IF LOVE WERE A FLOWER
Redemption
Meg was far too ashamed to tell anyone about what had happened at the pier. Her mother suspected that something was wrong, but she thought Erik had just made some cruel remarks - she knew his snide comments - which had hurt her daughter. Antoinette knew that Erik would never stoop so low as to force himself on a woman. She couldn't know that her daughter would ever get involved with him willingly.
But Meg demanded to leave the variety. Antoinette was fine with that, only the two of them couldn't persuade Mr. Singer to release them from their contracts or give them their papers back. "You are far too valuable to me," Mr. Singer explained, "I can't let you go."
"I can't work with him any more!" Meg complained.
Mr. Singer was adamant. He wouldn't change a sold-out show. No other girl had the suppleness to fit in Erik's clever hiding machines and the costumes were designed specially for her body and couldn't be altered. There was no alternative for her than to be the main assistant to the masked magician. And she wouldn't be able to pay back the loan anyways.
Meg stomped out furiously and Antoinette felt compelled to ask Erik what had happened between them. Erik didn't say anything, just stared at his shoes and nervously played with his cufflinks. "Erik, this can't go on! Go to Meg, talk to her, whatever you did to her, try to apologize. You owe her that much!"
Erik found himself cornered, especially because his conscience plagued him terribly. He knew he had done wrong but didn't know how to apologize, but he had to at least try. So he waited at the pier for her, hoping she would come here again despite what had happened there. He was right, she did. It was the only place where she could enjoy a few moments of peace just for herself. In the variety's dormitories were too many others, there was no privacy.
"Good morning, Meg," Erik greeted her shyly.
"Go to hell," Meg snapped, "And it is Mademoiselle Giry to you, freak!"
"Meg... Mademoiselle Giry, I am deeply sorry," Erik went on, "Please forgive me."
"You are the cause for everything that went wrong in my life!" she accused him.
"Give me a chance to set things right, please," he replied softly, knowing he had wronged her. He certainly was not in love with her, the only feeling driving him to seek forgiveness was nagging guilt.
"You can't," Meg replied bluntly, "Or can you buy our freedom back?"
"If I can, would you... forgive me?"
Meg considered this for a moment. "It would be a start."
Erik sighed. "There is a way. But it is only possible if I disgrace myself in a way I never did before." He shuddered at the mere thought of what he would have to go through, but then, what choice did he have? After what he had done to Meg she deserved that he lost his honor as he had taken hers - even if he hadn't known and certainly never intended to harm her in any way.
Meg was deeply touched. "You would do this for me?"
"If the last shard of dignity is the price I have to pay for our freedom, so be it," Erik replied sadly, "I'm not worth that so many suffer just because I cannot swallow my pride. It is in my hands and I should finally do something right, shouldn't I?"
The scheme Erik had come up with was to create a show that would cause a severe scandal and was most likely to be forbidden by the authorities - no matter what the bosses said and whom they would bribe. But that was the interesting thing in that: they could pay a lawyer to make an appeal and unless the higher court would decide the show would be running. And this - the knowledge that this show would be forbidden soon - would be enough to sell the tickets at ridiculously high prices.
That and another trick: they would only sell one third of the tickets, the other tickets would be marked as "sold" but sold at the black marked by themselves. The prices would go up from the official price in no time once the scandal was common knowledge. Why leave the profit of black market tickets to others when you can have it yourself? To assure that the scandal couldn't be missed they would give free tickets to journalists.
The show was to be called "Walpurgis Night". Erik called it "entirely constructed, nothing composed". He had done his best to anticipate the wishes of bored rich men who loved a scandal. The show was a mixture of music - certainly a bit inspired by Boito's opera "Mephistophele" as Antoinette Giry remarked when she saw the score - and magic show. That wasn't the new element to it, the new element would be that Erik had decided to show his imagination of the Walpurgis Night which was an erotic nightmare. Naked - or almost naked - dancers and freaks. The freaks would portray different lost souls coming up from hell to celebrate together with the witches, dancing at the Brocken. Erik himself would be the half-man-half-demon in the center of the show.
All in the show - including aerialist stunts high above the audience and sudden appearance tricks in the middle of the audience to make everyone part of the show - would be about half an hour, but that would be enough.
At first sight of the sketches Antoinette felt like slapping Erik in the face. How could he do that? How could he abuse his talents like that? "No! Never! I won't be part of that, neither will Meg! This is just tasteless, disgusting and humiliating and I will not allow it!"
"Unfortunately, Madame, this choice isn't yours," Erik replied coldly. Once he had convinced himself that this was the only way out of debt servitude he wouldn't let moral qualms stop him. He would sink lower than ever, but it was necessary. None of the actors would be billed, everyone would conceal himself so that every participant would be able to deny being at that show later on. Erik would be the only one to show his face and most of his body, he would wear nothing more than a sort of loincloth made from red leather. Of course hidden leather straps would hold it in place. He even agreed to heightening his disfigurement with makeup, creating an image in the right spotlights that really made people wonder if he was a half-demon. Ironically this would conceal his identity much better than wearing a mask - being always fully dressed and covered in mask and wig everyone knew him only for his masked appearance so stripping off his concealment would obscure his identity more than any mask possibly could.
"Are you sure about this?" Joe warned Erik, "You'll have to live with yourself after that. Can you really bare that disgrace, even if no one will ever know that the half-demon and the masked magician are one and the same?"
"Thanks for the warning," Erik answered warmly, "I told you that this is our ticket to freedom. I cannot back out now, I cannot leave you to your fate. We discussed this, didn't we? All of you agreed. Should anyone reconsider, he or she might leave. I won't force anyone."
"This music is... I don't know... strange," the violinist - a woman, a mulatta - said.
"It is," Erik replied darkly, "This show is made to scare the hell out of the audience and arouse them at the same time. If not at least half of the audience leaves the show in dire need of changing their underwear we did something wrong." He turned and left the office where they had discussed this new show in a hurry, a sick feeling in his stomach. He needed air.
Erik stood in the darkness beside the side-entrance of the variety, shuddering with disgust at himself and his own ideas. Just how low could he go? What had he become? It sickened him that he even had such ideas. He let the show play in his mind and cringed at the vulgarity of it. How could he - he of all people - come up with such revolting idea? Leaning against the wall he was violently sick.
The plan worked. The Walpurgis Night was the scandal of the year and immediately forbidden - of course the previously prepared appeal was made and most newspapers wrote about a disgusting and shameless show no decent man should ever see. Mr. Singer replied smoothly that of course the "Walpurgis Night" was meant to be disgusting and revolting as a warning to everyone who would give in to temptation.
The more the show was condemned as a horribly shameful display the more tickets were sold at even higher prices. When one bought a ticked he was given a cheap paper mache mask - another idea of Erik - so the patrons could go to the show incognito. This little trick served well to increase the interest in the show and even if every man denied ever having seen it, everyone had heard from a friend of a friend that it was really even more scandalous than the newspapers had reported it to be. Of course almost everyone had seen it, some men came so often that they were well known to the ticket sellers by the end of the season.
Erik grew alarmingly quiet that autumn. There were many different shows running, but Walpurgis Night once a week brought in more money than all other shows together. Erik didn't drink much that time. Some magic tricks were really dangerous and if he made a mistake someone might get hurt, he just had to be sober, but he knew he would lose it. He felt as if he was falling apart. There was him, the man who acted as the masked magician, the man who would do business and there was a part of him he loathed and despised, the part of him that would invent such horrible things like the Walpurgis Night show. The part of him that did what he deemed necessary ruthlessly, never considering the cost, not even the cost he would have to pay himself, untouched by any sense of moral. It was that part of him that would do literally everything pursuing his goals, the part of him he himself was afraid of. Erik didn't know any more what he was capable of doing, he felt like there was a stranger possessing him, controlling him from time to time and he could just sit back and watch this terrifying stranger tormenting him until the darkness left and he could be himself again. It scared him.
When he stood before a mirror one evening he suddenly saw that his image shattered, it splintered and then did melt down like a candle. He backed away trembling, not so much scared by what he really saw but by the image his mind created: He saw himself completely without a face, there was only black emptiness where in reality his masked face was.
"Erik?" Joe asked, rushing to the bathroom alarmed by Erik's scream, "What happened?"
"I'm not there," Erik whispered, pointing to the mirror that showed his reflection perfectly, "Where I should be there is only a black void." Joe grabbed him and pushed him out of the bathroom, dragging him to his bed and made him sit down.
"You didn't drink, did you?" Joe asked.
"No," Erik replied, shaking his head, "I saw my image shatter and melt away - o God, I'm falling apart. I'm no longer myself, I'm losing control... Joe, am I going mad?"
The truth would be yes, and Dr. Johann Gängelmann knew perfectly well, he was a medical doctor, but he knew too that he mustn't tell Erik now. "You are overwrought, that is all. You constantly act against yourself, this can't be healthy. It is that damned show - as much money as it brings in, if the price is your sanity it is too high, you have to stop it."
"Just this season..." Erik whispered, "Then I'm in a position to change things."
When the last show was over in autumn and Coney Island closed down for winter, Erik sat with Mr. Singer in his office.
"Tell me, am I your business partner now?" he asked.
Sam Singer grinned. "Yes, you are, and I'm not even angry. I'm proud having a partner like you - for every penny you earn two come to my pocket. I think you'll be even more dedicated to this variety in the future when you get 30% of the profit for yourself." Sam Singer could live with that perfectly. He thougt Erik would from now on work even harder for he would get directly rewarded for his work.
Erik heaved a deep breath. "No more Walpurgis Night. I can't do that any more. It is... too much."
"Of course. During winter the court of appeal will decide to forbid the show anyways," Mr. Singer answered and handed Erik a glass of brandy, "Cheers. To a successful future."
Erik silently promised himself that he had to change things immediately or he would go mad - and even he himself didn't know what he might do then.
At Christmas Eve everyone was gathered in the canteen - everyone with a long-term-contract, that is. The freaks and the Girys. Mr. Singer was not there, he had gone on a trip to visit his family. There already was a rumor that he might just disappear now that his signature was on the contract that made Erik his co-manager.
Erik came in with a wide grin on his face. He carried a briefcase like a trophy in his hands.
"My friends," he began and everyone fell silent, "This year we worked hard to make me co-manager of this variety and shareholder of the limited liability company that owns this variety. Now that I am, it is time to keep my promise." He reached into the briefcase. "Here are our papers. The identity papers and the admittance to America! We are free." Well, not really free, but with the papers it would be possible to leave if they found another job that would enable them to pay the monthly installments for the loan.
People were crying, cheering, laughing with happiness. They hadn't thought this possible. Erik could barely fend off the many hugs and kisses he suddenly received. Of course none of the deformed people would avoid touching him, why should they? To them he was one of the good looking fellows.
"Free," Antoinette whispered, staring at her papers. She still couldn't read English but understood most of the spoken language. She looked up to where Erik stood, Dwarf Woman on his arms like she was a child, her small arms around his neck in a loving embrace. He too was crying. "He paid such a high price for this."
"Yes, he did," Meg answered and got up. She had carefully watched Erik, she knew that he struggled not to fall into insanity, she had seen him getting drunk or drugged seeking relief from the hell he was living in. She knew as well as anyone in this room how often Squelch and Joe had carried him to bed when he was too drunk to stand on his feet. But right now Erik was clearly sober, he was just happy.
"Erik?" Meg approached him, "Thank you." She had to stand on her toes to kiss his cheek.
Erik smiled at her. "I take it you do not hate me any more?" he asked, already knowing the answer to that. She nodded with a happy smile, pressing her papers to her breast. Freedom. He had given her freedom.
Erik took a place at a table and placed a pen, ink and paper before him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, as co-manager of this variety I am ready to receive any..." He stopped to search for the right word. Dismissal? Was dismissal the right word? No, dismissal meant an employer sending his employee away, not the other way round. "Notices of termination." He could only hope this was the correct saying, but he was not sure. It did not matter. Everyone's attention was on him and they surely did understand what he wanted to say.
"You would - allow us to leave?" Joe asked, "But if we leave, this variety would be ruined. The one thing that makes it special among all the shows on Coney Island is - us."
"I know," Erik replied, staring at the paper on the desk, "Everyone is allowed to leave."
Meg turned to her mother. "I could try to find a job at one of the reputable theaters!" she cried out happily, "Erik, would you..." She stopped herself as she saw the sad smile on his face.
"I wish I could come with you, but I can't," he gestured to his masked face. He would forever be an outcast because of his deformity and he knew no respectable theater or opera or music hall would ever hire him - no matter how perfect his skills as musician were.
"Then I stay here too!" Meg decided.
"Meg! Think of this, you are so very young. Coney Island is no place for you!" Antoinette warned her.
"You can't make me leave!" Meg replied stubbornly.
"Say something!" Antoinette turned to Erik, "You can't let her waste her life like that!"
Erik looked at Meg and their gazes met. "If she wants to stay, she can do so, she's a grown woman," he decided.
"But Erik..."
"Antoinette, your daughter is an adult now. If she wants to stay for another season, she is free to do so and I am happy to have her. I plan some new magic shows and am honored to have her as my lovely assistant."
Erik and Meg smiled as their gazes met - a small smile no one except them even noticed. "If love were a flower, what would it be?" Meg asked smiling.
"A snowdrop," Erik answered, "Because it blooms despite the bitter cold in winter."
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