"Do you think he will come?" Haya asked Henry as they sat in the living area, awaiting the man who was practically Haya's only friend, yet they awaited another too. This young woman, however, was not Erik.
Haya's friend was just like her, actually, musically inclined and a piano player, but she was already married to a man who had won her heart years back. They began to court when she was nearly sixteen, and he was twenty.
Both French, Haya enjoyed their company when she went out to town. Her husband didn't go out as often as she did, but unaccompanied travels were most usually just to busy family.
"Father, do you remember when Marguerite is supposed to get here?"
Henry shook his head.
"Blondie will be here when she gets here."
"Do not call her blondie," Haya giggled. Marguerite loved it, actually, and she couldn't help but laugh every time she heard it.
"Oh, relax, Haya. They will arrive when they arrive," he soothed his daughter.
The knock on the door alerted them to a visitor, and in her mind, Haya whispered, finally. She had been so very much anticipating seeing Marguerite as it was forever since they'd last spoke! Ever since Haya had been caught up in Erik anyways....
Haya opened the door and the person she expected to show up was not the one standing in front of her.
"Am I late?" Erik asked her, looking past her to the grandfather clock that was evanescent to Haya.
"N-no, come right in, Erik, it's good to see you," she said a bit more loudly so her father would hear it, but nothing to alarm the masked-man.
"Erik! Good, one down, one to go. Marguerite is coming alone, yes?" Henry asked his daughter as she shut the door numbly.
"Yes," she replied just as she'd shut the door, numbly.
"There's to be another guest?" Erik asked as though he lived there, his voice smooth and nothing out of normal.
"Yes, my closest friend, Marguerite."
Erik raised an eyebrow at his demotion, thinking that with the way she was feeling, he would be her closest friend. Then again, with the lack of reply to her letters he wasn't surprised he was merely a friend.
"Wonderful," Erik replied with faux smile.
"Knock knock!" A voice came from outside their door, the knock following it.
Haya squealed and ran to get her friend from outside, her excitement to see Marguerite never dulled by anything, not even Erik's sudden presence as though he hadn't left.
"Marguerite!"
"Haya!" They both engulfed the other in a hug and kissed one-another's cheeks, smiling brightly.
They stood in the entrance and held their own conversation as Erik and Henry sat in the dining area, still visible.
"How are you, it has been just too long," Marguerite asked quickly.
"Up and down, you know how these things are," Haya replied.
"Does it have anything to do with tall, dark, and handsome?" She asked in her beautiful French accent, looking over at Erik with keen eyes.
"How did you know?" Haya asked wearily, "You just got here!"
"I know, but there's something about you that I can see. And you won't stop staring at him," Marguerite told her gently,
"Oh," Haya blinked.
"Well, anyways, who is he?"
"My father's good friend and my... Well, I'm sure you know what I would prefer him to be, but he isn't that at all. He has to remain a friend because father finds it strange, and Erik - that's his name - was in love with another."
Recognition flew across the blonde's visage as she gasped audibly.
"Wait! That's the Phantom," she whispered hurriedly, "the one who tried to woo the Swedish Soprano, Christine Daaé!" She whispered excitedly, Haya looking at her with a frown.
"I know," she said determinedly, "But that doesn't mean I don't find him attractive."
"Quite. Not that it matters, I see you two as a couple, why is your father so against it?" Marguerite wondered, because there never really was a concrete answer in her mind.
Haya shrugged, "Age, the fact that he's been around... The opera. The age bothers me not, though. Frankly, I care not what has occurred with him. I want him, Marguerite," she complained.
"Calm down," Marguerite said quickly, engulfing the girl with her arms, "Just wait, maybe things will work in your favor?"
"Maybe," she muttered.
"Blondie, come and eat! And bring Haya with you!" Henry exclaimed in his New York accent, pulling a giggling Marguerite and Haya to the table.
Playing it off like Haya hadn't told Marguerite his whole life story, the blonde stuck her hand out to him and introduced herself.
"I am Marguerite Penjat, and you?" She asked Erik quickly.
"Erik Destler."
Marguerite sat down next to Henry and allowed Haya to take the seat next to Erik once again. The man crossed his legs and transferred them so they sat as close to Henry as possible without touching him or being near Haya. Not even close.
"So, I cooked supper tonight, God bless us all," Henry muttered as he opened the covers.
"I'm sure it's wonderful, Henry," Marguerite assured him, pronouncing Henry's name like "On-Ree"
"I think we should have gone to a restaurant to eat supper," Haya commented and looked at her father who was giving her an awful look.
"You have no faith in me, try it. Go on," he said convincingly.
"Alright, fine," Haya conceded, taking a bite of the food and finding it was actually very good.
"Good, is it not?"
"Wonderful!" Haya exclaimed.
"It should be, I got it from the restaurant down the path," Henry said and burst into a chuckle, laughing as the rest of the table did.
Conversation went on, and it was mostly the friends who talked. Erik maintained solid conversation with Henry and Marguerite kept Haya busy enough to not notice Erik's enthusiasm to speak with her.
When the meal was done, Marguerite cleaned up and then everyone went to the living area.
"Come in birthday girl, play us a tune," Henry said, nudging Haya to sit at the piano.
"And what shall I play?" She played along, heavily drunk on his enthusiasm.
"One of your compositions," Erik chimed in, his smile drunk on the smile Haya wore.
"Oh, she never shows me those things. I would love to hear," Marguerite added, her version of hear sounding like "ear."
"There there, I'm here all night. All week actually, maybe the rest of my life, who knows!" Haya said joyously and then sat down at the piano. She knew exactly what she was going to play.
From Erik, she had learned to facet her emotions into a strengthening music. What she felt, and what she said was put into notes so that one could hear it without having to reply. So, from the heartbreak he had caused her, Haya went on to write many songs that exhibited that exact emotion... But there was one, one that she knew would blow them all away. It made her cry every time she played it, even if only a few tears, but it was exactly how she felt.
"I wrote this a little while ago, give or take a week," everyone had laughed as she placed herself on the piano's bench and her lithe fingers delicately on the keys, "and I wrote it with emotion."
She could practically feel Erik's curiosity as she heard him raise up in his seat, attentive to her playing.
"Here you are," she said gently and then began to play.
The melody was soft at first, as soft as she could get the piano to play. They melodies were sweet, pulling everyone to listen and hear her, exhibiting how she could play quickly and with agility. Her fingers then moved downwards, a swift change into minor as the music crescendoed. There was a brief pause before she played loudly, the forte nearly hurting her fingers. It was just after that it slowed down but did not get quieter or softer, no, it hurt. It dragged out and pulled against their very feelings, making them blink back tears as she swayed to her own playing. It was as if the melodies were causing her pain, her fingers retracting like the keys were fire. When it softened and pulled away, the last note, an easy C, was held as long as the piano chords would carry it, leaving them all crying with her.
She hadn't let too many tears slip, but she put her all into that performance with her muse right behind her.
"Brava," his voice chimed in her ear, and when she whipped around to see him, he was as close to her as the air surrounding her was.
"Thank you," she muttered and glanced to his lips, lips that practically begged her to kiss them.
"That was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard," he told her and then she watched his eyes water until he blinked and he was gone again. Maybe she hadn't even seen it at all....