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Emptiness	By : Josephine1881 Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Slash Views: 8257 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter Nineteen

In a way, I was lucky. Just a few minutes after my brother had introduced that very delicate topic, my sisters came over to join us. Clarille winked at me as she walked past us and returned with a chair a moment later. I gave her a lopsided smile. Under different circumstances I’d have appreciated their attempt to pull me out of Philippe’s clutches, but now I was too upset to care. Sure, it was good that I no longer had to listen to the men’s opinions on sodomy, yet the arrival of my sisters meant that I’d actually have to pay attention to the conversation, and I wasn’t certain whether I’d be able to.

Philippe, who had been in mid-sentence about that Comte’s seemingly very amusing escapades in some theatre, stopped when he saw my sisters settle down.

“Well, Mesdames, have you been enjoying yourself?” he asked. He tried to hide his irritation, but it was clear that he’d have liked to finish his story without interruptions. Yet now that the women were present, he could no longer do so. Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t been listening too attentively, but even the occasional word had been too much.

“Oh yes,” Clarille replied airily. “It seems that we’re having even more to talk about than usual.”

As if her words had been a secret signal, both of my sisters placed a hand on their bellies, which had grown slightly larger over the last months. Not only had my sisters married on the same day, but they had also managed to be with child at the same time, though Sophie was a few weeks farther than Clarille. Still, knowing them, I guessed they’d probably give birth on the same day. The thought made me smile.

“So… when will you bring a girl home to marry?” Sophie asked.

I was about to give a short, annoyed reply, when I realised that her gaze wasn’t resting upon me, but upon my brother. My smile widened, as I sensed that the conversation would take an unexpected, yet very pleasant turning. I could imagine the kind of reply he’d have given if it had just been us men, but my sisters’ presence forced him to be polite.

“Erm… there’s no one in particular at the moment,” Philippe said with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, but you can’t remain a bachelor for all times,” Clarille argued, our sister’s advance making her courageous as well. “Most men are already married at your age. Besides…” She exchanged a glance with Sophie before dealing him the final blow. “…you’ve got to have an heir to carry on the family name.”

Oh, it was a delight to watch my brother squirm in his chair, lost for words. He could hardly tell my sisters that maybe there already existed one or two children of his, although none of them would ever carry the family name.

Philippe’s gaze wandered through the room restlessly, apparently looking for something, anything that would get him out of this situation. Then he looked at me, and the smile returned to his face. My smile, however, faded. I knew what he was about to do, and I couldn’t prevent it.

“I may not produce an heir in the nearer future,” he said, leaning back in his seat casually. “But perhaps Raoul will. After all, he did spend several nights away from home in the last week…” His voice trailed off delicately, but with a definite air of triumph.

For the second time since I had come home today, everyone stared at me. Even Richard emerged from his own world to look at me with great interest.

“Raoul!” my sisters exclaimed almost in the same moment, sounding very pleased with this turn of events.

“Why didn’t you tell us there was someone in your life?” Clarille went on, while Sophie seemed content with beaming at me. “We’re so happy that you’ve found someone after… that dreadful story with Christine.” Philippe scowled at her. Christine was not to be mentioned under this roof.

Quickly Sophie continued:

“Who is it then? Anyone we know?”.

Yes! I wanted to scream. Yes, it is someone you know, at least by reputation. It’s the Phantom of the Opera himself! But I couldn’t do that, especially not now, after what I had heard the other men say. They’d despise me, I knew it. Maybe I already despised myself. I was abnormal. My brother could be horrible at times – most of the time, really – but one day he’d settle down with a girl and produce an heir. I’d never do that.

My sisters’ questions and curious glances were the final straw. I felt as if the house was falling down over me, burying me under it. I couldn’t breathe properly. Instinctively, I tugged at the collar of my shirt, but it didn’t become better. I couldn’t bear having that secret any longer. I had to talk to someone, or I’d explode. Yet it couldn’t be one of the people staring at me at the moment. I needed someone who wouldn’t think bad of me because… because he heard a lot of bad things from a lot of people every day. Of course. That was the solution.

At once I grew calm again, and the tightness in my throat vanished.

“We’ll talk about it another time,” I promised, getting up from my seat. “Unfortunately, I have an appointment that can’t wait.”

“Of course,” my brother remarked knowingly.

“With Father Barand,” I added, enjoying to see the smile disappear from his face.

Even if it had been a lie, he couldn’t say anything about me meeting the priest. Neither could my sisters. Both got up as well to embrace me.

“I wanted to invite you for tea one of these days,” Sophie whispered when it was her turn. “Just Clarille, me and you.”

“I’ll be there,” I muttered. ´Right after I’ve sorted out the chaos in my head,´ I added inwardly.

I shook hands with the men.

“Will the priest have you stay overnight?” Philippe asked in a low voice.

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “But there’s no reason for you to wait for me. I won’t tell you anything.” Then I left, before he could make another stupid comment.

Making my way to the church, which fortunately wasn’t far from my home, I realised that I had no idea whether Father Barand would be there. It had been Christine who had gone to church regularly, not me. I had accompanied her every now and then, maybe once or twice a month, but it wasn’t nearly enough to know where the priest was at which time of day. I could only hope he’d be there, for I wasn’t sure whether I’d dare go to him a second time.

Cool air enveloped me as I entered the church. I inhaled deeply, revelling in the coolness and the quiet and feeling at peace with myself. Churches had always had that effect on me. A moment later, however, I remembered why I was here, and a layer of perspiration blossomed on my forehead. The feeling of peacefulness disappeared as quickly as it had come.

I let my gaze wander over the benches, but I only saw two or three elderly women sitting right at the front. Hesitantly I moved towards them, debating with myself whether it would be very rude to interrupt one of them while she was praying to ask where Father Barand was.

“Are you looking for me?” A warm, heavy hand was placed on my shoulder, and I spun around. Realising who it was, I smiled.

“Yes, I’ve come to see you,” I answered. “I… I want to confess… But if it’s a bad time, I could come back tomorrow.” ´Or maybe never,´ I thought.

“It is a good time,” he assured me gently. “I told you to come and see me whenever you felt like it, and now you’re here. It makes me very happy.”

My stomach contracted painfully, since I couldn’t help thinking that once he’d heard what I had to say, he wouldn’t be that happy anymore. Could a priest throw someone out of a church if they had done something extremely bad?

“Shall we go then?” he suggested, as if sensing my insecurity. “There’s no reason to be afraid. You know that I won’t repeat any of what you’ll tell me to another person. Nor will I judge you.”

We walked the short way to the confessional booth in silence and went inside. I kneeled down on the low bench, while Father Barand opened the window separating the two part of the booth.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I started, glad that I still remembered the right words. “It has been… erm, about three months since my last confession, and… and things have changed very much since then. Christine… Christine has died, and I’m very unhappy about it…”

“That is not a sin, my son,” the priest said in a low voice.

“Yes, but that’s not all,” I argued, suddenly afraid that he’d stop listening before I had even started properly. “In the last days, I’ve developed… feelings for someone else. I think… I’m sure it’s love.” My cheeks flushed scarlet, and I hadn’t even reached the worst part yet.

“I can understand that you feel guilty for loving someone else,” Father Barand told me gently. “But life has to go on. Christine wouldn’t have wanted you to stay alone for the rest of your days. So if you truly love that woman – “

“It’s not a woman,” I blurted out, realising that I had interrupted a priest and not caring in the slightest. “It’s… it’s a man.”

There was silence on the other side of the booth. I held my breath as I waited for the reply. It came rather hesitantly.

“Well, you know… you know that it’s wrong to desire another man.” He cleared his throat. “But since this is a very difficult and challenging time for you and you’ve already seen the wrong of your ways, I think five Hail Marys should be sufficient to make up for it.” He ended his little speech with a prayer in Latin.

This was the end of the confession, so I got up slowly. I had my reply. I just wished it could have been a different one. But what had I expected from a priest?

“Raoul?” I heard my name being spoken, just as I was about to leave. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the window was not closed yet. “I only gave you my advice as a priest,” Father Barand went on. “I know it’s not what you came here for, but would you also like to hear my advice as a man?”

I nodded. It couldn’t be any worse than what he had said before.

“That man you told me about… do you truly love him, or is it just… well, lust?” he asked.

“I love him,” I replied shyly, looking down at the wooden floor. “And he… he loves me, too.” I had expected to be even more embarrassed by speaking those words aloud, but actually it made me feel very good. Erik loved me.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from many years of talking to people, it is that love is the most wonderful and powerful emotion of all,” he said, the gentleness returning to his voice. “We have to love God, of course, but also each other. When you came into the church to look for me, I noticed at once that something had changed about you. You seemed scared and worried, but there was this… glow around you… as if you had found someone who makes you very happy. If you love that man, and if he returns those feelings, you should act on it by all means. I cannot give you my blessing as a priest, but I can wish you good luck as a man.”

“But I am worried,” I admitted. “So many people think it’s wrong what we’re doing…”

“I’m afraid that is a moral problem, not a religious one,” he told me. “And I don’t think I’m the person you should discuss it with. Why don’t you go to the man you love and talk to him? He’ll understand you more than anyone else, for he surely has the same problems.”

I nodded, although I doubted it. Erik always seemed so self-assured about what he was doing. Still, talking to him couldn’t be bad.

“I’ll do that,” I promised, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I had actually done it. I had told someone about my feelings, and he hadn’t judged me.

Now we did leave the booth.

“Thank you,” I muttered, shaking his hand.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Oh, and don’t forget the Hail Marys. I’m still a priest as well, after all.”

Author's note: Thanks to Winnie1955, who told me how a confession works. I hope I got it right.
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Emptiness