I Will Follow You |The Phantom of the Opera|

Chapter Twelve~ Memories and Meetings

Christine

Five Months Later

Marie's screams filled the air, and I decided to leave the house and walk outside in the garden. The sun had set and the night sky was filled with stars. I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders a little tigher, because the October weather kicked in, leaving the night air crisp and cool.

Besides the street lamps, the only other source of light was the large moon that seemed to consume the sky. There were sounds of horse hooves and I saw the doctor hop out and head into the house, but not without stopping and looking at me first.

"It's a bit chilly Madame Destler, wouldn't you rather be inside," he asks me but I shrug and shake my head. "The cold is much better than hearing Marie scream, besides I need to clear my head," I call back and he just shakes his head and heads back inside the house.

The rose bushes had not withered yet, and I began to pick them and lay them in a pile and I made a mental note not to forget them. I had not yet heard from Erik, in fact he hadn't written to me in a few weeks.

So part of me thought that he was actually using Stephan's gift, but my gut told me he was just busy. It was said that the Prince would be getting married next spring and knowing Erik, he was probably already hard a work.

I softly laid my hands of my stomach and I could feel the soft kicks of my child. He always seemed to enjoy kicking me in the middle of the night, which was rather annoying. It scared me that in a few short months, I would be a mother.

At least I would have a few months of preparation with Marie in the house. Some part of me pitied her, for having two children her first time around, but another part of me envied her, she was having twins, something uncommon around here.

For a few weeks we were scared that she had lost them. She said that she couldn't feel them kicking and she became worried. But the doctor assured her that she was still carrying them and we all went back to our everyday lives.

I grunted as he kicked me harder. I didn't know if it was a he, I just thought that calling him, him was better than calling him, it.

He would was kick when I spoke of Erik, when I would tell stories of the Opera House, and he would always kick when I sang to him. I just wished that Erik could be here for this, that he would gently rub my stomach, that he would sing or talk to him.

I soon found myself walking around the cul-de-sac that we lived in. The sounds of the leaves ruffling against the ground filled the air and I found myself looking back at memories.

Midnight, not a sound from the pavement

Has the moon lost her memory?

She is smiling alone in the lamplight

I remembered the time my father took me to one of his shows. He let me stand on the stage as the audience began to fill the theater. I could remember myself staring out and looking into the crowd, feeling a strange emotion run through me.

It was so bizarre, as if an older me was telling me that I would soon be there, that one day I would be the one who everyone was coming to see. It was deja vu, like I could remember standing on that stage, that I had already performed.

My father watched me as I twirled back and forth across the stage, making up dance moves in my head. It was then that my father picked up his violin and began to play it and for a few short minutes I was the one that people were watching.

It was that day that I knew that I needed to become a ballerina, so that one day in the future I would once again be up on that stage. I could remember that performance beautifully not only because I found my dream, but because it was my father's last performance before he died.