Christian awoke the following morning to another knock on his door. This
time it was the landlady, yelling that he had missed his rent again that
month, and was about to evict him. Christian barely rolled over, too
wrought with sorrow to care. He had relived the best and worst part of his
life the night before, and was still reeling from the wounds. He glanced
out of the window and saw the sun above the windmill. It had to have been
around noon. Christian decided to get up.
He threw his jacket on over his shirt and went to the balcony. He slipped on the shoes he had left there the last time he went out, and managed to climb down the drainpipe. Once his feet hit the ground, he turned toward away from the Moulin Rouge and began to walk.
As his feet carried him on, several young girls with painted eyes and lips with their hair piled up on top of their heads approached him. One, a blonde, was smoking a cigarette. Her friends, a brunette and two redheads, came up and leaned on Christian. The blonde spoke.
"You look lonely, monsieur," she said in a slightly childish, seductive voice, "Perhaps we may be of assistance." She traced his shoulder with her index finger, having dropped the cigarette. Christian looked into her eyes.
"What's your name?" he asked softly. The blonde smiled.
"Karrinne," she whispered, running her hand down his arm.
"How old are you?" he asked quietly. The prostitute looked taken aback.
"I am how ever old you want me to be," she purred, reaching up to play with his hair.
Christian grabbed her wrist lightly to stop her hand and persisted. "I want you to be how old you are," he said.
The girl looked rather shocked, but answered, "I am nineteen." Christian let go of her arm with a look of pity and pain. So young, he thought. He took a fistful of bank notes from his pocket and held them out to her. She took them and smiled.
"That is more than enough, monsieur," she said as she began to pull him into a nearby building. Christian stopped her.
"I don't want your services," he spoke simply, "I am giving you that money to start you in a life in which you need not sell yourself to men that walk these terrible streets. I, too, am a sufferer of the death of the Bohemian Revolution, but we Children can't fall back to our old ways." He leaned in close so that only Karrinne could hear and whispered, "And the streets are no life for a former cancan dancer." He left her standing in the shadows, surprised.
He kept walking until he heard the music of an unruly bar advertising absinthe and ex-cancan girls. What appeared to be a drunken midget came flying through the window as Christian walked by. A ruffled and quite drunken Toulouse stood up and brushed himself off. He nodded to Christian in a bemused sort of way, then turned in the opposite direction and walked away. Christian shook his head. Toulouse would never change. As he began walking, a voice behind him made him jump.
"How did you know?" Karrinne asked. Christian didn't even stop. Karrinne sped up to keep up with him. She tried again. "How did you know I worked for Zidler?" Christian stopped. He turned slowly and looked at the girl. She was quite pretty, and seemed much older than her age. He made himself forget her beautiful hair and very elegant features to speak to her.
"I was there," he said, "The night the Diamond died." Karrinne looked at him curiously.
"You're Christian, aren't you?" she asked breathlessly. He nodded. Karrinne stood there for a moment, then said, "Satine and I were friends, you know. She, well, she didn't have much time for me, what with Spectacular Spectacular and all that. I saw you with her that night on the elephant, when you sang. I haven't stopped thinking of you since then. I remember thinking, 'If that is the duke, then Satine is certainly lucky.' I thought that perhaps you would marry, when she became an actress, and you would be there all of the time. I thought, at the time, that I was in love with you. Funny that a year ago it was love, and five minutes ago I didn't even recognize your face." She stopped. Christian saw that she was almost crying. An idea came into his head.
"Karrinne," he said, "Perhaps you would accompany me back to my apartment for some tea? I have something there you might like to read." Karrinne smiled.
"Yes, I would like that."
They walked back to Christian's apartment, but when they got there, the landlady was searching for him.
"Where is that confounded Bohemian?" she yelled, exiting the building but remaining on the steps. Christian and Karrinne looked at each other, then hurried noiselessly around the back. Karrinne looked up the wall to the balcony she knew was his.
"How do we . . .?" she asked in a whisper. Christian took her hand and gave her a boost up onto the first ledge that formed footholds up the entire wall. After she had succeeded in climbing onto the balcony, Christian followed deftly after her. He found her standing next to the bird in the wrought iron cage outside of his window. A single tear fell from her eyes and she whispered, "I remember the day she got this." But a moment later, she was fine, turning to walk into the apartment.
She has such composure, Christian thought, she is coping much better than me. He sat her down on the bed and began to unpin the sheets of typed paper from the walls, stacking them so that they made a kind of book. He piled them on the bed and said, "Please, read this."
He paced while she read, sometimes beside her on the bed, other times outside on the balcony, and even listening at the door for the landlady's footsteps. It took her two hours to read the entire manuscript.
Karrinne set the final page aside, tears streaming down her face. She stood up and put her arms around Christian's neck in a friendly, supporting hug.
"Oh, Christian, I had no idea."
When the two broke from their hug, they looked straight into each other's eyes. Karrinne whispered, "You know, I could see myself loving you."
Christian didn't run away. He just looked back into her deep, blue eyes and whispered, "You know what . . . so could I."
As if in slow motion, they leaned in, their lips gently touching, then they kissed, a sweet, loving first kiss.
Christian broke first. He gently pushed away from her, then turned and went onto the balcony. He leaned on the railing again. Karrinne came up behind him.
"I'm sorry, Christian," she said, "I couldn't help it. I had just been thinking about how much the two of us had been through, and how much I used to think I loved you, I . . ." But she never got to finish her sentence. Christian turned around and walked her quickly back into the room. He pulled her to him in a passionate kiss, all the while backing up with some intention behind them . . .
While they kissed, Christian shut and locked the window.
He threw his jacket on over his shirt and went to the balcony. He slipped on the shoes he had left there the last time he went out, and managed to climb down the drainpipe. Once his feet hit the ground, he turned toward away from the Moulin Rouge and began to walk.
As his feet carried him on, several young girls with painted eyes and lips with their hair piled up on top of their heads approached him. One, a blonde, was smoking a cigarette. Her friends, a brunette and two redheads, came up and leaned on Christian. The blonde spoke.
"You look lonely, monsieur," she said in a slightly childish, seductive voice, "Perhaps we may be of assistance." She traced his shoulder with her index finger, having dropped the cigarette. Christian looked into her eyes.
"What's your name?" he asked softly. The blonde smiled.
"Karrinne," she whispered, running her hand down his arm.
"How old are you?" he asked quietly. The prostitute looked taken aback.
"I am how ever old you want me to be," she purred, reaching up to play with his hair.
Christian grabbed her wrist lightly to stop her hand and persisted. "I want you to be how old you are," he said.
The girl looked rather shocked, but answered, "I am nineteen." Christian let go of her arm with a look of pity and pain. So young, he thought. He took a fistful of bank notes from his pocket and held them out to her. She took them and smiled.
"That is more than enough, monsieur," she said as she began to pull him into a nearby building. Christian stopped her.
"I don't want your services," he spoke simply, "I am giving you that money to start you in a life in which you need not sell yourself to men that walk these terrible streets. I, too, am a sufferer of the death of the Bohemian Revolution, but we Children can't fall back to our old ways." He leaned in close so that only Karrinne could hear and whispered, "And the streets are no life for a former cancan dancer." He left her standing in the shadows, surprised.
He kept walking until he heard the music of an unruly bar advertising absinthe and ex-cancan girls. What appeared to be a drunken midget came flying through the window as Christian walked by. A ruffled and quite drunken Toulouse stood up and brushed himself off. He nodded to Christian in a bemused sort of way, then turned in the opposite direction and walked away. Christian shook his head. Toulouse would never change. As he began walking, a voice behind him made him jump.
"How did you know?" Karrinne asked. Christian didn't even stop. Karrinne sped up to keep up with him. She tried again. "How did you know I worked for Zidler?" Christian stopped. He turned slowly and looked at the girl. She was quite pretty, and seemed much older than her age. He made himself forget her beautiful hair and very elegant features to speak to her.
"I was there," he said, "The night the Diamond died." Karrinne looked at him curiously.
"You're Christian, aren't you?" she asked breathlessly. He nodded. Karrinne stood there for a moment, then said, "Satine and I were friends, you know. She, well, she didn't have much time for me, what with Spectacular Spectacular and all that. I saw you with her that night on the elephant, when you sang. I haven't stopped thinking of you since then. I remember thinking, 'If that is the duke, then Satine is certainly lucky.' I thought that perhaps you would marry, when she became an actress, and you would be there all of the time. I thought, at the time, that I was in love with you. Funny that a year ago it was love, and five minutes ago I didn't even recognize your face." She stopped. Christian saw that she was almost crying. An idea came into his head.
"Karrinne," he said, "Perhaps you would accompany me back to my apartment for some tea? I have something there you might like to read." Karrinne smiled.
"Yes, I would like that."
They walked back to Christian's apartment, but when they got there, the landlady was searching for him.
"Where is that confounded Bohemian?" she yelled, exiting the building but remaining on the steps. Christian and Karrinne looked at each other, then hurried noiselessly around the back. Karrinne looked up the wall to the balcony she knew was his.
"How do we . . .?" she asked in a whisper. Christian took her hand and gave her a boost up onto the first ledge that formed footholds up the entire wall. After she had succeeded in climbing onto the balcony, Christian followed deftly after her. He found her standing next to the bird in the wrought iron cage outside of his window. A single tear fell from her eyes and she whispered, "I remember the day she got this." But a moment later, she was fine, turning to walk into the apartment.
She has such composure, Christian thought, she is coping much better than me. He sat her down on the bed and began to unpin the sheets of typed paper from the walls, stacking them so that they made a kind of book. He piled them on the bed and said, "Please, read this."
He paced while she read, sometimes beside her on the bed, other times outside on the balcony, and even listening at the door for the landlady's footsteps. It took her two hours to read the entire manuscript.
Karrinne set the final page aside, tears streaming down her face. She stood up and put her arms around Christian's neck in a friendly, supporting hug.
"Oh, Christian, I had no idea."
When the two broke from their hug, they looked straight into each other's eyes. Karrinne whispered, "You know, I could see myself loving you."
Christian didn't run away. He just looked back into her deep, blue eyes and whispered, "You know what . . . so could I."
As if in slow motion, they leaned in, their lips gently touching, then they kissed, a sweet, loving first kiss.
Christian broke first. He gently pushed away from her, then turned and went onto the balcony. He leaned on the railing again. Karrinne came up behind him.
"I'm sorry, Christian," she said, "I couldn't help it. I had just been thinking about how much the two of us had been through, and how much I used to think I loved you, I . . ." But she never got to finish her sentence. Christian turned around and walked her quickly back into the room. He pulled her to him in a passionate kiss, all the while backing up with some intention behind them . . .
While they kissed, Christian shut and locked the window.