Christian sat back. He stared at the words on the page before him. He
stared, expecting something in return...nothing. The words he valiantly
punched with his typewriter day after day for the past month did not
reflect the life he expected from them. He looked to his side,
disappointed. He had done everything in his power to get up and write a
story, a story he promised. Now that it was finished he thought of what
could be missing, what did he do wrong?
"Is it too short?" he asked himself. "No," he whispered nodding his head.
A crack of lightning struck Montmartre. A sound Christian was all too familiar with now. The light, or lack there of, he was also accustomed to. He looked back towards the window, as if to remember something.
He continued to stare out the window, only seeing Montmartre covered in its usual black tint of the storm. Then he heard a cage rattle and then a chirp.
"Ah, damn!" he said.
Christian quickly went over to the door that led out to the balcony. He opened the door and squinted his eyes at the heavy dollops of rain. He reached his arm over to his right and grabbed hold of a cage. He set it down on one of his drawers and shut the doors.
"Sorry, forgot." he said timidly at the green and yellow bird prancing inside the cage.
The bird blinked as if not to accept the apology of his carelessness.
"Don know how she managed to take care of you. You're quite a handful." Christian said in his strong accent.
The bird cocked its head and eyed Christian. Its beautiful plumage maintained its vibrant color. No color seemed dull on her feathers. She may have possibly been the one piece of balance that remained in Christian's life. Day in, day out, she just sat in her cage pouncing from end to the other. Never seemed to lower its head. It was the only thing in Christian's life that wasn't tainted by the darkness that had covered Montmartre for the past year. Satine died, and it seemed as if everything died with her.
Christian woke that night, not by the roar of the storm, but by a sweet familiar melody. He sat up and cleared his focus. The bird, it was singing. Amidst the storm, the bird was singing in its joyous tone. The bird's voice sounded as if it were wrapped in satin. At first, Christian was startled and a bit agitated that he was disturbed from his sleep. But as the bird continued to sing, Christian found himself smiling inside.
"Don know what it is 'bout you," he said smiling at the bird.
He lay back down and as the bird continued its song, Christian felt his eyelids drop. He wished he could keep them open just a bit longer, just enough to hear the bird finish. His eyes closed, but his ears did not.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------
Christian took a deep breath as he sat in his chair and looked at the blank page before him. He placed his fingers arched over the keys of his typewriter. As he punched the first letter, he was taken back as he saw that not a drop of ink had sunken into the page.
"Right, just what I need, an empty typewriter."
Christian sighed as he realized that he needed to head to the market. He quickly realized that the bird also needed more food, and so did he. In fact, the longer he stared around in his "humble abode" the more he comprehended that he needed a lot of things. He hadn't always found himself as the greatest housekeeper, but figured he could manage this "penniless existence" with little maintenance. He'd come to grasp the fact that quite honestly, he was a mess. His beard had grown in so much that he found himself getting caught (literally). It became a hassle to put on a shirt without getting the buttons stuck to his chin.
Right then, he heard a chirp, more of a squeak. He looked up to see that the bird had gotten its feathers stuck in a broken part of its cage.
"Things are getting better by the second!" Christian said sarcastically.
The next thing he knew, he was exiting the building, wearing his trusty, dirtied blue suit. With the cage in hand, and money in the other, he set off. He felt nauseated at first at the sight of the piercingly bright sun. A vision he was quite foreign to now. Once a beautiful and pleasing thing in his life, now only a bothersome nuisance.
He walked past a wide array of faces. All seemingly staring at him. At his tasseled outfit and his petite bird. He shrugged of the stares and forged on 'til he met his destination. Messieur Danglar's printing and communications shop. Christian lightly set the cage on the sidewalk in front of the store as he entered.
With just enough ink to avoid coming into town again, Christian came back out to find a young girl crouched down beside the cage, playing with the bird. Christian approached the girl.
"How do you do?" Christian greeted.
The girl looked up startled.
"O, pardon messieur, I was just looking at your bird. It is yours correct?" The girl asked.
The girl had quite a pleasant and innocent voice. Christian smiled. "Oh, don't worry I don't mind. It's not really my bird anyhow, but you can go on playing with it."
"You're English," the girl speculated.
"Does it say on my forehead?" Christian joked. "But yes I am."
The girl laughed.
"Christian," he said pulling his hand out of his pocket and placing it between the two of them.
"My Name is Victoria. Sorry my English isn't very well." She said nervously.
"I wouldn't exactly say that anyone does." Christian assured. He continued to stare at her visage. She wore simple clothing, nothing posh, nothing to brag about. But beyond the fact that her apparel was decent, her face said it all...she was hungry. Smudges of dirt outlined her cheeks and her chin. Christian looked down and to his dismay, the girl only wore slippers.
Victoria clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her head to the side as she saw Christian's expression, embarrassed.
"You don have to be ashamed of anything, Victoria."
Her face remained as it was. Christian continued to search for any sign of relief in her blue eyes.
"Tell you what; this bird's been livin' in that cage for a year now. Time she gets a new, don't you think?"
Victoria smiled.
"You would like me to come with you?" Victoria asked, unsure yet surprised.
"Why not, feels good talkin' to someone, again." Christian revealed.
"You don't talk to people; I mean you don't do it often?"
Christian laughed. This girl brought a different light to him. Her questions were so fresh, so frank and innocent that he had to smile.
"Well, I do talk to people. I just don't see the point anymore. People talk to you, you talk to them. Yet the words get lost and there was no point in saying them in the end."
Victoria raised her brow.
"I do not understand Messieur. Why are you so angry?"
Christian looked down at her as they walked. Between the trees the sun's rays would hit the sidewalk and anything on them. The more he looked, the more he noticed the true hue of the girl's hair. In front of the shop it looked brown, faded and tangled. Suddenly it appeared auburn, burning red and silky. It was so red that he thought he felt the color begin to appear on his face, it glowed so intensely. The red of her hair put the finest wine merlot to shame. Christian brought his focus back to Victoria's question.
There were so many answers to that question that Christian felt that the sidewalk they were strolling on wasn't long enough to accommodate. He looked around, as if to find a simple answer in the air of that busy street in France.
"Well, I can't really give you a simple answer for that." he finally replied.
"But you are...sad, so why is it so hard on you to explain? I'm not that stupid you know. I can understand things." Victoria replied.
"Oh no, I didn't think that you were stupid at all. It's just that sometimes my explanations are quite long. Well I suppose meeting you; I could have a go at explaining it to you."
Victoria blinked, as a sign to continue.
"Well you see I think that all's not really fair in the world. At least not in my god forsaken life-"
"But nothing is fair, Messieur."
"I know that, it's just that, well sometimes things happen to you and you feel like you can overcome anything and you're on top of the world. You have everything going your way and... you have someone to share it with. Then all of a sudden you felt all of these emotions for absolutely nothing. Everything is taken away from you and you are stripped to bare bones."
"Goodness Messieur, for a man with such a lovely bird for company, you are quite distressed. How is it that you are able to walk the streets on such a bright and beautiful day and hold so much hate for the very sun that is keeping you warm?"
Christian stopped and stared at Victoria. Such a young, innocent and yet intelligent girl. Her face beamed with light, light that shone right through the dirt spots on her cheeks and the dust on her smile. A light that Christian wanted to push away, never to look at again. He took a deep breath.
"Well here's the shop and I'm jus gonna go in and be right back out. I'll be on my way in time. So it was great to have met you Victoria. I think it best if you were on your way as well."
As Christian tried his best to scurry into the shop Victoria spoke.
"Yes, I suppose this alley should be a warm place for the night. Not too many drunks and whores in this part."
Christian attempted to push his feet forward into the store, trying to ignore Victoria. He stood at the steps.
Christian bit his lip. He turned to find Victoria still standing there.
"I'm sorry, well there's not much I can do." Christian said.
Victoria didn't speak. Christian took another deep breath.
"Look, I'm gonna be right back out. But I suppose you could spend the night
with me. Although my home isn't much brighter than yours Victoria."
"But no, I don't want to compromise you sir." Victoria replied.
"First of all, Christian...Christian, not 'sir'. And secondly, you're not
compromising anybody. Just wait here a while."
Victoria showed a faint of a smile as Christian brought the broken cage
into the shop.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------
Victoria turned her head as they passed. Christian had so long avoided the way to his abode that required passing the Moulin Rouge. Victoria looked
frantically for it. She'd never been able to step foot in this part of
town. So many drunks and whores occupying the streets that she'd been terrified out of her skin. She longed to see the Moulin Rouge as she once
had. But as Christian took a turn into a narrow avenue, her chances of spotting that red windmill became obsolete. Christian led her up the stairs
to his room and opened the door with a rusted old key.
As Christian opened the door, it was not the gigantic hole in the ceiling
that excited Victoria, but the hundreds, thousands of papers that flew
about, all over his floor and posted up on his walls. Millions of words
surrounded the room, surrounded them.
"Sorry, really wasn't expecting company." Christian apologized.
"This is fantastic!" Victoria gasped, looking up, jaws dropped. "You're a
writer!"
Suddenly Christian remembered words of long ago:
(faintly)
-"I'm not a Duke."
-"Not a Duke?"
-"I'm a writer."
-"A writer?!"
-"That's right-"
-"No!"
-"Toulouse-"
-"Toulouse?!"
His reminiscence was disturbed by Victoria's eyes gaping at him.
"There it is again, that sad, miserable face you have." she speculated.
"What's the matter Christian?" she said trying out the name.
"Nothing," he whispered.
Victoria cocked her head.
"You looked as if you were...remembering something."
"No, I..wasn't, I was just..being upset with myself for not cleaning up first."
"You're sentence is broken Mess- I mean Christian. That's not always a sign of the truth being spoken." Victoria said, smiling.
"Whateva, I'm just sorry about the mess. Here, I'll clear a spot off for you in that chair."
Christian walked over to his chair at the typewriter and threw off about a dozen pages and presented it to Victoria. Victoria stared at the chair and slowly approached it. She fingered the wood on the back of the chair, running her finger along the grains.
"Okay?" Christian asked.
Victoria didn't look up.
She laughed," It's been a while since I've sat in a chair."
Christian closed his mouth and stared to his side.
"Oh."
After a long silence Christian said, "Well here's your chance now. I've been sitting in that chair for a year now. Bout time I got off my lazy ass- ...sorry."
"Don't be sorry, I've heard worse."
"Right, well I'll see what I can do about all of this food, and attempt to make a decent meal for the three of us." Christian announced, looking over at the bird.
Victoria stared at him, not trusting his culinary abilities.
"What? Don't think a man like me can cook?" Christian joked.
Victoria giggled.
"No, I'm just remembering the fact that you're English."
Christian's eyes widened.
"English, eh? Alright, don' think Englishman can cook...I'll show you the best dinner you've ever had!"
Victoria finally got around to getting used to the wooden chair. She looked around as Christian was preparing the meal, and caught bits and pieces of his story tacked up on hi walls. She read about the part where Christian and Satine were inside the elephant that first night and giggled at Satine's efforts to distract the Duke as Christian was trying to slip out unnoticed. She looked to the floor and found a paper titled, "Come What May". As she continued reading, her eyes narrowed. The song seemed to play in her mind, as if it had been there before.
Christian suddenly approached the table, food in hand. He set a plate of a few warm rolls, thin cutlets of ham, and potatoes.
"Ok, I said it would be a great meal, not a large one." Christian confessed.
Victoria smiled.
"This is more than enough Christian."
Christian set two glasses down and stopped abruptly. He realized that all he had to drink was well, absinthe. He began to panic a bit and had not a clue of what he was going to do. Suddenly he ran to a small cupboard and pulled out a dusty, old bottle of what looked to be wine.
"Wine okay?"
Victoria raised her brow.
"Why not." she replied.
"All I ever really drink is..Absinthe," Christian said embarrassed, as he poured them a cup.
"Same as everyone else in this god-forsaken place. Hard to find a decent person that isn't drunk to the brim or carrying a snuff box in their back pocket."
There was a moment of silence as Christian pulled up a small drawer to the table.
"There, this'll be my chair," he said, pleased with his solution.
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As Christian cleared the table, Victoria spoke. Nervous at first:
"This story, it is true?" she asked.
Christian looked to her and was unsure of what to say.
"Yes."
"You're very talented. This story is really amazing."
Christian was confused as to whether he should thank Victoria or flatly say that he was not up to talking about it, about her.
Victoria looked around at all of the papers of Christian's work. She felt so eager to learn more about this wonderful story of his, but began to feel that she probably wouldn't be able to.
"If you'd like, I can sort these pages out, and organize them such that they would look more like a book, rather than a jumbled mess." Christian proposed.
Victoria's eyes lit up.
"I don't want to have to make you do all that Christian."
"Nah, it's what I should be doing anyway," he smiled.
They spent the rest of the night sorting the pages to Christian's story. From time to time Victoria would sneak a page or two as Christian attempted to find some missing pages behind his bedpost or under his sheets. She was suddenly lost in this amazing story. She fell in love with the colors, the music in her head as she read, the passion, betrayal, and even jealousy. But above all, she fell in love with the love itself. The love between this penniless poet and ravishingly beautiful courtesan.
Christian tossed the story on the bed.
"There it is. My story." Christian announced.
Immediately, Victoria took hold of the binding and dug herself within the words. As the night continued, Christian would ask how the story was going, and if Victoria was indeed enjoying it. Victoria would always reply with a big "yes" with her shiny blue eyes gaping at him, as a smile spread across her face. As she turned another page, her eyes evoked curiosity as they had before. She stared at the familiar page titled, "Come What May". She read the song and was unsure if to continue.
Victoria looked up at Christian who was walking back and forth across the room, waiting for her to finish the story.
"Christian?"
Christian stopped pacing abruptly and looked to Victoria.
"How's it so far?"
"Can you sing this for me?" Victoria asked.
"Sing?...Not sure if I can do that for you."
Victoria's lips closed and she looked down at the words. She placed the story beside her on the bed and slowly walked over to the window, out to the balcony.
Christian turned to her, worried if he had upset her.
"I'm...I'm sorry, I just can do that for you, Victoria." he declared.
Victoria didn't speak.
"Something the matter?"
Victoria continued to stand out on the balcony, letting the wind caress her face.
"So much..darkness in this world. So much anguish, pain."
Christian took a step towards her.
"Everything has left this place, Christian, what is left for us? Not even the sun can keep the skin on our backs warm without burning. Everything is pain..everything is lost, even the gift of song."
Christian continued to listen.
Suddenly Victoria closed her eyes. She slowly separated her lips and a voice sprung from her throat.
"Never knew, I could feel like this..Like I've never seen the sky..before."
Christian's heart jumped.
He looked back at Victoria with disbelief in his breath. She continued to look over the horizon, which was now painting the city orange with a tint of auburn.
"Want to vanish inside your kiss, everday I'm lovin' you more and more...." she continued.
Christian narrowed his eyes and took a step towards Victoria on the balcony. He looked to the floor next to her feet to find the page with the words to the song written on it, she never looked down.
Emotions and thoughts began to flood his mind that he found it difficult to walk. As he came close, Victoria continued to sing. She seemed possessed by her own clandestine music, music that seemed to resound only in her mind, music only she could hear. She hit every note with such grace and precision and the tranquil wind seemed to blow her hair to every note and beat. As the sun slowly continued to set, it appeared as though it imparted it's light onto Victoria's hair.
"..come what may...," Victoria sang in finality.
She didn't turn or even address Christian's presence. Christian's knees began to buckle and his heart instantly fell apart. At that moment, Victoria was Satine.
Finally, Victoria took her eyes away from the scenery and titled her head down to her chest, staring at the wooden floor. She slowly raised her eyes, to meet Christian's. Their eyes seemed to have held on a conversation on their own. Suddenly a tear dropped from her eye.
"She sang it so beautifully.. she was so beautiful." Victoria uttered.
Christian shook his head. "Who sang it so beautifully? What are you saying Victoria? How could you hav-"
"The woman...the woman with the sequins in her hair. The woman who was always dancing, always singing..the woman you loved."
Victoria's eyes evoked an innocent longing.
Christian continued to battle his mind with what to say. He was oppressed with a sudden rush of anger, but as he continued to look at Victoria, he knew that no words of anger could solve a single problem. He felt helpless and wanted to fall apart, then and there.
"How..," he whispered, suppressing tears.
Victoria walked over to him.
"I've always known about..Satine. She was the most amazing woman I'd ever seen." She said smiling, suddenly slightly enthusiastic. "Her voice could be heard, miles and miles abroad."
"I don't understand," Christian fought to say.
Victoria continued to peer into his eyes, his soul. Christian found himself drowning in them.
"I'd always wanted to go inside the Moulin Rouge and..and..be part of it all; the stage! The costumes, the lights! And the music...ohh the music," Victoria exclaimed. Victoria held that innocent longing in her eyes once more. She caught her breath.."For as long as I could remember..I'd always wanted to sing."
"But..how, If you say you saw her, but never managed to go inside," Christian asked.
Victoria smiled.
"Well, this woman named Marie always saw me in the back alley, poking around, trying to get a glimpse of the show.. so she would unveil a curtain in one of the back windows and I'd always find myself there Saturday nights, catching the latest show," she smiled and looked up, reminiscing with herself.
Christian was both amazed and baffled, yet he didn't speak, letting her finish.
"Oh it was so wonderful Christian! Satine was the most remarkable woman. So talented and beautiful," Victoria said looking down remembering Satine's fate. "I'd always love watching her come off the dance floor..then she'd speak to her bird...," Victoria and Christian simultaneously looked over to the birdcage set on the dresser. The bird blinked as if it knew it was being talked about.
"That was the night I found out that Satine was sick..," Victoria confessed. She looked up at Christian. "The night you-"
"The night I came," he finished. "So..you recognized that bird did you? Out side the shop."
"Well it looked familiar, I wasn't sure. But oh how happy I am to see it again! And to see you...I was watching that night. I saw you carry her off in your arms."
Christian wasn't sure if he wanted to reply. But if he did, he had not a
clue of what to say either.
"So you knew her then.." Christian managed to say.
"Goodness, everyone knew her Christian, she was like no other."
"Can't argue bout that."
Victoria was upholding a barrier between a river of tears and her eyes.
Just as she was about to let go, give in, she held even tighter.
"No..no." she demanded. "We've mourned long enough, Christian. We've shed all the tears, cried all the words of anguish and sorrow, and abused every
ounce of dignity left. She'd have wanted us to carry on, carry on with
ourselves!"
Christian appeared to be ignoring her, looking out over the balcony. But he
wasn't, he'd listened to every word. For the longest time, he just
continued to stare over Montmartre.
After quite some time, he finally turned and acknowledged Victoria's
affirmation. He slowly held out his hand.
"Come here," he asked of her.
Victoria barely heard the words escape his lips as she walked towards him. Christian continued to stare out at the auburn, fiery sun that created a
border over the horizon appearing as if it were coated in a dark red.
Victoria looked to Christian, unsure of what he was doing.
"You're right.....and I agree."
Christian sighed, but spoke once more.
"Just keep staring, staring at that burning, setting sun...if you look long
enough, hard enough, you just might see her."
"Is it too short?" he asked himself. "No," he whispered nodding his head.
A crack of lightning struck Montmartre. A sound Christian was all too familiar with now. The light, or lack there of, he was also accustomed to. He looked back towards the window, as if to remember something.
He continued to stare out the window, only seeing Montmartre covered in its usual black tint of the storm. Then he heard a cage rattle and then a chirp.
"Ah, damn!" he said.
Christian quickly went over to the door that led out to the balcony. He opened the door and squinted his eyes at the heavy dollops of rain. He reached his arm over to his right and grabbed hold of a cage. He set it down on one of his drawers and shut the doors.
"Sorry, forgot." he said timidly at the green and yellow bird prancing inside the cage.
The bird blinked as if not to accept the apology of his carelessness.
"Don know how she managed to take care of you. You're quite a handful." Christian said in his strong accent.
The bird cocked its head and eyed Christian. Its beautiful plumage maintained its vibrant color. No color seemed dull on her feathers. She may have possibly been the one piece of balance that remained in Christian's life. Day in, day out, she just sat in her cage pouncing from end to the other. Never seemed to lower its head. It was the only thing in Christian's life that wasn't tainted by the darkness that had covered Montmartre for the past year. Satine died, and it seemed as if everything died with her.
Christian woke that night, not by the roar of the storm, but by a sweet familiar melody. He sat up and cleared his focus. The bird, it was singing. Amidst the storm, the bird was singing in its joyous tone. The bird's voice sounded as if it were wrapped in satin. At first, Christian was startled and a bit agitated that he was disturbed from his sleep. But as the bird continued to sing, Christian found himself smiling inside.
"Don know what it is 'bout you," he said smiling at the bird.
He lay back down and as the bird continued its song, Christian felt his eyelids drop. He wished he could keep them open just a bit longer, just enough to hear the bird finish. His eyes closed, but his ears did not.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------
Christian took a deep breath as he sat in his chair and looked at the blank page before him. He placed his fingers arched over the keys of his typewriter. As he punched the first letter, he was taken back as he saw that not a drop of ink had sunken into the page.
"Right, just what I need, an empty typewriter."
Christian sighed as he realized that he needed to head to the market. He quickly realized that the bird also needed more food, and so did he. In fact, the longer he stared around in his "humble abode" the more he comprehended that he needed a lot of things. He hadn't always found himself as the greatest housekeeper, but figured he could manage this "penniless existence" with little maintenance. He'd come to grasp the fact that quite honestly, he was a mess. His beard had grown in so much that he found himself getting caught (literally). It became a hassle to put on a shirt without getting the buttons stuck to his chin.
Right then, he heard a chirp, more of a squeak. He looked up to see that the bird had gotten its feathers stuck in a broken part of its cage.
"Things are getting better by the second!" Christian said sarcastically.
The next thing he knew, he was exiting the building, wearing his trusty, dirtied blue suit. With the cage in hand, and money in the other, he set off. He felt nauseated at first at the sight of the piercingly bright sun. A vision he was quite foreign to now. Once a beautiful and pleasing thing in his life, now only a bothersome nuisance.
He walked past a wide array of faces. All seemingly staring at him. At his tasseled outfit and his petite bird. He shrugged of the stares and forged on 'til he met his destination. Messieur Danglar's printing and communications shop. Christian lightly set the cage on the sidewalk in front of the store as he entered.
With just enough ink to avoid coming into town again, Christian came back out to find a young girl crouched down beside the cage, playing with the bird. Christian approached the girl.
"How do you do?" Christian greeted.
The girl looked up startled.
"O, pardon messieur, I was just looking at your bird. It is yours correct?" The girl asked.
The girl had quite a pleasant and innocent voice. Christian smiled. "Oh, don't worry I don't mind. It's not really my bird anyhow, but you can go on playing with it."
"You're English," the girl speculated.
"Does it say on my forehead?" Christian joked. "But yes I am."
The girl laughed.
"Christian," he said pulling his hand out of his pocket and placing it between the two of them.
"My Name is Victoria. Sorry my English isn't very well." She said nervously.
"I wouldn't exactly say that anyone does." Christian assured. He continued to stare at her visage. She wore simple clothing, nothing posh, nothing to brag about. But beyond the fact that her apparel was decent, her face said it all...she was hungry. Smudges of dirt outlined her cheeks and her chin. Christian looked down and to his dismay, the girl only wore slippers.
Victoria clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her head to the side as she saw Christian's expression, embarrassed.
"You don have to be ashamed of anything, Victoria."
Her face remained as it was. Christian continued to search for any sign of relief in her blue eyes.
"Tell you what; this bird's been livin' in that cage for a year now. Time she gets a new, don't you think?"
Victoria smiled.
"You would like me to come with you?" Victoria asked, unsure yet surprised.
"Why not, feels good talkin' to someone, again." Christian revealed.
"You don't talk to people; I mean you don't do it often?"
Christian laughed. This girl brought a different light to him. Her questions were so fresh, so frank and innocent that he had to smile.
"Well, I do talk to people. I just don't see the point anymore. People talk to you, you talk to them. Yet the words get lost and there was no point in saying them in the end."
Victoria raised her brow.
"I do not understand Messieur. Why are you so angry?"
Christian looked down at her as they walked. Between the trees the sun's rays would hit the sidewalk and anything on them. The more he looked, the more he noticed the true hue of the girl's hair. In front of the shop it looked brown, faded and tangled. Suddenly it appeared auburn, burning red and silky. It was so red that he thought he felt the color begin to appear on his face, it glowed so intensely. The red of her hair put the finest wine merlot to shame. Christian brought his focus back to Victoria's question.
There were so many answers to that question that Christian felt that the sidewalk they were strolling on wasn't long enough to accommodate. He looked around, as if to find a simple answer in the air of that busy street in France.
"Well, I can't really give you a simple answer for that." he finally replied.
"But you are...sad, so why is it so hard on you to explain? I'm not that stupid you know. I can understand things." Victoria replied.
"Oh no, I didn't think that you were stupid at all. It's just that sometimes my explanations are quite long. Well I suppose meeting you; I could have a go at explaining it to you."
Victoria blinked, as a sign to continue.
"Well you see I think that all's not really fair in the world. At least not in my god forsaken life-"
"But nothing is fair, Messieur."
"I know that, it's just that, well sometimes things happen to you and you feel like you can overcome anything and you're on top of the world. You have everything going your way and... you have someone to share it with. Then all of a sudden you felt all of these emotions for absolutely nothing. Everything is taken away from you and you are stripped to bare bones."
"Goodness Messieur, for a man with such a lovely bird for company, you are quite distressed. How is it that you are able to walk the streets on such a bright and beautiful day and hold so much hate for the very sun that is keeping you warm?"
Christian stopped and stared at Victoria. Such a young, innocent and yet intelligent girl. Her face beamed with light, light that shone right through the dirt spots on her cheeks and the dust on her smile. A light that Christian wanted to push away, never to look at again. He took a deep breath.
"Well here's the shop and I'm jus gonna go in and be right back out. I'll be on my way in time. So it was great to have met you Victoria. I think it best if you were on your way as well."
As Christian tried his best to scurry into the shop Victoria spoke.
"Yes, I suppose this alley should be a warm place for the night. Not too many drunks and whores in this part."
Christian attempted to push his feet forward into the store, trying to ignore Victoria. He stood at the steps.
Christian bit his lip. He turned to find Victoria still standing there.
"I'm sorry, well there's not much I can do." Christian said.
Victoria didn't speak. Christian took another deep breath.
"Look, I'm gonna be right back out. But I suppose you could spend the night
with me. Although my home isn't much brighter than yours Victoria."
"But no, I don't want to compromise you sir." Victoria replied.
"First of all, Christian...Christian, not 'sir'. And secondly, you're not
compromising anybody. Just wait here a while."
Victoria showed a faint of a smile as Christian brought the broken cage
into the shop.
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------------------------
Victoria turned her head as they passed. Christian had so long avoided the way to his abode that required passing the Moulin Rouge. Victoria looked
frantically for it. She'd never been able to step foot in this part of
town. So many drunks and whores occupying the streets that she'd been terrified out of her skin. She longed to see the Moulin Rouge as she once
had. But as Christian took a turn into a narrow avenue, her chances of spotting that red windmill became obsolete. Christian led her up the stairs
to his room and opened the door with a rusted old key.
As Christian opened the door, it was not the gigantic hole in the ceiling
that excited Victoria, but the hundreds, thousands of papers that flew
about, all over his floor and posted up on his walls. Millions of words
surrounded the room, surrounded them.
"Sorry, really wasn't expecting company." Christian apologized.
"This is fantastic!" Victoria gasped, looking up, jaws dropped. "You're a
writer!"
Suddenly Christian remembered words of long ago:
(faintly)
-"I'm not a Duke."
-"Not a Duke?"
-"I'm a writer."
-"A writer?!"
-"That's right-"
-"No!"
-"Toulouse-"
-"Toulouse?!"
His reminiscence was disturbed by Victoria's eyes gaping at him.
"There it is again, that sad, miserable face you have." she speculated.
"What's the matter Christian?" she said trying out the name.
"Nothing," he whispered.
Victoria cocked her head.
"You looked as if you were...remembering something."
"No, I..wasn't, I was just..being upset with myself for not cleaning up first."
"You're sentence is broken Mess- I mean Christian. That's not always a sign of the truth being spoken." Victoria said, smiling.
"Whateva, I'm just sorry about the mess. Here, I'll clear a spot off for you in that chair."
Christian walked over to his chair at the typewriter and threw off about a dozen pages and presented it to Victoria. Victoria stared at the chair and slowly approached it. She fingered the wood on the back of the chair, running her finger along the grains.
"Okay?" Christian asked.
Victoria didn't look up.
She laughed," It's been a while since I've sat in a chair."
Christian closed his mouth and stared to his side.
"Oh."
After a long silence Christian said, "Well here's your chance now. I've been sitting in that chair for a year now. Bout time I got off my lazy ass- ...sorry."
"Don't be sorry, I've heard worse."
"Right, well I'll see what I can do about all of this food, and attempt to make a decent meal for the three of us." Christian announced, looking over at the bird.
Victoria stared at him, not trusting his culinary abilities.
"What? Don't think a man like me can cook?" Christian joked.
Victoria giggled.
"No, I'm just remembering the fact that you're English."
Christian's eyes widened.
"English, eh? Alright, don' think Englishman can cook...I'll show you the best dinner you've ever had!"
Victoria finally got around to getting used to the wooden chair. She looked around as Christian was preparing the meal, and caught bits and pieces of his story tacked up on hi walls. She read about the part where Christian and Satine were inside the elephant that first night and giggled at Satine's efforts to distract the Duke as Christian was trying to slip out unnoticed. She looked to the floor and found a paper titled, "Come What May". As she continued reading, her eyes narrowed. The song seemed to play in her mind, as if it had been there before.
Christian suddenly approached the table, food in hand. He set a plate of a few warm rolls, thin cutlets of ham, and potatoes.
"Ok, I said it would be a great meal, not a large one." Christian confessed.
Victoria smiled.
"This is more than enough Christian."
Christian set two glasses down and stopped abruptly. He realized that all he had to drink was well, absinthe. He began to panic a bit and had not a clue of what he was going to do. Suddenly he ran to a small cupboard and pulled out a dusty, old bottle of what looked to be wine.
"Wine okay?"
Victoria raised her brow.
"Why not." she replied.
"All I ever really drink is..Absinthe," Christian said embarrassed, as he poured them a cup.
"Same as everyone else in this god-forsaken place. Hard to find a decent person that isn't drunk to the brim or carrying a snuff box in their back pocket."
There was a moment of silence as Christian pulled up a small drawer to the table.
"There, this'll be my chair," he said, pleased with his solution.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------
As Christian cleared the table, Victoria spoke. Nervous at first:
"This story, it is true?" she asked.
Christian looked to her and was unsure of what to say.
"Yes."
"You're very talented. This story is really amazing."
Christian was confused as to whether he should thank Victoria or flatly say that he was not up to talking about it, about her.
Victoria looked around at all of the papers of Christian's work. She felt so eager to learn more about this wonderful story of his, but began to feel that she probably wouldn't be able to.
"If you'd like, I can sort these pages out, and organize them such that they would look more like a book, rather than a jumbled mess." Christian proposed.
Victoria's eyes lit up.
"I don't want to have to make you do all that Christian."
"Nah, it's what I should be doing anyway," he smiled.
They spent the rest of the night sorting the pages to Christian's story. From time to time Victoria would sneak a page or two as Christian attempted to find some missing pages behind his bedpost or under his sheets. She was suddenly lost in this amazing story. She fell in love with the colors, the music in her head as she read, the passion, betrayal, and even jealousy. But above all, she fell in love with the love itself. The love between this penniless poet and ravishingly beautiful courtesan.
Christian tossed the story on the bed.
"There it is. My story." Christian announced.
Immediately, Victoria took hold of the binding and dug herself within the words. As the night continued, Christian would ask how the story was going, and if Victoria was indeed enjoying it. Victoria would always reply with a big "yes" with her shiny blue eyes gaping at him, as a smile spread across her face. As she turned another page, her eyes evoked curiosity as they had before. She stared at the familiar page titled, "Come What May". She read the song and was unsure if to continue.
Victoria looked up at Christian who was walking back and forth across the room, waiting for her to finish the story.
"Christian?"
Christian stopped pacing abruptly and looked to Victoria.
"How's it so far?"
"Can you sing this for me?" Victoria asked.
"Sing?...Not sure if I can do that for you."
Victoria's lips closed and she looked down at the words. She placed the story beside her on the bed and slowly walked over to the window, out to the balcony.
Christian turned to her, worried if he had upset her.
"I'm...I'm sorry, I just can do that for you, Victoria." he declared.
Victoria didn't speak.
"Something the matter?"
Victoria continued to stand out on the balcony, letting the wind caress her face.
"So much..darkness in this world. So much anguish, pain."
Christian took a step towards her.
"Everything has left this place, Christian, what is left for us? Not even the sun can keep the skin on our backs warm without burning. Everything is pain..everything is lost, even the gift of song."
Christian continued to listen.
Suddenly Victoria closed her eyes. She slowly separated her lips and a voice sprung from her throat.
"Never knew, I could feel like this..Like I've never seen the sky..before."
Christian's heart jumped.
He looked back at Victoria with disbelief in his breath. She continued to look over the horizon, which was now painting the city orange with a tint of auburn.
"Want to vanish inside your kiss, everday I'm lovin' you more and more...." she continued.
Christian narrowed his eyes and took a step towards Victoria on the balcony. He looked to the floor next to her feet to find the page with the words to the song written on it, she never looked down.
Emotions and thoughts began to flood his mind that he found it difficult to walk. As he came close, Victoria continued to sing. She seemed possessed by her own clandestine music, music that seemed to resound only in her mind, music only she could hear. She hit every note with such grace and precision and the tranquil wind seemed to blow her hair to every note and beat. As the sun slowly continued to set, it appeared as though it imparted it's light onto Victoria's hair.
"..come what may...," Victoria sang in finality.
She didn't turn or even address Christian's presence. Christian's knees began to buckle and his heart instantly fell apart. At that moment, Victoria was Satine.
Finally, Victoria took her eyes away from the scenery and titled her head down to her chest, staring at the wooden floor. She slowly raised her eyes, to meet Christian's. Their eyes seemed to have held on a conversation on their own. Suddenly a tear dropped from her eye.
"She sang it so beautifully.. she was so beautiful." Victoria uttered.
Christian shook his head. "Who sang it so beautifully? What are you saying Victoria? How could you hav-"
"The woman...the woman with the sequins in her hair. The woman who was always dancing, always singing..the woman you loved."
Victoria's eyes evoked an innocent longing.
Christian continued to battle his mind with what to say. He was oppressed with a sudden rush of anger, but as he continued to look at Victoria, he knew that no words of anger could solve a single problem. He felt helpless and wanted to fall apart, then and there.
"How..," he whispered, suppressing tears.
Victoria walked over to him.
"I've always known about..Satine. She was the most amazing woman I'd ever seen." She said smiling, suddenly slightly enthusiastic. "Her voice could be heard, miles and miles abroad."
"I don't understand," Christian fought to say.
Victoria continued to peer into his eyes, his soul. Christian found himself drowning in them.
"I'd always wanted to go inside the Moulin Rouge and..and..be part of it all; the stage! The costumes, the lights! And the music...ohh the music," Victoria exclaimed. Victoria held that innocent longing in her eyes once more. She caught her breath.."For as long as I could remember..I'd always wanted to sing."
"But..how, If you say you saw her, but never managed to go inside," Christian asked.
Victoria smiled.
"Well, this woman named Marie always saw me in the back alley, poking around, trying to get a glimpse of the show.. so she would unveil a curtain in one of the back windows and I'd always find myself there Saturday nights, catching the latest show," she smiled and looked up, reminiscing with herself.
Christian was both amazed and baffled, yet he didn't speak, letting her finish.
"Oh it was so wonderful Christian! Satine was the most remarkable woman. So talented and beautiful," Victoria said looking down remembering Satine's fate. "I'd always love watching her come off the dance floor..then she'd speak to her bird...," Victoria and Christian simultaneously looked over to the birdcage set on the dresser. The bird blinked as if it knew it was being talked about.
"That was the night I found out that Satine was sick..," Victoria confessed. She looked up at Christian. "The night you-"
"The night I came," he finished. "So..you recognized that bird did you? Out side the shop."
"Well it looked familiar, I wasn't sure. But oh how happy I am to see it again! And to see you...I was watching that night. I saw you carry her off in your arms."
Christian wasn't sure if he wanted to reply. But if he did, he had not a
clue of what to say either.
"So you knew her then.." Christian managed to say.
"Goodness, everyone knew her Christian, she was like no other."
"Can't argue bout that."
Victoria was upholding a barrier between a river of tears and her eyes.
Just as she was about to let go, give in, she held even tighter.
"No..no." she demanded. "We've mourned long enough, Christian. We've shed all the tears, cried all the words of anguish and sorrow, and abused every
ounce of dignity left. She'd have wanted us to carry on, carry on with
ourselves!"
Christian appeared to be ignoring her, looking out over the balcony. But he
wasn't, he'd listened to every word. For the longest time, he just
continued to stare over Montmartre.
After quite some time, he finally turned and acknowledged Victoria's
affirmation. He slowly held out his hand.
"Come here," he asked of her.
Victoria barely heard the words escape his lips as she walked towards him. Christian continued to stare out at the auburn, fiery sun that created a
border over the horizon appearing as if it were coated in a dark red.
Victoria looked to Christian, unsure of what he was doing.
"You're right.....and I agree."
Christian sighed, but spoke once more.
"Just keep staring, staring at that burning, setting sun...if you look long
enough, hard enough, you just might see her."