This final chapter is set a few months later, at the end of Gustave and Erik's first Christmas together. It is partly based on Chapter 12 of The Past is Another Country. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far!
A year ago I would never have thought such things possible. Today I celebrated Christmas properly for the first time ever, and tonight a beautiful child – my own child – sleeps in my arms.
No, such things should not even exist but they do. He lies next to me, his head on my chest, so trusting and innocent. My boy. How my life has changed since he came to me!
Today we celebrated with the Trio, who I never thought of as friends before. Indeed, I hardly gave a thought to how they spent their spare time, or how they celebrated holidays. They were merely servants, employees, occasionally a source of amusement. But now I am slowly beginning to get to know them, just as Gustave is. I am so grateful to them for the kindness they have shown to Gustave since Christine's death and their efforts to cheer him up with their song and dance routines, as well as their repertoire of funny voices. Miss Fleck in particular has been wonderful and has been trying to teach him some of her acrobatic routine. As I watch them together it does my heart good to see my son happy.
The poor child. I know how he hates being pitied in the town by well-meaning store clerks and women of a certain age who pat his head and tell him how brave he is. It worries me that he struggles to make friends and settle in at school. I think I would have been the same, but for very different reasons. But he works hard and his English is coming on in leaps and bounds, which is a huge advantage. Thankfully the bullying he endured at first has stopped; his teacher just had to be reminded of how much her students' parents rely on my park, either directly or indirectly, and she was jolted into action.
Having him here has turned my life upside down. Every day I am greeted with new challenges and new routines. Getting him up in time for school, making sure he has everything he needs for the day, preparing his breakfast and his lunchtime sandwiches… And escorting him there, the two of us walking together hand in hand, is something else I never dreamt of.
Then there are the evenings and weekends, when he needs to be fed. I have never eaten much but children seem to need so much food! As well stocking up for breakfast, lunch and dinner, I try to keep some fruit in the apartment in case he gets hungry between meals. In the summer there will be countless food stands open in the park and around the promenade and no doubt he will persuade me to buy him a few treats.
We have taken trips on the train together to Manhattan and other districts, which he loves. He cannot get enough of travelling by train, over the Brooklyn Bridge, and sees it all as an adventure. I have never thought of it that way before, but his curiosity and excitement are infectious. He clutches my gloved hand as we stroll down busy streets together, as if terrified of losing me in this vast city. As if I would ever abandon him!
People are still the same; pointing, staring, whispering together, trying to pretend they haven't seen me.. If only I didn't have to go out in broad daylight so much! But I am not just living for myself any more and Gustave cannot be expected to live in darkness. He is so much like me and yet so different too, having had a loving mother and a relatively happy childhood. I cannot lose my temper with ignorant people in front of my son, much as it pains me to remain quiet. I am used to the unwanted attention, but he is not, and I know he sometimes feels awkward when he is with me.
He misses his mother and talks of her often, which I encourage as I love hearing about those years we were apart. My angel was such a loving mother and so devoted to her little boy. All the things they used to do together… However, it infuriates me to learn of how Raoul treated her towards the end, and how he brought home so-called friends to gamble and drink with him. How dare he bring such people anywhere near Christine! But despite all this, and although Gustave doesn't tell me as much, I know he misses the chateau itself and certain aspects of his old life; it would be surprising if he didn't. He needs Christine, that much is certain, and I know he struggles to understand why Meg did what she did. He still has nightmares about that night and still cries for his mother. I think there is a part of him that will always need her.
This is not the first night he has climbed in beside me, but it is the first he has done it of his own accord, without tears or nightmares being the cause. Such a lovely, kind boy... How could a child raised by my angel be anything else? He has kissed me. He has kissed my unmasked face, although I know he was nervous the first time. He smiles at me, shyly, hesitantly... We look at books together, with my son turning the page eagerly and asking endless questions about the particular subject, and yet, sometimes I also see that faraway look in his eyes and I know his mind is elsewhere…He always kisses me goodnight now, and looks forward to me coming to sit with him, armed with stories and songs to lure him into sleep. I know that I will have to be both a mother and a father to him, and I hope that I can do justice to both roles.
Lately the past has been troubling me. I have been having nightmares too, not just the usual ones about my early years, but about Joseph Buquet and Piangi. I keep seeing their grotesque faces as they died at my hands, long ago in my other life. Dear God... Both of them were childless as far as I know, but what if they hadn't been? Would those children have cried every night for them, just as Gustave cries for his mother? Would this little boy lay his head on my chest like this if he knew what I once was?
Was. Yes, the Phantom must die. For how could I ever put a child through the pain that my own son is going through? How could I be the same man I was, when I have seen murder from the other side? I am a father now and all has changed, beyond recognition.
There is so much I want to tell my son about my life. But not yet. He is too young, too innocent. Perhaps I will never tell him everything, but he needs to know the truth about certain things one day. I can only hope that he will still love me.
I hope he continues to settle in and adjust to this new life, which is so unlike his old one. And in time he will make friends, perhaps have a best friend that he can play with at school and at the weekends. From what I can gather, children seem to enjoy playing in each other's houses and going to birthday parties. Not that I would know from experience…But there is still a selfish part of me that hopes he will stay with me always, that he will not seek out any other company but mine. After all, do I not lose him for several hours already while he is at school?
But no, I cannot think like that. He was not raised alone in an attic room or in a cage. He needs to be with others his own age, away from my self-contained world of music and peculiar inventions. He is my own flesh and blood and we have much in common but he is still part of the world, in a way that I could never be.
One day he will be a child no longer. He says he will be eleven in March; I knew right from the start that I would not have him as a little boy for very long. One day he may want a new, different life away from Phantasma. Perhaps he will marry, although he doesn't seem to think much of girls at the moment. He can walk down a street without being stared at. He can live wherever he wants, without comment. He does not need to hide away here in an amusement park.
I cannot think about losing him just yet, not when we still have so much to learn about each other. And in any case, that day could be years away. Tonight he lies beside me, safe in my arms and I must be content with that. He nuzzles his cheek against me in his sleep and I hold him closer, my precious boy, who has already taught me so much about the world, without knowing it. The world itself may not have changed but now I see it through his eyes.
And yet… How I wish I could be holding Christine instead! Is it wrong to feel that way? But she is gone forever and although my heart still aches for her, she is still here, in a way. Her kindness and gentle spirit live on in this child. She is gone, but she has entrusted me with her most precious treasure, and I will always take care of him, just as she asked.
I cannot help gently brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes, before kissing his forehead tenderly. He stirs a little and wakes to look at my unmasked face. Sometimes I can see him flinch a little, but only a little, when he looks at it. But now he smiles at me and blinks his sleepy eyes.
"Go back to sleep, child," I tell him gently.
"Will you go to sleep as well?" he asks sleepily.
"Yes, I will sleep too, very soon, my love. Now close your eyes."
He obeys, and just before he falls back asleep he speaks the words I never thought I would hear.
"Goodnight Papa".