Ch 17

By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, Alexandre, who runs like one of the damned Thompon's Gazelles Charles has talked about, had made it to the back door. Madeline shouted for him to stop, stating that he couldn't leave the house dressed like a vagrant.

"What does it matter?" Alex shouted, pulling his shirt completely out of his pants.

"Do not raise your voice at me! And tuck your shirt back in this minute. You look like a disgrace," Madeline replied.

"No," Alex answered before he opened the back door. "I look like a disappointment."

He stared past her as he spoke, and though I doubt he saw me standing in the shadows, he caught my eye as I stood in the middle of the hall, unable to move.

"You're speaking madness. Go to your room," Madeline ordered.

Without another word to Alex, Madeline spun around and made her way towards the hall, giving Alexandre ample time to storm from the house. I could hear the rain pelting down as the door opened and slammed shut, causing the house to shudder. He left without anything to protect him from the rain though I suppose at the time he didn't care. He was away from me and that was all that mattered.

"Is this your doing?" Madeline asked the moment she noticed me. She pointed her finger at my chest as she stormed toward me, a murderous look in her eye.

"Mother," Meg gasped as she peeked out from the dining room. Charles sat with his wheelchair pushed to the table and a bewildered look on his face. He seemed to be doing everything in his power to avoid looking in my direction.

I ignored the lot of them and stared at the back door. He was gone. My son was gone and I could not blame him for being angered. I doubt that his disgust with me was anything like what twisted around in my own gut. He deserved so much better than what he had been given, particularly in the last twelve months.

Madeline was still seething and spitting and muttering whatever it was she thought would shame me. Not one of her words found a way into my head. Without a sound, I turned and went back to my room, quietly shutting the door. I didn't remember turning the lock.

How I wished I could forget this night.

A year ago things had been different between me and Alex. By no means were we an ideal paring of father and son, but we had a relationship. He talked-for hours on end-and I listened to his every word.

But then one day the morning paper came, and as she does every morning, Madeline set it on the table beside my breakfast. Having no other glimpse of the outside world, I rather enjoy reading the news from around the globe.

The date was the 21st of February, 1888. I remember exactly how the sun shone through the windows, a light lacking warmth on a frigid winter day. I will remember it until I die. I sat slumped over the table eating oatmeal with cinnamon sprinkled on top when everything around me burned with rekindled passion. I read it several times, a small column on the second page that stated:

Vicomtess C. de Chagny asked to perform, Exhibition.

My breath had caught in my throat. As much as I hated seeing the name Chagny in the paper, I was overwhelmed with joy. She was coming home.

Truthfully I never expected to see her again. She had traveled everywhere in the world save back to Paris. In one of her letters to Meg she had said that Paris was nothing more than a bad memory as she had come here following her father's death. I suspect that she knew I would read her letters as she never mentioned anything of me, her angel. Not one single line in nearly a decade of correspondence queried on how I fared. Meg and Madeline would never mention my name to her either. But I did wonder if they ever said how Alex was doing or how he was growing. As much as I didn't want to think of it, I really did become a phantom to her.

On that 21st of February my hopes were stoked back to life. This was the chance I had been waiting for, the chance to appeal to her again for her affection.

Over the years I have seen her name appear here and there as she sang in Germany and England and even in the United States. Most are no bigger than an inch long but it sustained me for years. Even when I was not with her I knew what she did and how she was doing. Most of the articles I have collected and placed inside a box. These I keep in the library where Alex could see them if he wished. Alex…

I had abandoned him for my own dream. His mother had abandoned him for her own dreams.

Alex...

Something roused me from my trance of self-loathing at nearly one in the morning. At first I thought someone knocked on the door. I sat up with a shiver and realized I had left the window open. The sound I heard was the tap of a branch on the glass. The moment my feet hit the rug I felt sheets of music flapping like flat birds at my ankles. Some had caught on the rug and the cape I had let fall on the ground.

On my hands and knees I collected my compositions and piled them onto the desk. I used a book to weigh them all down and then made my way to the opened window. In the darkness I nearly tripped over the dog, who had remained my loyal companion. My only ally in the house was Bessie and the only reason she stayed at my side was for the promise of food. Still, I cursed her for being in my way and she made no attempt to move.

The air seeping through the window was cold and damp but the rain had stopped. Through the spreading clouds I could see a half-moon high in the indigo sky. The silver light painted the barren trees and dormant grass beaded with drops of rain. There was no sound and that was what I hated most. There is a loneliness that is weighted at such hours of the night. I felt it more than ever.

Another shiver prompted me to close the window. It was then that I saw the light in Julia's bedroom window.

There was nothing between us. The arrangement we had held over the years had ended the previous night in quite possibly the worst way imaginable. If she invited me over…

Purely physical? I wondered. That seemed doubtful as she has far greater self control than I ever had. Given how I had exited her home, I doubted she wished to see me again for pleasures of the flesh.

Had I changed into pajamas, I never would have considered venturing down the stairs and toward the back door, however, Julia was still in my thoughts. On and off throughout the day I found myself gazing out the window at her house. There was nothing to see but an ivy-covered brick wall but I watched nonetheless and imagined her bustling around her home.

As I stared at the wavering candlelight I felt relieved that, despite the assumption that her invitation had to do with something Alex either said or did, she still wished to see me. Foolishly I missed her company and the ease of our routine.

There was no harm in visiting, I reasoned as I pulled my cloak over my shoulders. Bedding her was the last thing on my mind. Besides, it seemed senseless to have prepared for leaving the house only to remain inside. That was what I told myself as I walked down the stone path and entered her back garden.