I grabbed a perfume bottle and sprayed it on my neck, and with the other
hand ran a brush through my blond curls.
As I rushed around, I glanced into the mirror and frowned, like I always do when I look into the mirror. It wasn't just my red hair that I missed, that was my trademark, that had set me apart from the rest of the whores at the Moulin. When you start anew. . . it's supposed to be a better life.
My eyes, once sparkling diamonds were dull. My lips were pale, deep red a scandal. I was still very thin and wore a corset everyday. And my skin. . . just as fair as ever. But I suppose I am happy. I'm living on my own, away from Harold. I depend on myself. I have a son, a wonderful son who looks exactly like. . .
I turned away from the mirror and waved a hand over my eyes, trying to blow away the tears without messing up my makeup.
I patted my head and gasped. "My hat!"
I glanced through my closet, but couldn't find the one that matched with this red dress.
"Marie!" I yelled, tramping out of the room. "Marie, have you seen my hat?"
"My dear, it's right here. There's no need to shout." She held up her arm triumphantly with the red laced hat in her hand. "What's the rush?"
"Auditions," I said, snapping the hat out of her hand and pinning it to my head. "I'm going to be a real actress, Marie. A great actress." I lowered my voice and grabbed her shoulders. "All by myself, without the Duke. I'm going to make it on my own."
"Not if you're late," she smiled, patting my back. She yelled after me, "Make me proud!"
The director, beer-bellied and short, looked me over from head to toe. He ran a hand through his red hair. "And you are. . ." he said with a thick German accent, tapping his clipboard.
I smiled sweetly, extending my hand to him. "Samantha James."
He looked at my hand for a second and then winked at me, kissing my fingers. "Can you sing?" I nodded. "Can you dance?" I nodded again. "Can you act?"
"Yes," I whispered. "Would you like me to show you?"
He tapped his chin, leaning back in his red director's chair. It squeaked and the bottom nearly sunk to the floor. "Yes. Show me."
I sang quietly, looking far off. "I follow the night. Can't stand the light. When will I begin. . . to live again?" I looked toward the director and smiled. "One day I'll fly away. Leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me?" I looked toward the floor, acting out with the emotions of the song. "Why live life from dream to dream... and dread the day when dreaming ends?"
The director slowly shut his mouth that had been creeping open and tapped his clipboard again. "Can you do that. . . all the time?"
I smiled. "Yes."
"I have the perfect role for you. . . it is a play about love. . ."
"Love?" I asked, hopeful.
"Yes. This is what I said. It is about love, overcoming all obstacles."
I stood, speechless. I had heard these words before. . .
"It's based on a book by an English writer. Oh, the English. . ." he turned his head and spat to the side. "How I hate the English. . . but this Englishman. . . he knows what he's talking about."
"What's it called?"
"Oh, you know. Love. . . some story. Just some book about love. You'd be perfect for the lead actress, Sa. . ."
"Samantha," I said. He couldn't remember my name?!
"Yes, Samantha. That's it. You'd be perfect for the lead, Samantha."
I rushed up to him and shook his hand. "Oh, thank you sir. Thank you so much. I am so excited to be a part of this production."
"Yes, yes. Please come again Friday around this time for rehersal. The writer is coming all the way from. . . where ever he is, and you'll get the script."
"Oh, thank you sir." For the first time, I felt at ease. I had made it through an audition, and I hadn't even slept with the director. He hadn't even suggested it. Yes, life was different.
I skipped out of the playhouse and hailed a cab and when I got home I burst through the doors. "Ewan! Marie! I have the best news. . ."
"Mummy!" Ewan, playing with a wooden horse in the sitting room, dropped it and ran to me with open arms. I scooped him up and hugged tightly.
"Alright, what is it? What's this news?" Marie asked.
"I got the lead!" I shrieked, spinning Ewan in circles.
"Oh, darling that's fantastic."
"And I did it all on my own." I set Ewan down by his horse and I sat next to Marie on an armchair. "I don't have the script. . . the writer is supposed to be coming with them, and we're to practice on Friday. Isn't this just the best of news?"
Marie smiled. "Yes, love, it is."
"And YOU!" I picked up my son. "It is time for your bedtime. Come on, then." We made our way upstairs.
"Mummy, were you really good at your audition?" he asked.
"Are you kidding? I as hot! I was on fire! I blew them all away when I opened my mouth."
"Mummy, can you sing me a song?"
"A song, huh?" I turned into the master bedroom that we shared together and set him down on his bed. "Anything for you, my darling."
He grinned, running about to get ready.
"And don't forget to wash your face and brush your teeth," I called after him.
He ran out the door to the bathroom. I flopped down on his small bed and sighed. Now that I was alone, I thought about my problems.
What was I to tell Jonathan? I don't love him, I can't love him. I like him, really I do. But it's not like Christian is coming back, anyway. . .
My heart pangs just thinking of him. "It's always times like these when I think of you and I wonder if you ever think of me. . ." I sighed. How I missed him. "I need you. . . And I miss you. And now I wonder. . . If I could fall, into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles if I could just see you. . . Tonight."
I closed my eyes tight. If he were here, everything would be all right. He would tell me just what to do. . . but if he were here, I would be married to him and not be having this dilemma.
"Mummy, is that my song?"
My eyes flashed open and I smiled, holding my hands out to him.
"No, darling, I have a much better one." He laid down on his pillow and I pulled the covers up to his chin and caressed his hair.
"Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness wakes, and stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses. Helpless to resist the notes I write, for I compose the music of the night. Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it. . . tremulous and tender. Hearing is believing, music is deceiving. Hard as lightning, soft as candle light. Dare you trust the music of the night. . ."
I smiled as he sleepily yawned. "Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth. And the truth isn't what you want to see. In the dark it is easy to pretend. . . But the truth is what it ought to be. Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot fight - the darkness of the music of the night." My voice rang around the room.
"Close you eyes, start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Close your eyes and let music set you free. . ." I glanced up from my sons drooped eyelids, to the night sky, thinking of another man with the same color hair and eyes. "Only then can you belong to me." I whispered, a single tear falling down my cheek. I hastily wiped it away and looked back at my half-asleep son. "Floating, falling, sweet intoxication! Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation! Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write. The power of the music of the night. You alone can make my song take flight. . . help me make the music of the night. . ."
A slight snore told me he was asleep, and I arranged the blankets around his chest, slipping out the door.
I twirled a blond curl between my finger. "Come what may. . . I will love you until my dying day." Christian would always have my heart, but our son. . . sooner or later I'll run out of diamonds, and we'll be thrown out on the streets. I need to ensure Ewan's future.
I have to put Christian out of my mind. I have to stop believing that something will happen, and my happy ending will come. Jonathan loves me, and we're going to get married. We. . . we'll be happy. I need to say goodbye. But how can I forget all that has happened?
"You were once my one companion...you were all that mattered. You were once a friend and lover - then my world was shattered. Wishing you were somehow here again... wishing you were somehow near... Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here... Wishing I could hear your voice again... knowing that I never would... Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could. Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem for you, the wrong companions - you were warm and gentle."
Christian. . . his name would have to be buried along with Satine. They deserved to die together. She would do anything for him. . . forever she will love him. A tear trickled down my cheek and I hastily wiped it away. No, this was my decision long ago. It was the best thing to do. . . and I still believe it. This is what I must do.
"Too many years, fighting back tears. . . Why can't the past just die? Wishing you were somehow here again... knowing we must say goodbye. Try to forgive... teach me to live... give me the strength to try. No more memories, no more silent tears... No more gazing across the wasted years... Help me say goodbye." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::
Author's Note: I just want them to be together. . . how about you? Grr, all this 'it's for the best crap' is really annoying me. I'll just have to have a talking with her. . .
SONGS USED: 'A Thousand Miles' by Vanessa Carlton 'The Music Of The Night' from The Phantom Of The Opera 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again' from The Phantom Of The Opera
As I rushed around, I glanced into the mirror and frowned, like I always do when I look into the mirror. It wasn't just my red hair that I missed, that was my trademark, that had set me apart from the rest of the whores at the Moulin. When you start anew. . . it's supposed to be a better life.
My eyes, once sparkling diamonds were dull. My lips were pale, deep red a scandal. I was still very thin and wore a corset everyday. And my skin. . . just as fair as ever. But I suppose I am happy. I'm living on my own, away from Harold. I depend on myself. I have a son, a wonderful son who looks exactly like. . .
I turned away from the mirror and waved a hand over my eyes, trying to blow away the tears without messing up my makeup.
I patted my head and gasped. "My hat!"
I glanced through my closet, but couldn't find the one that matched with this red dress.
"Marie!" I yelled, tramping out of the room. "Marie, have you seen my hat?"
"My dear, it's right here. There's no need to shout." She held up her arm triumphantly with the red laced hat in her hand. "What's the rush?"
"Auditions," I said, snapping the hat out of her hand and pinning it to my head. "I'm going to be a real actress, Marie. A great actress." I lowered my voice and grabbed her shoulders. "All by myself, without the Duke. I'm going to make it on my own."
"Not if you're late," she smiled, patting my back. She yelled after me, "Make me proud!"
The director, beer-bellied and short, looked me over from head to toe. He ran a hand through his red hair. "And you are. . ." he said with a thick German accent, tapping his clipboard.
I smiled sweetly, extending my hand to him. "Samantha James."
He looked at my hand for a second and then winked at me, kissing my fingers. "Can you sing?" I nodded. "Can you dance?" I nodded again. "Can you act?"
"Yes," I whispered. "Would you like me to show you?"
He tapped his chin, leaning back in his red director's chair. It squeaked and the bottom nearly sunk to the floor. "Yes. Show me."
I sang quietly, looking far off. "I follow the night. Can't stand the light. When will I begin. . . to live again?" I looked toward the director and smiled. "One day I'll fly away. Leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me?" I looked toward the floor, acting out with the emotions of the song. "Why live life from dream to dream... and dread the day when dreaming ends?"
The director slowly shut his mouth that had been creeping open and tapped his clipboard again. "Can you do that. . . all the time?"
I smiled. "Yes."
"I have the perfect role for you. . . it is a play about love. . ."
"Love?" I asked, hopeful.
"Yes. This is what I said. It is about love, overcoming all obstacles."
I stood, speechless. I had heard these words before. . .
"It's based on a book by an English writer. Oh, the English. . ." he turned his head and spat to the side. "How I hate the English. . . but this Englishman. . . he knows what he's talking about."
"What's it called?"
"Oh, you know. Love. . . some story. Just some book about love. You'd be perfect for the lead actress, Sa. . ."
"Samantha," I said. He couldn't remember my name?!
"Yes, Samantha. That's it. You'd be perfect for the lead, Samantha."
I rushed up to him and shook his hand. "Oh, thank you sir. Thank you so much. I am so excited to be a part of this production."
"Yes, yes. Please come again Friday around this time for rehersal. The writer is coming all the way from. . . where ever he is, and you'll get the script."
"Oh, thank you sir." For the first time, I felt at ease. I had made it through an audition, and I hadn't even slept with the director. He hadn't even suggested it. Yes, life was different.
I skipped out of the playhouse and hailed a cab and when I got home I burst through the doors. "Ewan! Marie! I have the best news. . ."
"Mummy!" Ewan, playing with a wooden horse in the sitting room, dropped it and ran to me with open arms. I scooped him up and hugged tightly.
"Alright, what is it? What's this news?" Marie asked.
"I got the lead!" I shrieked, spinning Ewan in circles.
"Oh, darling that's fantastic."
"And I did it all on my own." I set Ewan down by his horse and I sat next to Marie on an armchair. "I don't have the script. . . the writer is supposed to be coming with them, and we're to practice on Friday. Isn't this just the best of news?"
Marie smiled. "Yes, love, it is."
"And YOU!" I picked up my son. "It is time for your bedtime. Come on, then." We made our way upstairs.
"Mummy, were you really good at your audition?" he asked.
"Are you kidding? I as hot! I was on fire! I blew them all away when I opened my mouth."
"Mummy, can you sing me a song?"
"A song, huh?" I turned into the master bedroom that we shared together and set him down on his bed. "Anything for you, my darling."
He grinned, running about to get ready.
"And don't forget to wash your face and brush your teeth," I called after him.
He ran out the door to the bathroom. I flopped down on his small bed and sighed. Now that I was alone, I thought about my problems.
What was I to tell Jonathan? I don't love him, I can't love him. I like him, really I do. But it's not like Christian is coming back, anyway. . .
My heart pangs just thinking of him. "It's always times like these when I think of you and I wonder if you ever think of me. . ." I sighed. How I missed him. "I need you. . . And I miss you. And now I wonder. . . If I could fall, into the sky, do you think time would pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles if I could just see you. . . Tonight."
I closed my eyes tight. If he were here, everything would be all right. He would tell me just what to do. . . but if he were here, I would be married to him and not be having this dilemma.
"Mummy, is that my song?"
My eyes flashed open and I smiled, holding my hands out to him.
"No, darling, I have a much better one." He laid down on his pillow and I pulled the covers up to his chin and caressed his hair.
"Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness wakes, and stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses. Helpless to resist the notes I write, for I compose the music of the night. Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it. . . tremulous and tender. Hearing is believing, music is deceiving. Hard as lightning, soft as candle light. Dare you trust the music of the night. . ."
I smiled as he sleepily yawned. "Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth. And the truth isn't what you want to see. In the dark it is easy to pretend. . . But the truth is what it ought to be. Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot fight - the darkness of the music of the night." My voice rang around the room.
"Close you eyes, start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Close your eyes and let music set you free. . ." I glanced up from my sons drooped eyelids, to the night sky, thinking of another man with the same color hair and eyes. "Only then can you belong to me." I whispered, a single tear falling down my cheek. I hastily wiped it away and looked back at my half-asleep son. "Floating, falling, sweet intoxication! Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation! Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write. The power of the music of the night. You alone can make my song take flight. . . help me make the music of the night. . ."
A slight snore told me he was asleep, and I arranged the blankets around his chest, slipping out the door.
I twirled a blond curl between my finger. "Come what may. . . I will love you until my dying day." Christian would always have my heart, but our son. . . sooner or later I'll run out of diamonds, and we'll be thrown out on the streets. I need to ensure Ewan's future.
I have to put Christian out of my mind. I have to stop believing that something will happen, and my happy ending will come. Jonathan loves me, and we're going to get married. We. . . we'll be happy. I need to say goodbye. But how can I forget all that has happened?
"You were once my one companion...you were all that mattered. You were once a friend and lover - then my world was shattered. Wishing you were somehow here again... wishing you were somehow near... Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here... Wishing I could hear your voice again... knowing that I never would... Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could. Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem for you, the wrong companions - you were warm and gentle."
Christian. . . his name would have to be buried along with Satine. They deserved to die together. She would do anything for him. . . forever she will love him. A tear trickled down my cheek and I hastily wiped it away. No, this was my decision long ago. It was the best thing to do. . . and I still believe it. This is what I must do.
"Too many years, fighting back tears. . . Why can't the past just die? Wishing you were somehow here again... knowing we must say goodbye. Try to forgive... teach me to live... give me the strength to try. No more memories, no more silent tears... No more gazing across the wasted years... Help me say goodbye." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::
Author's Note: I just want them to be together. . . how about you? Grr, all this 'it's for the best crap' is really annoying me. I'll just have to have a talking with her. . .
SONGS USED: 'A Thousand Miles' by Vanessa Carlton 'The Music Of The Night' from The Phantom Of The Opera 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again' from The Phantom Of The Opera