“Right,” Naomi chuckled, “and it probably didn’t help when whatever one general or king started, the next one didn’t like and changed half of it.”
After a while, Stella yawned. “Monique lost me. Between the slow pace of the bus, the heat, and all those French names, I’m tired. I guess jet lag is catching up with me.”
Naomi consulted the map. “Why don’t we get off the bus soon? The Louvre is only two more stops away. It’s not too far to walk.”
“Sounds great. Maybe we can grab some coffee and ice cream, too.”
“Oh, now you’re talking! I see two scoops of chocolate ice cream on a waffle cone. Or one scoop of chocolate, and one of coffee flavor? Choices, choices… I’ll have to think about it.”
Their bus circled around the Place de la Concorde, its obelisk and two fountains, and stopped for a brief moment to allow them a glance down the tree-lined Champs-Élysées.
From their seats on the bus, Stella overlooked the busy street life surrounding them. Throngs of tourists aside—and she was one of them—Paris was a lively city. She watched people talking animatedly in the middle of sidewalks and families sitting in small bistros scattered everywhere, laughing and having fun.
And couples. They were everywhere. Holding hands, kissing, showing the world they were in love.
Keep rubbing it in, she thought when Monique said, “Our next stop is Palais Garnier, also known as Opéra Garnier or the Paris Opera.”
She froze. Instantly, beads of sweat formed on her forehead and trickled down the back of her neck. Her hands were clammy.
Monique continued, “It’s one of, if not the most famous opera house in the world. Due to in no small part to…?”
When a few people called out the answer, Monique nodded and said, “Le Fantôme de l’Opéra. Gaston Leroux used this opera house as the setting for his novel.”
Stella felt Naomi watching her, but she couldn’t turn to face her. Her eyes were glued to the masonry walls of the building and she crumpled up the tour map.
She came to France to escape memories centered around this book, this musical, this phantom! This opera house!
Yes, of course she knew it was in this city, and she had hoped to see it one day. But not on this trip. Why was life so cruel?
Stella didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or to cry, and the sound she made was a combination of both. She covered her mouth with one hand and reached for Naomi’s hand with the other.
“I have to get off the bus. Please, Naomi! I have to get off.” She grabbed her purse and water bottle. “Now.”
CHAPTER 10
Stella—July 2018
“S
tella, for crying out loud, we’ll get off, I promise. But we need to wait until we reach the bus stop. I can see it coming up.” Naomi gripped her hand.
A few minutes later, which felt to Stella like hours, they stood on the sidewalk, and she said, “I’m going in there. There’s no way I can just walk away without going inside.”
“What good is it doing you? Why torture yourself?”
“I don’t know. I truly don’t know! But if I don’t go in, I’ll regret it forever.” She looked around. Where could she cross the busy street?
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No—but thank you. I have to do this by myself. Maybe then I can shut the door on this chapter of my life.”
“Okay, here’s an idea,” Naomi said. “I’ll do some shopping at Galeries Lafayette, which is not far from here.”
“What do you want to buy?”
“Lingerie, of course! A little something in black lace. Or blue?”
“What? Are you serious? Don’t you have enough of the stuff?”
“What better place than Paris to buy something truly sexy? And who knows? It might come in handy during this trip. Always gotta be prepared for an emergency, the old Girl Scout motto.”
Naomi had the nerve to give her the Girl Scout salute, then looked up and down the street. “There’s a café over there. Can you read the name?”
“It says La Brioche. Let’s meet there in two hours.” She checked the time. “Okay, it’s almost one o’clock now.”
“See you at 3 pm sharp, and don’t get lost in there. No trying to find the underground lake!” Naomi teased.
Stella hugged her friend, then walked to the next crosswalk. Once she was safely on the other side, she took her time walking around the building.
In a haze, she reached the front, noticing people sitting on the wide steps. She was so utterly unprepared, she didn’t even know if the theater was open to visitors on Sundays.
The thought of being part of a large group right now horrified her. She really needed to get through this all by herself, and hoped it was possible to visit without taking a guided tour.
Stella noticed people disappearing through the tall stone arches and decided it must be open.
To calm herself, she studied the facade, recognizing major architectural styles, but skimming over countless sculptures and busts—stopping at the golden capital letters above her head. ACADÉMIE NATIONALE DE MUSIQUE.
She whispered, “I say that the place of the skeleton of the Opera ghost is in the archives of the National Academy of Music.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to uncover skeletons. She didn’t want to disturb ghosts. She only wanted to find peace.
Peace of heart and mind.
Her heart hammered.
Stella tried to tell herself, It’s only a building. Walk in, look around, walk out, but her nerves weren’t so easily persuaded.
She counted the marble steps in front of the large doors as she climbed them—ten, eleven, twelve—and sat down at the top. Time to google must-see tips.
What do I want to really see? Stella scrolled through the suggestions. Of course! The auditorium.
And there was a Library-Museum, known as Bibliothèque-Musée de l’Opéra National de Paris, housing several permanent exhibitions. Exactly what she was interested in. A library-museum
