Christian took a deep breath and answered, "Hi, Mom."
The woman on the other end whispered, "Christian?"
Christian murmured confirmation into the receiver. His mother gasped.
"Where are you?"
"Albany General."
"What?"
"Listen, Mom, I've got something to ask you."
"Anything. Anything at all. It's so good to hear your voice again."
"Yours, too, Mom."
"What was it you wanted to ask me?"
Here we go, thought Christian. "I . . . I just recently spent some time in New York. I met this . . . girl . . ."
"A girl?" asked his mother, intrigued.
"Yeah, her name's Adrienne. But there was an accident."
"Oh my God. Are you all right?"
"I wasn't in it. It was an elevator. Adrienne has to have surgery . . . and we can't pay for it."
There was a pause. A long pause. Christian's mother drew in a long breath then said, "And this is your responsibility why?"
Christian paused then, too. "Because . . . because I love her."
Neither of them said anything for a long time. Finally, Mrs. Londen said, "Adrienne, huh?"
"Yeah."
"That sounds like a nice name."
Christian smiled. "So you'll do it? You'll help pay for it?"
"Yes."
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, Chris."
"I'll see you in the ER. I'll tell them they can go ahead. There's something I want to say to S- Adrienne first."
"Okay, sweetheart, I'll be there in a little while."
Christian hung up the phone and sprinted into the ER where the paramedics had taken his darling, his Satine.
She was lying in a bed, hooked up to an IV. Apparently she had gotten worse. Tears sprung into Christian's eyes. A heart monitor beeped on the other side of the room. If she had damage to the head . . . why would she need a heart monitor? Was there something more?
"Hi," she said weakly. She sounded worse than she did that evening. The sun was setting behind the trees outside of her window. Christian tried to push back his tears, but one fell of its own free will. Satine saw it and smiled.
"Oh, darling," she breathed, "Don't cry for me. It's going to be fine. Remember?"
Christian nodded and said, "I just called my mom."
"And?"
"And she'll do it."
Satine settled down in her bed, smiling. "That's good."
"Listen," Christian said, sitting down on the bed beside her, "There's something I wanted to ask you before . . . before . . . before you got sick." He pulled a small black box out of his jacket. He had spent the money he had left to buy her the most beautiful ring in New York. If she said yes, then he would never need another happy moment in his life, because he was marrying Satine Perris, or Adrienne Hoffman, whoever she was. He opened the lid of the box to reveal the ring to Satine.
She gasped weakly, staring at what she had once proclaimed as "a girl's best friend." The most beautiful ring she had ever seen was lying before her. Christian hit a knee.
"If I were a sculptor . . . but then again, no," he began, "Or a man who made potions in a traveling show . . . ." He decided to start over. "I don't have much money, but boy if I did," his palms were sweating so badly he could barely hold the ring, and Satine was delirious (imagine if she'd been fully conscious), "I'd buy a big house where we both could live."
Continuing in the vein of Elton John, he broke into the end of the first verse in song. "I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is now you're in the world." He kissed her hand. "Marry me, Adrienne."
Satine looked uncomfortable. "Christian," she said quietly, "You don't even know who I really am. I'm not the one you saw that day on- stage. I'm not even that girl you knew back in New York. I'm . . . . I'm . . . I'm not Satine."
Christian took her hand. "You're right. You're not Satine. But darling, I do know you. I've known you my whole life. I knew I loved you before I met you. I have been waiting all my life. I knew I loved you before I met you. I will always love you. You are Adrienne Hoffman, the love of my life. Not Satine . . . You are Adrienne. And I love you."
Satine's eyes teared up. She could barely see Christian for the delirium and the tears, but her mind was amazingly clear. She wanted this more than anything she had ever wanted. She smiled, and said, "You're right. I am Adrienne. But not Hoffman. I am Adrienne Londen."
Christian laughed slightly, then slipped the ring on her finger. He leaned up and kissed her gently. The doctor came in.
"Have you decided, Miss Londen?" he asked.
"That's Mrs. Londen," she said, "And yes."
"We've decided," Christian said, "That we want to do the surgery."
The doctor nodded. "All right, then, Mrs. Londen, let's take you into OR."
Two orderlies came and wheeled Satine away from Christian.
"Chris!" she yelled.
"I'll be waiting for you in the lobby, darling!"
"I love you!"
Christian heard her last words as she went through the door to the corridor the operating rooms were down. "I love you," he said to himself, because he knew she could not hear him.
An older woman with pinkish blonde, short, curly hair and dressed in an outfit only fit for a country club lounge came walking up to Christian. She put her arms around him.
"My boy," she said as the two embraced, "My beautiful, amazing boy. I'm so happy you're home."
"Get off, Mom, I could have always called Grandmama." *(aww, isn't he sweet? See, there was someone else he could have called. I know, not as big of a deal as I made it.)*
Christian returned his mother's hug with slight reluctance. When they pulled apart he said, "Mom, are you sure about this?"
"Of course."
"Does Pop know?"
She sighed. "No." Christian nodded and understood. His mother walked him over to a pair of chairs near a table.
"So, what's she like?"
Christian laughed. "Nothing like you."
"Ah, a nonconformist."
"You might say that."
"Is she pretty?"
"Beautiful."
"That's always a plus. What about career?"
"Oh, Mom . . ."
"Unemployed, then."
Christian laughed as his mother continued giving him the third degree about Satine, Adrienne, his future wife.
Meanwhile, Satine lay on a cold metal table, undergoing probably the most important thing that would ever happen in her life . . .
**************************************************************************** *
So, will Satine live or die? Will I ever stop calling her Satine? Will I be evil, or will I be nice? Hehehe, all to come in the next chapter. Does Satine live? Does Satine die? You'll find out next . . . Thanks soooooooooo soooo much to all my reviewers. Celeny, you're the best! Thanks to all the nice stuff everybody's been saying. Here's to hoping I can continue to bring out good stuff. I usually get this far into a story and get writer's block . . . It may be (like J.K. Rowling) a while until I get the next installement out (I am not saying Ms. Rowling has writer's block. She's just torturing her devoted fans -cough-me-cough- by pushing her release date back until possibly NEXT JUNE.)
~Evie
The woman on the other end whispered, "Christian?"
Christian murmured confirmation into the receiver. His mother gasped.
"Where are you?"
"Albany General."
"What?"
"Listen, Mom, I've got something to ask you."
"Anything. Anything at all. It's so good to hear your voice again."
"Yours, too, Mom."
"What was it you wanted to ask me?"
Here we go, thought Christian. "I . . . I just recently spent some time in New York. I met this . . . girl . . ."
"A girl?" asked his mother, intrigued.
"Yeah, her name's Adrienne. But there was an accident."
"Oh my God. Are you all right?"
"I wasn't in it. It was an elevator. Adrienne has to have surgery . . . and we can't pay for it."
There was a pause. A long pause. Christian's mother drew in a long breath then said, "And this is your responsibility why?"
Christian paused then, too. "Because . . . because I love her."
Neither of them said anything for a long time. Finally, Mrs. Londen said, "Adrienne, huh?"
"Yeah."
"That sounds like a nice name."
Christian smiled. "So you'll do it? You'll help pay for it?"
"Yes."
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, Chris."
"I'll see you in the ER. I'll tell them they can go ahead. There's something I want to say to S- Adrienne first."
"Okay, sweetheart, I'll be there in a little while."
Christian hung up the phone and sprinted into the ER where the paramedics had taken his darling, his Satine.
She was lying in a bed, hooked up to an IV. Apparently she had gotten worse. Tears sprung into Christian's eyes. A heart monitor beeped on the other side of the room. If she had damage to the head . . . why would she need a heart monitor? Was there something more?
"Hi," she said weakly. She sounded worse than she did that evening. The sun was setting behind the trees outside of her window. Christian tried to push back his tears, but one fell of its own free will. Satine saw it and smiled.
"Oh, darling," she breathed, "Don't cry for me. It's going to be fine. Remember?"
Christian nodded and said, "I just called my mom."
"And?"
"And she'll do it."
Satine settled down in her bed, smiling. "That's good."
"Listen," Christian said, sitting down on the bed beside her, "There's something I wanted to ask you before . . . before . . . before you got sick." He pulled a small black box out of his jacket. He had spent the money he had left to buy her the most beautiful ring in New York. If she said yes, then he would never need another happy moment in his life, because he was marrying Satine Perris, or Adrienne Hoffman, whoever she was. He opened the lid of the box to reveal the ring to Satine.
She gasped weakly, staring at what she had once proclaimed as "a girl's best friend." The most beautiful ring she had ever seen was lying before her. Christian hit a knee.
"If I were a sculptor . . . but then again, no," he began, "Or a man who made potions in a traveling show . . . ." He decided to start over. "I don't have much money, but boy if I did," his palms were sweating so badly he could barely hold the ring, and Satine was delirious (imagine if she'd been fully conscious), "I'd buy a big house where we both could live."
Continuing in the vein of Elton John, he broke into the end of the first verse in song. "I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is now you're in the world." He kissed her hand. "Marry me, Adrienne."
Satine looked uncomfortable. "Christian," she said quietly, "You don't even know who I really am. I'm not the one you saw that day on- stage. I'm not even that girl you knew back in New York. I'm . . . . I'm . . . I'm not Satine."
Christian took her hand. "You're right. You're not Satine. But darling, I do know you. I've known you my whole life. I knew I loved you before I met you. I have been waiting all my life. I knew I loved you before I met you. I will always love you. You are Adrienne Hoffman, the love of my life. Not Satine . . . You are Adrienne. And I love you."
Satine's eyes teared up. She could barely see Christian for the delirium and the tears, but her mind was amazingly clear. She wanted this more than anything she had ever wanted. She smiled, and said, "You're right. I am Adrienne. But not Hoffman. I am Adrienne Londen."
Christian laughed slightly, then slipped the ring on her finger. He leaned up and kissed her gently. The doctor came in.
"Have you decided, Miss Londen?" he asked.
"That's Mrs. Londen," she said, "And yes."
"We've decided," Christian said, "That we want to do the surgery."
The doctor nodded. "All right, then, Mrs. Londen, let's take you into OR."
Two orderlies came and wheeled Satine away from Christian.
"Chris!" she yelled.
"I'll be waiting for you in the lobby, darling!"
"I love you!"
Christian heard her last words as she went through the door to the corridor the operating rooms were down. "I love you," he said to himself, because he knew she could not hear him.
An older woman with pinkish blonde, short, curly hair and dressed in an outfit only fit for a country club lounge came walking up to Christian. She put her arms around him.
"My boy," she said as the two embraced, "My beautiful, amazing boy. I'm so happy you're home."
"Get off, Mom, I could have always called Grandmama." *(aww, isn't he sweet? See, there was someone else he could have called. I know, not as big of a deal as I made it.)*
Christian returned his mother's hug with slight reluctance. When they pulled apart he said, "Mom, are you sure about this?"
"Of course."
"Does Pop know?"
She sighed. "No." Christian nodded and understood. His mother walked him over to a pair of chairs near a table.
"So, what's she like?"
Christian laughed. "Nothing like you."
"Ah, a nonconformist."
"You might say that."
"Is she pretty?"
"Beautiful."
"That's always a plus. What about career?"
"Oh, Mom . . ."
"Unemployed, then."
Christian laughed as his mother continued giving him the third degree about Satine, Adrienne, his future wife.
Meanwhile, Satine lay on a cold metal table, undergoing probably the most important thing that would ever happen in her life . . .
**************************************************************************** *
So, will Satine live or die? Will I ever stop calling her Satine? Will I be evil, or will I be nice? Hehehe, all to come in the next chapter. Does Satine live? Does Satine die? You'll find out next . . . Thanks soooooooooo soooo much to all my reviewers. Celeny, you're the best! Thanks to all the nice stuff everybody's been saying. Here's to hoping I can continue to bring out good stuff. I usually get this far into a story and get writer's block . . . It may be (like J.K. Rowling) a while until I get the next installement out (I am not saying Ms. Rowling has writer's block. She's just torturing her devoted fans -cough-me-cough- by pushing her release date back until possibly NEXT JUNE.)
~Evie
