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One Year Later….
Antoinette
I sat at Erik's desk composing a letter to Mirielle as he jotted down some notes for the storyline of hi opera. Mirielle had given Samuel a son whom they named Phillipe, and she was overjoyed with motherhood. "Oh, Annie, you will have to visit us in Sweden sometime! Our son is just perfect, he is the mirror image of dear Samuel. I am lonely without him, as he has gone back home to Chagny so that he might be with his mother in her illness. It is cruel of me to say, but I hope that bitter, nasty woman dies for forcing her son and I into exile here in Sweden. I want to return to my normal life and be in my home country and closer to you." I read the note what seemed to be the fiftieth time, and though I laughed at her humor, I knew how lonely she was. She spoke often of the Daaes. "How sad to be taken from the only home you have ever known and whisked off to a foreign country with a poor little couple as your only friends." It was rather cruel of me, but I secretly hoped that Samuel's mother died too. I dipped the quill into the ink and was scribbling along the parchment when Erik's arms reached around my body, scaring me and causing me to dribble large ink spots on Mirielle's note.
"Erik, look what you made me do! I will have to start all over again!" But he just laughed and spun me around to face him.
"I'm sorry, my love, but I would like a little inspiration for the love scene in my opera," he jested as his lips gently kissed mine.
"Your libido has been insatiable lately, is it something with your diet?" The girls were beginning to whisper things, I was sure, given that I had not spent the night in my bed in three days.
"It has nothing to do with my diet. You are just simply ravishing." He kissed me once more, harder this time, and reached a hand up to cup my left breast.
"Erik, stop that, you're hurting me!"
"I'm sorry, Annie, but I wasn't squeezing that hard," he said defensively.
"It must be from last night then. You were pretty rough." I blushed at the memory of his eager, almost rough, movements over my body into the long hours of the night.
"Perhaps I was a little too strong in my haste to have you. I'm very sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you. I will try to be more gently next time."
"It's alright, Erik. Would you like me to fix you some supper? I don't think you have had a proper meal in awhile, you are so dedicated to that damned opera."
"It isn't just a damned opera, it will be the greatest musical masterpiece this century, that is, for anyone who has any taste or true appreciation of music." He continued on about how great his work is, how it compared to the pieces being composed and performed of late, but I paid no attention. I heard this every night, and if I acknowledged it, he would continue to prattle on until I blatantly told him to shut his mouth, to which he would just sulk like rotten child the rest of the night. I made a modest dinner from the meager ingredients that he had, and managed to make a stew with some marginally fresh bread. Erik was appreciative of the meal (as he should, given that he would let himself starve for the sake of his art!) and we settled onto the sofa in front of the fire. I laid against him, my head comfortable resting against his chest, and I felt myself dozing off when suddenly my stomach began to feel queasy. I sat up in quickly, and Erik instantly became alarmed.
"Annie, are you alright? Are you sick, my love?" I could only nod, but that slight movement of my head brought our dinner to the back of my throat, and I rushed to the bathroom, eager to spew into the chamber pot. I made it to the door before the meal gushed from my mouth in a sick ooze at my feet, and horrified, I lurched for the sink to clean it up. But the smell was putrid, and I found myself once more vomiting into the sink, the tears pouring down my face from my body's violent reaction. When my the spasms ceased, I turned around and found Erik on his knees mopping up the mess that I had made. I flushed with embarrassment and began to cry as Erik looked up at me questioningly.
"Annie, dear, are you alright? Here, let me feel your head for a fever." He stood up and removed his gloves, pressing them to my clammy forehead. "Your forehead is wet, but I imagine that is from throwing up. Your head does not feel warm as if you are sick. I don't think it is the food because I feel fine. Is there a virus going around with the dancers?"
"Not that I am aware of. Perhaps I have just been practicing too hard."
"It could also be the change in environment; you don't normally spend this much time down here, nor do you usually sleep down here. I think it best if you retired to the dormitories for the night."
"I think you're right," but I was hesitant to head back on my own should I become victim to the sickness again. Erik took me as far as the dressing room, asking if I would be alright to continue on my own. "I think so," I replied shakily. "I don't feel sick anymore, just weak and tired." He kissed me on the cheek and I headed to my bed, grateful that the ballet rats were away and would not have to answer questions as to my sleeping habits of late.
I awoke in the morning feeling tired and groggy, despite having a substantial night's sleep. My body ached, but I touched my hand to my forehead once more and felt no fever. I dressed myself and headed downstairs to rehearsal, ignoring the petty scandalous conversations the other dancers were discussing.
The first half of rehearsal was for Sergei and I to practice our ensemble dance. Our duet together was rigorous, full of aerial lifts and complex movements, and we were not an hour into the main part of rehearsal when Monsier Perrot halted the session. "Antoinette, may I please speak with you in private?" He escorted me into the narrow hallway, far from Sergei's ears, when he asked if I had started to eat more.
"What kind of question is that? There has been no change in my diet!"
"You seem to be putting weight on around your face and backside, my dear. I notice that Sergei is having slightly more difficulty lifting you than when you started rehearsing this scene three weeks ago."
"I assure you, Monsieur, I have been paying as strict attention to my nutrition as I always have. You know how important this is to me, I would not let sweets get in the way of my success."
"Is there something else you would like to tell me that could cause this sudden increase in weight?" The master's blue eyes pierced mine as he scrutinized my behavior. I had indeed noticed that I had gained about seven pounds of late, and though I had tried to sneak in a few minutes extra practice time daily, the added effort was not helping, as my bottom had indeed become plumper. "Could it be your monthly cycle that has caused you to appear more heavy?" It seemed a little strange that he would mention something so personal, particularly since he was a male, but it was his duty to know the physique of his girls, even the more crude parts of the female anatomy.
It was then that I realized that I had missed my last two courses. While this was not an irregular occurrence given the tremendous strain that we dancers placed on our bodies, combined with weight gain and random spurts of nausea, I could only deduce one rational explanation.
"Mon dieu! Merde!" I whispered. My worst fears has come true. M. Perrot could see the terror in my eyes, and he swiftly put his arms around my chest.
"It will be alright, Annie," he said softly. It was the first time he had addressed me not by full name. He had said it an effort to be my friend, to comfort me on a closer level than a student and instructor, but if offered me no warmth. My dreams would be shattered. I had been the principle dancer, La Bontecou, but my days were numbered due to the growth that existed within my taut abdomen. I stared down at my stomach in horror as I envisioned the flatness slowly evolving into an unsightly bulge that would cost me my career and end the happiness I had known for so long. "How long, ma cheri?" Monsieur Perrot asked.
"At least two months," I replied quietly.
"I am afraid that I will have to relinquish the role of Isadora to someone else, Marie-Elisabeth perhaps. How is that you did not know sooner, Annie?"
"I probably did, I just chose to ignore it. Mirielle said that it could not happen this way, that I could have prevented it, and for so long, I did," I sobbed. Tears had started to flow freely now that I knew for sure my career would end. Who would hire a dancer with maternity fat and stretch marks?
"Life has a way of happening no matter what the circumstances. Have faith, my dear. I cannot have you dance and risk your health, but once this child is born, I promise I will help you in any way that I can. You have worked so hard, Antoinette, you are like a daughter to me."
"Thank you, Monsieur."
"Please, you may call me Jean. Not in rehearsals, of course, but now that our relationship has progressed to another level, you may consider me a friend. I will protect you from the gossip of those tarts as best I can, but I suggest you seek refuge with the child's father for the time being."
"Oh my God, I will have to tell Erik! What will he say? It's not what he says that I am afraid of…. He cannot handle this baby! He can't even take care of himself! What mess have we gotten ourselves into? He will leave me! He will leave me for his music and I will have to take care of this child on my own!"
"Mon-, I mean, Jean, may I ask a question of a more personal nature?"
"Of course."
"How did Carlotta tell you? What did she feel? How did she tell you? I am terrified of what Erik will say."
He excused himself for the moment as he realized that Sergei was still awaiting our return. "I told him that you were ill and unable to continue your lessons today. Come, let us go to my office and we can speak with the comfort of knowing our words will be in private."
I felt anxious as we left the open and airy space of the practice room and headed down the dark, windowless corridors to his office/apartment. I wrapped my arms around myself, attempting to ignore the rage at my insolence and at this innocent baby that was quietly growing with each passing day. Jean unlocked the door to his apartment, and bid me to enter. I sat down on the worn leather chair, politely refusing an offer of tea.
"Carlotta was a special woman, and though I do miss her dearly, I know that she does not return the sentiment. She was smart and conniving, willing to sleep her way into the ranks to make herself a star. I was foolish enough to fall for her stunning looks and coquettish charms. Though she was an adult when she came to me the first time, and all subsequent times after that, she was essentially a child still, playing a strategy game that she knew she would win. The chips were not in her favor, as you would, and we know the outcome of the story from there. She found out and came to me angrily, flying in a rage and throwing things at me. I myself was shocked, though not too entirely surprised, but I was also strangely happy. My devotion to this ballet corps has prevented me from a wife and family of my own, and this appeared to be my opportunity to have both. But Carlotta did not see that at all. She told me that I had forced her into it, that I had done it to purposely ruin her career and force her into the subservient role of my wife. I did ask if she would be my wife after that, I am not so unchivalrous as to throw her on the street with my bastard, but she refused. I did love her, with all of my heart, but she thought I had manipulated her and sullied her reputation."
"She had done a fine bit of that herself," I reasoned.
Jean simply nodded and gazed sadly at the floor. "I knew she had tried to rid herself of him, and that was probably why he did not last longer than a few days. My poor son, the son I never knew but loved all the same. I have no idea of her whereabouts now, and though I suppose I would like to see her again, I don't know if my broken heart could stand it. I certainly hope that your Erik will be kind and a gentleman to finally marry you now."
"I hope so too," I said dejectedly. I left Jean's office with a small comfort knowing that I could seek his advice, but doubly pained in that I did not have Mirielle with me for companionship, and knowing that Erik's reaction would be unpleasant and unpredictable, to say the least.
