Chapter XII.
After the incident with the gun, and the sudden realization of his mobility, Erik's recovery sped up quickly. He regained all his hope and was working on regaining his strength as well. He took his medicine, he ate regularly, he was training his muscles to be strong again, he would move his fingers like he was playing the piano on the covers and he would play violin in the air, while humming a melody. It amused him how well he was able to move his hands after a few days. He became fidgety as he could not stop being happy about he was able to move again. Yes, it was still painful a bit, but it did not bother him that much anymore.
- I play something for you, Christine. – He smiled like a child and moved his hands for a time, imitating to play the violin, but after an idea struck him. – Bring me my violin, please. If I remember correctly I left it in the study.
- Erik dear, I am afraid it will be too soon. You will overstrain your joints…
- I miss music, Christine.
- I will sing for you. – She offered kindly.
- That would be nice. – He smiled and relaxed back on his pillows to listen his beloved wife.
Christine sang the Jewel Song from Faust, hoping that Erik will be delighted to hear something from his favorite opera, but halfway through the aria he shook his head and lifted his left hand.
- Christine, stop.
- Did I… make a mistake? – She gasped.
- Not ONE. A lot. You are out of practice. You sound worse than before I started teaching you at the Opera.
- Maybe I am just… tired?
- Maybe. – He bequeathed. – But you should practice a lot Christine. You started neglecting music. You don't even play the piano any more.
- You know I wasn't very good at it anyway. – She sat down on the edge of Erik's bed.
- You are lazy. – Erik retorted. – You, Christine, my dear Christine, should be happy to have two nice little hands that work without any pain, to be able to play without moaning with discomfort, and you just chose not to…
- I am not good at musical instruments, only with singing.
- You, my dear, are just making up excuses. Do you know what you would need?
- What?
- A piano teacher to slap your hand with a ruler if you hit a wrong note and would give you 3-4 hits with a stick on your palm if you don't practice enough.
- What kind of a piano teacher is that? – She asked angrily.
- Like my mother. – He shrugged. – Or like I would be if I taught you to play instead of singing.
- Your mother taught you to play the piano?
- She literally hammered it into my head.
- But… WHY?
- A gentleman has some level of musical education. She did not do it to be cruel, Christine. I was a rather naughty little scoundrel as a boy. I would always be bent on mischief if I did not have a task to finish. That is why she gave me books to read and made me learn a lot – to occupy my thoughts. And that is what music was for as well. She had a grand piano in the salon, I think she inherited it from her parents and would send me to practice for 3-4 hours daily. That is how I did not have time to commit sins- and I always liked music a lot. Of course, as any other child, I did not like to practice. To tell the truth, I loathed it. I only liked when I was finally able to play something perfectly, but the road to it was bumpy – and boring. Scales, etudes, slow playing… I tried to avoid it as much as I could, but that was when I got the well – deserved punishment. If I had a franc for every slap on my palm, I would own the National Bank, I think, but I still did not hate music. I am actually thankful for it, Christine. If my poor unhappy mother did something right, this was it. She taught me of my responsibilities, she showed me that I had to work hard for something and I got the very little patience I now have from practicing. I needed such a treatment because without it I would have turned out a lazy person who always gets things the easy way, and my talent would have never showed up in music. I would not have turned out half as hardworking as I am now- and this is nearly the only good personality trait I have.
- You are right in a way.
- Of course, I am.
- But I hope you are not following this method with our daughter. My father was teaching me and I daresay there are more possibilities to teach a child for music than beating.
- I would never beat Mahtab, as I know well what it feels like to be beaten through a whole childhood. I would never cause my daughter such a fate. And I won't force music on her. My child will chose anything she likes to do. Erik is happy if Mahtab has no musical talent at all- it isn't important for me that she has to follow my path. She should be happy – that's all that matters.
Christine was happy to hear that Erik did not want to follow his mother's way of raising a child. She could sense and guess from the very little details Erik shared her about his childhood that his mother was very cold to Erik and would hurt him both physically and emotionally in her self-pity and sorrow. She sometimes wondered what Erik would have turned out with a loving mother who could accept and love him as he is- as she could finally look past his deformed face and found no difficulties in ignoring Mahtab's deformity. Why was it such a difficult and unsolvable thing for Erik's mother? How can a mother turn her heart away from a baby and a small child?
When Doctor Bonsanté assured everyone that Erik was no longer dangerous to the child's health, Christine took Mahtab to the bedroom with her so she will be able to see her so much beloved Papa. As the tiny girl was put on the bed next to Erik, she happily crawled to her father and hugged him. Erik was very happy to see his little daughter as well, after so many days and he was silently crying as he realized Mahtab's affection towards him. He held her in his arms and kissed her forehead several times, gently rocking her while Mahtab was happily repeating "Papa...Papa…Papa…!"
One more week had to pass until Erik was finally able to walk around the house as he did before. He was still feeling a bit weak and he still had to take some syrup the doctor prescribed for him, but finally he was able to dress up, walk, eat, drink and take care of his hygiene all alone. The Daroga still stayed though, Erik asked him not to leave his home yet and stay by his side when he walked outside to the garden to take a stroll on the so much needed fresh air – he was sometimes feeling a bit unstable and did not dare to walk all alone as he was afraid he might fall.
Fresh air made good to Erik, he liked to sit on the bench in the garden, looking at the fountain. Mahtab was usually with them, digging small holes in the dirt, or playing with the water, causing her to be either all dirty or all wet. Erik had to face another small problem of having a young child – he and his clothing wasn't that immaculate any more as it used to be before- Mahtab made sure to ALWAYS mess his trousers or shirtfront with something. Either she tapped him with hands full of dirt or some kind of food she was eating. Why Christine always kept giving her chocolate bon- bons? He was always carrying another handkerchief with him other than his, and quickly wet it at the fountain so he will be able to at least clean most of the mess off of the child's skeletal little hands before she could reach him. Washing a toddler's hands at least 1000 times a day was a new task he had to do.
Mahtab and Shadow became great friends, but Erik did not really like the fact. He was afraid the dog will lick Mahtab's face and he was disgusted by the mere thought. He would always keep an eye at the dog and if he was up to something horrible, he was chased away by Erik instantly. Even though Shadow loved the baby, he still was following Erik instead of the girl and was sitting or lying by his feet. Erik started to like the dog as now he was well – fed, clean and well – behaved, so he slowly gave up his old rule of Shadow was being sent out of the rooms. They ended up with the habit of Shadow lying in front of Erik while he was reading in his armchair in the drawing room. The dog was so tame and peaceful that Erik could even rest his feet against his back. It was so idyllic to watch Erik peacefully reading something with both Mahtab and Shadow around him.
Mahtab, even though no one has ever told her a single word about how sick Erik was – they thought she would not understand it in her young age- somehow was fully aware of her Papa's problems. She sensed Erik's weakness and wasn't that demanding about Erik has to pick up and carry her. She was just walking next to him with little support on furniture legs or banisters. She only climbed up on Erik's lap if he was fully and comfortably seated and she was way more careful than before. None of the adults understood it around her, but it was clearly the case – she was careful not to hurt Papa.
Erik got better and better day by day, but Christine was still worried about him. The doctor told them to be more careful about throat infections Erik might get later as the risk of him getting another inflammation was very likely if he catches a sore throat and it won't be cured properly. Even more terrifying was the thought that the infection could attack his heart, and that would most likely be deadly to him. She also knew that Erik worked way too much in the past few months and his system could not take it any longer – a serious illness took to his bed and it was very hard to cure it. What if next time they won't be so lucky? She was wondering if Erik should be working at all still. People in his age are most likely to be retired. But he already asked the doctor about when will he be able to go back to work- and the doctor said, only one or two more weeks and he could if he takes care of himself- the only problem was Erik's self-destructive lifestyle. He never knew what was enough or even too much for him. He worked too much and was always up to something. He started composing again as well. He spent hours in his study after Mahtab was put to sleep. When Christine asked him about it, he simply answered he missed working as he was in bed for too much time.
The doctor advised Erik to take long walks in the fresh air, and as Mahtab was always following him everywhere, Erik decided to take his daughter with him to walk. They were strolling in Paris, Erik spotted a different place for them to walk every day.
One day he randomly chose the railway station. He had a young daughter and everything was new to the child, so he wanted to show her everything. A railway station wasn't special for Erik, but a small child is happy to see everything they haven't met before. Trains were a great development in human history, Erik liked every scientific development as he as well was a man of science himself. He sat down on a bench with Mahtab on his lap, looking at the trains leaving and arriving. Mahtab got fascinated by trains and looked at them with eyes and mouth wide-open.
- Choo- choo! – She exclaimed and clapped her tiny hands together.
- Yes, choo-choo. – Erik smiled and nodded delightedly.
- Choo! – She added and tried to whistle.
Erik knew it will be a hard job for the girl to learn how to whistle like everyone else as she only had half of her lips and she had trouble with lip rounding. Even Erik could not whistle like 99% of people, as he had deformed lips as well. But he knew what to do to teach his daughter for this musical act- just as he learned it when he was a boy. He did not whistle using his lips, but his throat, just like a bird, that is why his whistling sounded different, more high pitched, and birdlike. He was able to imitate all kinds of singing birds while just opening his mouth just as he was singing. If Mahtab is clever enough, she can learn it as well. He decided to teach her when they will be home alone, so he can show her the way to open her mouth or hold her lips. He just chose to entertain the toddler by horse-riding her on his knee while she was watching the trains. He was softly reciting a rhyme to her to teach her to rhythm, and she was laughing so happily. She loved walking with her Papa so much, and these new things she saw were so interesting!
Christine went to Erik's study to search for a sheet music. Erik told her once that he wrote a piece of sheet music when Mahtab was born. She wanted to search for it as she was sure Erik kept it, and wanted it to get framed so she could hang it somewhere in the house. She wanted to do it as a get well-gift for Erik, as she was sure he will be happy about it.
As she stepped closer to the desk she saw a letter on the top of a pile of some papers and a fully addressed envelope. It was to be sent to Erik's workplace. The letter was written in black ink with Erik's childish, kind of ugly cursive, but it was at least readable. It could be seen that it was the billionth' try of him, writing as nicely as possible.
Sir,
This is Erik Spöke writing to you, who is working as an architect and structural engineer in the company, to bring in to your kind notice that I am going to retire shortly. Due to sudden negative changes regarding my health, and my old age, I got to the decision of retiring.
I would really like to thank you for providing me an opportunity to serve in this organization like this, which made me to learn a lot of new, and interesting things. The working environment provided by the company was excellent which proved to be great help in my career.
I would like to request to you to initiate the processes of reliving me of my charge and other paper work concerned to my retirement.
I remain your obedient servant,
E. Spöke
Paris, 30th April, 1887
Christine was very surprised to read the letter. This means Erik was thinking about just the same thing as she did before and she could only agree with him. So that is why he was in his study, he was wording and writing his retirement application. She was thinking for a moment why did not he send out the letter yet, but after some minutes she realized Erik wasn't sure of his decision yet. That is why the letter stayed and stayed, for days. He went out every day, but could not bear himself to send the letter as he was still thinking. The letter was dated on 30th April, and that day the calendar showed 10th May. He had been hesitating for more than a week. Well, she should finish what was left unfinished.
Christine did not know how to tell Erik about their future, she lost her bravery when she thought about Erik's coming reaction to the news. She expected him to burst out in a fit of rage, but the letter was already sent out… and the truth was that she did not feel any regret about her action. She knew that she did the right thing, and Erik found it the right way deep down in his heart as well- if he did not, he wouldn't have written that letter in the first place.
She stepped behind Erik as he was reading something in his chair after she put Mahtab to sleep in the afternoon. She had a good 2 hour time interval without the child constantly clinging to Erik, so that is the time to talk to him. She felt a gulp in her throat, but she cleared it up with some coughs and took a deep breath. Erik lifted his head up to the noise.
- Are you catching a cold? – He asked with concern.
- No… don't worry, Erik.
- All right, but please tell me if it gets worse. – He wanted to continue reading but he sensed Christine's look on him. - What is it you want to tell me? – He turned back and saw his wife standing next to him, turning rather pale.
- I… I have been thinking about returning to stage in the next season. – Christine admitted softly.
- Do you miss the Opera that is it? – Erik asked.
- Yes. - She nodded.
- I welcome the decision. – He agreed. – You had a great career and you weren't intended to be a housewife through your life. You are a talented young woman and Paris loved you. There is only one problem… Mahtab. We can't pretend she does not exist… it will be hard to find someone who looks after her while both of us are at work. Especially with her face. I know that you would mostly work in the evening, when I am at home, but as you know, rehearsals are in the afternoon when I am still at work.
Silence. Christine had to pause for a bit before starting the battle. She took a seat in the armchair facing Erik's, and was staring at her husband for a few minutes. Erik did not know what was wrong, but he knew something was bothering Christine very much – he could smell the fear around her. Finally she spat out a few soft, almost inaudible words:
- Not anymore, Erik.
- What? – He leaned closer, really not hearing too much of what his wife tried to tell him, even though his hearing was excellent.
- You are… not working any more. – She repeated a bit louder.
- What do you mean? – He inquired suspiciously.
- Did you… go to your study today?
- Not yet. – He shook his head.
- There was a letter on your desk… I read it… and…
- And…? – Erik slowly stood up with trembling hands. As there was silence again, Erik repeated his question, at least five times louder than before. – AND?
- Erik please calm down…
- AND? – He walked to the window and slammed his fist against the windowsill.
- I sent it. – She finished her sentence finally.
Erik did not say a single word, for a time, he was only standing in front of the window, trying to restrain his temper, but one could see all his skeletal figure was shaking with rage. He was wheezing and tapping his fingertips against the wood. Christine found it a wiser move not to say a single word until Erik managed to calm down a bit. He suddenly grabbed a nearby placed small vase and threw it to the floor by his full force. The porcelain vase shattered to a million pieces in front of his feet, and the bits flew across the whole room.
- Who allowed you to nose after something in Erik's study? – He yelled at his full volume.
- Erik, please, you wake Mahtab up…
- Shut your face! – His voice twisted with fury and his yellow cat-eyes flamed with uncontrollable fit of passion. He took some deep breaths, his chest heaved up and down as he tried to calm down finally.
After ten minutes or so, he composed himself enough to be able to listen to what Christine had to say. He did not get closer to her as he was worried that he might harm Christine in his fit of rage, he just leaned against the bookshelf for support and ordered Christine to continue her speech.
- Erik, you wrote the letter…
- I did. – He nodded. He found it better choice to talk in only brief sentences.
- I just sent it.
- Just… just… you say JUST…? Yes, I did… I wrote it. But I did not think it through yet… I did not decide yet. You have decided for me.
- That is what you kept doing for me and I did not complain about it.
- What… what did you say…? – Erik started shaking again.
- At the Opera house you constantly gave me orders and expected me to obey without a single word.
- If it was up to you, you would still be only a mediocre freshly graduated singer who could be thankful to play Siebel in Faust. Erik always made the right decisions, without him you wouldn't have reached the role you had.
- I know. And now I made the right decision for you.
- Who wears the pants in this marriage, eh? You or Erik?
- You used to tell me that my opinion is equal to yours.
- Yes, but still, I am the man! I put money on the table!
- That's why I want to go back to the Opera!
- And send me to my grave!
- No one said that!
- You did when you decided I was too old for work!
- You told me the other day that you were old!
- I am not THAT old!
- Erik, I…
- Enough! – He screamed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him with such a force that the windows shook. The Daroga stepped out of his room to the sight that Erik ran out to the garden furiously and he could hear Christine crying in the drawing room.
The Persian found it the best if he tried to talk to Erik and calm him down. He knew it won't be an easy thing to do, but he had to try. Erik could be hazardous to anyone's health in this state of mind, and the Persian was sure he wouldn't be able to go near even his daughter if he is so mad. As he followed Erik, he noticed him in the backyard, kicking and beating the stone fence with rage, huffing like a seal.
- Erik!
- Don't… don't get closer! – Erik ordered.
- I want to talk.
- Not now.
- But yes, Erik, we have to talk now.
- I said NOT now, Daroga! Go and leave me be!
- What on Earth is wrong with you, I haven't seen you in this state since the…
- Ask Christine! – He jumped a few feet closer to the Persian who backed away a bit – he was scared of Erik when he was like this.
- Erik, stay there… right… stay there.
- Go away. – Erik growled like a dog, and picked up a pebble from the ground and threw it at the Persian's direction. The aim was perfect, the Daroga felt the rock hitting his shoulder.
- Erik, stop throwing stones at me. I just want to talk to you.
No answer came, only another rock, this time it was a bit bigger and if the Daroga did not jump away from it, the stone would have directly hit his forehead. The Persian thought it will be better if he obeyed Erik's will and he hurried back in the house. Even while he was running, another rock hit his back. He went to the drawing room where he found the still crying Christine about Erik's current mood and he advised her not to approach him within a few mile radius.
They were worriedly waiting for Erik to calm down finally, but after a time, he disappeared form the backyard as well. They could not find him anywhere, but it was a cleverer choice not to even investigate where he was. He left the house and went somewhere to release his anger. Christine was sure they won't see him for hours to come.
She wasn't wrong, however she did not expect it will take him so long to go back home. She feared she won't ever see him again, and was half mad with worry. The Daroga tried to make her feel better with less success. Erik was never out of house for so long time.
It took three days until Erik finally reappeared, in a surprisingly good mood and with big boxes. His hands were full of them. They were gift wrapped and one of them was so huge he could barely balance it under his right arm. He stepped in the house and placed the biggest box in the hall and hurried to the drawing room. He packed down the boxes, but Christine wasn't there.
- Christine… Christine…- He was searching for her frantically in the house. The young wife finally stepped out of the music room with red eyes from crying.
- Erik..? – Her voice still wore the signs of very hard crying.
- Oh, Christine, my dear Christine…- He hurried to her, going down on his knees in front of her legs, bending down to the ground and he started kissing the hem of her dress.
- Where… where have you been for three days? – Christine cried out in anger and relief mixed together.
- Erik is sorry…- he whispered. – He is so very sorry…. He had to think things through… he went… to his old house… to think…
- And have you decided? – She asked bitterly.
- Yes, Christine. – He stood up slowly, taking his wife's trembling hands. – Everything shall be as you wish, my dear… Erik will do everything as you say… he will be your devoted little husband, if you chose him to stay at home with the child, he will. If you want to go back onstage, you shall…
- Have you changed your mind?
- I was thinking… as I said… and realized something, Christine. – He looked down on his shoes in shame. – You were right, Christine, I made the right decision when I wrote the letter, I was just too weak to fulfill the act. But… you did the right thing, Christine. I know my behavior was… unacceptable… and horrible... but… a man… you see… a man is a very proud creature. He doesn't accept it easily if he isn't as powerful as he used to be. I was afraid I will be home, slowly withering away, like elderly men in Paris… I thought, with retirement, only newspaper reading and sitting at home all day, will be my thing to do…
- Oh, Erik…
- But… I realized that I will have many things to do. I have a young daughter to care for, and teach… I always loved to teach, Christine… and working out a small mind is a very nice job. I will have more time to spend with her. I realized that I barely met her when I was still working. And… if I go on like this… just regaining my strength after a serious illness… Mahtab needs a father, Christine… what if she has to grow up without Erik…? I have to take care of myself… and accept that it is more useful for the family if I stay home.
- You understand me. – Christine smiled with tears in her eyes.
- I do now. I am sorry I needed so much time to understand your intentions. You are the best wife one can ask for. And I would like to apologize to you about my tantrum the other day and my absence and the worry it has caused you in these past days.
- Let's just forget it, Erik, the important thing is that you now see what I meant and I am sorry as well. Forgive me for making a life changing decision without you, I know I should have spoken to you about it, but I was afraid you won't let it happen.
- I think the best is we both forgive and forget. – Erik nodded. – But still, I want to show you something my dear. Just give Erik a few seconds and he will be right back here.
Erik returned shortly, after some minutes and excitedly gestured to Christine to follow him. She was led to the salon where she saw a huge bouquet of red and white roses combined in a large vase they did not have before, and around it there were many gift wrapped boxes. She speechlessly approached them and looked at Erik with surprise.
- Go on, my love… open them… they are all for you… from your devoted and penitent husband.
- Erik… you didn't have to buy me gifts to forgive you…
- I know. But you, my dear, deserve it for being my wife and for bearing my temper… that is the least I can do to apologize.
In the boxes there lay beautiful new dresses for Christine, in every possible colors, shoes, gloves and there was a smaller box as well. Christine instantly recognized it to be a jewel box. She opened it curiously and saw the most beautiful bracelet she could have ever imagined in it. She carefully lifted it out and saw something was engraved in the backside. She was touched to read the words "Little Lotte" on it – that was a nickname Erik called her by sometimes when he wanted to show his affection or whispered it in her ear when they got intimate. She turned back and smiled at Erik and only these words left her lips:
- Angel of Music.
Of course, Mahtab wasn't an exception. She got a gift as well. The biggest box was for her and it contained a giant rocking horse. Mahtab seemed to adore it from the first second. Erik looked at the toddler girl with a content smile and henow was looking forward to spend his days with her- the only person who ever felt so much love for him from the first seconds of her life.
The Daroga heard three taps on the guest room's door. He guessed it was Christine, asking for his support, so he quietly called out that she may come in. He was shocked to see Erik entering the room. He carried something in his arms. He jumped up as he did not want to wait until Erik reaches him while he was seated, he was prepared for the worst. Erik quietly sttod in front of him for a few seconds then he sighed and silently said:
- Forgive me, Daroga.
- What? – He leaned closer to the ex-Opera Ghost.
- I asked you to forgive me, please. Erik did not mean to throw stones at you.
- Oh… you are forgiven…- The Daroga nodded as he tried to search his memory for a moment in the past when Erik apologized to him for something, but he failed to remember a matchng occasion.
- Thank you, Mohammed. And thank you for… all the services you… you have and had been doing for me… and for being my friend.
- Oh, Erik, you… it is nothing…
- I want to give you something. – He reached out his hand towards the Persian that contained a smaller box. – I know I can't repay you with it… and I don't even want to. But I ask you to accept it from Erik… as a sign of his friendship.
The Persian curiously took the box and opened it. It contained a nicely decorated pocket watch. Mohammed- Ismael gasped in surprise.
- Erik…
- I always felt guilty when I ruined your favorite watch in the lake. I know you have another one now but I also know that you loved that one very much. I understand as I love mine too and would be upset if some moron would destroy it. This is the same type. I hope you can forgive me for your watch… and for everything.
This was a very rare and preciously sincere moment of Erik's good heart. The Persian, even though he mostly felt uncomfortable to touch Erik, he placed his hand on that bony shoulder and looked into Erik's golden eyes forgiving and touched. They did not say a single more word – they understood each other without expressing their feelings in meaningless phrases.
