Chaper 18


They opted to perform Don Juan. Christine couldn't believe her ears when Catherine pulled her out of ballet rehearsal to whisper, “Go change, Christine. Put on something comfortable. Monsieur Reyer wants you in rehearsal in ten minutes. They've cast you as Aminta!” She gave her a loving shove before returning to the stage.

Aminta? The lead? Miracles did happen, even to opera singers! The few months before the performance flew by without a hitch, but the day before the opening night, there was a big one.
“Raoul, I can't marry you.” Like when he had first proposed, they were on the rooftop, holding a rare romantic tryst. A summer breeze tickled their faces as they lay on the ground, oblivious to reality.

“What?”

“I said I can't marry you. I can't marry someone who would leave a pregnant woman he loves because the baby is not his.”

“Darling, what are you talking about?”

“Meg. I'm talking about Meg. You don't believe that she is pregnant by rape. But I can see in your eyes that you love her. I hear it in your voice.” She sat up, fumbling with the falling strap on her dress. “You imagine that I am her, just as I am never truly with you. I love you, Raoul, but I've grown past the idea of marrying my childhood sweetheart. That sweetheart is madly in love with my best friend in the whole world while he's engaged to me. She won't speak to me or you because of it, and I'll have it no longer. We'll all be happier this way.” She stood.

“But...”

“No, Raoul. We shall still be friends, yes?” She smiled, turned and disappeared down the steps.
She made her way to the dormitories, a bounce in her step. She was free, free to talk to Meg, free to act, free to be with the Angel if she wanted to. She was finally happy. Meg would talk to her, too. That would help soothe her raw nerves. “Meg?” she whispered, entering the room. She looked around, and, seeing the girl in her bed, approached. “Meg, may I talk to you?” Christine could hear Meg grit her teeth, and knew she was being ignored. She sat on the bed, and Meg looked up. “Meg, I know you don't want to talk to me, that I've hurt you more than you may ever be able to forgive me, but if you'll just listen! Please,” she sighed, “I'm not going to marry Raoul. I can't marry someone who would break off a relationship with you because you are carrying a baby that is not his, even when he loves you. Please, Meg, are you listening to me? I don't want him anymore, not after the way he's treated you.”

“You really think he loves me?” Meg whispered.

“I know he does.”

“Oh, Christine, how I've missed you!” She struggled to sit up (she was now in her confinement and already past the expected arrival of her baby.) Christine pulled her up the rest of the way, and they embraced, friends again.

“I've missed you, too.”

“I want chocolate cake,” Meg whimpered.

“What?”

“Chocolate cake! I want chocolate cake! Christine, will you get me some chocolate cake?” She looked Christine in the eye, her crystal blue eyes wide open. Christine laughed.

“I'll see if there's some in the kitchen. You go ahead and relax.” Meg nodded, and Christine swept out.

It wasn't far to the kitchen. It was a very central place, easily accessed by one and all. Christine slipped through the eastern door and was about to slice the three-layer double chocolate cake that she found in the icebox, when Piangi entered by another door, tugging on Carlotta's hand.
“Come on, Lotta darling, we won't be disturbed in here.”

“You would picka da kitchen.”

“The baby can't find us here, darling.” Christine ducked behind the ice chest where they couldn't see her, and estimated the distance to the door.

“What ifa da baby needsa me?” concern laced Carlotta's voice.

“Nonsense, Lotta.” Christine sneaked a glance at them. Piangi had pulled Carlotta to him and was kissing her fervently. She kissed him back, mangling his hair with her hand. They backed closer and closer to the table until Piangi fell, SPLAT, onto the chocolate cake.

Christine had seen enough. She dashed out the door and back to Meg, where she explained, panting, “Sorry, Meg. No chocolate cake. Chocolate Piangi, but no chocolate cake.”

Meg groaned. Christine chuckled, “You will be there tonight, won't you?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world.” They both smiled, and Christine left. “Now for that cake,” Meg mumbled, waddling out the door, intent on her dessert.