- Erik! Erik do you hear me? Erik! – Christine's desperate voice filled up the room while she was shaking him violently. He wasn't moving. Seemingly, he wasn't even breathing. Sheet music was all over the floor and Erik was laying lifelessly in the bed. Oh God why did she let him compose and overstrain himself like that? Is he dead? – Erik!
A lot of time passed in fear and worry, as Christine was shaking and slapping Erik endlessly, calling his name without an end, crying over him, then she sorrowfully lay on Erik's chest and sobbed uncontrollably. It ended. All of it is over and they had to part with anger in their hearts. Erik asked for her forgiveness, but she did not say she did forgive, and now Erik had to leave this world with the thought of she was angry with him. One can't know when their last dialogue is playing. If she could change it, she would say good bye to him, kissing his forehead, and Erik would close his eyes smiling…
- Oh, Erik, if only you could speak once more… - She sobbed.
- Then… what would happen? – A soft, nearly inaudible voice inquired which Christine did not seem to hear, she just continued her sad speech.
- I would tell you how much I love you… how much and badly I need you… oh Erik, why did you leave me here…?
- Christine… I am right here.
Only then she realized her husband was talking to her. She lifted her head up in surprise and saw Erik's eyes open, and he was examining her with a hint of worry. No writer can ever describe the scream of relief, worry, and happiness that left Christine's lips upon noticing Erik was alive.
- ERIK! Erik dear, you are alive! Oh how you scared me… - She hugged him tight to herself.
- Christine… - He wheezed. – I am… not alive… for too long… if you keep squeezing my throat.
- Oh, I am sorry. – Christine let Erik go hurriedly stroking his hair to make him feel better. - Erik… you scared me…
- I am sorry. – He moaned. – For everything. I hurt you… again.
- Well… you did. – She nodded. – But I am just glad you are alive. Just… forget it.
- Mahtab?
- Still no news. – She sat down on the chair, crying. Erik reached out for his wife's hand and stroke it, showing her some support in the trouble.
- Erik knows Christine is worried… Mahtab is Christine's child too. She misses her.
- I do. – She nodded in tears.
- Erik was cruel to Christine. He hurt her when she already had a huge sorrow in her heart… Erik was selfish, thinking it was only him who lost a child… but Christine lost her child and her husband wasn't supporting her… on the contrary… he attacked her.
- I admit that it did not feel good. We need to be together in trouble. But… I appreciate the fact you realized this.
- I love you Christine. – He whispered weakly.
- I love you too, Erik. – She stroke Erik's rash- covered ugly face kindly and smiled at him through her tears. – Do you need anything? Are you feeling sick?
- I am tired… oh so tired….
- Just rest then. – She swallowed back some tears. – Don't worry, everything turns out to be better.
- Erik only hopes so. Christine…
- Yes?
- Please collect the sonata and put it on my nightstand. I will finish it later.
- Much later. – She raised her finger threateningly. – When you get better.
Erik nodded with an exhausted sigh and turned his head to the side to sleep some more. Christine did not leave the bedside this time so that she won't have to arrive back in the room to a catastrophe happening that they only had the huge fortune to avoid.
He did not sleep well though. Christine had to caress him in his sleep as he kicked or tossed and turned many times, which was a sign of his nightmares that tortured him. Yet he was asleep, he was thinking about Mahtab, and recalled every single detail since her birth… especially the bad things. He remembered his unpleasant feelings about the child's face and how much he hated to look at that horrid small baby skull. Disgust, self-hatred and guilt poisoned the first months of Mahtab's infancy, and they didn't want to go away up until her late toddlerhood when she was finally able to talk to him. He only loves her this much since she is clever. And maybe Mahtab felt it? Did she know that Erik was disgusted of her back then? That he did not really like to hold her? He was missing from most of the activities that involved taking care of her in the first 3 or 4 months. He hardly ever looked at her, only if it was necessary. What had he done…? Can it be that Mahtab subsconsciously remembers this? He has to love her a lot more if ever she gets back home…
Mohammed opened his eyes to see it was already dawning. When he arrived home it was late at night and he just sat down in the chair to rest his eyes a bit. Seems like he had fallen asleep. He nervously turned his head to the side towards the couch to see if Mahtab was still there, and he noticed with delight that the child just sat up as well, yawning and rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
- Sobh bekheir, Mahtab. – He smiled and stroke the girl's light hair.
- Sobh bekhier, Tonton Mohammed. – She answered kindly. – I was looking for you.
- I was doing the same : looking for you through whole Paris. – The Daroga shook his head in dismay.
- Why?
- To find you, of course.
- Who told you I was missing?
- Your Mama. She was half mad with worry Mahtab. Tell me how could you do such a thing?
- I did not want to cause any more trouble to my family.
- And exactly that is how you caused a lot of pain to your parents and also me. Thankfully your common sense returned and you came to my house so I can take you home.
- Actually I came to you to borrow your flying carpet.
- My what? – The Persian leaned closer to find out if he heard it right.
- Flying carpet. Papa told us a story in which they had one. I thought everyone from the East has one.
- Oh, sadly I don't own one. If I did, I wouldn't have been marching through whole Paris to find you.
- Then how should I travel to Persia, Tonton?
- If you listen to me, you won't. At first, your family misses you dearly and wants you home. Secondly: Persia is not the right place for you.
- Why? You told me it is a beautiful place and Papa said it was magical to live there. I thought I will be moving there so Papa and Mama will live happily without me.
- It can be beautiful, I admit. But it is dangerous for a girl. You know, women aren't treated so kindly at us.
- But I am a boy.
- Oh, Mahtab, your parents know that, but Persians don't. To them, you will only be a girl in men's clothing, and they won't take you seriously. And you will suffer a lot. Both because of you being a girl and… well, Moonlight, you seem to be a mature child. You seem to understand things you are too young for yet, but I guess this talk would have happened sometime soon anyway. I have to tell you a story.
- About Persia?
- No, about the past of your Papa.
- Papa doesn't like to talk about his past. He does not tell me about his childhood.
- Well, now I will. I tell you all of this to make you stop with your plan that would cause misfortune to both for you and your whole family. Will you listen to me?
- Yes.
- And will you promise you give up with this plan and come home to your parents after listening to the story?
- I do. – She nodded. – I already miss Papa and Mama. And the boys too. And Shadow and M. LeChat.
- Well, listen up, dear: Your Papa was born with the same face you now have.
- I know it.
- And his Mama did not like his face at all. He was suffering a lot in his childhood because his Mama could not love him, and he felt just like you do, that he causes trouble at home. He ran away from home at a young age, he was maybe as old as you, or even younger.
- He would have needed his Mama to tuck him in and tell him a Good night story.
- According to him, his Mama never did such a thing. But there were more things he needed: food and new clothes from time to time… Did you find out how hard is it to take care of yourself alone on the streets, Moonlight, hm?
- Yes. I have only 20 centimes and I was hungry when I arrived here. Monsieur Darius gave me food and drink.
- Yes, exactly. But just imagine if you have no one to ask food from. You are afraid of other people as well, you know what your Papa must have felt when he started wandering around the world. He had no one to ask, and he still had to eat. What did he do in your opinion?
- I don't know… he maybe ate berries?
- I am sure it had happened as well when he was in a forest, but other than that? What do you think, how did he get his necessities?
- I honestly don't know. – The child shook her head innocently.
- Mahtab, sadly, your Papa had to take things from other people. – The Daroga lowered his head.
- My father is not a thief! – Mahtab jumped up from the sofa with a sudden rage. – He would not do such a thing!
- He had to, Mahtab. He did not have any choice. - The Persian put his hand on Mahtab's shoulder comfortingly to calm her a bit. He pulled the already crying girl on his lap and hugged her. Mahtab held his shirt desperately, not wanting to believe the thing she heard.
- But Papa is a good person… he is not bad… he isn't…
- Sssssh! Mahtab, I know your Papa is a nice man. He has changed a lot since he married your Mama and since your birth.
- Really? – She sniffed, looking up.
- Yes. – The Persian thought it wasn't a good idea to give a detailed description of Erik's earlier sins, but he had to make sure Mahtab understands why she shall not follow his path, so he continued. – Mahtab, dear, you know, the fact that your Papa was lonely and unloved made him do some bad things in the past. That is why he doesn't like to talk about things before the time he tutored your Mama to be an Opera star. He doesn't like to remember those things as they make him sad. But the thing I want to tell you is that he chose the wrong direction when he run away from home, as it caused him to be lonely and slip deep into sins. If you run away, Mahtab, you don't only make your parents heartbroken, but you will also suffer the same fate Erik did. And believe me, Mahtab, your Papa led a very sad life before his wedding. He was the loneliest and saddest creature I have ever met. Sufferings and hatred made him bitter and lose his all hope and love in his heart for a long time. I am sure he would not want you to suffer through the same life as he loves you so much, with all his heart. I know you feel neglected sometimes. It is normal. But believe me, your father loves you no matter what. It isan older child illness. I know well how you feel. I used to have a brother, younger than me. I sometimes thought my parents love Ali more than they did love me. But it wasn't true. It was just Ali was younger, and small children need more attention and care. Remember when you were a toddler? You needed more caretaking as well. Only since you are a big girl, you are able to take care of yourself and you don't need help with things your brothers still do yet. But this doesn't mean they don't love you. Erik adores and misses you. Don't make the same mistake as your father, Moonlight! Please.
- I love him too, and miss him. I wish to go home, Tonton. But please come with me. I am afraid they will spank me.
- Well, if I was your father, now I probably would do so. – He shook his head again and took Mahtab's hand to lead her outside. – But please remember: even beatings, if deserved, are not as bad as wandering alone on the streets without even a franc to spend. Maybe Erik will slap your rear a few times, but you don't have to be afraid of him. He won't be able to hurt you much, as he loves you. He did not beat you much in your life, did he?
- I think only once. – Mahtab said. – But I don't remember much of it any more.
- Time makes you forget about punishments. – He reassured her. – But you will always remember the love and support of your family.
As Mohammed- Ismael and Mahtab stopped in front of the enchanting architectural masterpiece of the whole neighborhood, she opened the garden gate with trembling hands and walked slowly towards the front door. The Daroga followed her protectively, to support her emotionally. She knocked on the front door and closed her eyes, expecting the worst to happen.
- Mahtab! – She heard Christine's nearly hysterical happiness as the door opened, and finally felt her mother hugging her tight. – Mahtab, my sweetie… Oh… Mahtab! – Christine couldn't do anything but cry as she took the child inside in her arms, kissing her endlessly. She kept hugging and kissing the girl, repeating her name over and over.
The bedroom door opened. Erik was standing in the doorway, woken up by the sudden noise, and upon realizing the child finally being home, though he should have felt relief and happiness, the first feeling that took him over was rage. He couldn't control his emotions and no matter how hard he tried to remain calm and concentrate on the positive sides of the happenings, he simply seemed to lose his mind again from so much frustration and worry in his soul and he was about to explode with fury.
Mahtab was scared to see his eyes glowing in a threatening way, she knew her Papa only looked like this when he was extremely mad, and when this happened it was better to stay away from him until he calms down.
- You damned little brat! – Erik hissed, and staggered a bit closer. – How could you…? How…? Did you make me and your poor mother lose our minds with worry? Huh?
- Erik… don't hurt her! – Christine hugged Mahtab closer to herself in defense.
- Stop babying her, Christine! She can't get away with that. Not that easily. – He took a few shaky steps closer, but bent over a bit, hunching from pain.
Even though Mahtab was afraid she would be spanked in a blink of an eye, she was more concerned about how ill Papa looked. He shivered from cold and it was obvious even taking these few steps towards her caused him a lot of pain and exhaustion. She hated to see Papa in pain. She felt sorry for him and it did not even matter to her any more whether she gets some slaps or not, she freed herself of Christine's embrace and walked close to Erik, so that he doesn't have to walk any closer to her to cause pain for himself. She obediently stood in front of him and reached out her hand towards him for a hug.
- Erik, please count to ten… - Christine begged.
The Daroga waited in the doorway ready to jump at Erik if things go out of control and he harms the child too violently. The girl put her hand on Erik's shoulder and looked him in the eye and softly said:
- I am sorry Papa. I love you. Please don't be angry.
Erik's lifted up hand froze in the air, as he wanted to pull the child on his lap with great effort to hit her back and rear, and the hand with which he grabbed Mahtab's jacket, made his grip looser. That poor girl loves him still and even wanted to spare him from walking so she came here to receive a beating… what a self-sacrifice from a nine year old child! What an unconditional love is burning in her unspoiled little heart! Should he actually really raise a hand and beat the person who loves him more than anyone in his life ever loved poor Erik?
He slowly released the girl, and instead of a hit, he put his hand on the top of her head, looking her in the eye for some minutes, while her glance gave away so much worry and uneasiness that his heart nearly broke. That look wasn't for her, but his safety. They had a special bond in their hearts for each other, which allowed them to talk without words. However big the love between Erik and Christine was, they still couldn't do this, only Erik and Mahtab. They were talking right at this moment as well, even though the others couldn't hear a single word in the room.
"I am worried about you, Papa, you are ill. Please don't die. I will be a good girl, just please don't die."
"Mahtab, dear, I love you... Sorry I spent less time with you. I won't die and we will be together a lot more I promise. I am so glad you are back. I missed you."
They then hugged and cried together, Erik was rocking her back and forth on his lap. They cried without a single word, and Mahtab was clinging to Papa's neck, happy to see him again. After much time they spent like this, Erik slowly released the child, stroke her hair and face, then asked her to go and play with the others. Erik then stood up with some painful moans and went back to bed.
- Erik, may I come in? – The Daroga knocked on the door of the bedroom.
- Must you? – He moaned tiredly.
- I have to talk to you.
- All right… wait until I am finished.
- Why, what are you doing?
- That is none of your business… but mine. Oh, you don't even let me piss, you all want something always.
After a few more seconds Erik told the Persian that he may get in if he wanted to. He was already lying in bed, being exhausted of the scene which took place earlier.
- How are you feeling? – The Daroga inquired.
- Did you just come in to ask this? – Erik was clearly in no mood for friendly talk, he was tired and in pain, so the Persian found it a better idea to get straight to the point.
- No. I wanted to tell you that Mahtab wanted to go to Persia.
Nothing but a deep sigh came as an answer.
- I am sure you won't like the thing I have to inform you about, but…
- Is there something more? It was bad enough as it is.
- There is more. In order to make her change her mind I had to tell her a thing.
- About what?
- Your past.
Silence. Erik was thinking for some time, then slowly and cautiously asked:
- How much she knows?
- Only that you ran away from home presumably in her age and you did not have money and that was which started your career as a criminal.
- Criminal?!
- Erik… you can't really name it otherwise.
- Did you tell her the… things I committed… in Mazandaran?
- No. Not your murders. She only knows you as a thief.
- Thank you. – Erik made a face.
- I had no other choice. I had to tell her why it was a bad thing to run away from home. She thought she causes trouble. She thought it was because of her that you fell ill.
- It is NONSENSE.
- You believed the same nonsense as a boy, did you not?
- How the Hell do you know about it, by the way?
- Once you talked about it to me. In Persia.
- I don't remember.
- You were drunk. I think you did not recognize me either. You were crying about you had been a burden in all your life and you just fled from home to spare your mother from the trouble you cause.
- And my poor daughter felt the same. – He sighed with tears.
- Yes.
- Daroga…? Why…? I know I did not spend too much time with her lately… but can it be she doesn't feel how much I love her? What else should Erik do…? To prove it?
- You are doing the right thing. I suggest you to praise her more. Other than that, you are doing fine. I did not even imagine you will turn out as a good father as you are. I am proud of you that you did not hit her, despite being so angry.
- She is such a loving child, I couldn't bear to harm her.
- Way to go, Erik. Your older self would have hit her badly.
- I hope to get rid of Erik. The younger Erik I used to hate. Nowadays I don't hate Erik as much as I did. Not half as much
- Me neither. However I have to admit I never hated you really.
- Never? Not even a bit, Daroga?
- Sometimes it would have felt good to slap you. But… I did never wish for your death.
- This is why you saved me?
- Yes. And because I was sorry for such talent to be wasted.
- Well… Erik did not hate you either, no matter what he said. He did not really intend to kill you. You are a special person in his life and he might be angry with you and hurt you sometimes, but he kind of likes you.
- Erik, please do us a favor and feel better.
- I try my best. But only if you let me rest. – He laughed shortly.
Thankfully, some days later Erik started to feel better. His fever ceased, and the rash started to disappear. His joints still weren't swollen or painful to touch, so Dr. Bonsanté informed the worrying family that Erik did not develop rheumatic fever. All of them was relieved for the news, and as Erik wasn't contagious any longer, he could hug and kiss his children all he wanted. And he also could get back to writing the sonata for Mahtab. He did not work too much at once so that he did not overstrain himself, but the sonata was completed in a week.
- Look here, my sweetie. – Erik put the sheet music on the piano and called Mahtab to himself.
- What is this? – She asked curiously.
- This is for you. Only for you.
- But it is a sonata and I can't play it because I am not that good. – She looked at Erik with sad expression.
- It is perfect for you, believe me. Just try.
- What if I ruin it? – She asked worriedly.
- You won't. – He patted her head encouragingly. – But even if you do, it is not a problem. Not everything has to be perfect every time.
- You said earlier that only perfection has some value.
- Papa says silly things sometimes as well. Dear, you don't have to take everything seriously what Papa says. Only that matters that you do your best to complete your tasksAnd this music is absolutely for your current skills, you can play it. Please try.
Mahtab nodded and turned to the keyboard to play. She was surprised her fingers did not twist or slip, so she had no problem playing any of the trills or triads. It was a simple but heartwarming music. She ended up playing all three movements by first reading, without any mistakes. She happily jumped in Erik's neck after finishing it, and kissed her father's cheeks.
- I wrote it for you and I knew you can play it. You are such a talented and awesome child dear. I can't live without you.
- So you don't love Flo more because he is better at music?
- But of course, not. – Erik sat down to the sofa, and lifted Mahtab up on his lap, which he did not do for a while since Mahtab grew bigger and noticeably heavier. – I love all of you equally, but I love each of you for something else. Each of you have talent in other fiels. You have talent in many things. Flo can't draw. You can, beautifully. You are not as good at music, but you are better at something else and this is how it was meant to be. God created everyone with other talents.
- But you and Mama can do anything you want to.
- Oh no no no. – Erik laughed. – Not anything. For example I can't write.
- But you can.
- It is unreadable. – Erik explained. – It looks like a child's scribbling. No one can read it, sometimes not even I. I can draw and write sheet music, but my cursive is horrible.
- Really?
- Yes. That is why Mama taught you to write and not me. I can't form the letters right. It is just something I can't figure out.
- But Mama knows everything?
- Well, do you want to hear a secret? – Erik leaned closer to Mahtab's ear to whisper. – But you don't tell it to anyone.
- My lips are sealed. – She nodded seriously.
- Mama is an opera star and sings like an angel. She can sew and knit and embroider like an artist… but… why do you think Papa cooks, hm?
- Because Mama is at work at the Opera and she has no time?
- Partly yes. But… well… Mama is an awful cook. – He admitted ashamedly, because he had to say something bad about Christine.
- Can't Mama cook? – She asked with astonishment.
- No. – He replied. – Either it has too much or too little salt, or she burns it or she doesn't cook it for enough time… or it gets too dry… I don't know how she manages to ruin literally every meal she touches, but it is true. Once, before your birth, she baked me a cake. It had salt instead of sugar and it was nearly burnt.
- Did you eat it? – She wondered.
- Yes, as I did not want to hurt her. – He admitted. – I got a nice indigestion out of that little adventure. But despite her lack of knowledge and talent for cooking I still adore her more than anything and wouldn't trade her for all the treasures on Earth. I rather cook myself, as I was a bachelor for a long time, it is no problem. See? Everyone has their talents and weak spots, but as long as you work and do your best, you are not worthless. You have to focus on the things you are good at – and if you really want to play music, it requires harder work for you than for Flo as you have no equal talents. Yes, it is not righteous – but very few things are righteous in life, my child.
- Thank you so much for making it possible for me to play without mistakes, Papa. It made me happy.
- That's what for fathers are, Mahtab – to make their children happy.
He kissed her forehead and hugged her close to himself as she was sitting on his lap. As he was thinking about his children, he had to face the truth that he wasn't right about telling Mahtab he loved his children equally. He just had to admit to himself he DID have a favorite child, even though he wasn't a fan of favoritism, but he couldn't help it.
It was Mahtab.
