I own some things, but none of the things you know.
Raoul needs to get drunk and he needs to get drunk now. He feels hot and cold inside and sharp electricity intermittently explodes inside his chest and it wrecks his spine.
"Hello, I'd like to have all the alcohol please." Says a playful voice.
Raoul looks up, he knows that voice. It's Meg. She is wearing black sequin shorts, and a white bodice top. She leans into the bar,
"Hang on, I believe you heard me say, "give me a glass of wine," but what I really said was, I want all of your potent potables," she winks and clicks her tongue.
She spins around and rests against the counter of the bar next to Raoul.
"Hey, Rally Lulu." She smiles. He nods at her, and then tries to get lost in his misery. Meg elbows him in the shoulder.
"No need for Mr. Grumpy Face." Meg voice is low and exaggerated.
"I need to forget today, yesterday, tomorrow." He hangs his head and moves the glass in front of him.
He is on his third glass of whiskey, his face feels flushed, he is sure it is red, and he may get sick soon. He brain is on a turntable and it will not stop spinning.
"The present is just a pleasant interruption from the past." Her voice is a pleasant melody.
"If you say so." He scoffs. He pushes the glass too much and it moves forward and off the bar.
"I can spell confusion with a K. Rally Lulu you need to learn to have fun. You're lucky we've met, because I am a Madam Doctor Professor of fun."
"You're what?"
He does not have much time to contemplate this, Meg grabs his shoulders, gets him off the stool and leads him out of the bar.
They are outside and he would be just as fine if the ground swallowed him up or if something struck him down. Or if He killed him.
Meg whistles. His attention won, she winks, gives him the, stay here gesture, and seemingly bumps into a stranger. She holds onto their hands and greets them jovially.
"Oh, my cake! I thought it was you! It has been ages! How are you doing?"
"Excuse me, Miss?"
"We really must catch up sometime!" Meg steps away, backwards back to Raoul where he waits on the corner confused.
The confused stranger recovers and continues their merry way. Meg holds up a wristwatch and shakes it, presenting it to Raoul.
"It's not stealing if you want it more." She winks.
"That is absolutely stealing. You just stole." He shakes his head, he may be bitter and close to drunk, but he still has some sense of morality.
"No, because I want it more."
"That's not how it works."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"It's stealing."
"No! You're supposed to say 'No', and then I say' No', and you say 'Yes' and I win."
"Does that ever work?"
"Yes. Once."
"I would like very much to be alone now."
Meg grabs onto his arm and pulls him along. He's trying to remain the gentleman but it's being increasingly difficult to keep the temperament.
"Let's go for a walk among the stars, do you know how to shoot pool?"
"I don't."
"Great! It is a very lucrative hobby. Once you get past the math, hate math."
After several minutes of walking and crossing streets and back alleys, she leads Raoul into a new bar establishment. The atmosphere is heavy with smoke, and she pulls him along to the pool table.
The patrons know her, Raoul notices. She is greeted by the rough looking men with cheers and jeers. She waves. Meg is the only female here, Raoul notes.
"Rally Lulu here is a pool virgin, so I'ma teach him how it's done."
"You're lucky Rally Lulu," says an older man with no front teeth," she's the best damn hustler on the island. The amount of money I've lost!" He slaps Raoul roughly in the shoulder and howls with laughter, his companions agree.
"My name is actually—"
Meg whistles and waves for Raoul to come over to her. She has already set the game up, and she is stripes.
"I'm stripes, your solid. The white ball is what you use to hit the other balls. You ignore the black one for now. You want to get all of your balls into the pocket."
"Right. You said math was involved?"
"Angles and geometry."
"Anything else?"
"Probably but figuring it out on our own is the fun bit." She shoulder bumps him with hers and laughs.
It does not take Raoul too long discover he is terrible at pool, and that he is a sore loser. He removes his jacket, rolls up his sleeves and demands rematch, after rematch.
His skill increases slightly each time and his thoughts of Christine and Him are pushed further and further back each minute. He is no longer bitter about those two, at least, for now, in this moment.
He is annoyed, annoyed that Meg seems to be some sort of trickster goddess. She's won every match. How does she make it look so easy, when he's about to lose his mind with frustration. He has no money or other capital to bet and yet he keeps demanding a rematch.
"Rally Lulu it's almost 2 AM. I fig we should call it a night, the bar is closing."
"One more game." He narrows his eyes. Meg shakes her head and grabs his arm.
"The bar is closing, we don't have to go home, but we can't stay here."
"How'd you get so good at pool?"
"Practice. Observing. Losing."
"I want to punch something until all that's left is a sticky paste."
"I would like a soft pretzel, Good thing I can help with both."
Raoul does not want to be back here. He feels sick, angry, still wants to kick, to hit, to punch something until he's nothing and there is nothing left. Meg pulls him along, talking nonsense, and he doesn't care, he hears nothing.
"Pretzel!" She shoves one into his chest. His accepts but does not eat. She jumps backwards, and then leans forward, her arms are raised, and her hands are balled into fists.
"Who're we fighting!" She moves forwards and backwards, awaiting a command.
"What?"
"You said you wanted to have a rumble, so?"
Raoul knows that previously he did not spend that much time with Meg, and Christine did tell him that she could be quite unusual, but this is ridiculous.
"Oh! Meggles is back! And She's in fight mode! We got a rumble?"
"I don't know, he won't tell me!"
"This is ridiculous." Raoul says. He tears a piece off from his pretzel with his teeth.
"So, no rumble tumble?" Meg asks, feigning disappointment. He shakes his head. Being back here, his misery sucker punches him.
"I know you're in a lot of pain right now Rally Lulu, but I need you to remember this," Meg leans in close, "In fifty years you'll be dead and none of this will matter."
Raoul had not expected that, he is thrown off. He drops the pretzel. He frowns. He really wanted to eat that. Meg kisses his cheek.
"You need an escort to your suite?"
He shakes his head. She smiles and shoots the guns at him as she walks backwards.
"Remember! You'll be dead and none of this will matter!" She runs off into the shadows.
The next day Raoul tries to find a way to distract himself. More alcohol, anything.
"Oh yeah, we'll you're so ugly fluorine won't bond with you!" Raoul pauses. He hears raucous laughter, and Meg's voice. He follows it.
"Oh, oh! Chemistry burn!"
"You did not just say that!"
"What you did there, I saw it."
Meg is surrounded by several workers and well, Freaks. They seem to be having a joke off. Meg is at the epicenter.
"Okay, okay. I got one. Hey, Meg, does this smell like chloroform?" Meg playfully leans into the offered hand.
Meg smile widens when she Raoul and waves him over,
"Rally Lulu, do you have 11 protons?"
He blinks.
"Why?"
"Because you're sodium fine!"
This causes boisterous laughter.
"You did not!"
"That's great!"
Raoul smiles despite himself. He walks over and joins the group. He forgets about his misery and the ill of his universe.
"Two atoms are walking along, one says, hey I think I lost an electron. The other atom asks, are you sure? The first one says, I'm positive." Raoul says. He does not know much about jokes, but he did like that one.
"Not bad," Meg says. Her friends nod in agreement.
"Did you hear about the sick chemist?" The others shake their head and say no.
"If you can't helium and you can't curium, you'll probably have to barium."
The group chuckles, not a great amusement, but it is something. Raoul wishes he knew more jokes. He makes a mental note to do research.
"How do you know the moon is broke? It's down to its last quarter." Meg smiles, her tongue poking through her teeth. Meg looks at her wrist, she's wearing the watch that she wanted more, and clicks her tongue.
"Shows on, the breaks over. You know the rules. Get to your places, we'll meet up for poker at mine, yeah?" The group breaks and everyone goes off into different directions.
"Today is my day off." Meg says to Raoul.
"Is it?"
"You know, you and I should have an adventure. You still have That Face. If you do not smile soon, it is going to become Resting Dick Face. You do not want, and there are not enough masks to go around to hide it. Trust me. He has them locked up."
Meg starts to walk, and she twirls, and motions for Raoul to follow her.
"Let's see what chaos we can unleash! Let's go to hell and keep it hot!"
He follows her along. They leave the circus and go back more towards the city itself.
"Lets see, hm. Lets find something unusual and quirky."
"Such as?"
"A purple dog!"
"A, what?"
She runs along the sidewalk and he follows her, she stops. She presses herself against the outside of the building.
"Now we wait and observe. Then we move on."
They wait. People pass, no strange or unusual colored dogs. Meg sighs, she nods to him, time to move on. She twirls as she walks and moves to the left to right, she is always dancing. The world is her dancefloor.
"The arch in your brow can tell the truth, just imagine what your back can do! The dance floor where I do my best is your, your mattress, ho!" She twirls and shoulder bumps Raoul.
"You're not like the other women I know."
"Do you know a lot of women?" She arches a brow.
"I-the women I'm acquainted with, they wouldn't do or say the things you do. You are not quite what I would say is vulgar, but that, what was that about the mattress? It would be inappropriate."
"Do you like those stuffy women?"
"I do not. They are as you said, stuffy. Ridged. I feel like I am in a nunnery and need to walk on eggshells. Everything I say or do will—
"Give them the vapors?" She waves her hand, trying to cool off. He nods.
"Speak freely Rally Lulu, life is too short to take offense to everyone. And you, know," she waves with her hand for him to take it away:
"We'll be dead in 50 years."
"Exactly! And none of this will matter."
"I hate the duties and responsibilities of my title. Even as a kid, all I wanted to do was get in the dirt and play with other boys, mess with girls. The best time of my life was when I met Christine. I jumped into the ocean to save her scarf, I knew it would irritate my governess, which it did, and then I got the chance to talk someone not my governess."
"You didn't get to play with others?"
Raoul shakes his head. He does not have too many fond memories growing up. He was raised to look down at others who were not from money, wealth, or nobility. This is what Catherine must have felt. He hates to think that Heathcliff would be Christine.
"Christine isn't my best friend. She was literally my only friend. Mother kept me by her side all the time. All. The. Time. I basically grew up at the Opera Populaire. Once I started to wander off and find magic doors, she basically tied to me a chair."
"Christine said you would read gothic novels and told dark stories to scare the others."
"Yes, but that was only to scare Sorelli. She kept stepping on my toes during rehearsals."
"How would that stop her from stepping on your toes?"
"Because of the panic attack, that would happen after I hid behind the magic door in the dressing room, and hissed, "boo," at her, when she walked by."
"So, Opera Populaire had two ghosts." Raoul finds this amusing. He does not know or care where Meg and he are walking, he is enjoying himself and doesn't want it to end.
"I prefer specter or spirit. I'm classic and refined."
"Of course."
They link arms and continue to walk to a nameless and unknown place.
"Here we go," Meg gestures to the body of water.
"Here we go, what?"
"A swimming hole!" She removes Raoul's jacket from him and nods her head to the water.
"This is not a public pool."
"Exactly, it's your private pool."
"Meg," he swallows slowly. His brain screaming at him about everything that is improper about this.
"What did we determine?"
"None of this will matter in 50 years," he sighs.
"And so, get to it! Feel the cool healing waters!"
"After you," he says, he could not help himself. He feels a sting of heat, he didn't mean to say that, and he lost temporary control of his mind.
"Hm." Meg drops the jacket; she marches forward and runs before launching herself into the water.
Raoul waits. There are no police of the prime and proper code screaming their way. No sirens. No alarms. Just them in this moment.
Raoul starts off walking, before his pace eventually picks up to a run. He jumps and he as he resurfaces, he can feel pressure of society roll of his shoulders like water. It feels good and a little bit naughty.
Meg splashes water at him.
"You lived."
He splashes her back.
"So, I have."
"I used to take my ex here." Meg stops herself. For the first time since they spent time together, the cool confidence of Meg leaves her face and affect. Raoul does not like it; he wants to press for more information.
"Yeah?"
She nods. She dives under water and stays under for a minute before surfacing behind Raoul and splashing him.
"I think you're on to something," Raoul floats on his back and starts to swim," I do feel a kind of healing."
"Want to shoot pool later? We can train you to be a proper hustler!"
"I'd like that."
They do not return for several hours. Their clothing still wet from the water activities. Fleck runs up to Meg as soon as she spots her.
"Where have you been?! This is the second night you skipped your performance! He's going to notice, you know!"
Meg looks at Raoul.
"It's your fault for the nun. I told you. I told you!" Meg crosses her arms and turns her head. Something takes over Raoul's mind and tongue:
"I would like to think it would have been a minor incident if you hadn't involved yourself with the priest." He flicks a droplet of water from his shoulder her way.
"I maintain he did that to himself." Meg snap and glares at him, he returns the favor.
"So, he jumped out the window?" Raoul again, has no idea where these words are coming from, but they make sense and go with the flow of their dance.
"Obviously! He's Catholic, he probably thought he needed to save someone." She uncrosses her arms, arms at her sides. She has her attention on him.
"Of course."
They have their hands on their hips and have a glare off. Eyes narrowed, and they look like quite the murderous pair.
Fleck wants to hit them both.
"Enough! Whatever! Get cleaned up! I do not care, the stress of you is going to kill me! If Erik doesn't do it first." Fleck wanders off in a misery.
Meg and Raoul continue to glare for another second before they break off into laughter.
"Where did that come from? What nun?"
"Same question via the priest and the window?"
He shook his head.
"Felt natural."
"Yeah."
They start walking again.
"We should be partners! Like a double act, it would be grand. We work well off each other. You'd have to stop moping, we'd get paid, you and Christine can work out issues,"
"Double act of what? What would we do?"
"I used to be a magician's assistant! Another ex, but he taught me everything he knows, and left me his book on his 'art,' and all of his magic."
"What happened with this ex?"
"And now my for next trick," Meg waves her hands in a circular motion before they drop to her side," I shall disappear!"
"He did, I take it?"
"Haven't see him for three years, the bastard."
"And you would be the magician, in this double act?"
"Yes! We could do other things. Could be an adult act."
"You could steal the small clothes of the audience, with your deft hands. You want her bra more." Raoul meant that to be jest. Meg's eye grew wide and wet with anticipation and desire.
"Yes! Yes! We will do that! So many details to work out!" She grabs his hands and pulls him along.
Meg fumbles with the door to her tiny suite and pulls Raoul inside. She runs to her nightstand, sits on the bed, pats it, Raoul sit's down next to her.
"We need a name; every great act has a fancy title."
"I don't know,"
"An Evening with Eris and Charon!" She writes that down on her notepad.
"Charon?"
"Riverboat captain. You like big boats, don't lie."
"I'm on a boat. Hey look at me now, ma," Raoul says.
"We need a backstory. Are we lovers? Exes? Siblings?"
"Exes." Raoul suggests.
"Yes! You and I will keep trying to run off with someone during the act, which would lead to high-larious violence and magic. We need to get you trained on fighting and dancing for the stage, maybe even incorporate some real violence. Sometimes the hits need to land."
"We could claim to be the real Charon and Eris? Play off that, being that our magic is real. So, our competition could amuse us?"
"Yes! You're good at this! Told you, we're going to be great, make tons of money, retire, maybe buy this show, fuck you, Erik!"
Meg stops and tries to calm down.
"I'll try to keep my text subtext." She says in a small voice.
"It's fine, someone else needs to be sad, can't always be me."
"Thank you for your permission and understanding."
Meg smiles.
"Wait, it's not official until we toast."
Meg dives to the ground and climbs under her bed, after several minutes, she emerges and is holding a bottle. Raoul grabs her arms and helps her slide out.
"You have no idea the lengths I had to go to hide my own stash! In my own damn room even. I would like to know right now, are you addicted to anything? Other than this frown face you got going on."
"Another ex?"
She nods, her smile bittersweet. Raoul wonders if she has ever been hugged or loved before.
"Where do you find these rogues? They sound awful and need to be slapped."
Meg waves him off.
"Promise me you have no vile vice that controls you? It's fine, I can handle it, I'm a damn good nurse, but I need to know for my own sake."
"I have no addictions. I do not drink alcohol that much. Only when depressed."
"Promise me on something that means something." She is serious.
"On the life of my son." Raoul says in a grave voice. Meg accepts this.
She goes to her dresser, pulls out the drawer, places it on the bed, and pokes her head inside, then pulls out two glasses, hands one to Raoul, and then she opens the bottle, pours wine into a Raoul's glass.
"To our new partnership and friendship."
They clink glasses.
For the first time in a long time, Raoul looks forward to tomorrow.
So this story came to me out of nowhere, and by nowhere, I was watching the Circus music video by Britney, and I was like, this reminds me of Meg Giry, because in my head cannon, Meg Giry is more of MC/Ringmaster of life. The world is her dancefloor and she doesn't take or put up with your malarkey, no thanks.