The New Year seemed to be nothing special once everything got back into normal. Days had passed just as earlier, there was no miraculous sign of something new, something different. 1900 seemed to be just as ordinary, boring and monotone as 1899. The children were a bit of disappointed about it. There was yet again schooling, tutoring, taking care of Belle and doing things like they did earlier.
- What did you think, my dear children, what should happen at midnight on New Year's? Did you expect the world is going to end and here comes the resurrection with angel's choir and Halleluiah? – Erik mocked playfully. – This is just another year, as the others. Nothing happens.
Florian was the one who got the most disappointed of the children regarding his future. The publisher did not say anything to his work in whole January, and not even in February…. March…
- Papa, why don't they publish my symphony at last? – He asked numerous times. Erik would tell him usually to be patient, but once he decided to finally be honest and have the talk with the boy.
- Look, Flo. I told you it is not that easy to earn money with composing, right?
- Right, Papa, but it has been months and…
- Yes. It does take months. Long months. Publishers don't get only two sheet music a year, son. They have tons of works to judge, and most of them are utter rubbish. No, not your symphony. But to be honest, I think it is at the bottom of some of their drawers yet. Maybe they find it soon, or later. Depends on how much work they have with them, and how much do they wish to work a day. That is why I said you can't live from only composing when you grow up. You hand in a manuscript. And? You can't just wait for them to return it, Flo. You have to live in those months as well until they finally see it at least. I told you: you can't support a family from composing only. Mozart tried it. He died at the age of 35 and left a widow with two young children in poverty. Do you wish to father children and ask for loans in whole Paris until you literally drown in debt?
- And Bach? How could he support 20 kids being a composer?
- Bach wasn't a composer as a main profession, he was an organist and conductor at a church. He had a full time job. Composing, if you like, was his hobby. They weren't rich either, mind you.
- Then what should I do if I want to be a musician, Papa? I don't want to be an architect.
- With your inability to count to 100 without the aid of your toes, you don't have to be afraid of the possibility of being an architect. – Erik remarked softly, but as he did not wish to humiliate the boy even more, he just turned around and put his hand on Florian's shoulder comfortingly. – I can't see why you couldn't be a violinist in an orchestra, or a concert pianist. You have talent for it. You play beautifully. And you like it, don't you?
- Yes Papa, but…
- But?
- But I'd die if people other than my family… heard me play. I am… so I just…
- Oh, you have stage fright. – Erik laughed out. – That's nothing, son. You can get used to it.
- Really…? Will it get… better?
- Yes it will. Just try to play music to others as well. Once it will get better and you get used to audience. You can apply to study at the Conservatory here in Paris. And I bet you will be accepted. Learn the profession with your mind and your heart as well. Then, I am sure when you will grow up, you will be an awesome musician.
- And how should I marry Sophie if…
- You are so young yet. It is not even legal in your age to marry a girl. Be a child. Enjoy yourself. And if Sophie loves you, she will marry you when you both grow up.
Flo was temporarily calmed down with this talk. Erik, though, wasn't totally honest with his son. The truth was that the publishers indeed saw and judged Florian's symphony, but the letters he received in return with the manuscript, were terribly disappointing. Erik sent the work to all of the publishers in Paris, but it was always returned with rejection. The problem wasn't the quality of the symphony- on the contrary. Half of the publishers simply labelled the issue as a "scam" as there was absolutely no way that a 12 year old child could write such a thing. And even if it is so, they don't publish anything from a child, so Flo should only try again when he turns 21, as a legally adult French citizen. It is nine years yet. Erik did not wish to tell it to the boy, as he knew, with his painfully sensitive soul, he would not take so many rejections well. Erik's only hope remained that he started writing letters in foreign language and copied the symphony in more copies, sending them away to abroad. Maybe England or Germany will be less picky and may accept a genius… as this child certainly is one.
The Persian got better slowly and steady of his stroke he had suffered around Christmas. Erik was trying to help him with his left hand getting movable again, and he was comforting his old Persian friend when he was about to give up.
- I can't do it Erik. I can't feel my hand.
- It is not necessary to feel it to be able to move it, Daroga. Believe me, I know it.
- It will never move again.
- Not if you give up. Try to lift one of your fingers. It worked for the last time and I am sure it will work now as well.
Many- many painful tries were made, for months. There were harder times, but in the end, around May, Mohammed was able to lift his hand up a bit and reach out for things. His grip wasn't strong, but if he got ahold of a pencil or some smaller object, he was able to hold it between two fingers. They were practicing with pocket watch chains, cufflinks, pencils or ruler. The Daroga could not believe he developed so much in just some months. Maybe there was still hope for him?
Belle, or by full name Belle Lotte Spöke was nearly two years old. Christine was sometimes addressing her "Little Lotte" and gifted her with a red scarf same as she did own in her childhood. The little girl loved if people sang for her, yet Erik was sure she was tone deaf, as she liked even the Daroga's singing voice, if the Persian had one at all. The Persian was singing her in Farsi and Christine sange her Swedish folk songs as she held her on her lap, so they noticed after a time the small girl understood some word in Swedish as well as French. She was using simpler words by her second Birthday, and learned to pronounce the name of her family members' right. Florian was called 'Flo' by her as well, but she did not have problem telling Mahtab's name any more. She adored the cat. Monsieur LeChat was hugged by her all the time if she could get him. The cat was surprisingly patient and easygoing with the child, and did not hurt her, contrary to Christine's fears. Other animals woke her interest as well. Mahtab's old ABC book from which she learned to read contained pictures of animals as well and the spelling of their names. She loved that page of the book and would carry it around to randomly shove the book under someone's nose (save for Erik, as he did not have one…) and randomly point at an animal there, announcing "Ducky" or "hoosy-hooosy" to the person, as if they were totally unable to recognize a horse or a duck without her assistance.
- Yes, dear, horsey. – Erik patted her head and gently pushed her back, to send her to the other direction once after the fifth time in a row she showed up with the "horsey" the same afternoon.
- Horsey for me. – She turned back and looked at Erik with a huge smile.
- What horsey for you, eh? – Erik laughed. – You don't want a horse. WWe don't have a stable.
- Horsey. – She repeated with determination.
- No horsey. – Erik shook his head. – What an idea…
Erik loved horses as well, so he would not actually mind one, so Belle will have her dream come true, but he knew a horse wasn't a toy. It was a living being who needed caretaking. A stable to be built wasn't that hard, and it would have fit on the lot, but cleaning, feeding and walking it regularly wasn't an activity Erik wished for with his joints in pain mostly. And he knew ell that the children won't really help him with it, except Mahtab maybe. No, no horsey for Belle.
Yet he was into one idea. Christine suggested a vacation in Perros so that Belle will see that beautiful place for the first time, and all of them could use some relaxing. It was true. They were planning to spend the summer in Perros. Having the house totally renewed in Perros they could use anytime, it wasn't a problem. He and Mahtab went to tidy the house two weeks before the others arranged arrival, and checked if there was anything to be fixed. They lived and cleaned there for a week, but Mahtab realized Erik had trouble walking up on the stairs to the gallery where the beds were.
- Who was the idiot that put the beds up there? – He moaned.
- You. – Mahtab pointed out.
- You shall not answer all my questions. – He threatened playfully shaking his finger at her.
- Papa, are you sure you are all right? – She leaned closer, worriedly.
- Meh. – Erik laughed out. – It is good for you, child. You have neither arms nor legs.
- I have them, Papa. – Mahtab tilted her head to the side in astonishment.
- Oh no… not yet. You will have them when you can feel them. – Erik laughed. – It is just how growing old works.
- You are not old. – Mahtab shook her head.
- Almost 70, child. If that isn't old, I don't know what is.
- 100. – She spat it out proudly.
- Oh, ho! Well, I inform you I don't wish to live for 100 years, dear child. People don't usually live for 100 years anyways.
- How much do they live then?
- Depends. There are people who die in their 50s, and others die at 80.
- Papa, what shall happen to us if…
- Don't bury me yet. – He scolded. – I am not going to die because of only my legs hurting. I did survive much worse things as well. I promise I am going to fight if I can, to support you all. But you shall not worry over my death, Mahtab, as it will poison your life. Believe me, there are much worse things to worry about. – He hugged her neck comfortingly.
Mahtab was happier and less worried about Erik as she saw her father was still able to do any works. Slower than he used to, but he was quite all right with climbing up on the roof to clean the leaves out of the gutter, or such works. He wasn't that old yet. She was sure her father never grows old.
As there were just the two of them for two weeks, she walked out every day to catch fish for dinner for them. Getting fish and preparing meals was her job. Both her and her father liked fish, so they were fine with it. As she was finished with her latest growing phase, Erik, contrary to Christine's continuous contrariety, created a similar full face human face like mask for Mahtab as his, earlier that year, so that she won't be instantly picked on if she leaves the house. She even had a small blondish mustache to look like a teenage boy, and she was able to brush her thick blonde hair the way it covered the edges of the mask, so she looked natural. People did not even give her a second look. She looked normal, along with her father in public. Only at home they wore their real faces.
One day when she was fishing, she suddenly heard a cry for help. Alarmed she jumped up to see what has happened, and noticed a girl in the water, trying her best to stay afloat. Without hesitation she threw her jacket and shoes off to run into the water and rescue her. She learned to swim from Erik in the earlier Perros vacations, and as she exactly remembered back from her early childhood how did it feel to be nearly drowned, when she fell into the lake under the Opera, she exactly knew what the girl was going through. She had to help her.
She swam as fast as possible and pulled the girl out on the shore. She worriedly checked her pulse and breathing and was relieved to see that the girl opened her eyes and coughed up water.
- It is all right. Don't be afraid. – Mahtab comforted her compassionately. – I am here and will help you.
- What is your… name…? – She asked faintly, looking at this quite handsome boy she met.
- Mahtab. And yours?
- Thank you… for saving me. – She shuddered. – Mahtab…?
- Yes. It is a rare name, not French. Persian. – She explained while putting her dry jacket over the girl's shoulder and back to make her feel better.
- My name is Julie. – The girl said after some pause. She was beautiful, to tell the truth. She had brown hair and blue eyes, and a beautifully symmetric face.
- Nice to meet you. – Mahtab smiled.
- Same here. – Julie smiled. She had a beautifully kind smile and a nice speaking voice. – Are you here for vacation? – She asked curiously.
- Yes, with my father, and we are preparing our house for the others to arrive soon. I have three siblings. But I think we should go to someplace dry as you will catch a cold if you stay here in these wet clothes. May I accompany you home? – Mahtab offered.
- Oh, thank you, but I shall go home alone. You know… my father does not like… boys… with me.
- I see. – Mahtab nodded, yet she wasn't sure why that was a problem.
- But we can meet tomorrow as my father works. – Julie added.
- That would be great. – Mahtab smiled widely as her heart felt a sensation she did not know before. That girl was so kind and beautiful. She waved for Mahtab so nicely as she returned the jacket before running home.
Erik did not know about the girl. Mahtab got home with wet clothes, but she only said she slipped in water. As he knew she was a great swimmer now just like him, he did not ask any more questions. Mahtab wasn't sure why, but she wished to keep Julie as a secret for herself. Maybe Papa won't like the idea she was going to see a girl.
Yet Erik wasn't stupid. He found out what was going on when he saw Mahtab and Julie walking together on the shore, hand in hand, talking to each other about everything. It happened every day. He did not mention it or made a fuss about it though. Children experience these feelings. Just an infatuation comes and goes. Once they return to Paris, they will forget each other and live just as they did before. Why not giving Mahtab a few happy weeks with her first love interest?
Christine, however, wasn't this happy and accepting about her daughter dating another girl openly. When she got to know about Mahtab meeting a girl like that for two weeks already, she wanted to scold the child as soon as she returns. Erik literally had to force her back in a seating position.
- Will you listen to me, woman? – He growled.
Christine wasn't any more used to that tone from her husband, and had a jawdrop as Erik continued his speech.
- One more time, I am going to explain: Mahtab is a boy. He decided this way. Now think logically: as a boy, you are about to flirt with women. Right?
- She is a girl. – Christine retorted angrily. – And a girl shall not court a girl!
- Biologically yes, she was born to be a girl, but she feels like a boy. And he likes a girl as a boy, not as a girl. Anyway, these first loves mean literally nothing.
- As you say. Raoul was my first love and I loved him still when we were adults.
- While not even meeting him for decades. – Erik retorted. – No. You loved the memories of him. Not himself.
- That is how you were trying to manipulate me in the Opera as well, when…
- Stop this. – Erik groaned. – The kids might get in anytime and I don't wish them to hear about my past as the "you know what of the what".
The Phantom of the Opera word connection wasn't allowed to be used by either the Daroga or Christine around the children. Erik did not want to tell the children about his past as the Opera Ghost, so the kids only knew their Papa was a contractor, and once he was teaching Mama to sing.
After some silence, Erik talked again, with a forced calmness.
- So. Mahtab is fine as he is, and if you dare to scold and humiliate him about being in love, I swear to God, you will meet the "you know what of the what" again…
- Are you sure it is all right to let her…
- Him… yes.
- As you wish. – Christine bit her lips and nodded slowly.
Day by day, Mahtab and Julie got closer and closer emotionally. They told each other their deepest secrets and emotions. Mahtab's altered voice did enchant the girl and she smiled at her while they were talking. Mahtab also turned out to be extremely kind and compassionate. She wasn't mocked by Mahtab, so Julie was happy she at least found a nice looking, and kind boy. Mahtab was nothing like her previous loves. There were a lot of boys in her life already, yet she was only 16, but none of them were like Mahtab.
Mahtab wanted to impress her love even more, so she turned to Flo for help.
- Dearest little brother… - She started.
- Yes? – Flo got surprised, as he was used to his siblings being kind to him, but it was still rare one of them called him "dearest little brother".
- Would you be so kind to give me that serenade you wrote? Please.
- I wrote it for Sophie. – Flo shook his head.
- But… you did not yet show it to her, did you?
- No… I was waiting for the perfect occasion to…
- Please dear, I can't write as beautiful music as you can. Flo, please… I give a service in return of your service.
- What sort of service?
- I will do your math homework for you for a month.
- Deal. – Flo nodded without hesitation. However pure his emotions were for Sophie, he could never resist being free of math for a full month. He handed the carefully guarded sheet music to Mahtab and hugged her tight. – Perform it by heart, will you…?
- You won't be disappointed, brother. – Mahtab slapped his back playfully.
At that evening, Mahtab and Julie met again, and she performed Florian's love song for Julie, kneeling in front of her. Her voice was in the boy soprano range, giving all her emotions into singing. The young girl got touched and at the end of the song, she leaned close to Mahtab and gently and lovingly kissed her on the cheeks.
Mahtab was as happy and in love as she nearly was flying two feet from ground when she arrived home after that evening spent together. The kiss and the innocent love talking made her happy and she could not describe how love made feel her.
This feeling had continued for two more weeks. Peaceful and happy walking on the shore, singing for Julie, and innocent hugs, and sweet kisses on the forehead and cheek on both sides. They were like two doves together, and no one, not even Julie knew that Mahtab wasn't a boy. She did not have the idea she should have told it to Julie.
After these sweet two weeks however, Julie started to act strange. She was sad and mostly did not pay attention, yet she looked like she was about to tell something. But she did not. She just left the dates earlier and earlier, saying she was tired. Mahtab tried to ask what was wrong, but she never told.
Mahtab started to get suspicious, and wanted to make sure Julie was all right. Once, yet she knew it was not the best act to do, she was following Julie from a distance, and was trying to find out what caused the poor girl to be so sad. And suddenly, as a cold shower, it hit Mahtab. Just as she was struck by a thunder, she gasped, upon seeing Julie meeting a boy, and kissing him passionately on the lips. She was unfaithful… she betrayed her! After those sweet weeks together! She gave her love to Julie. She was the first person who made her heart beat in that special rhythm. And now it was all gone. She loved another boy, and she cheated. As fast as she could, Mahtab ran home and stormed into the house, sobbing. The Daroga asked what had happened, but Mahtab was too worked up to answer, and against her intentions and manners, she just ran upstairs to the attic and slammed the door behind herself. She collapsed onto the bed, crying so hard she thought she will suffocate.
After a time Erik appeared in the room with a plate of food. As Mahtab lifted her head up, she saw it was already dark. She was crying here all day it seemed. As she saw Erik walking close to her, she sat up and dried her eyes.
- Why did you come up here, Papa…? Your legs hurt. – She worried.
- Mama sent your meal up here. With me. – Erik explained. – May I sit down?
- Yes. But I am not hungry.
- What has happened, son? – Erik asked with compassion.
- Julie… betrayed me. – She swallowed back her tears. – I saw her kissing passionately with a boy I have never seen…
- Oh. – Erik shook his head. – I know what you feel. – He sighed, then patted Mahtab's shoulder. – But… may I tell you something?
- Sure. – Mahtab nodded, while wiping her tears with her handkerchief.
- Love, you see, is hard. – Erik started. – It is beautiful and painful at the very same time, sometimes you find the true girl, the One, for the first try, but it is much more common you have to face a lot of hurtful disappointments until you get married to the woman of your dreams. Infatuations in a young age, you see, are like candlelight. A sparkle, which causes the flame to get alive and burn for some hours, being not only warm, but unbearably hot, Mahtab. It does not make your soul warm, but it burns with passion, and it disappears just as fast as it appeared. Do you know, my child, what happens to a candle after a few hours? It melts. Dies. These quick loves won't last for a lifetime. What you are searching to live happily, is the glowing coal. It can give a sparkle anytime and has passion buried inside, but mostly all it does is just keeping your soul and the relationship warm, not letting it cool off. Yet it dies very slowly and can be revived if you bother to work with it a bit. That is love, Mahtab.
The girl looked at her father with growing interest and at the end of his speech, she sat up with a knowing smile.
- You… you are right, Papa. You can always make me feel better. Thank you.
- Oh. It is nothing. A young man can always use some advice from the older people. I have experienced what you feel and know how lousy it makes you feel. But if you accept another advice: give your heart to someone who deserves it rather than someone so unworthy of your affection. And be happy you found out in time who she really is.
- Oh Papa… you are the best Papa ever. – Mahtab hugged Erik tight, then said. – And leave my dinner here… I am hungry.
With a relieved sigh, Erik left his poor unhappy but recovering child to eat in peace, and the solitude she needed.
Mahtab was finally calmed down to sleep at night with everyone else, and they were peacefully sleeping with the others, when there was a loud knock on the door at nearly eleven o clock.
- Who the Hell might that be? – Erik startled up from his book and went to answer the door.
A man was standing there. He was quite tall, but shorter than Erik, yet he was fat. He wore only a waistcoat, pants and a white shirt. He had a potato head with same kind of nose and angry eyes. His mustache was like a catfish's. Without saying hello, he pointed at Erik.
- I want to talk to your son.
- At first I bid you a good evening. – Erik retorted. – Secondly, my children are already asleep at this hour.
- I don't care. Wake him up. – The other man demanded.
- Who the Hell are you?
- Maurice Gautier. Julie's father. I have to talk to your son!
Oh the cute little Julie! Yet Erik knew Mahtab was already in bed, but he did not want this guy to cause a scandal so he found it wiser to wake Mahtab up and clear up the issues this man wanted to talk about. Erik woke Mahtab up and asked her to put her face on, as they had a visitor.
When Mahtab arrived downstairs, looking normal, but sleepy, Erik gestured the man and Mahtab to go out in the kitchen. There was no need for the others to know what they were talking about.
- So, now, here is my son. – Erik stated. – What is that matter which could not wait until morning?
- I wish you to marry my daughter as soon as possible. – The man told Mahtab angrily.
- Why? – She asked with a sudden shock. – I don't want to marry her.
- You have to, after what you did to her! – Maurice growled.
- What did I do? – Mahtab gasped.
- Don't play the little innocent thing! My daughter is pregnant!
Mahtab gasped again. God. Really, kissing causes women to get pregnant as Sophie told her? But they were not kissing in bed!
- If she is pregnant, Monsieur, then I suggest you to search the possible father elsewhere. – Erik's deep voice thundered behind Mahtab's back.
- Your son was courting her! – The man attacked. – He was the one who took her honor!
- I bet, good Monsieur that your daughter stopped being a virgin years ago!
- Take it back. – He fumed.
- Mahtab! Tell him you did nothing.
- I kissed her… - She sobbed.
- Kissed? You did something else as well, I bet! You raped her!
- Who told you this? – Erik grabbed the man by the collar.
- My daughter.
- Then she is not only a whore, but also a liar! – Erik spat out. – And my child certainly did not do it to her!
- Of course, every father thinks their son would not do such a thing!
- It is not about that! – Erik said, a bit of quieter. – Mahtab is… unable to do it.
- Unable? Why? – Maurice groaned suspiciously.
- Because Mahtab is a girl. – Erik sighed brokenly.
He knew well that Mahtab felt as a boy, and like this, he betrayed his daughter's feelings as he gave away her deepest secret, but it was still better than letting Mahtab's name gotten into a scandal about rape and an illegitimate childbirth.
- Is that true…? – Maurice snorted. – Are you… a girl?
- I was born as a girl by nature. – Mahtab replied softly.
- Are you courting my daughter as a girl?
- Not anymore.
- It is your luck, you little disgusting twisted…
Erik slammed the man against the kitchen's stone wall, and squeezed his throat, and hissed.
- If you dare to insult my child by one more word, your grandchild will never see its Grandfather!
He released the man after some silence, and Maurice felt it a better idea if he just leaves the house without a word. He hurried outside, still massaging his throat, coughing from Erik's iron grip of those skeletal hands, and running as fast as he could, home, ashamed of his daughter's shameful acts. He always knew that girl inherited her mother's sinful soul and urges… and now that caused that shame and misfortune for her! The little liar viper!
Mahtab stood in the kitchen, frozen up in her place. The man's voice echoed in her ears. She was yet again called 'disgusting', but this time it wasn't her looks that indicated the cusswords. She was outcast because of her looks as a boy and a girl, and she was now an outcast because of being a boy in a girl's body. She just realized it was a sinful act to kiss a girl as a girl, no matter how she felt about her gender. She was disgusting no matter what. She walked closer to Erik, and hugged her father without a word, desperately needing for comfort. Erik stroke Mahtab's hair and softly hummed a song for her, unintentionally to calm the crying child.
What a huge slap is it from life? Oh poor poor unhappy Mahtab…
