Installation 27: This Darkness You Cannot Fight previous
As search parties spread out across The Museum, Phoebe was deep in the basement, sitting in storage room 2B with The Phantom. This time, the bed didn’t feel quite so soft and there were no Oreos in sight.
“Was that really necessary?” Phoebe asked. “Kidnapping me and threatening James?”
The Phantom swept back the cape he wore over his guard uniform and held up his arms.
“And so we meet again, my Sweet Flower From an Ancient Garden,” he said.
“I have a headache,” Phoebe said.
“Listen,” The Phantom said, dropping the cape and the act. “I heard about what happened with James and I got worried. Clearly he slipped you some kind of potion. Why did you agree to go out with him?”
“I haven’t had many offers lately,” Phoebe said. “And it's important to get into the game.”
“No offers?” The Phantom asked. “I just about proposed marriage to you the last time we were down here, didn’t I?”
“Be serious,” Phoebe said. She was feeling quite crabby. “How likely is it that I'm going to marry some guy who hangs out in a basement wearing a ski mask?”
“I am serious,” The Phantom said. “And I’m totally going to fuck that guy up.”
“Oh,” Phoebe said, “You’re a big talker. You promise lots of things. What about all that stuff you said about helping my career? Not much has happened there, has it? In fact, if anything, its gotten worse. Now there’s that awful Fern to contend with.”
“The hatchet-faced woman?”
“Yes!”
“I thought she was a temp,” The Phantom said, scratching his head through his ski mask. “What’s she for?”
“She was hired to help with Ride the Snake but it's no secret she might be my replacement,” Phoebe said.
“No one is going to replace you,” The Phantom said. “If you say the word, I'll get rid of Fern. I will see to it that you rise to a position of prominence in The Museum. And I'll destroy James Trehorn. Is this what you want, my sweet?”
Phoebe yawned. “It's a good start.”
“Would you like a shoulder rub?”
“No thank you,” Phoebe said.
“But you’re tense.”
“My tenseness may have a direct link to having been taken out of an important meeting under cover of darkness only to be locked away in this dank storage room,” Phoebe said. She got up and walked over to the spiral staircase.
“Where are you going?” The Phantom asked.
“Back to work,” Phoebe said.
“But wait! Let me play the piano for you. Let me serve you tea and cookies.”
At the mention of cookies, Phoebe wavered. The Phantom came and took her hand.
“What would you like to hear?” he asked as he guided her to the bed. “The theme from Beaches? The Rose? The Bodyguard?”
The Phantom poured tea and offered Phoebe a small plate of Oreos from the gold and ivory cabinet. Then he sat on the bench of an antique baby grand piano Phoebe hadn’t noticed the last time she was there and started to warm up his fingers. She gobbled three Oreos as soon as his back was turned.
“I’ve got one you’ll love,” The Phantom said. “A little something I call The Music of the Night.”
As The Phantom played, Phoebe settled back on the bed and ate all the Oreos. She felt as if she were floating along on the music and it was hard to keep her eyes open. She thought about getting up the stairs and back to her office. People might be wondering where she was. But her lids were so heavy.
At the piano, The Phantom started to sing in a weak and shaky voice. Phoebe opened one eye. Was that him? The singing was awful, like the mewl of a starving kitten.
Floating, falling, sweet intoxication,
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night.
Surely it wouldn't matter if she took a twenty-minute nap. She hated her job; it was boring and a waste of her time. Just the thought of the stack of clippings waiting for photocopying made her squeeze her eyes shut. She was an intelligent young woman. She deserved better. She deserved a twenty minute nap. She shut her eyes and sealed her fate.