I'm BACK. WHEW. Okay, seriously, I have to beg forgiveness of all. I have discovered how to read my reviews (I just found my stories without logging in) and your kind words and encouragements thrilled and inspired me to take up my pen (laptop technically) and write up the chapters I've been working on and off on paper. SO. HERE IT IS.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom, I do not own Erik, I don't even own this website...
Part Twenty-eight:
The plane wasn't the least less noisy than our previous flight, and this time I not only feared for the lives of our band by death from our instructors but from a far more deadlier man: Erik. Despite his curiosity in the plane's workings he grew more and more into a sour mood and started to express it in a terrifying way. Although his generally polite manners had thankfully reappeared, his intense dislike at people showed at its near peak whenever an unsuspecting passenger would either stare at him or pass our seats in the aisle. I noticed, more than his hateful stare, that whoever was at fault immediately hurried away as fast as they could and didn't dawdle or stare longer until they were safely back in their seat.
To know I was sitting next to him and responsible for him and any murder he might choose to commit made me shrink farther in my seat and wish the plane ride wasn't as long as it was. Only the stewards and stewardesses passed through without problem, for with their practiced smiles and free drinks on hand they made it past Erik without a single quarrel. I also believe it was also the fact that Erik realized that it was merely their job and they and he had no choice in the matter.
About three hours of silence and furious book reading, Erik put his down and to my dismay started looking about him once more with an edgy look; now he was completely open and vulnerable to the world around him and with little to no more distractions to relax his brain with. With best intentions and my hand secretly to the level of my eyes, I tried to claim his attention in the most friendly, innocent way I could put forward.
"You'll like America," I told him assuringly, "It's way better than it would've been in your time."
He slowly turned his head towards me, his false nose glimmering in the lights as he fixed me with a rather condescending gaze. I swallowed convulsively and attempted to continue.
"We're really on top of things, now. Mass production, fast food joints everywhere, and everyone's got a house and car and stuff. Sort of. Pensions for old people…"
He listened as I jabbered on for about five minutes, but stopped me halfway through my pitiful explanation of social security.
"I shall determine the ways of your country myself," he said moodily, "Do not put your own opinionated ideas into Erik's head. He will form his own opinion—negative or light."
I gulped and nodded, instantly silenced. Luckily, Max decided to swing by and she gave a kind look to Erik but scowled at in my direction as she motioned me to her. I got up, thanked my lucky stars that I didn't have to climb over Erik, and stood next to my friend in the aisle. He watched us with narrowed eyes as Max pulled me towards the bathroom area of the plane.
"Time to switch," Max said. "I can't take Daroga any longer—he's such a child!"
At first I was surprised, but on inspecting her expression I could see that she was honestly disappointed in her seatmate. I held up my hands and grinned weakly.
"I'll take the shift, then. Maybe Daroga will learn to like me more!"
"Or not," she said absently. "How is Erik for you?"
I gratefully told her everything of my terrors of sitting next to the man I had admired so much and how exactly I felt.
"Utterly scares the heck out of me, he's in such a bad mood I'm afraid to even say one thing!" I finished, shamed that I was allowing these things to pass my mouth even though they rang true.
In a involuntary gesture, Max patted my head sympathetically.
"Well at least I'm forewarned." She said. "But you are kind of annoying sometimes. Don't worry about it."
Before she could attempt the journey to my seat, Erik stood up angrily and marched over to us. The few seated passengers already accustomed to him cringed slightly as he passed. Instinctively I darted behind Max, who somehow stood her ground and calmly looked up at the towering skeleton.
"What is it that you two are whisper, whisper, whispering about?" he hissed. "You shall not keep things from me, not one thing! What is it you were talking about without Erik's knowing?"
My knees knocked together as I squeaked out a sort of answer but Max shrugged and merely told him the truth.
"Emma and I are switching seats," she said. "I just didn't want you to know how I feel about sitting next to your companion because I was ashamed."
With the skill of a professional actress Max bent her head in a penitent and humble attitude. Whether her acting skills were so poor that Erik found it amusing enough or that he actually believed her story, he lost the dangerous aura and replaced it with his usual brooding one and asked her what the said feelings towards the Persian man were. She repeated (or rather, reworded carefully) what she said to me. To my astonishment, he took it well. So well that I swore he almost smiled. Which was very chilling to see as smiling did not improve his face whatsoever but made him look rather like a serial killer beaming down upon his victim that he had just decided on how to murder after a long process of sorting.
"That is well," he said, "I will permit this…switch. You are allowed to sit beside Erik."
"Thank you," Max said with sincere relief. "I knew you would understand."
I couldn't help but stare at them both as I followed them back to our seats. Erik sat first and waited until Max seated herself comfortably before allowing me to have a few hints on my new task.
"He will be easy if you pay attention to his long monologues," he said, "They shall make him feel like someone is listening. He is much like you, in that manner. Also tell him, when he asks, that I refuse to sit beside him."
It was easy to resist saluting him in my state of shock at his complete turn-around mood and satisfied him by nodding my understanding of his wise words instead. Deep inside me I was rather hurt by his monologue comment but if he said it, then it was probably true. Perhaps Daroga and I could be very good friends if we could understand one another.
I wasn't deep in those thoughts, however and as I made my way down to Max's vacant seat I felt eyes settle on me. In a plane full of tan vacationers of multiple nationalities, a very stereotypical albino such as myself stood out. I pretended not to notice them as usual but my face still grew hot in embarrassment, especially a few that were not discrete in their gawking stares. I knew what it was like to be different, to be a stranger in a crowd like Erik was and I wondered then if some of the stares we had gotten before weren't just at Erik. I knew people could not help it but they didn't need to stare so…obviously.
I was so bent on avoiding eye contact with anyone that I gave a good yelp when someone clung to my wrist as I passed their seat.
"Hey Emma," hissed a row of flutes.
Now notice that I am not crazy or addressing actual flute instruments. For those not in a band, one has to know that it is not uncommon for band members to address each other only as the instrument instead of the human being type noun. I myself would be called "a clarinet", for instance.
I looked down on their curious faces with a vague frown.
"What is it?" I asked, surprised they would think to ask me anything as I didn't associate with any of the flutes much, other than to tell one of them that their chair was moving my stand in band practice now and then.
"Your uncle," they said in hushed tones, "What's wrong with his…?"
They didn't dare use the word 'face' but unconscious motions and touches to their own spelled it out clearly what exactly they found 'wrong'. Now, on a normal Erik-free day, this wouldn't have bothered me much. A life full of questions always followed my own condition and I was never offended by those who were brave enough to talk to me and remain merely curious and natural in speaking to me. I respected them if they respected me, and I was glad to give an explanation if they truly just had that bland curiosity inside them and not that telltale look on their face that said "you look wrong". And not the wrong that meant 'different', but the 'wrong' that indicated something unnatural and inhuman. That is the defining line I look for in a face.
When the girls mentioned Erik and made movements to their own perfect, unblemished faces I bristled up at once, for I saw that they thought he was the 'wrong' I did not like.
"Nothing's wrong with him!" I snapped, snatching my hand rudely from the girl's gentle grasp.
At once their brows rose, threatening to slide off their foreheads into their hair.
"Wow, sorry, Emma," one sophomore said coolly. "Didn't know you were so touchy."
I tried communicating my anger through my eyes, which I hoped were glowering and scary with their reddish hue. Instead they only exchanged significant glances between each other before a senior sighed once and said:
"It's just a birth defect, right Emma?"
"Sure," I muttered and I quickly moved on my way. I heard them speaking in their low voices again and they giggled. I burned with the knowledge that they would now be gossiping about me. But if it kept their wagging tongues off of Erik…I would be satisfied.
Finally I spotted Daroga. He sat in a middle row by himself, looking up at me with dawning recognition. Still upset at my experience, I threw myself in the seat beside him. From the corner of my eye I viewed him.
"Salut." I said grumpily. "Ca va?"
His bright green eyes looked worried and he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Que'est que comment?" he asked, ignoring my own conversational questions.
I sucked in a loud breath and let it out as I sunk low in my seat and scrunched up my face.
"If you're asking me how I am or what's wrong or something, it's nothing." I told him sullenly. "Not like I could say I'm mad, 'cause I forgot how to say 'mad' and I don't know how to tell you I don't know why I'm mad because I don't really know why! I just am!"
I said the last bit rather loud and Daroga flinched. Several others also glanced back at me irritably and one old woman in the row across from us gave me a reproving look but said nothing. I fumed silently, feeling stupid.
"And now I don't even know how to apologize en francais!" I said in an angry whisper. "Ugh! I hate ordinary people!"
We were both silent for awhile. Little by little I calmed down. When that happened, I started feeling bad about acting so childish when someone needed me. Guiltily I tried smiling at the Persian, in way of apologizing. A stony look and a face that remained un-charmed was my only reward. I finally brought out my secret weapon—utter nonsense.
"Tu es une banane," I said with a shrug. "Je suis un poisson!"
He goggled at me like I was insane.
Maybe I was.
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
America! Home of the Free, Land of the Brave. Or something like that… After long hours trapped in a plane with a chaotic switch in D.C., I let out a loud sigh of relief as my country and my state passed beneath my window. In the end, I was back sitting with Erik but I was allowed the window seat. I had distressed Daroga too much with the last seat exchange and Max, with an exasperated look, had reclaimed her shift as his caretaker. Erik ignored me splendidly with his fake nose buried once more in a comforting book.
At the capital we had also gotten him a bag full of other books on whatever he liked or chose, some of which included: Webster's Dictionary, American Government for Dummies, What Happened to America? The Industry Boom, 1920's-Leading to the Depression, French Cuisine: Made Easy!, and Les Miserables by Victor Hugo for light reading. At that time, Erik had another book about modern mechanics and technology, which he read with peculiar noises of contempt or disbelief interjecting each chapter.
Mr. Perini had already stopped by to warn us that once we arrived in Las Vegas, that we were to get down to the baggage claim as fast as possible and wait together until everyone got their things before leaving for the charter buses that would hopefully be there to take us back to our school. My nerves tingled and my foot tapped excitedly on the floor. I was happy and eager to be home. I thought over the souvenirs I had gotten, the sights I had scene, and how glad I would be to hear nothing but American English conversations I could eavesdrop on with ease.
My phone buzzed emphatically in my pocket. With Erik's glance of suspiciousness on me, I opened up the text from Max.
"You might want to call in to your parents to let them know we're landing," it said, "Are you ok getting home?"
I grimaced slightly, cursing my forgetfulness.
"No," I texted back, "Do you think you could give me a ride? M and D are still gone and I don't have my car at the school. ):"
I waited and smiled cheerily at Erik, who set his book down to look over my shoulder at the tiny screen which I innocently hid with my other hand. Her reply came swiftly.
":\ I wish you asked earlier." I could easily hear Max's tone from the monotone letters. "What are you going to do about Daroga and Erik? I thought you'd be able to drive them: why didn't you remember your car?"
Another grimace. That was supposed to be the first plan, but it had turned to asking Max since I had forgotten to drive my car to the school the day before the trip. I didn't think it would have been a big deal before we left, but then I never expected to have supposed fictional characters to hide and protect either.
"Sorry!" I texted back hurriedly. "Maybe you can just leave them at the school and take me home and I'll come get them?"
"What do you mean by saying that?" Erik's voice cut in like a knife, draining me of power.
I slowly creaked my head around to look up at his newly masked face. My voice caught in my throat as he stared me down heartlessly with his glowing eyes. How like a cat's were they, gleaming as they did. Predatory and sharp.
No, I decided, not a cat. A panther.
My phone buzzed between us and I discovered that it wasn't in my hands, but Erik's!
"Hey-!" I protested but he had already opened it gingerly, reading what was inside.
"You have very poor grammatical skills," Erik said presently, handing it back to me. "Madmoiselle Max cannot transport us together. I had forgotten you both are so young and are still under your parents' care. Would they be so alarmed as to find you with guests? It is understandable that we shall drop the relation hoax with them."
"Very alarmed," I said nervously, thinking of my own. "But mine are gone—they wanted to see Europe while I was here and they won't be back for three weeks at least. I'm in charge of my house for now. But Max's family is all here and they're… not fond of random men talking to their daughter, you know?"
Erik 'hmm'd and sat back in his seat, dwelling on the new information of his hostesses. I quickly texted Max as soon as his attention was diverted.
"Okay," I typed. "New plan. Tell your folks that they're my parents' friends come for a surprise visit and are staying a month. We got to get them back to my house."
Working on next chapter as we speak. Hate it? Love it? Lemme know your thoughts, 'cause now I know how to read it!
Critics are welcome with open arms and a 24 gun salute!
