Note: Thanks to all the readers out there and a special thank you to ShyOrangette for your inspirational review. This chapter is fairly long as I may not post again for several days. Enjoy!
Their success in turning the playwright into a surrogate mother figure and soothing the baby's discomfort was about as significant as being a grain of sand on an endless beach. The child laid at ease in its father's arms…that is until the dwarf's less than fit arms became sore and gave way. Now that the bohemians had established how to appease the thing, they prepared to return to their unforgotten celebration.
"There you go!" Toulouse said cheerfully placing it on a chair. "Drink's are on the shelf, bathroom's in there, and if you must be 'sick' after the drink…take it outside. Alright? Help yourself!" Twirling his cane, he joined his fellow artists expecting the infant to be independent.
"Here…"The doctor said handing him a cup and pouring until it overflowed.
"Ahahahahaha!" guffawed the Argentinean raising his chalice. No sooner had they resumed their festivities did the bohos hear a horrible thud. Instinctively turning to the Narcoleptic, they were surprised to see him still standing. Passing out and odd sounds were so common with the dancer that they were now taken lightly and almost expected. This time, their intuition was wrong. Instead of finding the Argentinean out cold, they saw that the blankets on the chair were empty and that its contents had rolled onto the floor. Toulouse rushed over and picked up the baby and placed it on the chair.
"Oh come on then! Sit." He commanded. Still too young to sit up on its own, the baby shook like bobble head and toppled over. The actor caught it mid-fall and repositioned it on the seat cushion. He let go one hand at a time as if trying to balance a block tower until finally he stuck his cane under its chin and propped it up. "Ah. Back to…" Before sentence's end, there was yet another thud. Toulouse scowled, picked up the child and wrapped it back up. "Can't sit eh?" He placed it on the floor lightly. Seeing that no noticeable objections came from it, the bohemians resumed their partying. They had already put up with enough interruptions and were determined to drink until they had enough or until their heads implode. And it was so. For the remainder of the evening the infant retained a rather cool disposition and did not disturb its new family.
Sometime around nine in the evening, though time did not really matter to the revolutionaries, everyone was ready to turn in.
"Can-can. Can you do the can-can? I can do the can-can." Sang the cross dresser as he staggered to bed. Incoherent mumbling along the lines of "What's the matter who's a pie?" came as a response. They had their fill at last.
"Good night sweetie pie." hiccupped Toulouse to the baby as he passed out on the couch. The bohos took their respective places in the loft and drifted off to dream land completely unaware that their night had just begun.
He was rich! Their show had been a complete success. People wanted to see it. Aristocrats from around the world wanted to sponsor.
"Thank-you. Thank-you!" Toulouse said bowing to the enormous crowd. The mob began chanting his name and showering him with money. Pulling out a cigar, the dwarf reclined in a comfortable chair as investors fought to bargain with him. "This is the life." he thought when the chanting turned into an unearthly screeching. "What is that?" Toulouse woke with a start. Sadly it was a dream. His head spun as he tried to figure out where he was. "The garret. My clock. Where is my clock?" Reaching a hand onto the counter beside the sofa, the actor found his alarm clock and pushed it off the table. "That'll stop the ringing." As he prepared to go back to sleep, he noticed that the wailing had not ceased. "The baby." The actor crawled off the futon and stood up but was met with a splitting headache. He groaned and placed a hand on his forehead as he made his way to the crying infant. On the other end of the room, his roommates stirred and popped their heads up to see what was making all the commotion. Eventually, all the bohemians were awake and furious.
"For heaven's sake. Cut out that music Satie!" roared the doctor. The Argentinean began cursing in a foreign language as the howling escalated.
"Please be quiet." The dwarf said coaxing the infant. "Why me?"
"Toulouse! Take it outside!" Screamed Audrey. Before the midget knew it, his friends had surrounded him and glared angrily.
"What does it want?" The Argentinean demanded.
"I don't know." Admitted Lautrec. He was too tired to make up excuses and play games at this hour. The dancer kicked the table and muttered under his breath.
"It's his and he doesn't know what he's doing. Yo mato El si su bebe no esta silencio…"he grumbled, falling into his native tongue.
"You need some help Toulouse," The doc said straight out, "it can't keep going on like this."
"Who?" he asked helplessly
"Someone at the Rouge." said the stagehand on the edge of his patients. At this point, the child was calmer allowing the Bohemians to actually hear themselves think.
"The dancer's are petrified of babies." Stated Audrey. The feeble beam of light that could've gotten them out of the mess was now completely blotted out.
"What about that Lady that takes care of the performers?" suggested the quiet pianist rubbing his eyes, "Marie." Looking back and forth amongst each other, the group nodded.
"Could work." agreed Toulouse raising his eyebrows. Marie looked like the motherly type, what with watching over the girls and all. She also had a good number of years behind her so she wouldn't be as skittish as Zidler's diamond dogs. "Alright. We'll take it there first thing in the morning." The dwarf's answer was met with more stares. "What? You don't expect me to take it down to her now. She's not going to be awake." he argued. Not looking to loose anymore sleep, the exhausted bohemians wanted the problem fixed…now. Toulouse laughed innocently and before he knew it, he had put on his top hat and was on his way out the door. Unwilling to go and embarrass himself in front of his coworkers alone, he had dragged the gang along.
The Moulin Rouge was a night club but at this absurd hour, the raging house was a ghost town. Quietly, the group stole through the streets and made their way backstage.
"I think it's this one!" Toulouse said pointing at a door.
"Kock." ordered the stagehand who was not in a friendly mood. Biting his lip, the dwarf rapped lightly on the door. On the other side of the entrance, Marie groaned and pulled her quilt over her head in an attempt to shut out the noise. The tapping continued. Her guest was either very stubborn or out of their mind. Throwing on a bathrobe, the stage manager trudged to the door with heavy eyelids. "I'll be back to bed within the minute." She told herself as she opened the door.
"Yes?" Blinking twice, she looked at her visitors. They were without a doubt the strangest lot she had ever laid eyes on. Four worn out men…and one woman? All had heavy dark circles under their eyes and solemn expressions. "Mr. Monfa. Do you have the slightest idea what time it is?" she scolded.
"That's Mr. Henri Marie Raymond Toul…"the actor started to correct when four hands shot in to stop him.
"I understand. Now that you have successfully disturbed my rest, what can I do for you other than cutting open that head of yours and filling it up?" she said. The dwarf was speechless.
"Go on." his friends said giving him a slight nudge. Exhaling, Toulouse withdrew a package from underneath his cloak and unwrapped it. Marie gasped and put a thin hand over her gaping mouth.
"Is this…your child Toulouse?" she half whispered. Nodding somberly, he turned his head away like a shameful puppy. The woman's cut-throat expression instantly softened into a warm smile. "Oh," She said gingerly taking the infant from its father "It's beautiful!" Then she turned her pair of hawk eyes to Toulouse. "That doesn't pardon you for waking me up in the dead of night." Marie reminded him in a firm tone. The dwarf laughed nervously as they all entered the stage manager's room. "Is it a he or a she?" the caretaker asked inquisitively.
"Haha. Well, you see." began the Actor. "What I mean to say is."
"What he means to say," the Doctor cut in, "is that he doesn't know." The woman frowned and readjusted the child in her grip.
"I didn't think you artists would be so thick headed." She said coldly laying the baby down on her cot and turned away. "It's a girl." Marie announced handing her back to Toulouse.
"A girl!" The Bohemians chorused in shock. Apparently in their years of friendship, they had gotten used to the philosophy that they had to act differently around women. Hygiene was an issue, manners were a problem, and above all, freedom would be put into jeopardy when one got tied down. To them, women were good for company, nothing more.
"Is there a problem Mr. Monfa?" the stage manager questioned
"Of course not!" He assured her with a smirk.
"I suppose I don't have to ask if you have a name for her." Marie said monotonously. With his hangover suppressed, Toulouse spun around and looked up to the now awake group. The bohos loved their short friend too much to cut him loose now. They would share and help him bear this burden though it means their lives will not go without changes. This was doubtlessly an epic moment so naturally their little girl deserved an equally significant name. Deliberating in their bohemian huddle, their decision was unanimous. They would name their baby after that which is most prized to them. They named her…Absinthe.