Perros

Sunlight streams through the tall windows and the skylights in the Eyrie. The days are growing shorter so Gustave starts his day early with the Sun, a sheet of paper stretched out on the drafting table, a jar of charcoal sticks, another of pencils and, yet another of colored chalk sit beside the bottle of India ink next to the drawing in progress.

"Hardly architectural tools," Erik comments as he looks over his son's shoulder at the drawing he is working on. "Your sketch is really quite good…excellent, I should say."

"You like it, Papa?" Hazel eyes look to see the same validation on his father's face he hears in his voice. This is a new adventure for Gustave – free-style drawing – moving perhaps as far away from the precise lines and measurements required when planning even the smallest of attractions.

When the idea about a boating ride was brought up – the first thing coming to his mind was a sailboat with a billowing mainsail riding atop glorious waves, capped in white – a clear blue sky the perfect background.

"I do – this is your vision for the boating attraction?"

"Yes…and no," Gustave says, laying down the cerulean blue stick, wiping his hands on a small towel. "I am not sure what I am envisioning would be a suitable ride for Phantasma. I should think a stationary Pirate ship or something of the like would be more in character."

"A pirate ship does sound like fun – think of the automatons we could create to pop out of doorways or walls to frighten our guests."

"Exactly," Gustave agrees. "Raoul's dream is more about the open sea and rides for small parties."

The buzzer rings.

"Speak of the devil, as they say," Erik says. "I suspect that is the vicomte now."

Raoul walks into the main room, covering his eyes from the light. "Goodness, it is bright in here," he says, "I do not recall this room ever having so much light."

"I have been drawing and the Sun is the best light to use – that is why I asked you to be here so early."

"Good morning, by the way," Raoul says, "I am afraid this is a bit early for me, I seem to have left some of my manners behind under the covers."

Erik laughs. "I totally agree. While Phantasma is open during the day – I find it more entertaining at night. Then, there is the opera, of course – theater being an evening entertainment."

"If you want an attraction involving boat rides – it would have to be during the day."

"You are quite right, I suppose," Raoul says. "May I see what you have drawn?"

"It is hardly done – a work in progress…"

"This is quite good – even as a work in progress – I am impressed. It reminds me a little of Perros."

Gustave stands back taking in his sketch. "Yes, I suppose it does. I was actually using the beach on the other side of the pier as a model. I like it because the pier acts as a natural wall to a lot of people, so that area is less populated."

"Perros is where you met Christine," Erik comments.

"Yes – we…my family vacationed there. Her father was playing at the inn.

"Is this what you had in mind?"

"It is, but I am not sure this is appropriate to your park."

"What we were just discussing," Erik says.

"So, my idea will not work?"

"Not as an attraction for Phantasma," Erik replies. "We were thinking a Pirate Ship, though. A galleon – I think would be necessary if used as an attraction. Had you not mentioned boats, we might not have considered a new adventure."

"Having said that," Gustave says. "what about small party boat rides?

"We could easily carry ten to twelve people on the ketch you have drawn."

"I was thinking more in terms of volume – not on the Atlantic – at least not for inexperienced guests in any event. The liability would be too great. The object is how many people we can move through the ride in the shortest amount of time in the safest way. Cost is always an issue – to give them a fun time for a reasonable sum and make a profit."

"I was thinking of France."

"Rightly so – and I am certain there is a market for what you have to offer. I do think something could be worked out – a real thrill, not something we have to conjure up. We can still look at it as an activity the hotel might offer – I suspect this was what you were used to in Perros."

"We had our own sailboat," Raoul responds. "Remember how we would catch the wind and fly over the water.

"I was always afraid."

"Were you? I do not recall you saying anything," Raoul says.

"I wanted to learn how to swim, but no one would teach me." A film of tears form in his eyes. "I hated it."

"I was not aware – I am sorry – truly, Gustave," Raoul responds, resting his hand on the boy's arm. "Some of my happiest times were spent there – I wish that had been the same for you."

Gustave shrugs his shoulder – Raoul removes his hand.

Erik says, "Perhaps you can give Gustave some ideas about a sport we can offer to our hotel guests – those who would appreciate sailing. The daily visitors enjoy the rides – those staying for a week or more would have both the time and money for your idea."

Gustave puts the drawing he was working on to one side on a table next to the drafting board.

Pulling it toward him, Erik asks, "May I have this, son?"

"Really?"

"Yes, I should like to have it framed – we need a new piece in the conservatory and this would be most suitable."

"Papa!" The boy jumps up to hug his father.

"I would imagine you could sell any number of those," Raoul says. "Who would have thought you had such gifts contained within you?"

"Maman – she always encouraged me," Gustave replies. There is no doubt he received no such encouragement from his father – the man he believed to be is father.

"Yes, of course," Raoul says in a rush. "I missed out on so much during those years. At least I am having some sort of second chance to know you and appreciate you. Now, let us see what we can come up with so I might make a contribution to Phantasma."

"I shall leave the two of you to your work," Erik says. "I will be taking this with me. Let us meet for lunch in the main dining room. That should give you several hours to come up with some ideas we can present to Nadir, Madame Giry and your mother."

"The whole family?"

"Yes – including Meg and Darius – so long as they are married," Erik says. "At some point, it would behoove you to address that issue."

"This did get botched up, did it not?"

"You would know of those things," Erik says, turning on his heel, patting the portfolio carrying the sketch. "Gustave, once again, good work."

Gustave eyes Raoul, still flustered from the last comment his father made.

"Do you want me to make some drawings of sail boats large enough to carry a number of passengers including a crew? We would also need a dock."

He pulls out some photographs for Raoul to look at.

"I hope we can figure a way to offer sailboat rides – utilizing my skills…that sort of thing."

"As Papa said, when dealing with Phantasma you have to think in volume – how many people can a ride or attraction handle in a certain period of time – every person pays a fare and we need to get our money's worth. None of the fares is much money, so numbers count. Ten or twelve people on a half-hour sail – well, we would have to charge a lot of money for that – the cost of the boat alone. We would need to hire a crew – what other services would you provide?

"You are quite a businessman – in addition to being an artist and musician."

"Papa taught me. He built all this from a freak show – with him as the main freak."

"I sorely underestimated him all those years ago," Raoul says.

"You underestimate him now," Gustave laughs. "He wants us to be friends – much as he hates the idea. He wants me to have a relationship with you. He is grateful to you."

"You think so?"

"I know so…he loves my mother and she once loved you – he hates that, too, but he is trying to make peace in his own heart – so he will welcome your foolish idea and ask me and Squelch and anyone else he can think of to make it work for you."

"You still think I am a fool?"

"You were full of self-pity when I was with you – I see that now. I see it in Meg. Create all sorts of mischief and then cry poor me. My father was tormented his entire life because of his face – he became mean and angry and fought back. You were pampered and petted and when confronted crumbled."

"You do not think a person can change?"

"Of course I do – I have watched my father change."

"But not me?"

"What has changed – you come to us with an idea that will allow you to indulge in a favorite sport of yours and get paid for it."

"So what do you think might be a better idea?"

"Help us with the Pirate ship – you do know more about ships and the sea than any of us – your bonus would be the sailboats you really want – which is not a bad idea – it was successful in Perros."

"That seems fair," Raoul says, "the Pirate ship actually sounds like it might be fun."

"You would help with the design and the building – we all pitch in with that."

"Dirty my hands, is that what you are trying to say."

"Not trying – that is what I am saying."

"Phillippe misjudged you."

"Because I played the piano?"

"Something like that."

"Then it is likely he misjudged you as well – trouble is you believed him."

"I did. Yes, I did." Raoul sighs. "I was thrust upon him – when my mother died, my father went into a depression – ignored all of us, not just me. Phillippe had to be the father to me and my sisters. I suppose he resented missing out on his own childhood."

"I am sorry about your mother…and your father. I suppose I am rather lucky to have Maman and two fathers – not that you are filling the role – still I was never without one. I always wished I could be a better son – do something to make you proud of me."

"I suppose I was too caught up in my own disappointment – saying I am sorry is unlikely to heal any wounds, but I shall say it nonetheless," Raoul sighs. "I am sorry. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to redeem myself.

"Well, here is your second chance," Gustave says, pulling another chair over to the drafting table. "Take a seat – can you draw at all?"

"Actually, I can," he says, picking a stick of charcoal from one of the jars. Taking his time, he sketches out a reasonable rendition of a pirate ship. "I have always loved the sea and all sorts of ships."

"I remember you said something about joining the Navy."

"I was to fulfill a commission two weeks after I found your mother again – it did not look good for our family that I did not do my duty. Phillippe had to pull some strings for me to keep my title – one is expected to give service to the crown to maintain one's noble status."

"You loved her very much."

"I did…I still do."

"Are you going to marry Meg?"

"If a divorce can be arranged – for some reason Darius is resisting," Raoul says. "It is complicated."

Gustave studies Raoul's face. Despite the years, physically, he has changed little from the man he lived with for ten years. A few strands of gray mingle with the blond waves, but his face is unlined. So many of the workers at Phantasma struggle with alcohol. Nadir still works for the city keeping track of alcohol sales and he makes certain that every shop is in line with the law, so whatever the men are drinking comes from outside.

He believes Raoul is no longer indulging, maybe that is the reason he does not bear the same dull skin and dissipation of the workman. One could imagine him courting his mother if he looked then as he does now. Gustave never gave much thought to their romance – when she loved and married him. Of course there is the question of whether she still loved him when she married him. Despite their efforts to explain the machinations of their relationship – Gustave never quite understood what went on.

His life here with Papa – knowing him and loving him – opened his life to what family was – seeing what he missed in those early years. The two of them…three, actually, because Maman was also an orphan of sorts – not experiencing a real home – made a family. The past – those years in Paris meant little to him now.

Still, Raoul had him curious. A while back, he found a copy of the Oscar Wilde novel – The Picture of Dorian Gray – and he immediately thought of Raoul – his youthful look, his libidinous life. The vicomte telling him he was an artist, reminded him of his musings when reading the book. He chuckles at the thought of a portrait hanging in a locked room somewhere of Raoul looking rancid and syphilitic.

"You think my comment amusing?" Raoul asks.

"I think you are amusing," Gustave replies. "You always get into trouble, but manage to find a way out."

"You think I do not suffer for my misdeeds?"

"Do you?"

"My heart aches every day over losing your mother – nothing in life has much value to me."

"You created the problems long before we came here – so stop pretending everything is Papa's fault."

Raoul's face breaks into what is more sneer than smile. "Your papa almost killed me."

"Yes, I know, but he did not follow through – you also wanted him dead – so I would say that is a draw," Gustave says. "I know he was not a good man much of his life. Like I said earlier he is trying to make up for his past. I am not so sure you are."

"Bold words."

"Prove me wrong." The young man stares at the older one. A wave a gratitude floods through him and he smiles. "Let us look at these plans and make some notes."

"Sounds fine," Raoul says. "Rather than build a boat, we might check the boatyards up and down the coast to see if we can find something we can convert – to save money and time."

"I like that idea."

"I have some others," Raoul says. "Boats and the sea are two things I do know and have experience with – perhaps that will suffice as my contrition for the past – or at least show you I am sincere in my desire to change."

After a light knock on the door, Erik waits permission to enter.

"Come," Christine says. A wide smile brightens her face when she sees his reflection in her vanity. "I miss the days when you entered my dressing room through the wall mirror."

"Do you? It would take some doing – I designed those passages when the Garnier was being built for easy access for the repairmen."

"How unromantic," she pouts. "I am, however, pleased you found a better use for them."

"Your memory has become quite selective, Madame," Erik says, walking to her Cheval glass, running a hand over the oval walnut frame. "In any event, I would have a difficult time squeezing myself through this specimen – hardly a dashing, much less romantic, figure come to steal you away."

"Yes, I suppose the door is better – for both of us – I still have my memories, though," she sighs. Picking an earring of sapphire circled with small diamonds from her jewelry box, she puts it on, the mate already gracing the other ear. "I was not expecting you. Were you not going to have a meeting with Gustave and Raoul about the boats and what not?"

Resting the portfolio against the chaise, he moves to the vanity, leaning over to kiss her on the neck, he says running a fingertip along her spine, "I decided to leave them to themselves. Will not hurt either one of them to spend some time together."

Shivering slightly at his touch, she stroking his cheek with the back of her hand, laughing, "I hope it does not come to blows."

"I suspect they would be verbal and Gustave needs to speak to Raoul himself – he avoids him at every opportunity and it is unhealthy seeing as how the man is going to part of our life now."

Rising from the bench, she faces him. "You have been reading those psychology books again."

"He just seems ready to explode every time the vicomte is around and maybe he will get some things off his chest," Erik says. "And you…backless?" Taking her shoulders he holds her at arm's length to examine the blush pink chiffon gown she plans to wear for her performances at the ballroom during the fall and winter season. The bodice a panel of blue lace the same shade as her earrings, encrusted with crystals circles her waist becoming a triangular panel draped over her hip. "I rather like the way your arms are exposed – the fabric is elegant, yet alluring draped that way."

"So you like it?" She says, posing for him, swinging her hips as she turns so the crystals sparkle in the light.

"Your ankles are showing."

"There are pantaloons – my legs are covered," she says holding out one leg for him to examine. "It is the newest fashion – no more corsets or bustles," she says. "I suppose it is a little risqué, but I am singing romantic music in a ballroom – one must provide atmosphere."

"You will certainly do that."

"So it has your approval."

"I was not aware you were asking for my approval – but, yes, I think it is quite lovely and you make it stunning."

"What is in the portfolio?"

"A drawing Gustave made." He opens the leather case and removes the sketch. "I thought we could put it in the conservatory."

Christine's breath catches as she ghosts her fingertips across the drawing. "Oh, Erik, it is wonderful – I had no idea he was so gifted." Unable to look away, a memory forming in her mind's eye. "This is the boat at Perros – Gustave must have drawn it from memory from the trips we made when he was a child. If memory serves, I believe it was the same boat Raoul sailed when he was younger."

"Perros? I see," Erik says, laying the drawing on the coffee table. "Happy times?"

"Not especially – not then, anyway."

"When you first met Raoul?" His voice tight, fingers pressing a strident melody against his thighs he turns away from her toward the armoire, ostensibly to pour himself a glass of water.

Christine cocks her head, following him, she strokes his back. "Yes, when I first met Raoul – you knew we met as children."

Finishing his drink he moves away from her again, positioning himself next to the chaise, his full attention directed to her dressing table.

"That summer was one of the few times I had someone my own age to talk to – to play with, if you will."

"You played games?" Each word clipped.

"Of sorts, mostly we listened to stories my father told us – or he would play his violin," she says, her voice soft, hands folded in front of her as she simply observes, no longer attempting to approach him.

"Did you sing?"

"I suppose I did," she says.

"Did your father like him?" Each question spit out flat…toneless.

"Yes. He did. He was happy I could be with someone my own age," she says, moving to the chaise, sitting down, looking up at him. "Raoul had no friends – I had no friends. We listened to the stories and music. When his family would go out in the boat, he would wave at me."

"You did not go on the boat?"

"Not until we were married."

"You were not treated as a friend by his family?"

Christine's laugh is as harsh as it is abrupt – her music is absent. "Is this an inquisition?" Crossing her legs, she folds her hands around her knees. "We were vagabonds, Erik. Raoul was punished for spending so much time with Pappa and me. Nothing changed much once we were older. I was not one of them – as neither childhood friend nor adult wife."

"I had not intended this to be a trial." He shifts his focus from the wall to her face. "You make me feel almost sorry for him."

"As we discovered the other evening – the three of us had rather lonely childhoods. Yours was by far the worst – yet we all suffered in our own way. It was a few weeks one summer. We fell in love – as children often do. When we met again, we believed we could recreate that love."

Erik turns, his cheek wet with tears. The tension holding him rigid relaxes its grip and he crumbles onto the chaise next to her.

Christine cradles him close to her, stroking his face.

"I am sorry. There are times when the jealousy still overwhelms me. I wish I could have been at that seaside with you."

"You are here at this seaside with me now. No one is going to take that away from either one of us."

"You do not miss him?"

"Not at all – what a silly thought, father of my children, love of my life. My angel of music. Once you appeared, there could be no one else. I hope someday you will accept that," she says, kissing him softly, before rising from the chaise. "In the meantime, we are mussing my gown and I should like to take it off."

Flustered at her abrupt shift from consolation to practicality, Erik follows her lead, standing up, ordering his clothing, wringing his hands unsure of what he is supposed to do. "Of course, I interrupted you, I just wanted to show you this piece and it seems I created another tempest in a teapot."

"Undo the hooks for me, would you?" Christine asks, turning her back to him.

Fumbling with his assigned task, he takes a deep breath, willing himself to regain his composure. "It really is a lovely gown, did I tell you that?"

Facing him again, she slides the gown from her shoulders revealing a delicate corset. "Would you mind hanging up my gown?" she asks, stepping away from the frothy chiffon, handing it to him..

"Not at all." He fumbles with the gown, shaking it lightly before hanging it on her dressing screen. "Is there anything else…"

Whatever he was planning to say eludes him. The vision of his wife standing in front of him – her breasts bound in a brassiere little more than a bandeau and short panties trimmed in ruffled lace – belies any words he might wish to say other than, "Christine?"

"Now you." She commands, posed with a hand perched saucily on her hip.

"Christine?"

"Is that all you are going to say – my name over and over?" Strutting toward him, she takes hold of his lapels and pulls his jacket from his shoulders.

"Can I safely assume you are no longer disappointed in my doubting you?"

"I would say that is the case, you foolish man," she laughs. "Now disrobe and take me before I become the one feeling foolish."

"By all means, my lady."