"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet."
- From Romeo and Juliet II, ii, 1 -2
Summary: This isn't a romance fic between Erik and Christine. The setting's changed to Erik being her son. Setting: Today. Don't read if you're here to criticize. This isn't that good.
6734 Wilmington Ave. La, CA, 90321, apt #4. I'm over there… in the light blue denim and pink tank. At the age of 18, I was heading out for college and out on my own. The neighbor, now "neighbors" just had a baby boy. A girl's got to eat and buy books, right? So I take on the most Diane Keaton job out there… yes, I dare say it: babysitting. I'm freaking 18, and I'm babysitting?! Where did my life go wrong? Hmm… should we rewind the tape and revisit my childhood memories to find that one event that screwed up my life and turned me into a total loser?
I'm just kidding.
Babysitting isn't that bad. In fact, the kid's a real cutie. He's got this incredible smile that just makes you high for the rest of the day. His hands are so small and delicate, when I fit it into my palm, it's like the night starts to light up and here comes morning. He's a dirty blonde and a greeny pertaining to his eyes which make Brunettes/Brown eyes like me envious. After a hard day at college or my work, by the way I work at a boba shop, which is infested with these Asian fobs, I just go next door to my apt. and open up my arms… then like right on cue, little Erik comes and jumps into my arms. Yeah, his name's Erik. Spelled with a k… not a c. Unique, strange, and has a sharp ring to it. I like it.
Thursdays are a pain in the ass. I was so ready to punch my professors in the face… I mean, do I even care about their freaking social lives? No I don't… but that's all they do… just blab about their unrequited sex lives. Oh my god! Just go to a bar, get someone drunk and get laid! I'm pretty sure it's not that hard… I mean, it doesn't sound too hard, right? I wouldn't know… I'm not a slut.
Anyways, I go to UCSD and man, the beaches are nice! I could just sit on that cliff and pain the same scenes over and over again. It's so nice… yes, I realize I already said that. Shut up.
My major is writing and I plan to write books… lots of books about my life for people who care. Now that I think about it, people might actually not care, so… NOTE TO SELF: MAKE A BETTER GOAL.
Mr. Jones, a Caucasian mid 30's aged man and his wife, Mrs. Jones an old 37 year old hag are Erik's parents… or at least they were. No, they're not dead. But I'll tell you later. How did the two meet up and end up in poverty and land an adorable kid? I have no idea. At certain nights, I'd here Mr. Jones, or "Danny" as he'd tell me to refer to him as, would come and barge inside the apartment. You'd know it was him… slurring stupid words… and dragging his heavy feet. His greasy hair would literally carry that rotten alcohol stench. Gross, isn't it?
Mrs. Jones is the complete opposite… she's a fat whore who can't keep her nagging mouth shut. Her dark blue eye shadow melts off the sides of her face and her lipstick is always smeared around her tiny mustache… yeah, you could tell what she had been up to.
On weekends I'd baby-sit Erik so he wouldn't cry because of his dumbass parents who were so freaking loud. It tore my heart to shreds to hear him cry to sleep on weekdays, as his dad would fall on the ground with a loud "thump" and his mom blow – drying her hair so she could go to the next club. Poor thing…
I should have moved out, but I couldn't… I had to stay so I could protect Erik and I did… for 6 years. By the time I reached the age of 24 I could afford it… living and food expenses for myself. I was a prized editor at Vogue magazine and my life just couldn't get any better. I just chose not to live without Erik. Maybe I should have called social services and reported "abuse" for the neglected child, but I was afraid of the next home he'd be shoved into… would his next set of parents be nice? So I didn't… because my hormones got the best of me.
One hot and sticky night in June, I woke up to the cries of Erik again. My eyes snapped wide open and I ran towards his apartment door, the one with scratches and peeling paint. I found the spare key under the… shredded welcome matt. Quickly looking inside, I found a crying 6 year old boy, holding the right side of his face.
"Oh my god! Theresa!" I had found her name through an incidental check that she owed me apparently it was no good.
"What happened?" I screamed out. I ran towards Erik who was screaming in pain. I looked around and saw a pan of oil on the floor… let me rephrase that: a pan of spilt oil melting the floor!!! How hot was that thing?
"Sh. Sh. Sh. It's ok Erik! Christine is here. Shhh…" I tried to soothe him so he'd remove his hand from his burn. I needed to see how bad it was.
Theresa rolled her eyes and let out a breath that said, 'I'm bored.'
"Stupid brat wouldn't leave me alone. So I had to get him to sleep somehow." She didn't even flinch when Erik howled in pain.
"So what?! You decided to take a fucking oil and spill the shit out of his damn head?!" I was yelling now… this woman got me so pissed.
"No, you idiot! I was reaching for some cough syrup so he'd fall asleep so I could go to my job!! The same job I use for food on the damn table!! What the hell is wrong with you?!" She exhaled from her cigarette and let out a puff of smoke.
"There, there Erik. Shh… everything's going to be okay, alright? You just move your hand for me so I can see… there, there sweet pea." I cooed him, even though I was on the verge of taking out a pistol and shooting her right in the face.
Erik ran out of tears and started taking in sharp breaths of air.
"SHUT UP, WILL YOU?!" screamed Theresa.
"BITCH! YOUR SON'S IN EXCRUCIATING PAIN DUMBASS!"
"I'm sorry Erik… you never should have heard that from me… I promise not to say that anymore if you'll just move your hand a little, ok?" I really regretted lashing out like that in front of my little angel, but I totally lost it.
Slowly, Erik showed the burned side of his face. It was horrible… the skin around his eye had melted and drooped down while the white of his cheek bone started to show. His once pale cheeks were now shiny red that promised incurable scarring.
I called 9-1-1 for his emergency status and I slowly rocked him to sleep. Theresa was about to leave when I grabbed her arm and told her I'd hold her responsible in court.
She didn't blink, "And what would happen to my son?"
I hated her for using him against me. He was always her shield… her little free-ride pass. I couldn't let Erik live this kind of life, where would he end up? So I did what I had to.
"I'll take him in myself."
And that's what happened. Theresa didn't move, and she contemplated her choices. Surprisingly, she just let it all happen. Maybe that woman did have a conscious after all. Well when the ambulance finally did arrive, Theresa was arrested and social workers came to inspect the place. As Erik was leaving for the hospital I ran up to the social worker and told her I'd be willing to adopt him. It took a couple of months but my request finally ran through. The day Erik left the hospital was the day I was allowed to call him my son… Erik Daae.
I remember those last great words Theresa screamed at me before she was taken into custody, "You double-crossing bitch."
sigh
I love myself.
Erik is now currently five years old. And we're packing all of our boxes to New York… or rather, we're packing all of mine, since he doesn't really have anything. I promised to take him to the great apple and go shopping first thing and I intend to keep that promise with my son.
My son… I like the sound to that.
I already enrolled him into a kindergarten in the great city of NY and I bought a great 2-bedroom condo. too. I saw pictures on the website and the living room was absolutely gorgeous; spacious and profound… I couldn't stop staring at it. There was a beautiful kitchen that was separated from the living room by a large glass sliding door. And of course, my room, which would be painted light pink and Erik's room, which would be bright red… he wanted it, not me.
But what can a mother say to her beautiful child?
His face is still scarred, and we're currently enrolling in some of the best plastic surgeons in the country but for now, we're going to have to wait it out. I bought him this plastic mask that hid on the right side of his face… it was perfect. It made him look like a mysterious little chipmunk!!! He was so cute.
"YAY! We're going to the big apple!!!!" screamed Erik. He leaped onto my back and giggled. I grabbed him off and gently threw him on the bed.
"TICKLE FIGHT!!!"
"Nooo!!!" screamed my beautiful boy as he tried to escape my quick fingers. Down his ribs I went as I worked my way to his little stomach. I blew air onto his belly button as he laughed and asked for mercy.
"No way!" I smiled. I did stop, though. I caressed his tiny body into my warm arms. I wanted to stay like that forever. I sighed. I needed to keep packing.
Erik jumped off the bed and ran towards some of the empty boxes as he tried to figure out what went where. It was okay though, I didn't ask him to help me… but that sweet angel insisted on aiding me.
Before I accepted my job's offer to move to New York, I contemplated Erik's feelings towards his mom. If we left, he'd never see her again, at least I hoped not… but it didn't matter what I felt, regardless that thing was his biological parent. What happened to Danny? I really don't know… he just stopped showing up a couple of years ago.
I crept into Erik's room one night. I weaved my long fingers through his soft hair and smiled at his soft cheeks.
"Mommy?" Those big green orbs looked up at me.
"I'm sorry, sweat pea, did I wake you?"
"No, I was only pretending to be asleep. Hee hee." He had such beautiful white teeth.
"Erik, do you…" I had to take a breath for this one.
"Do you… miss your mommy?"
"Why? Is mommy going somewhere?"
"No, sweat pea, not me – mommy… your other mommy… do you miss her?" I asked almost on the verge of tears. I knew what I wanted him to say but I couldn't involve my own feelings when he had to make his own decision. Sure, some of you guys might think he's too young to make his own choices, but I'm a humanist. And if this boy wants to see his own mother, I'll let him.
"I… I want… " Erik stuttered. I so desperately pleaded the gods to hold me back.