IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER
America
They arrived at New York at night due to another problem with the steam engine. One of the boilers had a small crack and so they had to do with the rest of the boilers, which cost them much speed. Such things happen on old steamships and no one thought twice about that - maybe no one but Meg and her mother who had a certain suspicion who the ship's hobgoblin might be the seamen blamed for their misfortunes on this voyage.
So the two women were not really surprised when a fire broke out in the mass - most sailors smoked and someone had forgotten a cigarette on a handkerchief. A really odd mistake, but these things happened sometimes and the fire was extinguished soon. Only had they forgotten to lock the three stowaways in the brig, so the three of them quite innocently disembarked helping to carry pieces of load. Erik even had the audacity to return and fetch another piece as he was asked by a workman at the docks to help him with a heavy crate.
Meg and her mother stood rather helpless aside, trying to conceal themselves in the shadows between crates that were already there. Suddenly Erik grabbed their hands, so he was between them. "Not a word. Just run!" he hissed and pulled them away with him.
They soon found that they could not leave the harbor easily for customs authorities and immigration control had it guarded and they didn't know anything about that harbor. Neither one of them knew anything about the harbor, they had no money, no papers, no food and not even proper clothing - the two women were still in the ragged dresses they had worn when they left France and Erik wore a ragged shirt and workmen's trousers that were covered in grease, sweat and coal dust. His shoes were so worn they had little holes and cracks all over them, it was a miracle how they were kept together by then.
The three of them huddled in a gap between staples of crates, not knowing what they could do now. Erik sat in the middle, Meg to his left and Antoinette to his right. It was a warm summer night, but the wind was rather cold. They just sat there, pressed against each other to get what little warmth they could now. Erik promised to keep watch while they slept, but soon his eyes fell shut and he too was asleep.
They woke because a noise nearby startled them. Erik was the first one to recover from his sleep and get his bearings - with the survival instincts of a wild animal he knew immediately that they were in trouble and tried to run, not caring if the two women would follow him. Meg, well-trained dancer that she was, could follow him as he squeezed himself through the labyrinth of containers and finally climbed up on one of the more solid pile of them. Antoinette didn't follow them in time and was soon caught by two guards.
As she screamed for help, Meg turned round to get to her. Erik held her back and whispered: "We can still make it."
Meg answered loud enough to alert all guards in the next fivehundred meters: "No! She's my mother, we won't leave her!" Erik silently cursed her and his weakness to take them with him - he should have left them when he had the chance. Or he should have killed them, both of them, back in France. Too late for that.
With the guards already alerted he saw only one chance - go there and pretend to be just another immigrant who got lost in the large harbor.
He approached them with his hands up, showing his palms. The guards grabbed him roughly and pushed him towards the two women, yelling at them. Meg and Antoinette didn't understand English, Erik knew at least something but the English these guards spoke had nothing to do with the English he had heard before. He couldn't understand anything. "Don't understand..." he called out.
"What are you doing here? Who are you?" one of the guards asked very slowly.
Erik had to translate the sentence in his head into French, think of an answer in French and struggled to translate his answer to English. It wasn't easy and took some time. "Lost our way," he finally managed.
"I say you're just plain thieves!" the guard accused him.
"No!" No was always the right answer to any accusation.
"How did you get here?"
"Ship."
The guards laughed, they had the suspicion that these riffraff were trying to avoid immigration control so they hadn't come with a passenger ship but used either a cargo ship or been smuggled in by some private ship or fishing boat.
"To the immigration office!" the guard ordered, pointing at Erik with his gun. Erik hung his head and decided to do as they ordered - with two unlocked guns aimed at him he knew he had no chance. He could only decide if he wanted to die now or later and despite his desperate state he didn't want to die. Not now.
The immigration center had different rooms for the various kinds of people. One was for the rich and mighty. They were greeted with snacks and drinks and didn't have to wait more than a few minutes before they were welcomed to New York. The middle-class people had to wait longer, but they too were given some refreshments and at least had a rather comfortable waiting room. The working class people had to wait for hours standing in line in the overcrowded waiting room reserved for them and then there was the cell block for those who had no papers or the authority had decided to reject them and send them back to wherever they came from. There Erik and the Girys were locked in a tiny room that wasn't larger than four square meters.
They had to wait for hours in that tiny room. Meg was sobbing hysterically and Erik tried his best not to lose his temper but eventually he could take no more of her crying and yelled at her: "Stop that or I'll break your neck!"
"Erik, she's just frightened!" Antoinette stood between them to protect her daughter.
"I'll give you a reason to be frightened!" Erik couldn't control himself any longer, he slapped both women so hard, they would have fallen, had the room not been that narrow - they couldn't fall to the ground when they already stood with their backs at the wall. Erik took a deep breath, clenched his fists and tried to control himself. He had not meant to hit them, but being together with them in such a narrow space in this really hopeless situation he had lost control. "Be quiet and I won't hit you again," he promised and leaned his head against the cold steel of the door, trying not to think of what would become of them. He was ashamed of himself for hitting women. He should not have done that, should have been in control of himself, he did not want to be such a brute, surely not. Losing control was absolutely unacceptable, but he couldn't ask for forgiveness right now.
The door was opened with so much force from the outside that Erik nearly lost his balance. "Come!" the guards ordered and gestured for all three of them to follow. They passed a corridor with many holding-cells at each side and finally stood in a large office. Two guards at the door and four more in each corner of the room. The name tags on the desk indicated that the two men behind the desk were an official and a doctor.
"Show your face," the doctor ordered.
"No," Erik refused automatically but when he noticed the guards unlocking their guns he tried to reason: "Accident. Hurt."
"Take it off!"
Erik reluctantly obeyed. The doctor came closer and examined his face. "If this was an accident, its an old one," he told the official who took notes.
"Papers?" the official asked.
"Stolen," Erik answered, deciding it was better to pretend someone stole their papers than admit the truth.
"Then you need two witnesses who confirm your identity," the official stated and Erik pointed to the two Girys. "No. I guess their papers were 'stolen' as well? They do not count. Do you have a guarantor?"
Erik shrugged helplessly. "I don't understand..."
When the official asked the Girys they understood even less and Erik was unable to translate every detail. He just informed them that without papers it was hopeless.
The doctor informed the official that the two women were rather healthy, the elder one having a crippled leg, but able to walk and work. Both were healthy and had almost all of their teeth, which was a surprise, especially in Antoinette Giry's age. As for Erik the doctor stated that he was horribly disfigured, but carried no apparent illness.
"Name?" the official asked.
"Meg Giry and Antoinette Giry," Erik answered, pointing to the women to indicate which was which one.
"Your name?" the official asked.
At the same time the doctor said: "You can't act as translator here."
Erik replied, after he had again first translated the questions to French, thought of an answer and then translated the answer as best as he could: "Why?" He was addressing the doctor, but the official took it as answer to his question.
"Y? Your name is Y? You are really a stupid folk, not even having a proper name. Given name?"
Erik didn't understand what the official was talking about but finally answered the question about his name: "Erik."
"Okay, Mr. Erik Y, tell me if you have a guarantor?"
"What is guarantor?" Erik asked. He had not heard that word before.
"Someone who knows you and is willing to pay all your bills if you can't pay."
Erik shook his head. Of course he knew no such person.
"Maybe we can help you," the doctor told him, "But I need to examine you and both women completely to make sure. You need to undress, so I guess you'd rather do that in another room where it is just the two of us?"
Erik was mistrustful. It wasn't just the fact that he would have to expose not only his face but his body too - knowing that his body was far from perfect - but what sort of help would they - whoever 'they' were - could offer? And what would they demand in return? He wasn't so naive to think there would not be a high price to pay for their help. But what choice did he have now? He could only comply, but before that he translated to the Girys that the doctor would have to do a careful examination in another room, all of them, so they had to be prepared to undress a little.
"I'm thirsty," Meg complained, "And hungry and cold and I need to use the bathroom."
Erik rolled his eyes and translated her wish to the official, adding that they had been imprisoned for hours and maybe should be allowed some relief - or it might get messy. One guard pointed to a bucket in a corner and replied: "Alright. We'll keep an eye on you so don't try something odd!"
It was certainly degrading, especially for the Girys, to relief themselves under the amused stares of male guards, but what could they do? Everyone has to answer the call of nature eventually. It was even worse to undress before the doctor, at least no guards were there to stare. Erik thought it would be easier for the two women for they at least had normal bodies to present to the doctor while the women thought it would be easier for him, at least he was male. After that humiliating procedure they were taken back to the holding cell and locked in.
Late that night they were woken because the door was opened with a bang. Erik was on his feet at once, ready for a fight - and reluctantly raised his hands as he saw two guards with unlocked guns before him, two more a few meters behind them. He knew that he wouldn't stand a chance. But he was scared by the fact that it was dark night - surely the official wouldn't work at night?
They were lead to another room this time, the official and a doctor were already there together with another man. This other man was rather small and round, he had the darkest eyes Erik had ever seen. With his dark eyes and the grey hair he reminded of a rat.
He approached Erik and went around him, studying him like one would a horse at the horse market. "Take off your shirt," he ordered. Erik shook his head. He surely would not undress before all these people, it had been bad enough to let the doctor examine him.
"Do it!" one of the guards ordered, aiming his gun. Erik wondered if this was only these guards or if always pointing with an unlocked gun at someone was a typically American habit.
"No. I'd rather go back to France," he decided, knowing fully well this would be his death sentence.
"I'm not interested in the two women," the rat-like man said, "There are plenty of whores in Coney Island, but this freak is unique. Let me do this, will you?" The official nodded and the man turned to Erik, offering his hand: "Sam Singer, owner of Sam Singer's Spectacular Show. That is the world famous vaudeville theater in Coney Island, surely you've heard about it?" Erik shook his head, feeling his stomach tense up. He had the nasty feeling that he would have been better off if the police had arrested him in France.
"Not heard about me? I'm offended. Never mind. You see, I run a vaudeville theater of the highest class, not a freakshow. Being a freak isn't enough to sell tickets nowadays, you'll have to do something, something that draws in the crowds. Tell me, what can you do?"
"I didn't agree..." Erik refused.
"No? As you wish, you can go back to wherever you came from," he turned to the women: "There are enough brothels which would accept you." Looking at Antoinette he added: "If you are able to order men around harshly and crack the whip you could make quite a fortune despite your age."
Erik almost laughed at the thought. Antoinette would have made a perfect sergeant, despite her gender. Remembering how she had ruled the corps de ballet with an iron fist as naturally as he had ruled the entire opera house he knew what she was able to do - only that she wouldn't want it. The Girys didn't understand and Erik refused to translate, even as they asked him what they were talking about. He decided it was better to keep them in the dark.
He had not counted on Mr. Singer to speak French, but the man did. A heavily accented French, but he could inform both women that he was running a variety and only interested in the freak - if he wouldn't sign the contract, the two women would better find employment at some brothel or get married immediately, the guards would find someone for them.
Meg nearly fainted and Antoinette yelled at Erik: "You selfish bastard! You are responsible for this whole mess - now you want to sell us to a brothel? Are you mad? You irresponsible, selfish creature, after all we did for you, you'd do this to us?"
"Do you have the slightest idea what you are asking of me?" Erik yelled back and might have hit her had there not been so many armed guards, "You want me to sell myself to this show - I would be a freak in a circus like a trained monkey! You know what that means? I've been there, I know what it is like. Never. I'd rather die!"
"And you'd rather have us die too?" Antoinette asked icily, "Meg is so very young."
Erik's shoulders slumped. He was fighting with himself for a decision. Finally he lifted his head, a hard glare in his eyes. "Fine. You owe me, Antoinette, both of you. And I'll come to call in that debt." He turned round and asked in his slow and heavily accented English: "Mr. Singer, what do you want to know?"
"Just what the three of you could do in my show."
Erik sighed. "The two women - the elder one is a ballet mistress, the younger one a perfectly trained ballerina. I'm a musician, I play almost every instrument, except wind instruments." He gestured to his malformed lips. Of course he wouldn't be able to play wind instruments with his lips. "I'm an artist too, a director and conductor and of course composer and... if you need one, I can do magic tricks, but that would need some time to prepare the props."
"You exaggerate your abilities," Sam Singer skeptically replied and crossed his arms.
"I do not!" Erik was really annoyed now.
"Prove it!"
"How? You do not happen to have an instrument with you by chance?"
"Of course not. Can you sing?"
Erik shook his head in denial that this really happened to him. This could only be a nightmare. "Yes," he reluctantly admitted. Singing was something very intimate for him, he didn't like the thought of singing before an audience in a vaudeville show. But what could he do? Somehow Antoinette was right, he was responsible for their dire situation, he would have to find a way out of this. This Sam Singer was offering a way out - he would be a fool not to use that. He asked for some water, he couldn't sing with his mouth being dry.
And then he sang. He was scared by how much his hearing had been affected by the weeks in the excessive noise of the steamship. Would his ears heal? Were his hands too affected from the hard labor?
While Erik was ashamed of his unworthy performance, the other people - including the Girys - stood in awe at his masterful voice.
"You have the contract," Sam Singer said, "And if I have to hire the two girls too - you can all have contracts." He reached into his briefcase and took out three papers, placing them on the table.
The official, knowing that they didn't speak English well enough, filled in their names and started filling their papers. They would get identification papers and an official admittance to stay in America. Then the official wrote the protocol of this meeting, saying: "Mr. Sam Singer comes to the immigration office and greets his old friends Mr. Erik Y and Miss and Mrs Giry and confirms their identity. They confirm that they know each other for years and Mr. Singer states that they came to America on his invitation, they are going to work in his circus and shows the contracts they have signed three months ago."
Erik said nothing. He understood what was going on better than the Girys. He was being sold - Sam Singer would pay the official and his accomplices a rather large sum as finder's fee and they would have to work it off. Quickly calculating the wages they would earn from now on and the 'loan' that was clearly defined in the contracts he knew for sure they would never be free. They would have to work until they had paid back the loan, but with 15% interest a year and a meager wage they would be slaves for the rest of their lives.
He kept silent for now, pretending he hadn't understood what was really behind these contracts. First things first - once in the circus he could think of the next steps. America has always been praised as the land of freedom and the land of opportunity - surely he would find a way out of this and if it was over the dead body of the rat-like Sam Singer.
As they sat in the carriage of Mr. Singer, the women on one side, the men on the other, Erik watched as the Girys fell asleep, envying their blissful lack of knowledge. They just thought they had signed contracts to work in a vaudeville show.
"And here I thought slavery was outlawed in America," Erik said.
Sam Singer smiled at him. "It is. Our contracts are perfectly legal. Don't worry, it is not so bad being in my employment. You'll have a roof over your heads and your feet under the table - that is much more than most immigrants are ever going to have in their lives. I'll keep you fed and clothed - what more can you possibly hope for?"
Erik shook his head. He felt sick. Of course he had noticed that Sam Singer had their papers - and would surely hide them very well once they were in his variety theater.
"Why the sour face? You ought to be grateful - in most cities, villages and countries being ugly is outlawed. New York is one of the states where the ugly laws are not enforced."
Erik stared at Sam Singer in shock. It was illegal to be ugly? What kind of country was that? It had been bad enough in Europe where he had been forced to hide himself to escape the constant mockery and humiliation, but at least the crimes committed against him were not sanctioned by law. And here, in this country, the law was on the side of his tormentors! They could imprison him just because he was existing. He shuddered.
"It is not as bad as it seems now," Sam Singer said, "You'll get used to it. They all do."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Erik would never go to Coney Island of his own free will - he would have preferred to die, but he is being sold like a slave, and he does not fight because he wants to protect Antoinette and Meg Giry. These things actually did happen - and do happen even today.
At least they are not in any danger of being send back in chains and handed over to the French authorities now.