The Christmas play was a total success. My popularity in Europe was
rising with every play I did. People traveled from all over to see the
productions I was staring in. And yet, through out it all I was unhappy.
The only comfort I had was my baby girl and Christian's book.
I never told anybody about my suicidal thoughts and nobody new I read
Christian's book like the bible. His words to me were keeping me alive and
yet they tore at me at the same time. I would read a line and throw the
book across the room, only to jump out of bed and pick it up again. Which
then led to tears and heartache.
Unfortunately the Duke was true to his word about being around more
the next year. He came once every two months. After every sexual encounter
we had, he would leave the next day. I hated myself during those hours we
were together and I would take special precautions to make sure I would
never be pregnant with his child.
Spring came and went, which was followed by summer, and fall followed closely behind. My baby was now a year old and started taking on a personality, which was a mix between Christian's and mine. She was singer, star, sass, and actress. And yet gentle, kind, and seemed to have a knack for words. Her hair was mine, but her eyes were Christians. Looking at her was like looking at Christian. So much so, that I had to turn from her when she asked a question or pleaded with me to buy her something. Another year followed and then another. Christian became almost as famous as I did with his books.
It was early September when I was walking to the studio to pick up the script for our upcoming play. The air was cold, so I kept my veil over my face even after I got inside the studio. The producer was standing there with the script in his hand; ready to give it to me. He greeted me warmly.
"Ahh Gwen! You're here just in time! Have you read the books by Christian L. Thomas?" Asked Peter, the producer of all the plays.
I nodded my head and was getting ready to take my veil off, when he pulled me by the hand taking me excitedly down the isle. In front of me I saw a man and what seemed to be a child. But as I came closer I noticed that it had a beard. My heart jumped out of my throat as I realized that this was no child, it was Toulouse! And the man standing next to him was...
"Christian! Allow me to introduce you to our leading actress, and the talk of Europe. Ms. Gwen Meire. She will be staring in the production of The Moulin Rouge."
"Mademoiselle Meire, I'm pleased to meet you." I was silent. I couldn't say a word, I couldn't breath a breath. Just looking at him brought a wave of emotion that almost made me rip off the veil and jump into his arms; clinging to him and crying, "I'll never leave you! I'll never hurt you again!" But I resisted this action with all my might. I forced my voice to speak; though words hardly made it out.
"I'm pleased to meet you too." I breathed the words heavily. I averted my eyes downward only to meet the eyes of Toulouse. I prayed right then that he was drunk because I knew if he took one sober look at me that would be it. He must have been at least slightly drunk; for he seemed to look at me with a glazed expression... at first. Then I did something utterly stupid, that comes as a habit when I'm around any guy. I tilted my head, and smiled. Not a toothy smile, it was my enchanting smile. Rather mischievous. And the dumbest part of this action was I did it at Toulouse. I had known Toulouse since I was very young. He knew everything about me. And right then he saw through the veil. Luckily Christian was talking with Peter and didn't see my mistake. Toulouse on the other hand opened his eyes wide at me.
"Sati..." I he was getting ready to question who I was. So I quickly interrupted.
"Peter, will you please excuse me. I haven't been feeling well. Ad as much as I would love to stay for the banquet in honor of our young author and the success of the play, I really must be going."
"Yes of course. Here is the script. Look over it well and I'll see you in the morning for rehearsal."
"Thank you. Good day Monsieur Christian." I turned quickly and almost ran out the door, hugging the script to my chest. Before I left the building I heard Christian say "She reminds me of someone..." I would have loved to wait and see who he was talking about. Of course I new it was me, but I wanted to see what he was going say. But there was one more thing I heard before I went and that was Toulouse' can and his little legs walking quickly towards me.
As soon as I got outside I leaned against the wall. I didn't care if Toulouse found me. Tears slipped out of my eyes, stinging my cheek as the cold air whipped through the veil.
"Why did you do it?" I almost jumped from where I was when I heard his voice.
"Do what?" I asked.
"Left Christian." He said simply.
"Because I need to get back home. I don't feel good. Why should I have stayed?"
"You know what I mean." He contradicted me.
"I'm sorry but you obviously mistake me for someone else."
"I know who you are, Satine. You cannot hide behind that veil forever." My name sounded almost foreign to me. I stayed silent, and then started walking.
"Fine then I will go get Christian and he can see for himself." I turned around to face him.
"And if you do, Toulouse Latrec, it will be the worst thing that's ever happened to him. Do you understand me?"
"That's it I'm going inside!... What do you mean?"
I walked closer to him. "I mean that if you told Christian, I was still alive, that I had faked my death, then it would surely drive him mad. And here is why. If he knew, then he would doubt my love. And I've seen that look on him before. It is one I will not allow him to put on again. He would not understand why I did what I did." I whispered franticly.
"But... you did love him?" He asked timidly.
"Toulouse, I have loved him since I first laid eyes on him. And that love continues just as deeply now, as it did then. Which is why I will not show my true identity." I said this barely above a whisper.
"I won't tell, but you should." With that he turned and left.
I took a step to the door, and stopped. I wanted with all my being to run into his arms. I took a few deep breaths, and turned around; walking slowly away. The only way I managed to get to my house was by telling myself over and over, "He would never forgive you."
"Goodness Mademoiselle you look as if you've seen a ghost! Are you feeling alright?" Asked Mary, looking at me with a wide-eyed expression.
"Oh, I don't know!" I breathed the words.
"Mummy!" I heard my little girl scream. I saw her running towards me and I couldn't help but smile. But at the same time I felt tears at my eyes. When she smiled her eyes lit up like Christians did. I bent down to hug her as she came flying into my arms. Then I noticed the piece of paper she was holding.
"What's this?" I asked her in surprise.
"It's a picture I drew of you and me and Uncle Harold and Aunt Marie." She held up the picture for me to see.
"Who is that on the far side of the page. And who is that next to me?"
"That's the Duke." She said pointing to the figure on the far side of the page. "And I realized that I didn't have a real daddy. So I added him in there." She smiled at me
"Well it's a lovely picture darling." I smiled lovingly at Clare.
"I want to hang it up in your room!" She said excitedly.
"Okay sweetie." I gave her an encouraging smile and she bounded off upstairs.
"What is wrong with you Mademoiselle?" Asked Mary looking at me. My veil was now above my face, revealing how white it was.
"Nothing. I'll be all right. I need to talk to Zidler. Do you know where he is?" I asked. I felt sweat break on my forehead. My heart was racing, I felt jumpy and lightheaded.
"Right here sweet pea! Tell me how does the script look? Are we looking at another major play?" Asked Zidler. His face lit up at the thought of the money that would come poring in. I walked over to him showing the title of the script. "Darling that's wonderful! You don't even need to practice for the part!"
"Harold! Christian is over looking the play! He is here! In London!" I said exasperated.
"You have seen him? You're sure?" Harold asked taking on a serious look.
"Yes! I have seen him with my own eyes! . And he saw me. Though he didn't know it was I! Harold I cannot do this play! He would recognize me in a moment. My past would be revealed! How would Europe like it, if the woman they have fallen in love with used to be a whore! And Christian! It would kill him if he new I was alive. You and I both know that. And the Duke! Oh I don't even want to start with him. Peter will just have to find someone else." For a whole two minutes Harold was silent.
"I've got it! Stay home and practice your lines until the production. We'll say you are sick and that you need stay home. The night of the production I'll get him drunk." But I interrupted.
"No! Harold I can't take it! No more lies! Things don't work this way! Something will happen. We either tell Peter the truth or I will not do the production. I will not be shut up from now until January! I don't think Peter will mind my past. I'm too important to him and this company. Tell him to come over tomorrow. I'll tell him about my past. and about Christian."
Spring came and went, which was followed by summer, and fall followed closely behind. My baby was now a year old and started taking on a personality, which was a mix between Christian's and mine. She was singer, star, sass, and actress. And yet gentle, kind, and seemed to have a knack for words. Her hair was mine, but her eyes were Christians. Looking at her was like looking at Christian. So much so, that I had to turn from her when she asked a question or pleaded with me to buy her something. Another year followed and then another. Christian became almost as famous as I did with his books.
It was early September when I was walking to the studio to pick up the script for our upcoming play. The air was cold, so I kept my veil over my face even after I got inside the studio. The producer was standing there with the script in his hand; ready to give it to me. He greeted me warmly.
"Ahh Gwen! You're here just in time! Have you read the books by Christian L. Thomas?" Asked Peter, the producer of all the plays.
I nodded my head and was getting ready to take my veil off, when he pulled me by the hand taking me excitedly down the isle. In front of me I saw a man and what seemed to be a child. But as I came closer I noticed that it had a beard. My heart jumped out of my throat as I realized that this was no child, it was Toulouse! And the man standing next to him was...
"Christian! Allow me to introduce you to our leading actress, and the talk of Europe. Ms. Gwen Meire. She will be staring in the production of The Moulin Rouge."
"Mademoiselle Meire, I'm pleased to meet you." I was silent. I couldn't say a word, I couldn't breath a breath. Just looking at him brought a wave of emotion that almost made me rip off the veil and jump into his arms; clinging to him and crying, "I'll never leave you! I'll never hurt you again!" But I resisted this action with all my might. I forced my voice to speak; though words hardly made it out.
"I'm pleased to meet you too." I breathed the words heavily. I averted my eyes downward only to meet the eyes of Toulouse. I prayed right then that he was drunk because I knew if he took one sober look at me that would be it. He must have been at least slightly drunk; for he seemed to look at me with a glazed expression... at first. Then I did something utterly stupid, that comes as a habit when I'm around any guy. I tilted my head, and smiled. Not a toothy smile, it was my enchanting smile. Rather mischievous. And the dumbest part of this action was I did it at Toulouse. I had known Toulouse since I was very young. He knew everything about me. And right then he saw through the veil. Luckily Christian was talking with Peter and didn't see my mistake. Toulouse on the other hand opened his eyes wide at me.
"Sati..." I he was getting ready to question who I was. So I quickly interrupted.
"Peter, will you please excuse me. I haven't been feeling well. Ad as much as I would love to stay for the banquet in honor of our young author and the success of the play, I really must be going."
"Yes of course. Here is the script. Look over it well and I'll see you in the morning for rehearsal."
"Thank you. Good day Monsieur Christian." I turned quickly and almost ran out the door, hugging the script to my chest. Before I left the building I heard Christian say "She reminds me of someone..." I would have loved to wait and see who he was talking about. Of course I new it was me, but I wanted to see what he was going say. But there was one more thing I heard before I went and that was Toulouse' can and his little legs walking quickly towards me.
As soon as I got outside I leaned against the wall. I didn't care if Toulouse found me. Tears slipped out of my eyes, stinging my cheek as the cold air whipped through the veil.
"Why did you do it?" I almost jumped from where I was when I heard his voice.
"Do what?" I asked.
"Left Christian." He said simply.
"Because I need to get back home. I don't feel good. Why should I have stayed?"
"You know what I mean." He contradicted me.
"I'm sorry but you obviously mistake me for someone else."
"I know who you are, Satine. You cannot hide behind that veil forever." My name sounded almost foreign to me. I stayed silent, and then started walking.
"Fine then I will go get Christian and he can see for himself." I turned around to face him.
"And if you do, Toulouse Latrec, it will be the worst thing that's ever happened to him. Do you understand me?"
"That's it I'm going inside!... What do you mean?"
I walked closer to him. "I mean that if you told Christian, I was still alive, that I had faked my death, then it would surely drive him mad. And here is why. If he knew, then he would doubt my love. And I've seen that look on him before. It is one I will not allow him to put on again. He would not understand why I did what I did." I whispered franticly.
"But... you did love him?" He asked timidly.
"Toulouse, I have loved him since I first laid eyes on him. And that love continues just as deeply now, as it did then. Which is why I will not show my true identity." I said this barely above a whisper.
"I won't tell, but you should." With that he turned and left.
I took a step to the door, and stopped. I wanted with all my being to run into his arms. I took a few deep breaths, and turned around; walking slowly away. The only way I managed to get to my house was by telling myself over and over, "He would never forgive you."
"Goodness Mademoiselle you look as if you've seen a ghost! Are you feeling alright?" Asked Mary, looking at me with a wide-eyed expression.
"Oh, I don't know!" I breathed the words.
"Mummy!" I heard my little girl scream. I saw her running towards me and I couldn't help but smile. But at the same time I felt tears at my eyes. When she smiled her eyes lit up like Christians did. I bent down to hug her as she came flying into my arms. Then I noticed the piece of paper she was holding.
"What's this?" I asked her in surprise.
"It's a picture I drew of you and me and Uncle Harold and Aunt Marie." She held up the picture for me to see.
"Who is that on the far side of the page. And who is that next to me?"
"That's the Duke." She said pointing to the figure on the far side of the page. "And I realized that I didn't have a real daddy. So I added him in there." She smiled at me
"Well it's a lovely picture darling." I smiled lovingly at Clare.
"I want to hang it up in your room!" She said excitedly.
"Okay sweetie." I gave her an encouraging smile and she bounded off upstairs.
"What is wrong with you Mademoiselle?" Asked Mary looking at me. My veil was now above my face, revealing how white it was.
"Nothing. I'll be all right. I need to talk to Zidler. Do you know where he is?" I asked. I felt sweat break on my forehead. My heart was racing, I felt jumpy and lightheaded.
"Right here sweet pea! Tell me how does the script look? Are we looking at another major play?" Asked Zidler. His face lit up at the thought of the money that would come poring in. I walked over to him showing the title of the script. "Darling that's wonderful! You don't even need to practice for the part!"
"Harold! Christian is over looking the play! He is here! In London!" I said exasperated.
"You have seen him? You're sure?" Harold asked taking on a serious look.
"Yes! I have seen him with my own eyes! . And he saw me. Though he didn't know it was I! Harold I cannot do this play! He would recognize me in a moment. My past would be revealed! How would Europe like it, if the woman they have fallen in love with used to be a whore! And Christian! It would kill him if he new I was alive. You and I both know that. And the Duke! Oh I don't even want to start with him. Peter will just have to find someone else." For a whole two minutes Harold was silent.
"I've got it! Stay home and practice your lines until the production. We'll say you are sick and that you need stay home. The night of the production I'll get him drunk." But I interrupted.
"No! Harold I can't take it! No more lies! Things don't work this way! Something will happen. We either tell Peter the truth or I will not do the production. I will not be shut up from now until January! I don't think Peter will mind my past. I'm too important to him and this company. Tell him to come over tomorrow. I'll tell him about my past. and about Christian."
