February, 1836
Mother acted strangely in the past few days. She looked to be excited, and happy, which was unusual of her. She smiled and hummed while she was doing housework, and she even did not always send Him away. She tolerated his presence more, and involuntarily talked to him. Not about him, of course, she just shared her ideas with the boy, who was thankful for such a peace at home, so he just agreed about everything. He did not even understand most of the words he heard, for example "Birthday" "gift" and "celebration". Or… yes he understood the word "Birthday", but it did not mean anything good to him, as Mother had Birthdays when he was locked in the cellar not to meet "Uncle". But at that time, Mother did not speak of her Birthday, but she wanted to buy gift for someone else's.
Boy learned to speak not too long time ago, and he did not have too wide vocabulary yet, but he tried to communicate with Mother about these unknown issues, so he asked:
- Birthday is what?
- A celebration. Everyone has it once a year.
- Boy too?
- No, Boy was born on a day not happening in every year. On leap year. Boy has Birthday in every four years.
- Boy is four years old. You said.
- Yes, this is why you have the first Birthday. You and… someone else.
- What Birthday gift have Someone Else?
- I don't know yet. – Mother replied. – Something nice a little girl would love.
- Girl is who? – The boy leaned closer with interest, but Mother tossed him a bit further from herself. Boy was too close for her taste.
- Do not drool on my embroidery!
- Sorry. – Boy closed his eyes, feeling the magic breaking between them.
- You can't do any better. – Mother shook her head a bit forgivingly. – You are just like that. You always drool and mess everything you touch.
Boy looked at his hands and he could see his hands still weren't like Mother's. His hands were smaller but way thinner and yellow. He looked up at Mother and asked again.
- I not know Girl is here. Boy is here only, no? Boy and Mother.
- Don't dare to put yourself in front of me. – Mother barked angrily. – "Mother and Boy." But no. Girl is not here. Suzanne… oh my sweet Suzanne. – Mother cried again, but in a few minutes she looked up, smiling through her tears, which was a beautiful sight, like a rainbow.
Boy did not hear the word "Suzanne" before either, so he did not really know what to think about it, so he just waited for something else to happen. He did not have to wait for nothing, as something really happened. Mother looked at him from her own will for more than a few seconds and she addressed him with a question.
- It will be your Birthday as well. Once we can… could… maybe… so do you want anything?
- Boy not understand. – He admitted shyly.
- I give you something if you want. – Mother tried to talk easier so he will understand.
- Yes. Want. – Boy nodded eagerly, understanding the matter finally.
- What do you want to get? I will give you any kind of toy you want. It will be righteous not to forget about you. If Suzanne gets something, you shall as well… you were born on the same day.
- Boy wants to get a nose. – He replied.
- A what? – Mother gasped.
- Nose. – Boy pointed at his mask where his nose should have been, and at Mother, who had a nose on her face. He could not even touch what should have been there, but he could already partly understand something was missing from there, and Mother mentioned it many times as well, so he memorized it.
- I can't give you a nose. – Mother sighed. – Ask something else.
- No nose for boy?
- No.
- Will it grow? I sprinkle water on it. You sprinkle water on flower. Flower grows. Nose not.
- Are you really this stupid, or are you mocking me?
- Stupid. – Boy replied as he did not even know what mocking meant, but he was called stupid many times, so he assumed it to be one of his names.
- Well, you will never have a nose. It is something you won't ever receive from me or from others. But I can buy you clothes for Sunday or a toy.
- If Boy has Sunday clothes Boy will go to Mass with you?
- No, but at least you started to ask about Mass, it is a sign you have a soul at least. I will read the Bible for you then.
- Bible is storybook?
- Kind of. – Mother nodded. – I go to Paris in a few days to buy you two something for your Birthday.
- Paris is what?
- A city. I can't buy anything here, in this village. So provincial.
- Boy accompanies you to Paris?
- No. Boy stays here.
- Alone? – Boy looked at her desperately, being afraid already of the possibility.
- Yes. Like when I go to Mass, it will be longer time, but I will come back. You stay here and try to act like you were capable of being good.
- Do not go and leave Boy alone he is afraid.
- I noticed. You can't always be afraid. You have to learn to be alone.
- Why?
- This is what happens to you when you grow older. Who would want to be with you anyway?
- Boy is afraid. – He repeated.
- Then be afraid as you wish. – Mother shrugged. – But if you dare to wet yourself again like last time, I am going to make you stay in your clothes and you will sleep in the cellar, understood?
- Yes. – He nodded.
- But you will get something for your Birthday.
Mother got tired of the conversation with Boy, and she left the room, just as gracefully as always, but from the doorframe she turned back to look at him again.
- Do not follow me around now, I need peace from you.
Days passed. Boy forgot about the conversation with Mother already and he was sitting at the piano, trying to figure out how to play a small piece by Rameau, when Mother wished to go out of the door, fully dressed.
Boy was a fast runner. He jumped off of the piano chair and ran after Mother, but the door got shut right in front of him, and Mother locked it, just as always when she went to Mass. He was alone again, wandering around in the house, but this time he wasn't locked in the room where he was usually kept while Mother was away, so he could at least explore the rooms he was mostly sent out from. He was amazed by the many things Mother had, and he found many toys to meddle with. Everything was a toy between his curious little skeletal hands, and he wanted to experiment. He was always a man of science, even when he did not know what the word meant at all. He found small bottles filled with various colored liquids on a table in Mother's bedroom, and when he put off the lid of the pink one he noticed a small brush. He knew about drawing and painting already so he was excited to find out he found paints. Or so he thought. He could find no paper to work on this time but he already had a nice picture in his mind he wished to paint for Mother… he guessed the wooden wall covering will do…
After the picture was made, he just threw the half empty bottle on the floor, caring nothing of it any more. He wasn't careful enough so his hands got dirty just as always. He left a few fingerprints on the banister and the doors he opened, but come on, we have hands for a reason… and these paints were strange as water did not get them off.
Boy went on exploring the house and pulled out every single drawer, looked at every possible piece of clothing, every small handkerchief Mother owned. One of them smelled like Mother's perfume, it was so relaxing to sniff on it. When he accidentally got close enough to Mother, he could always feel that scent and it always made him happy. He tucked the handkerchief in his shirt, to have Mother's scent with him always. Maybe if he can sniff on it before bedtime, the Bag Man won1t come to take him. Or the Outsiders.
Mother always talked to him about the Outsiders, the people who lived outside of this house. They were very dangerous people and they were never allowed to enter the house and Boy wasn't allowed to go outside of the house, because the Outsiders will see him and will hit him or kill him, and they will most likely hurt Mother. He shall never get Mother in danger by going outside. It was told to him nearly every day since he learned to walk. The furthest he ever went was the garden gate. Mother took him outside after sunset to be on fresh air and he was allowed to spend time in the garden.
So, he was terribly afraid of the outsiders and had some nightmares about huge Outsider men coming to the house and hit Mother. He always wet the bed when it happened and Mother was very angry with him then. She called him disgusting, pig, filthy, and many more things.
Yet those names were nothing compared to the new names the boy learned from Mother a decade later when she finally arrived home. Mother called him by a new name, which he never heard so far, it was "bastard", and her head got red while she was screaming. Usually when Mother was angry, Boy was scared and ran to hide somewhere, but the sight of Mother with a red head and such a strange voice sent him to a fit of giggles. This was a bad choice it seems.
-You are laughing! You did it on purpose, you little disgusting freak! You monster! I give you a home and food and raise you like you were a child! A child you TOOK from me! I am here with only YU while I could have a CHILD!
Mother collapsed onto the floor on her knees, sobbing, and Boy felt he was terrible for making Mother this desperate. He crawled to her on the floor and put his small skeletal still dirty hand on Mother's arm to make her feel better. Mother did not tolerate it too much.
Boy was thrown into the cellar to spend the night there, all alone. Later in that day, the cellar door opened, and Boy thought Mother will let him out surprisingly early, but all that happened was something landed next to him on the floor.
- Here. Your gift. Not like you deserved it but I promised. Happy Birthday you freak.
When Mother shut the Door, Boy dared to look at the thing finally. It was a toy drum. At least, hitting it around made the rest of the day a more happy and bearable one. Mother at least knew he should be happy for an instrument.
The next day, when Boy was finally let out of the cellar, he noticed something strange. In the salon next to Mother's chair, there was a smaller chair with a thing placed in it. He first assumed it was Bisous, the dog, but as he later found out, it was dressed in a nice dress and what he thought to be fur, it was its hair. He walked close to it, and noticed it was a small girl. He tilted his head from side to side, then reached out for it.
- You are Girl? Suzanne? I am Boy.
The thing did not move, so Boy thought it must be asleep, though its eyes were open. Light blue eyes were staring at him while he was just trying to be polite. That thing did not even say hello to him. What an ill – mannered little bitch.
- Boy not playing with you. – He pouted. – Girls are witches.
He wanted to show the Girl it was still him who was the man in the house, and pushed the thing backwards. The thing was cold, especially her face and arms. Getting scared of the cold material, Boy screamed and kicked the chair by full force, causing the Girl falling out of it, and even scarier thing happened…
Girl's head broke in pieces! The pale face was in front of his feet, broken, shattered… lifeless. Maybe is it like when Outsiders come inside and break someone in pieces? He heard about bones can break… maybe he just broke Girl's head bones?
From his scared musings, it was Mother's scream that woke him. She knelt down to the destroyed girl and looked at Boy with fury.
- You destroyed Suzanne's Birthday gift you IDIOT! You monster, can't you go around without causing mischief…? You are killing me one day, you heartless worm!
She wanted to grab him by the collar and maybe spank him like she never did before, but suddenly she had a better idea and stormed down to the cellar. Boy heard a crash, and when he hurried to check what it was he saw his toy drum on the floor, broken, just like the girl was.
- It was a pricey porcelain doll I bought for my daughter who could be still with me if you don't kill her before your birth. – Mother spat out coldly. – If you destroyed her gift, I destroy yours. Get away from me if you don't want to end up like that drum.
Boy knew it was wiser to follow Mother's commands, so he headed to his room immediately. Passing Mother, he could hear she started crying again.
It was the first and last "Birthday" the boy ever had, and he had to share that one as well with the memory of his dead sister. Mother spent a fortune on the gifts of her children's Birthday gifts which were broken on the same day.
This is why Erik hates each leap year.