A True Valentine Story...Honest
(Well, For The Most Part )

by Steven Pentecost

This was no ordinary Valentine’s Day for Erik. It was ten years ago today that his dear Christine Daae had come to live in the dormitories of the ballet corps. How appropriate that she arrived on a day celebrating love. He fervently hoped they would choose Valentine’s Day to exchange their own wedding vows. That way, every year, while other couples celebrated their love for each other, they would be reminded of the deep feelings that held them together through the years. Oh, he loved her so much. Just this morning his eyes had escorted her sweet seventeen-year-old body to the stage, watched happily as the other members of the chorus discussed their plans for the evening with her. The Opera Ghost had a special surprise in mind for Christine Daae. For the first time in months he was about to leave the theater and travel in the streets of Paris to a local Florist Shop. He planned to spend part of the day hand picking ten individual roses to present to her and each rose would have a memory attached to it for the year it represented. When Christine Daae returned to her dressing room tonight, he planned to have them held together in a bouquet as she walked in the door. "After I see the twinkle in her eye," he thought to himself, "I will present them one by one as I share my loving memories."

The White Rose - First Anniversary

Soon Erik found himself strolling down the aisles of the florist shop, eyeing the rainbow of colors. First he selected a white rose. " This one will represent her first year here. Even then I knew we’d wed. White will represent the wedding gown I’ve stitched for her," he thought, lightly fingering the velvet petals. Sighing happily, he pictured them planning every facet of the event. Such a perfect ceremony! The organist playing the wedding Mass he had already composed for his living bride. A sudden horrible thought occurred to him. Knowing how mischievous his Christine Daae really was, she might choose to wear baby blue silk chiffon! Even though she was still “a good girl”, pure in every way, didn’t she joke with the other singers about rebelling against wedding traditions? He inhaled deeply and held his breath, releasing it only when he decided to force her to look at wedding pictures of more conservative brides. “How embarrassed I would be if she stepped out of the bridal coach dressed in celestial blue! No, she would never.” He almost let out a chuckle when he thought about how foolish his thoughts were.

The Purple Blue Rose - Second Anniversary

Just then a purple-blue rose caught his eye. " Ah, this one will represent her second anniversary among us." He had to think a moment about what the blue would represent. Admittedly he was at a loss. All he could really remember from that particular anniversary was Christine talking excitedly to her hidden Angel of Music about the arrival of a fabulous new Diva named Carlotta. Christine Daae had brought the subject up herself as he recalled. The memory of Carlotta’s first solo was still fresh in his mind. Back then, after a whole year of speaking to an incorporeal angel, Christine spoke with such enthusiastic support of Carlotta. He’d been almost embarrassed to tell Christine that with his training, once her throat had matured, he could make her a much better singer than the new Spanish diva. He recalled Christine’s expectant little giggle when she’d finally absorbed his words. This time he did laugh outloud. Her little quirks were so amusing. They had helped him fall in love with her from the first. Satisfied that this purple-blue rose would pass for a happy memory, he moved on to selecting another flower.

The Yellow Rose - Third Anniversary

A yellow rose was soon picked from among all the contenders. It was a beautiful flower. Big and fresh with a sweet scent. As he considered its virtues, he began thinking on what its meaning could be for this third anniversary. The only thing that seemed to come to mind was how terrible that yellow corset looked against her pale skin. “What an awful undergarment she’d chosen to experiment with,” he thought. “That giant yellow corset just stood out like some fantastic python, nearly swallowing her small frame. She was only nine then, barely in need of such bony confines.” Erik shuttered for a moment at the thought. "No, this memory will not do at all." Finally, a funny memory came to mind. He recalled having to cajole her into looking at her teeth in a mirror, gently convincing her to brush her teeth more often. He sighed and for a moment briefly letting in the memory that stubborn little girl tease his brain again. "I must get that thought out of my mind,” he resolved. “I’ll just settle for the yellow rose representing plaque and move on." He knew that he had settled on a less than ideal memory, but couldn’t Christine be a little less ornery? It was all her fault.

The Red Rose - Fourth Anniversary

Soon he found himself browsing the red roses. "Only the best one will work for my darling Christine Daae." As he perused the roses, his mind drifted off…back to their potential wedding day. The white, blue, and yellow roses had him hopelessly obsessing over every aspect of their nuptial ceremony and now he found the red roses were making him think of their reception. "Christine will have to be very careful with the red wine,” he gasped. “An accidental stain will ruin her wedding gown. The stain will never come out of the dress. Why did she insist on rosé anyway? Couldn’t she budge just a little on the wine? A sparkling champagne would be so much more appropriate!” Without thinking any further on the painful subject, Erik grabbed a random crimson rose. A special memory from the fourth anniversary went lacking.

The Pink Rose - Fifth Anniversary

Distracted, Erik stomped down the aisle, only vaguely aware that he still missed a memory for the fourth year. His leisurely stroll through the shop became a slightly faster paced power walk. His beautiful surroundings went un-regarded, frustration ate at his brain. “What was Christine thinking?” The flowers he had previously been cradling with such tenderness were now swaying by his legs with each earnest step. With a huff he suddenly stopped in front of the pink roses, half-dreading what irritating train of thought they might drudge up. This was supposed to be a happy day, now it bore the potential for disaster. His virulent mind did not disappoint his expectations. To celebrate her fifth year in the Opera House, Christine had spent all day fixing her hair, then dressed in a beautiful pink organza, she’d completely ignored the supplications of her tutor for singing practice and spent the entire evening partying in the theater’s cast room with her gaseous friends! That was supposed to be a special night for him alone (much like tonight!) He recalled that at the time he’d tried to call it “quaint”. "Quaint my derriere." Even allowing for her right to have some fun, her tolerance for foul smells had astonished him. “If she didn’t turn her nose at grossness then, she wouldn’t feel the least bit insulted by the prying smells of future groping theater patrons.” Erik snatched the prettiest pink rose by its flower ball and stuffed it among the others.

The Mixed Roses - Sixth Anniversary To Present Day

Erik, now royally pissed off at Christine Daae, charged through the remaining aisles snatching the other needed roses. He only assumed they were roses, because most of the petals were missing as he approached the cash register…he’d been swatting at various things and other obnoxious people on his way there. He stood in line with his arms crossed, waiting to be checked out, left eyebrow arched in annoyance, booted toe tapping ninety times a minute. When it was finally his turn to pay, Madame Underwood, a kindly old lady who was most likely in her eighties by now, took notice of Erik's defrocked roses. "Oh, Cherie! Do you need help picking out flowers? These are a mess." The Opera Ghost quietly told Madame Underwood to do something with her flowers that was unpleasant and made her blush.

Later That Evening

Erik, after taking the entire afternoon to cool off, sat in a corner of the tunnel behind Christine’s dressing room mirror with crumpled flowers in hand. Waiting for his protégé to enter, he mused. “Really, in all justice. I need to give her the benefit of a doubt." Just as he was convincing himself that he needed to calm down, he heard the latch from across the room. Before Christine Daae could get the door open he was already talking through the mirror about how today was a very special day. Without reservation he reminded her that she had now been at the theater for exactly ten years.

Christine softly closed the door behind her. “Angel, I most certainly know what today is, I turned down a dinner reservation at the ritziest restaurant in Paris with the Viscount Raoul de Chagny to be here in this room with you.”

Erik’s felt his heart jump. "Could it be? Would this year be that special? Had she turned down an offer from that pompous brat? Denied herself an evening among happy friends to be with a miscreant hidden in a wall?" He listened earnestly as she went on to say how she would turn down any offer from anyone in order to spend the evening with her mentor.

In one miraculous moment, Erik's mood lightened. All this day he had expected the worst of Christine Daae and now here she was fulfilling his wish for a perfect ten-year anniversary. Erik swung the mirror open and stood there with a faint sheepish grin. Dressed from head to foot in funeral black, he murmured, “Surprise!” In his gloved hand lay the trashed roses of his shopping excursion. This reporter does not have all the details of what object went flying across the room toward Erik, I do know that the flowers went up into the air and were later found discarded on the floor. As soon as Mademoiselle Daae returns from the fifth cellar, we should be able to get something of the ensuing events on record. At this point all we know is that she entered the tunnel of her own free will.

The End
Happy Valentine’s Day All !!

READER COMMENTS

Absolutely loved it. Thanks, Steven!
G.K.

"A True Valentine Story...Honest" by Steven Pentecost...had me wishing for a bunch of roses from Erik, but since that will never happen, I'll settle for a bunch of roses from Steven Pentecost...so the moral of this story has me thinking...if someone yells surprise from behind a mirror, with a bunch of roses, even in not so great a condition, and he is dressed in black, and he is wearing a mask. and especially if it is Valentine's Day, I or any daring young woman, would follow him to the fitth cellar, too! No one can escape the Phantom!! I so enjoyed your Valentine Day Story, and I appreciate the comedic shopping spree the Phantom has shared with us, his phans. If he had asked for advice, I would have told him to ditch the flower idea entirely and go with a brilliant jewel (haha), perhaps a diamond...and since they come in so many colors now, he could have his pick. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, but no one attracts a young woman to the fifth cellar like our Phantom. Thank you Steven Pentecost once again for making me laugh.
J. McMahon

Steven, you have got to be one of the most talented humorists I have ever come across. Thanks for brightening up a dreary Valentines Day.
Etienne