Family Secrets (A Phantom of the Opera Fan Fiction)

Chapter 4

* I am so sorry that its taken so long for this, I just had a move and...grrr...im just sorry, but i got an okay chapter up that i think shows a little of what Ms. Giry is thinking, if only subtle. Well, hope you guys like it, and please do let me know asap!*

P.O.V Aria

I finish and look up at Ms. Giry. She is just staring at me. I start to tear up, I look down at my hands, fiddling with my dress.

“I told you I wasn't good.” I whisper. “I'm sorry if I disappointed you. I just don't have my grandmother's or my father's voice...” There is silence. Is she going to tell me that I can't come to the opera house? If I can't sing, does that mean I can't be at the opera house? I hope she'll keep me.

We sit there, silent, for a long time. I finally look up, wondering what she is thinking about, and how angry she is. I see silent tears running down her narrow cheek bones, not tears of anger, but of pure and utter joy! I don't understand.

Ms. Giry lets out a small squeak and quickly embraces me in her bony arms. I never realized how small and fragile she was until now. I can feel her shoulders shake with silent sobs what seem to wretch her whole body. When she finally calms down, she pulls away and holds me at arms length, she looks at me as if she has found something she had lost a long time ago.

She breaths a long, rattled sigh before she is ready to talk again. She pulled, reluctantly away, and just stared at me. “I'm sorry,” She said, “ It's just... your so much like her!”

I stare at her very confused “Like who?” i ask.

“Like your grandmother, like Christine Daaé...so much like her. Your face and your voice...but your eyes. They look. . . familiar.” and she gave me a smile.

I couldn't believe it. She was telling me I looked and sounded like my grandmother, the opera singer, Christine Daaé. She was telling me my voice was good! After years and years off believing that it was horrible, but now someone was telling me it was beautiful. Then, after all those years of keeping my voice silent, I felt, liberated, I felt a way I had never felt in my whole life, when I sang, I felt like there was nothing I could do, but, i also felt something else. A connection. I couldn't explain it, it felt . . . spiritual, not physical. It was strange, but it felt good.

“Well,” Ms. Giry said, turning her head to wipe her eyes “I suppose, we know where a certain girl will be in a couple years, with a little training of course, but I am sure, that you will follow in the steps of your grandmother . . . in more ways than one”