Follow Every Rainbow 5: Until You Find Your Dream
"This is Satine's child, you say, Christian?" Harold had received them rather grumpily, and showed little inclination to understand what they were trying to tell him, but once they got it through, seemed to show more interest.
"Yes," Christian said. "His name is Olivier. We met by chance the other day, and he needs to know about his mother."
"Satine," Harold whispered. "She was beautiful, you know."
"So I've heard," said Olivier, trying to be patient.
"Those days were glorious, before everything collapsed," Harold went on. "Satine was a girl on the street before she came to me at the age of thirteen. Her parents died, she never told me how. Maybe she herself did not know. I saw possibilities in her, and I took her in."
Harold rearranged himself in his chair and closed his eyes. "She got pregnant when she was fifteen."
Olivier and Christian glanced at each other, and Christian gasped.
"That child was you, Olivier -- I remember her giving you that name. She begged to keep you, but we couldn't have children running around the place, you know. So I sent you off before you were six months old, to the Calbotes."
"Yes." Olivier nodded. "She begged to keep me?"
Harold sighed. "You were her first and only child and she was a young girl. Of course she begged to keep you. But after you were gone, she never spoke of you again, except for once just before her death."
"She never mentioned a child to me," Christian said.
"No, this was different," Harold said. "She wanted her possessions given away to certain people, and you were among them." He looked up at Christian. "So were you, actually."
"I never got anything of hers," Christian said.
"We couldn't find you once we got around to dealing with everything of hers." Harold shook his head. "We supposed you had gone back to England by then."
"It's possible," Christian said. "Do you still have these things?"
"Oh, yes," Harold said. "Nini was all for selling them, but the rest of the girls wouldn't hear of it."
"Nini Legs-In-The-Air?" Olivier asked. "I've seen pictures that Toulouse painted of her."
"That's the one," Harold said. "She didn't care much for Satine."
"Where are these things of Satine's now?" Christian said.
"Do you remember the elephant?" Harold asked.
"Of course," Christian answered, blushing.
"They're all stored there in her private room. Some jewels, some books, some clothes. You two are the only ones she talked about, so I guess it's all yours." Harold turned in his chair and closed his eyes. "Go on, then."
"Good-bye, Harold," Christian said.
No reply came.
"Come with me." Christian turned to Olivier, and together they tiptoed out of the room.
In the dusty silence of Satine's chamber, a large box sat on the couch, looking out of place amid the faded loveliness. Olivier opened it, pulling out first one folded-up letter, then another.
"This one's for you," he said, handing one of the papers to him. Christian unfolded it and read it, silently.
"My dear Christian,
I may never see you again before I die, but I want you to know -- I love you. I had to hurt you to save you. These lines are brief, but the heart that goes with them is wholly yours. I have little to leave you, but maybe these jewels and some of my favorite books will comfort you when you look at them.
I also have a son, born long before your arrival. His name is Olivier, and he lives with the Calbotes. Harold can direct you to him, if you desire to love him for my sake. Please, I beg of you, think nothing ill of me. I loved you and would have gladly spent my life with you, if life and health were granted to me.
Forever yours,
Satine
"It's like seeing her again," Christian whispered. "She asks me to love you for her sake."
Olivier laid a hand on Christian's shoulder. "And will you?"
"I will," Christian said, leaning up to kiss Olivier quickly on the mouth. "But not only for her sake, for yours."
Olivier read his letter out loud, pausing after every sentence to take it in.
Dearest Olivier,
My name is Satine, and I am your mother. I did not wish to confide this news to a letter, but there is no other way to tell you. I am sure it will be given to you when you are old enough to receive it. I hesitate to break in upon your happiness with the news of my death. I am certain you have been well and happy, living in the country. Please forgive my unhappy life, for I have had no other choice. You were a joy at your birth, and you are a joy now.
Simply knowing you exist has made my life richer. I ask you, please grow up to be a good man, a man who has an open heart and open hands. Love with all you have.
If ever you meet a man named Christian, love him, for he loved me.
Love always,
Satine
"She has blessed us," Olivier said, looking up.
"She has," Christian answered, looking through the rest of the contents of the box. Jewels lay inside, books, strings of pearls, gifts from admirers. "Come," he went on. "Let's go back to my rooms, and continue our...conversation of the early afternoon."
"We shall," Olivier said, sliding his arms around Christian for a brief moment, and resting his head on his shoulder. "I love you, Christian. Not because she loved you, but because I love you."
Christian turned in his arms and kissed him. "Now you know your history. It is time to discover your future."
"I am ready." Olivier leaned forward to touch his forehead to Christian's. "It is time."
******
"Christian," the words were hesitant as they came into the dimness of Christian's apartment, "have you ever loved anyone else like that?"
Christian smiled. "Oh no. I couldn't have." He turned to look at Olivier. "Love doesn't work that way. You don't fall in love the same way with different people."
"I don't understand." Olivier sat down on the bed.
Christian sat down beside him and took his hand. "I loved Satine with a wild passion. It was love at first sight, and it was wonderful. It wasn't something I was expecting to ever feel again, so it doesn't surprise me...." He drifted into silence, met Olivier's eyes, leaned in and kissed him for a long moment. "...that I love you with a love just as sweet, but far different."
Olivier laughed. "Not the same way?"
"No," Christian said. "Somehow, in these last few days, I've found you filling up my heart and making me sing again." He let go of Olivier's hand and stood up. "Could I sing for you? Satine teased songs out of me with her resistance, but you dance them out with your acceptance."
"*Yes*," Olivier whispered. "Yes, please."
Quietly, softly, Christian began to sing. Song after song, fading into each other, murmuring and vanishing.
"If you're lost, you can look and you will find me, time after time...."
Olivier sat upright on the bed, listening in utter silence.
"And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away...."
Christian took a breath and continued on.
"I want to stand with you on a mountain, want to bathe with you in the sea...."
Olivier bent his head, the tears coming to his eyes.
"All my dreams would still be dreams...if there hadn't been you."
Christian's voice went silent, and for a moment the sound of Olivier weeping was the only thing heard in the room.
It was Christian's turn, this time, to go to Olivier and lay his arms around him. "Dear one," he whispered, "it was you who called those words out of me. They are yours."
Olivier turned in Christian's arms and caught his mouth in a tear-wet kiss.
"I am yours," Christian went on after a moment. "Do what you will with me."
Olivier could not speak.
"Follow every rainbow, follow every star, until you find that pot of gold, until you find out who you are..."
Christian sang the words very softly into Olivier's ear, kissing him with every breath. "I've found mine," he said.
Olivier met his eyes. "And I've found mine," he answered. "I love you, Christian."
"Until the end of time." They whispered the words, passion-hot, together, and their mouths met in a kiss that seemed to last for all eternity.
Or until the end of time. Whichever was longer.
END
"This is Satine's child, you say, Christian?" Harold had received them rather grumpily, and showed little inclination to understand what they were trying to tell him, but once they got it through, seemed to show more interest.
"Yes," Christian said. "His name is Olivier. We met by chance the other day, and he needs to know about his mother."
"Satine," Harold whispered. "She was beautiful, you know."
"So I've heard," said Olivier, trying to be patient.
"Those days were glorious, before everything collapsed," Harold went on. "Satine was a girl on the street before she came to me at the age of thirteen. Her parents died, she never told me how. Maybe she herself did not know. I saw possibilities in her, and I took her in."
Harold rearranged himself in his chair and closed his eyes. "She got pregnant when she was fifteen."
Olivier and Christian glanced at each other, and Christian gasped.
"That child was you, Olivier -- I remember her giving you that name. She begged to keep you, but we couldn't have children running around the place, you know. So I sent you off before you were six months old, to the Calbotes."
"Yes." Olivier nodded. "She begged to keep me?"
Harold sighed. "You were her first and only child and she was a young girl. Of course she begged to keep you. But after you were gone, she never spoke of you again, except for once just before her death."
"She never mentioned a child to me," Christian said.
"No, this was different," Harold said. "She wanted her possessions given away to certain people, and you were among them." He looked up at Christian. "So were you, actually."
"I never got anything of hers," Christian said.
"We couldn't find you once we got around to dealing with everything of hers." Harold shook his head. "We supposed you had gone back to England by then."
"It's possible," Christian said. "Do you still have these things?"
"Oh, yes," Harold said. "Nini was all for selling them, but the rest of the girls wouldn't hear of it."
"Nini Legs-In-The-Air?" Olivier asked. "I've seen pictures that Toulouse painted of her."
"That's the one," Harold said. "She didn't care much for Satine."
"Where are these things of Satine's now?" Christian said.
"Do you remember the elephant?" Harold asked.
"Of course," Christian answered, blushing.
"They're all stored there in her private room. Some jewels, some books, some clothes. You two are the only ones she talked about, so I guess it's all yours." Harold turned in his chair and closed his eyes. "Go on, then."
"Good-bye, Harold," Christian said.
No reply came.
"Come with me." Christian turned to Olivier, and together they tiptoed out of the room.
In the dusty silence of Satine's chamber, a large box sat on the couch, looking out of place amid the faded loveliness. Olivier opened it, pulling out first one folded-up letter, then another.
"This one's for you," he said, handing one of the papers to him. Christian unfolded it and read it, silently.
"My dear Christian,
I may never see you again before I die, but I want you to know -- I love you. I had to hurt you to save you. These lines are brief, but the heart that goes with them is wholly yours. I have little to leave you, but maybe these jewels and some of my favorite books will comfort you when you look at them.
I also have a son, born long before your arrival. His name is Olivier, and he lives with the Calbotes. Harold can direct you to him, if you desire to love him for my sake. Please, I beg of you, think nothing ill of me. I loved you and would have gladly spent my life with you, if life and health were granted to me.
Forever yours,
Satine
"It's like seeing her again," Christian whispered. "She asks me to love you for her sake."
Olivier laid a hand on Christian's shoulder. "And will you?"
"I will," Christian said, leaning up to kiss Olivier quickly on the mouth. "But not only for her sake, for yours."
Olivier read his letter out loud, pausing after every sentence to take it in.
Dearest Olivier,
My name is Satine, and I am your mother. I did not wish to confide this news to a letter, but there is no other way to tell you. I am sure it will be given to you when you are old enough to receive it. I hesitate to break in upon your happiness with the news of my death. I am certain you have been well and happy, living in the country. Please forgive my unhappy life, for I have had no other choice. You were a joy at your birth, and you are a joy now.
Simply knowing you exist has made my life richer. I ask you, please grow up to be a good man, a man who has an open heart and open hands. Love with all you have.
If ever you meet a man named Christian, love him, for he loved me.
Love always,
Satine
"She has blessed us," Olivier said, looking up.
"She has," Christian answered, looking through the rest of the contents of the box. Jewels lay inside, books, strings of pearls, gifts from admirers. "Come," he went on. "Let's go back to my rooms, and continue our...conversation of the early afternoon."
"We shall," Olivier said, sliding his arms around Christian for a brief moment, and resting his head on his shoulder. "I love you, Christian. Not because she loved you, but because I love you."
Christian turned in his arms and kissed him. "Now you know your history. It is time to discover your future."
"I am ready." Olivier leaned forward to touch his forehead to Christian's. "It is time."
******
"Christian," the words were hesitant as they came into the dimness of Christian's apartment, "have you ever loved anyone else like that?"
Christian smiled. "Oh no. I couldn't have." He turned to look at Olivier. "Love doesn't work that way. You don't fall in love the same way with different people."
"I don't understand." Olivier sat down on the bed.
Christian sat down beside him and took his hand. "I loved Satine with a wild passion. It was love at first sight, and it was wonderful. It wasn't something I was expecting to ever feel again, so it doesn't surprise me...." He drifted into silence, met Olivier's eyes, leaned in and kissed him for a long moment. "...that I love you with a love just as sweet, but far different."
Olivier laughed. "Not the same way?"
"No," Christian said. "Somehow, in these last few days, I've found you filling up my heart and making me sing again." He let go of Olivier's hand and stood up. "Could I sing for you? Satine teased songs out of me with her resistance, but you dance them out with your acceptance."
"*Yes*," Olivier whispered. "Yes, please."
Quietly, softly, Christian began to sing. Song after song, fading into each other, murmuring and vanishing.
"If you're lost, you can look and you will find me, time after time...."
Olivier sat upright on the bed, listening in utter silence.
"And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away...."
Christian took a breath and continued on.
"I want to stand with you on a mountain, want to bathe with you in the sea...."
Olivier bent his head, the tears coming to his eyes.
"All my dreams would still be dreams...if there hadn't been you."
Christian's voice went silent, and for a moment the sound of Olivier weeping was the only thing heard in the room.
It was Christian's turn, this time, to go to Olivier and lay his arms around him. "Dear one," he whispered, "it was you who called those words out of me. They are yours."
Olivier turned in Christian's arms and caught his mouth in a tear-wet kiss.
"I am yours," Christian went on after a moment. "Do what you will with me."
Olivier could not speak.
"Follow every rainbow, follow every star, until you find that pot of gold, until you find out who you are..."
Christian sang the words very softly into Olivier's ear, kissing him with every breath. "I've found mine," he said.
Olivier met his eyes. "And I've found mine," he answered. "I love you, Christian."
"Until the end of time." They whispered the words, passion-hot, together, and their mouths met in a kiss that seemed to last for all eternity.
Or until the end of time. Whichever was longer.
END