Note: Sorry for the long wait. I was on vacation and was unable to post. Thanks again to ShyOrangette for your awesome review. Thankyou all for your patients and support.
Marie was kept awake much longer than her initial prediction of a few minutes. It was the early hours of the morning when the group excitedly returned to their garret. The kind but firm stage manager had taught the amateurs the basics of parenting. The Argentinean, however, would have to be filled in after passing out half way through. In return (though it wasn't really a favor) the bohemians dubbed Marie the "non-bourgeois awesomely bohemian god-parent" of Absinthe.
"Thank-you!" Toulouse said as they left the woman's room. The door closed with a bang. Though they felt slightly guilty about keeping her up for so long, they were too thrilled to dwell on the idea. The now proud father danced ahead with his baby girl while his three companions brought up the rear carrying the unconscious tango dancer. "Can't you hurry up?"
"Why don't you carry him and let us carry the baby?" grumbled the writer. Satie winced as he adjusted his grip on the Argentinean's arm.
"He's awfully heavy Toulouse." said the conductor.
"My dear friends! I would gladly help but the height and this," the dwarf said raising his cane, "would only slow you down. So I'll just carry this heavy, heavy baby and spare you of this dreadful task." The others could only roll their eyes as the actor proceeded to sprint up the stairs to their home not even holding the door open. Heaving the Argentinean up the steps, the Doctor kicked open door. They dropped him on the floor and stopped to catch their breath.
"Isn't she beautiful?" cried Toulouse. The enthusiasm was uncanny.
"Yes… but…could…you…slow…down…just a bit?" panted the cross-dressing author. The sweat was making his make off run. "I'm going to take this off." He said heading for the bathroom.
"No!" screamed the actor "Don't do that! She needs a mother figure!"
"Then you do it!" said Audrey running to the restroom.
"Again I would but I'm already the father and you're the only one that looks good dressed like a woman!" he answered smiling. The writer stopped half way and sighed. He turned around placed a hand on the wall.
"The things I do for you Toulouse. I swear."
"Good and I thank you! Now, where do we put Absinthe?" he asked.
"Well we don't have a… crib? Whatever that is." said the musician.
"Ha ha! We'll make one!" The stage-hand said pulling out his tools.
"A crib is a bed with gates around it to stop the infant from getting out." Audrey stated flipping through one of his books. "Like this."
"Oh." The others said looking at the picture. It looked like a jail to them. Not exactly the greatest place to bring up a child where the most educated person around was a gender-confused playwright.
"We don't have anything that looks like that around here," Toulouse said to his daughter, "do we?" Absinthe giggled. This was followed by a big 'aw' moment which the dancer awoke and joined.
"I don't think I have enough wood scraps from the last show. Not enough for a bed." The doctor informed them.
"I've got something that might work." said Satie pushing up his glasses while studying the picture Audrey gave them. The eccentric composer kept a corner of the loft piled with music paraphernalia. After he brought home a box of umbrellas, which he claimed were wonderful for making tunes, they stopped asking him what had in his little nook. He dug through the mountain next to his beloved piano and returned rolling what looked like a big bucket.
"What is that?" questioned the Argentinean.
"It's a base drum. Well a broken base drum." he explained while sadly holding the ripped canvas on one side of the instrument. "It doesn't have bars like that but she won't fall out of it."
"Splendiferous!" Toulouse said grabbing a discarded vest and laying the fabric inside. He placed the child in and marveled at their improvised crib. It would raise eyebrows but it would have to work for now. Everyone gathered around the cradle and admirably looked in. The sun would be up soon and the Bohemians had had little sleep. Beginning to nod off, they were faced with yet another problem. The dwarf's sleepy eyes suddenly shot open.
"Zidler!." He whispered with his hand over his mouth
"Aw what is it Toulouse?" the doctor asked snapping out of a light doze.
"We'll never be able to keep her if Zidler finds out. Or worse, the police!" said the actor nervously biting his nails.
"Su bebe, su problema." mumbled the Argentinean falling off his seat, curling up, and going to sleep (as if he didn't sleep enough already). Toulouse smacked the dancer in frustration.
"You mean our problem." He corrected.
"Si…OUR problem." The Argentinean grumbled sitting up and pulling a blanket around his shoulders. The Rouge was a night club. That meant 12 hour work days and then some come opening day. Their schedule would be hectic.
"I've got a meeting with a possible investor tomorrow." announced Audrey "If we get the job, I'll have to work with them to perfect the script. They'll be watching me."
"Yes, yes, we know the importance of the writer Audrey." Toulouse said waving off the comment "One of us will have to be here at all times for the next month that's what Marie said."
"We can't leave it for a little bit?" The doctor inquired
"No." sighed the actor
"Not even for…"the stagehand gulped, "drinking?" He hadn't thought about that. Toulouse's eyes began to water as he couldn't believe what he was about to say.
"Not even for drinking." He repeated miserably. The Bohemians embraced each other in a group hug and burst into tears. A life without alcohol and parties? It was unimaginable.
"What if we bring her with us?" proposed the Doctor
"Whoa...to the Moulin Rouge! That's no place for a child!" Audrey said holding his hands up in front of him.
"We'll let Satie watch her during the day. There's nothing wrong with a little music!" The doctor argued placing the writer's nail polish covered hands back at his side. Satie was speechless after being volunteered to do something he did not really want to do.
"Are your screw's loose? You're really going to risk his little bald prodigies finding out? They're musicians! Their ears can pick up a sour note from half way across the world! They're like dogs!" the writer shouted imitating a hound on a trail. The dwarf looked to his spellbound friend in amazement.
"They can?" Toulouse inquired
"Not exactly." The musician answered quietly.
"Ah ha! So we leave her with him. Done!" said the Argentinean merrily trying to rush the process along.
"She can stay with me while I'm composing but then I've got to present the music to Zidler." Satie warned
"I'll watch her between rehearsals." Toulouse resolved.
"She can come back stage during rehearsals." Offered the Stagehand "That is, if she doesn't mind the noise and dark."
"Then I'll come get her after my meeting with the sponsor and bring her back here." the cross-dresser said "That just leaves night time." The group glared at the last remaining Boho who had not already volunteered." Rolling his eyes the Argentinean accepted the dreaded nightshift.
"And I will watch her after work." He conceded. Cheering, the revolutionaries walked off to bed leaving the midget with his baby. He had only gotten her a few hours ago and so much had already happened. The road ahead would be anything but easy. Silently, Toulouse swore to do anything and everything he could to give her the life she deserved even if it meant giving up the green fairy. After all, he had a new Absinthe in his life. He took the cleanest towel he could find, which was filthy, and tucked in his daughter.
"You know what Absinthe? Everything's going to be alright." He said quietly before yawing and falling asleep on the floor. So began their long journey of parenthood and the even longer road to becoming sober.