The next day began in a rather gloomy atmosphere. The insistant knock on our room's door brought me back from a world of confusing feelings and images that my nights of sleep had turned into.
I rubbed my eyes under this stupor, trying to relate the noise with the few remembrances of the dream I just had. Another day - another uncertain day - was waiting for me. And I soon realized who was knocking on my door.
I wrapped my body in a long robe, moving to the door with inebriant steps.
"Good morning, Mademoiselle Giry."
"Good morning, Doctor Lefenne."
"I hope you didn't forget our appointment today."
I faced the gray haired man, vaguely remembering him mentioning this visit the last time he examined me.
"No. Of course not. Please, come in."
The Theater doctor entered the room carrying his large briefcase with a morbid red cross on its side. I felt something freezing inside of me, for I secretly guessed the results of his visit. Deep inside, I had known it for a long time, it was just a matter of waiting until he confirmed my suspicion.
A brief talk was established between us, concealing the anxiety we both felt. Under his command, I laid on the couch, raising my dress to the level of my knees.
As I did so, I started to feel very uncomfortable. Something about having a man, thought old enough to be my grandfather, touching my legs, alone with me, made me feel quite vulnerable. How ironic that I felt a lot more secure with Erik examining me, him being a stranger by that time, and we, somewhere in a dark cellar.
Trust is an irrational feeling.
The examination didn't take long. Monsieur Lefenne took a little notebook from his briefcase and wrote some things down. He gestured for me to lower my skirt again.
"Mademoiselle Giry, I am afraid I don't have the best of diagnoses to give you." His voice was filled with both pity and deception. He was disappointed with himself for not being able to revert a lost case. His green eyes, clouded by some developed cataract, were fixed on me, as if waiting for some extravagant reaction, such as fainting or bursting out in tears.
"Go ahead, say what you must!" I screamed inside my mind. "I'm used to losing, and nothing can shock me for that matter. Go ahead, say what I know you have to say."
He extended himself in a long and irritating speech full of technical terms and names, which in short meant I would never be able to dance again. "Well, of course you could dance in parties, or balls, which you should welcome as a blessing," he said. "It would be too bad if a pretty young lady like you wasn't able to dance and flirt with her suitors anymore." He was overflowing with pity. He knew it wouldn't be easy for me.
"What a load of stupidity!" I said to myself. "I don't need your pity! I never really wanted to be in this damn Corps of Ballet!"
"There is nothing else I can do for you, I'm sorry." Having said that, he raised from the chair in front of me and started to move toward the door, relieved in having his unpleasant task done.
"Doctor? How long until the managers officially dismiss me?" It was the only fatalistic question I had left.
"Well, mademoiselle, I must turn in my report before the end of the month. After that, it doesn't depend on me anymore," he said in a sincere, but careless tone. I was no longer his concern.
I nodded, as he closed the door behind him. By the end of the month. That would allow me some time, but for what?
What did I want time for? Why did all that have to happen at the same time? Couldn't I be like the other girls, leading a trivial and steady life performing every night or so at the Opera, having normal and possible goals in life?
Ah, God had to be laughing at me right now. It was not the first time I had this feeling, that somehow I was chosen to provide Him entertainment, instead of being one more of His "lambs." So go ahead, laugh! I knew myself to be completely lost, but I would never admit it.
"I'm going to defy You, just You wait! I'm not going to be enclosed in this fake life, in this fake world. I'm going to keep walking against the current, as I always did, more certain of my decision each day."
Oh, what was the use of all that revolt? Against whom would I revolt? I was surely losing my mind...Or at least I had lost, without a single trace left, all my sensible references...
How long had I studied ballet? I had long passed the first preparatory years of studying, and I had a come to the moment where I actually had a variety of opportunities before me, as my trainer had said, and it was time to pick one up. All the hard work was lost, thrown away, all the time I had invested in daily classes, in working out all those hours in a row!
"Maybe it was better like that," I tried to convince myself. I had been ready to leave the Corps of Ballet for quite a while. This accident had only sped things up.
"No, that isn't the only thing this accident has done," I chuckled bitterly.
Could my mysterious savior be an answer for this, or was he only one more question? Of all things, I didn't want to think about Erik right now.
I wandered around the Opera during the whole day, perturbed, thinking, silently saying goodbye to every corner, every worker, every component of what had been my world for the last seven years or so, a world I had never aspired for. But it was still my world...
When I returned home, I found my mother sitting on the same chair the doctor had occupied in the morning, holding the piece of paper he had written. She was indignated.
"If this ignorant old man thinks he is going to end your career because of his foolish beliefs, he is terribly deceived!" She hit the arms of the chair with her first, her strong, ring-covered hand making a loud noise.
I knew my mother's temper well, and quickly remember the scandal she made on the day of her dismissal, before the Opera Ghost interceded for her. It was said that her curses against Monsieur Firmin Richard resonated throughout the Theater, and could be heard from miles away. No, it wouldn't be wise to contradict her.
"I fought a lot to give you this position on the Corps of Ballet, Meg. My whole life, I wished I had the opportunity you were given, for just one moment. Don't think I will permit you to just give up a promising career in the best Ballet School of France because a lunatic doctor said so!"
I only sighed in response. Whatever she wanted to think.
"Ok, mother. I'm going to bed, I feel indisposed tonight." I was ready to enter my room, when she came in my direction and embraced me tightly from behind. I retributed the hug, promising her I wouldn't give up if there was a way for me to dance. I knew there was none.
The Ballet standards required great strengh in a ballerina's whole body, combined with elasticity and balance. Since the accident, my muscles had been weak and fragile, and any slightly complicated movement was enough to make my body, from the unsupportive legs to my spine, considerably sore.
It was a pity, in that my mother and the doctor were right, for over the years I had developed a very advantageous shape, my small and light body helping me with the more daring steps and acrobatics. It was a pity that I also didn't have the will needed to be a good ballerina, that was it. The harmed leg was only an escape.
An escape I'd been waiting for too long, without the courage of simply changing my path, but nevertheless it scared me terribly. Instead of enjoying the pleasure of being free of that burden, I couldn't help but worry about my future. What would I do?
Would I end my days like Marcelle's mother, sharing my time between managing a tavern, waiting tables, and sleeping with custumers? Or would I find a rich man who would be willing to espouse me? Maybe I would become the Empress that the Phantom had predicted...
I had dreamed so much more than that for me!
It was still very early when I laid my head on my pillow. The bedroom was dark. Only a candle burning on my nightstand allowed me to see the walls that surrounded me. I felt locked in that room, in that situation, and I was starting to gasp for air.
Instead of air, something different came to bring me hope. Music.
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