What's in a Name?

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Chapter 4

The name of a man is a numbing blow from which he never recovers-- Marshall McLuhan

What’s in a Name?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Do you know where you got your name, Erik?” his mother asked him. She had a bottle of whiskey in her hand, as usual. She almost never spoke to him when she was sober.

The little six-year-old shook his head.

“I named you after your father.” A distant, bitter look appeared his mother’s dark eyes.

Erik had never known that. His mother had told him so little about his father. “I wish I knew him…”

His mother laughed. “Your father doesn‘t want anything to do with you. He’s too good for us. He would be more ashamed of you than I am! He doesn’t give a damn about either one of us.” She took a swig of whiskey. “He never did.”

Erik felt sad and confused. “Where is he?”

His mother shook her head. “I don’t know. Somewhere on the better side of the city, somewhere living free and happy and rich, while we rot here in this filth.” She gestured around their tiny room in the dirty slum.

“He was rich?” Erik had seen rich people once, one day when he went out exploring. They were so different than the people he saw every day that he almost didn’t believe they were the same…kind. Like they were a whole different creature all together. But maybe not, if his father had been one of them…

She nodded. “Very.”

“How did you meet him?”

“It was a meaningless affair for him. At first he seemed kind, but in time he turned out to be a monster.” She took another drink.

Erik wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but flinched at the word “monster.

Laughing bitterly, she said, “You take after him, you know. I knew you would from the moment you were born and I saw your face. That’s why I gave you his name. Do you know what Erik means?”

Erik shook his head. He didn’t think he wanted to know any more.

“Well, some say it means Eternal Ruler.” She spoke slowly and dramatically, her eyes lighting up.

A faint smile crossed little Erik’s lips. “Like a king? Was my father a king?”

She laughed out loud. “Oh, he acted like he was the king of the world! He wasn’t, but he was still very rich and powerful. That’s why he won’t have anything to do with us…we are an embarrassment to him, just a reminder of a mistake.” She shot a resentful look at Erik. “That’s what you are to me. You know I never meant for you to be born.”

Erik’s eyes filled with tears.

“You’re weak, too, like your father was,” she said, her tone laced with spite.

Erik turned and ran out the door into the street, hot tears of shame running down his face and his mask. He didn’t want to hear any more, but he heard his mother shout.

“Wait! I haven’t told you what the other meaning of your name is yet! The name Erik means Alone! You’re alone, Erik!”

His little hands went up to cover his ears and drown out the sound of her bitter laughter.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Erik watched over Alana as she slept. With the exception of Madame Giry, this girl was the first person he had ever met who had asked for his name. When he‘d lived with the gypsies, they‘d called him the Devil‘s Child. He just wanted to forget about that. Then, at the Opera Populaire, he had created a new identity for himself, and was known only as the Phantom or the Opera Ghost. Christine knew him as yet another identity, her Angel of Music, but he realized, with a stab of pain, that she had never even asked him what his name was. For most of his life, he’d been nothing but a nameless mystery. And a very, very lonely soul.

He had missed Madame Giry more than he thought he would, these past months. He felt so grateful to her for what she had done for him…without her, he knew he could never have survived. She helped him find his way in darkness. She tried to help him be content with his life of loneliness.

But he could never be content. He hated to be alone. He hated being Erik.

He gazed at the sleeping girl before him. Though she was sick and hurt, she was actually quite pretty, he had to admit. She looked to be about Christine’s age. Maybe she‘ll stay

He stopped himself right there. No. This girl didn’t mean anything to him. He couldn’t let that happen. He would never love anyone else ever again. Whether Christine loved him or not, she would always have his heart. He pulled out the diamond ring that he always wore on the chain around his neck and clutched it tightly. Nothing good could come of him getting attached to this girl. Nothing good came of anything he did. He closed his eyes, still holding the ring, and forced other thoughts into his head.

I am my one companion.

There are no arms to hold me.

My heart is on its own.

All on its own.

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