they got up from their chairs and sat in front of Erik's bench. Erik's long arms with his hands on his elbows, on the top of the rustic wood of the table. They took the same position.
"Nobody told you that that dressing room belongs to the bride of the opera-"
"Along with box number five?" Faye finished.
Erik licked his lips. Meg hadn't said anything concise. Although he had heard rumors about a ghost, there was not much time to speak so freely, especially under the watchful eye of Meg's mother and her threatening oak cane. At other times, Erik would ask what was wrong with all the tension at the opera and Meg would shrug her shoulders and pretend not to know.
"Meg didn't tell you then "Renée pointed out "The bride of the opera is a ghost, a presence. She is everywhere, she hears everything and she sees everything."
"A ghost? A presence?" he found it difficult to imagine the entire theater scared by a black shadow. "Have you seen her?"
"No, we don't." Faye answered "But she is manifested everywhere-"
"Things disappear, throws objects from the stage, scratches the costumes of the main actors"
"Hhmm. To be honest with you, I don't believe in ghosts. Those things you say can easily be blamed on a thief, an envious or a mischievous one, and it would make more sense than to point him out as a ghost."
The twins turned to look expressionless.
"Look, Erik, we tell you-"
"For your own good"
Erik snorted. "A bride at an opera? Not much sense. Brides only dress as brides to go to church, not the opera". From the corner of his eye, he saw Meg escort Sorelli out of the bistro, probably to wait for her carriage.
"The legend, or the rumor, says-" They sidled closer to speak softly and Erik instinctively followed them.
"The bride was a beautiful woman with a lot of money, in love with a poor violinist of the opera-"
"He had nothing to give her, but he proposed to her and she accepted. They agreed to meet at night, after the opera was empty in the box number five-"
"To marry and plan their escape from Paris. With the money and jewels of her family, and form a new life together."
"But in the box, he hit her until he deformed her face. So that they wouldn't recognize her and not be incriminated. He hanged her with the golden ropes that hold the fabric of the box, and hid her body behind the red curtains-"
"He took the money and the jewels and fled Paris. Weeks passed, the box was kept closed because it belonged to her. It wasn't until they opened the box to clean up that the usher found the woman's rotten corpse-"
"The director did not want to involve the police, so he ordered the stagehands to bury her under the opera. Since then, her spirit stayed here, haunting the stagehands and everyone in the opera-"
"Because since her death, the opera has been her new life."
Erik sighed. These women had had too much tragedy on their minds and great imaginations. To Erik's disbelief, Renée took his hand: her little hand squeezing Erik's hand. He turned to see her with wide eyes.
"Erik. We're not supposed to tell you, but you have to know. You have a right to know."
"Renée! If they find out we said a word, they'll kick us out of the opera!"
"He has the right to know, Faye!" she returned his gaze with determination. "The choir member you are replacing died in an accident here at the opera. A stone trumpet fell on his head; it shattered his skull. The last we heard about him was that he was determined to find the opera bride, along with Joseph Buquet. Whatever he found about her, it led to his death.
Faye put a hand on her sister's shoulder, and Renée withdrew her hands from Erik. "We tell you so that you act carefully around the opera and you are not walking around alone. Always try to be surrounded by other people, in case there may be danger or not."
"And Erik, the stagehands say this to each other: if you hear a hum or a siren's whisper where you are, it's time to go."
They both got up from the bench, and Faye came back to tell him. "We didn't say anything, Erik. You shouldn't say a word either. Please take good care of yourself." and they left the bistro. Meg came in immediately, and one glance at her friend was enough to tell what they had been talking about.
She dropped onto the wooden bench in front of him. "They told you about her, about the presence." Erick didn't respond. He pushed the glass away in disgust and Meg finished the wine in a quick gulp. After a long time, she said "I was afraid of that."