Education of the Heart

New Place, Old Problems

If Erik would have been asked what the hardest part of the exam was, he would later tell laughingly that it was the day after - he had no idea what to do. It was custom to celebrate, but how and with whom? He lacked these social skills that were common knowledge for others. Luckily no one expected him to host a party or invite someone.

Gontier had been busy in summer - he had established a new enterprise and rented a store in a nice area of the city. The store was in a large house which had all in three stores and a cafe. But this one store had a very large workshop directly behind the shop where Erik could work, and a flat for the shopkeeper. The only problem was that the flat and the store would have to share toilet and bathroom. Neither Erik nor Madame Buquet were happy when they learned that - they had hoped they would be able to avoid each other to some degree.

The workshop was large, really large, Erik would need maybe one third of the space for his work, the rest could be used as living space, he could put up beds, a stove, cupboards and even a table with chairs for their meals. But he had a very hard decision to make: Could he take Dede, Rene and Jules with him? If he was ever going to marry Christine, he would have to tell them that he could no longer live together with them. This would not mean he didn't like them, would not mean he would stop seeing them and working with them - but he could not just take them with him. Would it be better to tell them to move out then or would it be easier to tell them now?

The three men were packing their few belongings, singing happily a song Erik had taught them. He stood there, watching them and it broke his heart to leave them. They were so happy to come with him to his new life.

"We can't take the cat with us," Erik explained, "In the elegant house she would be locked up and here in the dumping grounds she's free to roam. She will be happier here."

Rene frowned: "Why lock her up?"

Erik sat down and heaved a sigh. "Because, my dear friend, she would run away to come back here. Cats love their territory."

"O," Rene glanced at the cat, "Okay."

This was not what Erik had hoped for. He had somehow hoped to find a way to tell them to stay here. Now he rebuked himself for being selfish. They were his friends, how could he tell them now that they did not fit in his new, better lifestyle? How could he - he of all people - do that?

"Is difficult?" Jules asked.

"What?" Erik asked. Why did they always assume he could read their thoughts?

"Care for elephants?" Jules asked.

"Elephants? I do think so, why do you ask?" Erik was utterly confused.

"We move to elephant house..." Jules explained as if Erik was a stupid child.

Erik roared with laughter. "Elegant, Jules, not elephant! Haha!" He shook his head. "Elephant... haha!"

"No elephants?" Dede seemed to be disappointed.

"No. Elephants live in Africa and some in India, they are happier there. It is far too cold in Europe for them," Erik explained.

"And so now we go live there 'cause we happy there?" Dede asked.

Erik found he did not have the heart to tell them that he was leaving for a better live and leave them there in the slums. He simply could not do it.

Moving in proved to be difficult. The other people living in the block of flats and the other two shopkeepers were not happy to have a family from the slums moving in, they snapped at Madame Buquet that they hoped her street bastards knew the difference between "yours" and "mine", they looked down at the shabby dress and the crippled hand of the widow.

The children suffered the mocking from other children who called them "slum-scum" and one was pushed with his head in the toilet just to show him that this was were they would have to shit and not in the flat itself. It was a very hard time for the children because the other children thought they were the perfect excuse to do everything that was forbidden and then blame the scrum from the slums. Madame Buquet was far too daunted to retort something and instead promised to punish her children or clean up whatever mess there was - knowing fully well that it had not been her children's fault an of course she would not punish them.

The situation became worse when they first saw Erik and his three friends. A masked man living together with three mongoloid idiots was more than suspicious. Before they could even set one foot in the house one of the shopkeepers told them to move out for this was a decent house and not an asylum. Erik tried not to get angry. He clenched his teeth and said nothing. But it hurt, badly. These people did not know anything about him or his friends and surely not about the widow Buquet and her children, they just looked at them and were full of hatred.

Erik was even more angry that everyone who seemed to be in touch with him was a target for prejudice and mocking as well. Even the Buquet family, whom he had wanted to protect, shared in his disgrace. Some people even assumed that he was the natural father of the children and that his three friends were his children too - which they weren't, in fact, they were about the same age as he was.

It became worse when the shop actually opened. Erik did not make normal watches and clocks, routine jobs were not to his tastes. He liked to do something new, like building music boxes, toys, clocks combined with music boxes, clocks combined with toys, watches in a walking stick, watches as necklaces, an umbrella with a tiny music box in it, even furniture with some special mechanism in them. He loved to create something new from the pieces he found in the trash. He still disliked buying much, it was much more fun to do something completely new and he still wondered what one could find in the trash. Sometimes he would even find one single earring - a beautiful piece of gold and ruby - or other valuable things, maybe thrown away after or in some quarrel by people who did not consider these things valuable.

There was a certain clientele - mainly young rich bored men - who liked the things Erik made because they were "unique" and some even called them "avantgarde", especially the clocks with the different music for each hour.

But with the good money the shop made, more trouble came, not with other shopkeepers or the small cafe for they actually hoped that the customers who would come to buy fancy watches would visit their shops at well, but with the other people in the house. They started rumors that the shop was really a meeting point for the bosses of criminal community and the watches, toys and music boxes just a way to smuggle forbidden weapons, drugs or dirty money from one criminal boss to another. Nothing of that was true, but a man in a mask who was aided by three idiots and hid most of the time in his workshop was truly suspicious.

The people there did not attack Erik directly, they would never stoop so low, but they surely knew how to cause trouble. It started with rumors that he was a criminal and the half-mask served to conceal his identity for he was a boss in the underworld and a scar on his cheek would identify him. Well, this rumor was nothing new to Erik, he chose to ignore it. The next rumor came up as he started to dress in better clothing, especially due to the fact that he had to deal with customers, even if he hated it. Now they thought he was after the youngest of girls and the mask and the toys and music boxes were simply to lure little children into his workshop. Nothing of this was true, but all the rumors finally became complaints to the police, something no one could ignore.

Clemenceau was forced to have a look at the situation and found nothing wrong with the little shop. Erik wearily asked him to have the police search the store for any suspicious objects and they found none - not even the umbrella with the hidden gun Erik had build. They mistook it for a normal umbrella.

When this did not help, the other tenants in this block of flats complained to the landlord that they did no longer feel save and it was too loud and of course the good reputation of him was in danger if he allowed a group of criminals to run their shop there. The landlord, who was a personal friend of Gontier, did not just cancel the contract but asked his friend if there were any problems.

Gontier hadn't known about any problems for Erik would never ask anyone for help, this would be like admitting weakness, and Madame Buquet was too scared of having to move back to the slums if she did. He decided to meet them in the shop and talk with the landlord and with his employees if there really had been trouble.

It was a cold evening before Christmas. Not even three month, Erik thought bitterly, and everyone in the neighborhood wants to see me expelled. Not even three months.

They sat together in the small shop, Gontier was admiring a special music box with a tiny clock. Every hour the music box would play a soft tune and two figures would dance to the tune, moving around the plate in a different way each hour. Erik leaned against the counter, Madame Buquet sat at her seat behind the counter. The shop's furniture was like a barrier against customers, Gontier noticed. The place for the customers was right after they came through the door. It was nice, with couch to sit on and paper flowers. But the counter was massive and like a barrier. The shelves with the goods were behind the counter. This would make it more difficult to steal something, quite a good idea. If someone wanted something, the shopkeeper would have to get it and put it in the counter.

"So, the other tenants are complaining," the landlord started.

"About what?" Erik snorted, "The noise? What noise? This workshop had been a shoemaker's before, this caused far more noise than my work. Yes, I have a tiny upright piano, but I do not have time to play it often, maybe one or two hours a week and I doubt they would even hear that. Or is it the rumor about me abducting and raping small children again? Nothing of that is true, I never harmed any child!"

"Yes, they do feel intimidated by you," the landlord confirmed.

"Intimidated?"Erik had trouble to control his temper, "They had less reason to fear me if they left me in peace!"

"It is not just you they complain about," the landlord stated and looked at Madame Buquet.

The poor woman suddenly cried out: "Yes, they complain about me and my children! I know what happens - their children threaten and pummel mine almost every day on their way home from school, their children play cruel tricks and then blame mine - and I dare not defend them, I know they are innocent but I fear the situation would escalate. Every day I have to clean something up or repair something - and every day I have to wash the cruel words they write on the windows with lipsticks or dirt off! Yesterday a boy pissed in the staircase and blamed my children - I had to clean it up, but I know it was the teacher's boy from the third floor. But no one believed that a well-educated boy would do that - participate in a pissing game in the staircase! In the slums my children were pummeled and called snobs because they went to school - here they are pummeled because they are just scum from the gutter. But I see the bruises, see their tears each and every day and there is nothing I can do!" She buried her face in her arms, half-lying on the counter now, and cried.

Erik turned to her. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked softly, his voice slightly quavering.

"What good would that do?" Madame Buquet sobbed, "What could you possibly do?"

Erik kept quiet. He knew that there were things he could do - but they were neither legal nor did he really want that. Of course he could give them the monster everyone believed him to be, but that would only get him in even more trouble. "I'm sorry you share in my fate now," he said softly and reached out as if he wanted to touch her in a gesture of comfort, but thought better of it and clasped his hands behind his back.

"These are serious accusations," the landlord stated.

"Yes, I know. They could get me in prison, the wife of the lawyer, second floor vis-a-vis told me. But they are true and if you don't believe me, go ahead, throw me out," Madame Buquet replied miserably. She had lost all hope.

Erik sighed and shook his head. He and his three friends could hide themselves most time so they were not the main targets for the neighborhood. He had never thought they would take their hatred against him out on the Buquet children. But it was logical - Erik himself was nearly unreachable and he was a grown up man and quite strong. It was not so easy to attack him, he would fight back. But the children couldn't defend themselves.

"Maybe we should just give in and move out," Madame Buquet sighed.

"Do you really think it would be better somewhere else?" Erik replied bitterly, "It won't. This is how I lived all my life. No matter where I go, it is always the same. Do you think it does not hurt if children throw stones and dirt at me? Do you think it does not hurt when they call the police two times a day because they thought they might have seen me watching their daughters? At least I do not have to fight them every so often."

"No, my children get the beatings!"

"They are children!" Erik snapped, "It is normal that they get beaten each day. It is only bruises and damaged clothes - that is nothing! They did not loose teeth, eyes or have broken bones or a concussion. They are lucky, do you know that?" He noticed how everyone just stared at him in shock. Had he said something wrong? It took him a moment to realize that not everyone would consider it normal for a child to be pummeled each day and consider it lucky if it was just bruises and nothing serious. "At least that is my experience," he added awkwardly.

"This is not what I want my children to grow up like," Madame Buquet stated firmly, looking Erik straight in the eyes, causing him to turn away awkwardly.

"But business runs well," Gontier cut in. He hated women to become so tearful. Why couldn't females keep a straight face and swallow their feelings like men did?

"Yes it does," Erik confirmed bitterly, "Better than I thought it would. But this is not due to the fact that I have unique craftsmanship to offer - no, I think many of the customers would pay ridiculous high prices just for the thrill of having tea with a murderer. The upper class reads newspapers and they think they know who I am - a criminal mastermind who tricked his way out of jail."

Gontier cocked his head and thought about it. "Maybe you should consider making a business of that," he suggested, "Getting paid for attending to a party."

"No!" Erik exclaimed horrified, "Never!"

"Gontier, you are my friend and I trust you. If you tell me these people are decent people working for you I have no problem with them. But... we have to do something about the complaints of the other tenants. I can't ignore that," the landlord said.

Gontier sighted. "I understand, my friend, business is business. Just give me time to find a new..."

"NO!" Erik shouted and slammed his fist at the counter, "I won't run. I will not allow them to drive me away by attacking small children. I won't!"

"Then what are you going to do?" Gontier asked, "And please spare us your jokes about killing them all."

"I have no idea," Erik admitted, "But if you give me a chance, I will try my best. All I ask for is some time to think."

"No rash actions," Gontier sternly demanded, "And nothing without consulting Dr. Benevole and Clemenceau first."

The landlord raised his eyebrows and gave his friend Gontier a very suspicious glance. Why would the masked man - who had been presented to him as a honorable man who had done nothing wrong and just had the misfortune of having to live with a mask due to an accident - have to consult a doctor and a magistrate before doing anything? He would have to demand some answers from his friend.

Erik clenched his teeth. He hated being treated like a child who had to ask his guardians permission for each and every step in his life and he hated all the more that he knew that Gontier was right in this. He could easily make things worse, so he would ask the doctor, but only the doctor.

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Erik is rejected by the better society again. It was to be expected, but what he did not think about was that others would be rejected too.

Please review. Have a nice weekend. I'm going to post the next chapter next week.