Chapter 11 –
Disclaimer – Anything Moulin Rouge! related belongs to Baz Luhrmann.
It had been a good day for Olivier. Although, Fridays usually were pretty good days. His graduation was coming up in a few months so the teachers were pressing harder than usual and the amount of work increased. But Olivier was a good student, end of the year exams were never that difficult for him. Somehow, despite all the mess at home, he was able to get things done. He got that from his mother.
Christian never came home the night before and Olivier hoped that he would find him after school. But there was a light shining from the window of their home, so there was no doubt Christian had come home.
Olivier opened the door and saw Rebecca and Christian sitting at the table, drinking tea. "Rebecca!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello, Olivier," she said, smiling. "I've just been talking with your father over a cup of tea."
Olivier raised his eyebrow. "Christian's been drinking tea?"
Rebecca stood up from her chair and said to Christian, "Excuse me for a moment." She motioned for Olivier to follow her outside.
"Rebecca," Olivier looked at her questioningly. "What are you doing?"
"Olivier," she said patiently. "My father had a drinking problem, because of that, I've lost my parents. I want to be able to help your father because I don't want you to lose him."
"How are you going to do that?" he asked.
"I don't know yet," she said. "If I can get a few hours off of work everyday, I could come over and just spend some time with him.
Olivier winced. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes," Rebecca said firmly. "I do."
Olivier shuffled his feet and frowned, thinking hard.
"Olivier," she said. "I love you and care about you. I care about what happens to you. And your father has a lot to do with that. If you're afraid that he might do something... I can take care of myself, you know –"
"Oh," he exclaimed. "I'm not worried about that at all. Christian would never touch another women. He loves my mother too much."
She smiled. "I know. Christian has talked about her. She sounds like a wonderful woman."
Olivier nodded solemnly. "She was."
"Do you know much about her past?" Rebecca asked.
Olivier shook his head. "No, just that she was French and met my father in Paris."
"Really? She was French?" she asked. "Do you know any of the language.?"
"Well," Olivier grinned sheepishly. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, nuit, neuf, dix... And that's about it."
Rebecca smirked. "Very impressive."
Olivier looked in the window of his house, watching Christian slowly drink his tea. He was savoring every drop as if he were trying to remember something in its taste.
"I'd really like to do this," Rebecca said softly. "I think it will be good for both you and Christian." He nodded, understanding. "This is going to be hard for him... Christian will need your help."
"I know," Olivier said. He turned to Rebecca and grinned. "I'm ready if you're ready." Rebecca wrapped him up in a hug and smiled into his shoulder.
Christian watched them through the window as he drank his tea. It was an unfamiliar taste but little by little, he began to remember. It was the taste of long nights at his typewriter. The taste of lazy evenings in the studio. The taste of Satine's kisses. The taste of her love.
Olivier and Rebecca's love radiated through the room and Christian smiled.
~
Olivier hid his face in his hands, trying to block his father's crying in the next room. Rebecca was in the room with Christian, trying to comfort him, but it did no good. Olivier was used to his father's crying, but it still sent chills down his spine. The door to Christian's room opened and Rebecca walked out, surprisingly calm. She walked over to where Olivier sat on the floor. She sat in the chair next to him and clutched his shoulder reassuringly. "Two days without alcohol in his body is very rough for him, Olivier. His immune system has built up a dependence on the alcohol."
"It seems as if he's been drunk for twelve years straight," Olivier said softly. "I don't blame him for screaming." He rested his head against Rebecca's legs and began to cry. Twelve years worth of tears, Olivier cried. Whenever Christian would go off to Satine's grave for days, or when he would sing endlessly to his fairy in the corner of their room, Olivier always stayed strong. Now that Rebecca was here to be strong for him, he just seemed to fall apart.
Olivier and Rebecca sat there for hours as Christian's screams began to lessen in the next room. Olivier continued to cry and Rebecca let him, stroking his tousled hair in a very motherly fashion.
She's a natural mother, Olivier though, with everyone's needs and problems before her own and the need to take care of everyone at heart. Rebecca had so much love to give, Olivier felt so fortunate to have it. He also felt so foolish that it took so long to discover that such a wonderful person lived only four blocks away from him.
When it was around ten o'clock, Rebecca stood up from her chair and asked Olivier, "Will you be alright if I go home now?"
Olivier stood up to see her out the door. "Yes, I'll be fine. Do you want me to walk you home?"
"No, thank you," Rebecca smiled. "I think you might want to stay with your father. "
Olivier kissed her good-bye and handed over her jumper. "Thank you, darling," he said before she left. When the door closed, Olivier realized how quiet it was. He walked over and stepped into his father's room.
Christian didn't look asleep, but he had turned on his side and his eyes were closed. His forehead was furrowed in pain and his mouth frowned. His frail body lay limply on the bed and his breath was tired and broken. Christian had lost so much weight in these hard twelve years, the skin on his face seemed like it was too large for his body.
Olivier had never seen him look so old.
~
It was a slow day at the store, Olivier concluded, as he sat at the front counter, his chin resting on his hand. There was a man standing in the corner of the store, his nose buried in a book. He had been standing there for the last two hours, just reading.
"Excuse me, sir, if you are so interested in that book, why don't you purchase it?" Olivier repeated, sounding extremely impatient.
"Just a moment, old sport, just a moment!" the man cried, not lifting his eyes from the book.
Olivier just sighed and continued on with his own book. Usually, on slow days like these, Jonathan would take over for the rest of the time and Olivier was desperately hoping he did so today. Olivier turned the page of his book and a poem lay across the front of it, catching Olivier's eye.
At Last
At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close – at last – at last!
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled, -
But you, dear heart, you love me now.
Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my cheek, in truth,-
The marks where Time's remorseless plough
Broke up the blooming sward of Youth,-
Though fled is every girlish grace
Might win or hold a lover's vow,
Despite my sad and faded face,
And darkened heart, you love me now!
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,-
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!
Quietly, Olivier put a stray piece of ribbon between the pages of the book. His train of thought was broken by a slam of a book. He looked up and the man walked over from his corner of the store to the front desk. Thrusting the book on the counter, he declared, grinning widely, "I'll take it!"
~
Christian took Rebecca's jacket and hung it by the door as they walked inside the house. It was cool in the small house and Christian's headache seemed to lessen slightly after being in the warm air. They had just been on a walk, but as the sun began to set they had decided to shorten it. She fixed tea for Christian, trying to calm her own nerves, as she was to ask a very important question.
"Christian," Rebecca started slowly. "I have a favor to ask of you." He told her to go on. "Olivier knows nothing of his mother's past." There. She had said it. "I think it would be very important for you to tell Olivier.
Christian was deep in thought about this; he bowed his head.
"This isn't any of my business," Rebecca said hastily. "I-I'm sorry."
"No, no, it's fine," Christian said quickly, grabbing her arm so she couldn't leave. "I need to tell Olivier. Yes, it's my job as a single father. But... it's a little more complicated than a quick chat over tea."
Rebecca nodded. "I understand. Is there any other way or form you could tell him?"
Christian's eyes instantly lit up. "I could write. I-I could get out my typewriter and write our story." His eyes filled up with tears as he began to remember. "Satine told me before she died to tell Olivier our story..."
Rebecca took his hands and gave him a squeeze. "Christian, this is a wonderful idea!"
Christian smiled. "I'll cherish these last few weeks I've spent with you, Rebecca. They've really done me some good."
"I'm very glad about that," Rebecca said.
Christian got up from his chair and walked over to the chest of drawers. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a dusty, black, Underwood typewriter. There was a piece of paper still in it, but it was blank. Christian set it on the table and examined it, to make sure it was still intact. It was. He began to type, slowly at first, like it was something new to him. He was typing nothing in particular. Stray words here and there that seemed to make sense to Christian, as he continued to type, faster and faster; like remembering how to ride a bicycle. Slow and cautiously at first, but sped up as he got used to the clacking of the keys and the pressure in his fingers as he pressed down each letter.
Rebecca slowly got up from her place at the table and took her jumper from the broken coat rack in the corner of the room. Christian didn't look up from his typewriter as Rebecca walked out the door and made her way down the street.
~
Muttering wildly underneath his breath, Olivier quickly walked down his street work. The sun had gone down and the light from the surrounding homes filtered out into the street. His mind was full of unfinished thoughts that would enter and exit his mind repeatedly just like a sharp ocean breeze; completely taking over his senses one moment and leaving him in a panic the next.
"Olivier."
He jumped at the voice right next to his ear and realized that Rebecca was standing right next to him.
"Olivier, I've been walking next to you for half a block."
"Oh, sorry... is everything alright?" Olivier said.
Rebecca threw him a confused look. "Er, no, not at all. In fact, I was just wondering the same thing."
"Oh. All right then..." Olivier trailed off and continued walking towards his house.
"Olivier! Aren't you going to ask about your father?" Rebecca persisted.
Olivier stopped walking again and turned towards Rebecca. "Why should I?"
She gave an exasperated sigh. "He's your father!"
"He should have acted like one a long time ago... Then maybe I would care about him," Olivier said crossly.
Rebecca looked hurt. "You don't mean that."
"And if I did? What would it matter to you?"
Rebecca's mouth dropped open. She closed it and opened it again before speaking. "Is that your attitude toward my helping your father? I'm trying to mend a relationship broken twelve bloody years ago! Shouldn't I get a little bit more response from you?"
Olivier didn't reply. He just rubbed his face with his hands, looking down at his shoes.
"Fine!" Rebecca shrieked, throwing her hands up in the air. "Fine! I'm only doing this for the sake of your sanity and your father's. You work it out by yourself! Maybe your father will kill himself too and put him out of his misery." She turned on her heel and stormed off down the street.
Olivier watched her until she disappeared around a corner. He too turned on his heel, cursed under his breath and walked the rest of the way to his house.
When Olivier entered his house, he found Christian's old typewriter on the table, with a piece of paper in it. Words and phrases making no sense at all, but gradually pulling itself together to form paragraphs and sentences. But Olivier paid no attention to the words. He just dropped his school bag and coat on the chair in the corner of the room and sat down at the table.
He wasn't quite sure what to make of the conversation he just had with Rebecca. Only now were the stinging words starting to make sense in his muddled brain. Slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand, he thought about how special all this was to Rebecca... putting Christian's life back together, repairing a broken relationship and how he had just insulted all her energy and passion for it. He had acted so stupidly, knowing how much of this she took to heart! Olivier wouldn't be surprised if she didn't come to see Christian tomorrow. Oh, but she had done so much good to his father these last few weeks.
Olivier got up from his seat and went to the bedroom door to see if his father was sleeping. Christian lay on the bed with his eyes toward the ceiling. An open book lay unattended near his feet. "You just missed her," Christian said with a raspy voice. "She left half an hour ago."
"Yes, I saw her on my way home," Olivier said. He turned to close the door, but Christian stood up and walked over to him.
"You're very lucky, you know," he said quietly. Olivier didn't reply. "To have such a person love you in such a way," he continued. "I've seen the way her eyes brighten up when I say your name. And the way she gushes about your work at the store. She can't stop smiling whenever we talk about you. She really loves you, Olivier..." Tears leaked out of Christian's crinkled eyes.
"Christian," Olivier murmured. "You look tired... h-how about you go back to rest."
"Don't lose her, Olivier!" Christian said hoarsely, grabbing Olivier's shoulders with tears streaming down his face. "You just can't let her go!"
Olivier's voice stuck in the back of his throat. "I w-won't," he stammered. "I promise." And Christian collapsed in to Olivier, racking sobs shaking his whole body as Olivier settled him back onto his bed. His father just lay there, sobbing into the worn mattress of the bed. Olivier went back out into the other room and after blowing out the candle on the table, he ran out the door and down the street.
Olivier's feet slapped against the cobbled street in rhythm with his beating heart. He was running as fast as he had ever run that he almost fell into a large crate as he stopped in from of Myers Books. Olivier quickly ran up the stairs to Rebecca's room. "Rebecca! Rebecca!"
He heard a yell from inside the room and the door flung open. Rebecca had hastily wrapped a robe around herself and was carrying a candle. "Olivier! What's the matter!" Olivier stepped inside her room and knelt down to catch his breath. "Oh my God, Olivier, it's not your father, is it?"
"My father – "
"Oh no!" Rebecca cried. She spun around and set the candle down on her night table. She peeled her robe off and began to search through her chest of drawers for clothing. All she was wearing was a nightgown that was worn and thin and obviously too small for her, as it reached her knees.
Olivier's stomach dropped a foot and he turned around to face the door. He felt all the blood rush to his cheeks. "M-my father's f-fine, Rebecca."
Rebecca gave a groan of relief. "Oh, thank God. Then what the devil are you so excited about?" She walked around Olivier to face him.
Embarrassed, he turned his head.
Rebecca laughed. "Oh, goodness, what is there to be embarrassed of, Olivier? I've got all the important parts covered!"
Olivier finally found his voice in the pit of his stomach. "I promised my father I would never lose you..." He turned his head and saw that Rebecca looked quite flushed herself. She stepped closer to him and he could smell her usual lavender scent. He boldly wrapped his arms around her thin waist and looked her in the eye. "And I don't to intend to break it, Rebecca."
Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer. She lifted her foot and hit the door shut with a soft click. A smile played at her lips. "I don't think that will be a problem."
