American Girl in Paris part deux
"Usually I have to cry all night alone," I heard Christine's voice behind me and I turned around. She was holding a shirt in her hand and she looked just as tired and upset as I felt.
She did not know what to make of me. She was a little scared by the fact that I was involved with Erik, that everything I did seemed so odd. But I had helped her. And I did not appear crazy. I had said Erik had changed, and maybe that was true. Although, the man she remembered had seemed so broken, so desperate when she had left him. She didn't see how it could be true.
"You're not sleeping either?" I asked,
"Not since Raoul left," She held up the shirt in her hands, "This was his favorite shirt. Usually I come down here, wrap his shirt around me, and feel completely miserable,"
"That's pathetic," I said wanly, and I returned my gaze to the piano in front of me, "Erik loves the piano,"
"I remember," Christine said in a slightly distant voice. I shuttered a little; Erik had once loved this woman and given her everything and she broke his heart. I was mad at her, but she was all I had. I had no money and nowhere else to go until Erik came for me. Miserably I wondered what he was doing.
My thoughts were too many and too painful. I needed a brake, "I see only one thing to do. Do you have a wine cellar?"
Thirty minutes later we were sitting on her sofa drinking out of the most ornate crystal goblets I had ever seen, the bottle of wine between us.
"You know, I never wanted to be this way," I said, "I never wanted to be one of those girls who missed her fiancé so much she couldn't sleep. I always thought it was so pathetic. And here I am; pathetic." I drained my glass and poured myself another.
"It is not pathetic," Christine assured me, "Ever since Raoul left I can't sleep. I can't eat," She shook her head and finished her glass, "It's terrible. I miss," she giggled, "I miss when we used to sleep together, and he would wrap his arms around me and hold me all night long," she closed her eyes and smiled.
I laughed, "You don't realize how used you get to sleeping with someone until they are not there anymore,"
"I know! God…" Christine shook her head and smiled, drinking more of the white wine. "So how did you meet Erik anyway?" She asked me,
"He moved into my building," I said with a wide smile, remembering better days.
"What do you mean? He moved into your house?"
"No…I live in an apartment complex; lots of apartments together. He moved into the one next to mine,"
"You live all alone?"
"Yeah," I raised my eyebrows at her,
"You do things so differently in New York! Did you like him right away?" Christine smiled from ear to ear. It had been a long time since she had had any real girl talk. She had been cooped up in the giant house most of the time alone. At parties people did not talk much to her, and they certainly never talked about men and relationships.
"Uhh…not the first time a saw him. But then we spent the afternoon together. After that I was interested," I had never admitted it to anyone; even to myself, because I had thought it had been so stupid. But after our first encounter, when I had used him to get away from that other guy, I had liked him.
"So what did you do?" Christine's eyes were alight with excited energy and she turned so she was sitting facing me,
"Well, toward the end of the night he gave me his coat because I was cold,"
"That's so gentlemanly!" Christine could hardly believe that I was talking with such genuine affection about Erik.
"I know right?" I smiled, "So when I gave it back to him I put my wallet in his coat pocket so that he would have to come and give it back to me," Susan had been right all along; I had meant to slip Erik that wallet.
"That is so clever!" Christine exclaimed, pouring more wine into her glass, "I never would have thought of that!"
I laughed, "Anyway the next night he brought me my wallet, and then we walked around a little…" I started to laugh harder when I remembered what came next, "So that night I…" I smiled scandalously.
"You what? You kissed him?" Christine asked eagerly.
I laughed. "Not quite," I leaned in closer to her and whispered, "I had sex with him,"
Christine gasped, shocked, and I poured myself more wine.
"After you only knew him for a day!" She looked both horrified and amused,
"Technically it was our second date," I laughed.
"Still…his face! And you only knew him for two days!" Christine stammered,
"So? You know what they say, everyone looks the same in the dark," I was laughing very hard, I think I was a little drunk, "But they don't move the same. And believe me he was wonderful!"
"Really?" She started to laugh as well, "I didn't think he had much…experience,"
"I know!" I smiled, "He didn't! But I never knew that until he told me! He's good…" I sighed, "And then he got up and started to leave. I didn't want him to go though, and I was so happy when he said he would stay," I closed my eyes as I remembered how content I had been to sleep in his arms.
"You know, I had to talk Raoul into sharing a bed with me," Christine said suddenly.
"What do you mean? He didn't want to have sex with you?" Uh oh was he gay?
"No! He wanted to do that…but afterward he wanted to go back to his room. He said that a husband and wife only share a bed to make love. They have separate rooms," Christine looked down at her wine glass and she looked like she was going to cry but she tried to hide it with a smile.
"I convinced him to share a room though," Christine said, and it was now clear that she was crying, "But he gets so wrapped up in tradition! Sometimes I think he cares more about what others think than our happiness!" she stared to cry harder, "Why is he acting this way!"
I embraced her and let her cry on my shoulder, "Don't worry, men suck," Christine laughed, "He will come around," I said, "And in the mean time, I think we need more wine!"
Erik was not having a good night. He spent hours trying to remember the design for the USS Arizona he had come across in one of my history books on one of those long days when his leg had been in a cast.
He had managed to successfully recreate most of it from memory and then fill in the rest. The problem of course being that Erik was sure the proper technology for building this thing was not yet fully developed. Erik had reasoned that he could move things along a bit though. After all, he would not really have to build the thing; it was only a way to talk to the boy.
Exhausted Erik slipped into a fitful sleep on the Persian's sofa. He dreamed of the car accident of all things. He remembered feeling just as he felt now right before the crash. He had finally realized how foolishly he had acted. He realized that no one loved him like I did. With a jerk in his sleep he remembered walking in to see Mark Berry kissing me. He realized he should have killed the man for assaulting me. Erik promised himself that if he ever got back to the future, he would give Mark what he had coming.
Erik remembered how he hoped that if he begged and pleaded I would take him back. Then he remembered knowing the cab was out of control. He remembered the twisting knot of fright as the cab skidded. In his sleep he shivered. And then, impact. Erik remembered searing pain. He thought he might have screamed. And then nothing.
And then the dream. Erik remembered the dream. He had been back at the opera, at a party. No one had looked at him oddly; he had found me in the crowd. It wasn't a dream, Erik realized. It was a preview. He had seen it! The boy and his former obsession Christine; they had been together. Happy. So it was possible. And I had been there. I would be there.
But that was all he had of the dream. Then he remembered hearing my voice, opening his eyes and seeing my face. The relief was overwhelming. To know I was there, that I cared for him. It had been too good to be true, after all the stupid things he had done. I had taken him back gladly. I let him move into my home permanently. I cared for his every need and nestled against him at night as though I needed him.
Erik's eyes shot open. More than anything he wished he could tell me how he felt and thank me for all I had done for him. He wished he could say he loved me. His arms ached to hold me again.
But I was not there. He had hoped somehow that when he opened his eyes I would be there and it would all be a bad dream. But I was not there. He had no idea where I was.
Knowing he would find no sleep that night, Erik lit several candles and went back to his design.
By morning Christine and I were, not drunk, but our inhibitions were safely tucked away. At four AM she wound the phonograph and I spent the next hour teaching her the dance from the finale of Chicago. I forgot parts of it, so we made up new parts.
It didn't fit the music we were listening to but it didn't seem to matter. I remember falling down a few times. By five o'clock we had the thing down.
To some it might have seemed odd that I chose to get drunk with my fiancés ex love obsession in 1882. But if I told Rebecca, or Susan, or Jackie, or Andy they would have understood. It was how I dealt with life when it got too crazy. I just had a little fun.
When the servants of the house woke and started to go about their daily business one of the young maids was surprised to hear music coming from the drawing room. She peaked through the door. Shocked she turned to her friend and motioned for her to come and see. The lady of the house was acting rather odd!
By seven I was experiencing a familiar feeling; when I was single I would stay out all night going from bar to bar, club to club, with the girls. The feeling of giddiness mixed with alcohol and then extreme exhaustion was not one I missed. However, it did make me feel a little better when, at eight in the morning, I fell into bed alone. It was like being single again, only at the edge of my mind I never forgot that I had given up the modern city for Erik. I knew it was the right choice, and I knew it was my fault. I should have believed him; if I had we would not be in this mess. Heavy hearted I slept at last.
The Persian woke up to the smell of breakfast. Brooding and unable to sleep, design finished, Erik had raided the ice box and found eggs to cook.
Nadir walked into his kitchen and amusedly took in the sight of his friend, the man he had once known to live in reclusive darkness, prepare the morning meal.
"Why Erik! What a good housewife you will make!"
"Ha ha funny man," Erik was not amused, "Sit down and shut up or it's no food for you,"
"Erik, I think you are missing your apron," The Persian teased him.
"I hope you aren't hungry then," Erik said angrily, taking all the eggs off the stove and placing them on a plate.
"I was only joking my friend! I did not know you even knew how to cook," It had always seemed to Nadir that when Erik ate at all it was a simple meal with basically no preparation required.
"I never did before," Erik admitted, glaring at his friend as he grudgingly took out another plate and put some of the eggs on it for his friend. "Olivia taught me,"
Nadir poked at the eggs with his fork. He flicked his eyes up to meet his friend's. "Olivia seems to have taught you a lot,"
"Everything I am I owe to her," Erik said without a thought, hungrily eating his eggs.
"She must really love you Erik, to put up with all that you were…" Nadir remembered his friends tendencies toward madness, obsession, even murder.
"I'm different around her," Erik said, shaking his head, "I don't act the way I used to; I'm not crazy daroga,"
"I believe you my friend," the Persian said quickly, "I can see it in your eyes; you used to be quite frightening. I thought you were going to let the boy die,"
"I never meant for it to go that far," Erik said in a low voice. Suddenly he was not hungry anymore. "It was not my intention for anyone to get hurt. I just wanted someone, something, so badly! I never thought…" Erik shook his head, "I never wanted it to happen that way. Believe me daroga…" Erik didn't know what else to say.
"I know; they were bad times Erik. You were trapped, desperate. You did terrible things but Fate seems to have given you a second chance. Olivia sounds wonderful," Nadir looked kindly at his friend.
"She is; I hope you get the chance to meet her," Erik said, and the Persian watched a light come into his friend's eyes. "She is nothing like Christine; she is smart, and witty, and she is absolutely beautiful," Erik suddenly remembered, "Wait," Erik took his wallet out of his back pocket. Mostly everything in it was worthless; the credit cards, cash…but he kept something else in it…
"Look, this is a picture of her," It had been taken at the New Years party we had gone to. It showed me from the waist up; I was laughing at something Jackie said. Erik stood behind me with his arm around me and his chin rested ever so slightly on the top of my head.
Nadir took the picture. It was the strangest he had ever seen, but he assumed it was from the future and that was why it did not look like the ones he was used to.
"She's beautiful Erik," Nadir meant it. The girl in the picture with the wide smile and shining blond hair and green blue eyes, not to mention the plunging neckline, was one of the most attractive women he had seen in some time. The Persian thought it was natural beauty; that I was borne with it, but it was Maybelline.
He was also relieved to see a picture of us together. The body language was clear between the two, Nadir thought; I was not being forced to do anything. I was happy, and so was Erik. Something about his eyes, Nadir thought…
"You were looking down her dress! Weren't you!" Nadir suddenly yelled, half reprimanding half amusedly at his friend.
Erik laughed. His appetite had returned after looking at the picture of the two of us together. "So what? It's not as though she minds,"
"She doesn't mind that you don't treat her like a lady? That you gawk at her?"
"Firstly I do treat her like a lady. I open doors and pull out chairs, but Olivia doesn't really like that. She lets me do these things, but she likes to be independent. Secondly, I was not gawking; I was merely appreciating her form,"
"Form! Ha! You were staring at her you wicked old man!" Nadir laughed.
"Well…it's not as though I haven't…seen her," Erik said, and his friend leaned in closer.
"You mean…you have…?" He didn't know how to say it delicately.
"Had sex with her?" New York does not make you shy.
"You have then?" Nadir's eyes opened wider, "Even though you are not married?"
Erik laughed, "Nobody does that anymore,"
"Really?" Nadir raised his eyebrows, "Well congratulations my friend, you're a lucky man,"
Erik took the picture back and looked at it. The moment he had seen it he had taken it for himself. He loved it because we both looked so happy; he could never remember looking so happy before. Originally he had planned on placing it in a frame on his desk, but he found he wanted it with him all the time, so he stuck it in his wallet.
Erik looked up at his friend, "I'm afraid I'll fail her daroga, I'm afraid I won't be able to do what that man told me to and I will lose her,"
Nadir looked sadly at his friend. In truth he feared the same. Erik didn't know much about helping people, about giving advice.
"I can't lose her daroga," Erik shook his head and put the photograph away, "I can't go through it all over again; I'll never find another Olivia, and I wouldn't want to try,"
"Forgive me my friend, but isn't that what you said about Christine?" Nadir asked cautiously.
"I had no idea what I was doing with Christine! I didn't know what love was! Olivia is different. Olivia loves me! You heard what the man said! She gave up her whole life to stay here and be with me!" Erik cried.
The Persian still looked skeptical. "I don't know how much I trust that man Erik,"
"Even if he was lying, there have been other things! I tried to leave her in the beginning, because people were always staring at us and whispering because of my face. She wouldn't let me leave her! She argued with me to stay!"
"And she wanted me to go everywhere with her! She begged me to go to this wedding with her, and she brought me to meet her family, and she even…she proposed to me daroga!"
At this the Persian laughed, "What? She asked you to marry her? I thought it was supposed to be the other way around!" He smiled.
"It is supposed to be the other way around! My point is that she wanted me enough to ask me to marry her," Erik sighed, "She loves me daroga, she does, and I can't…" He paused to regain his composer because he was starting to shake. What if he never saw me again? "I don't know what I would do if I lost her,"
They ate in silence for awhile.
"Well I guess I had better go," Erik said in a low voice. He picked up his designs and left the house.
It seemed like a very long walk to the Navy offices but he finally reached it. However he was in for an unpleasant surprise.
"He is not here today. He had to make a trip out to the coast," The same young man Erik had seen at the front desk the day before said, "But he left a message for you Monsieur Pitt; he's sorry for the inconvenience but is very interested in your design. He hopes you can come back tomorrow,"
Erik nodded shortly. That stupid boy! He was wasting time! Erik felt like punching his fist through a wall. But he knew that wouldn't help him. Exhausted and angry, Erik returned to the Persian's apartment and collapsed onto the sofa, sleeping at last.
I woke up with the sun shining brightly in my face. Slowly I got out of bed, stretching as I walked over to the French doors leading out to the small porch. I stepped outside; the day seemed very warm for April.
Looking out at the roof tops of the city of Paris I realized how big it was already. And somewhere, I thought, under those rooftops, was Erik. I gazed out at the city and thought about my darling Erik. I owed him a huge apology. I had called him crazy! And he was supposed to be the man I loved and trusted…I should have believed him.
Lost in my thought it was a moment before I realized someone was knocking on my door.
"Coming!" I yelled as I bound across the room and opened the door. The moment I did I laughed. Christine stood before me, and it looked like she had been hit by a truck. Her hair was messed; her eyes were bloodshot and droopy. Hangover city.
"I'm sorry," I said, trying to stifle my laughter, "Come in," I led her outside to the balcony and sat her in one of the chairs. "Wait here,"
Christine rubbed her head and blinked slowly as I went back to my clutch. I assumed the girl was not a heavy drinker, and with a thin body like hers it was not surprising that she could get drunk easier that me.
I took the clutch back out to the porch. Setting it down I rifled through it. Finally I found the Advil I had put in there before the party. I handed her a pill, "Here…this will help,"
"What is it?" she asked, looking at it suspiciously. The last time she had trusted my judgment she ended up feeling like hell.
"It's just a little medicine. It should help with that pounding headache," I said with a smile.
Christine swallowed the pill. It occurred to her that maybe she should not be so trusting of me, but her head hurt so badly! Trying to focus on something else, she turned her attention to the clutch.
"This is beautiful," she said, picking up my black Fendi evening clutch and inspecting it. Before I could stop her she looked inside and found my camera. "What's this?" she pushed a button and turned it on. "Wow," she watched at the city before her appeared on the little digital screen.
"Oh!" I bit my lip, "That's my camera…I don't think they have them like that in France,"
"How does it work?"
I supposed there was no harm in it. Christine was not incredibly smart, if I told her it was an American thing, she would believe me. "Well, to take a picture you press this button; give me the camera," I took it from her and aimed it at her and took her picture. I came and stood beside her, "And then to look at the pictures you have taken you press this one,"
She gasped as her picture appeared, "That's amazing! Wow the American's really are ahead of us in technology,"
About 125 years ahead, I thought to myself with a laugh. "And these are some of the other pictures I have taken,"
I went back to the ones of the Met Ball.
"That was the dress you were wearing yesterday!" Christine stared at the pictures, "Wow, everyone really does dress differently where you are from! Oh everyone looks beautiful!"
The next one was one of me and the girls.
"Are these your friends?" Christine asked me,
"Best friends since we came to the city; that's Rebecca and Jackie and Susan,"
Christine noted that the woman, Rebecca, had a dress that was much more revealing and scandalous than the one I had been wearing. The other two were not much less shocking. But instead of being offended she was jealous.
"You all look so happy…I don't have any friends," she said sadly,
"Oh please! You must have a friend!" It made me angry when people over acted misery begging for sympathy.
"Well I did, at the Opera House, but Raoul made me give them up. He said that it was not proper for me to be seen with them."
I rolled my eyes, "So you gave up everyone you know because he did not approve of them? What did he give up for you?"
"Nothing," she muttered quietly.
"I think you should go back to the Opera and apologize to your friends. I think it would make you feel better," I said.
"No, I can't. Raoul would be angry…" she said nervously.
"Well Raoul isn't here, is he?" I wicked smile spread across my face, "Come on, we'll get dressed and go," I needed some way to blow the day. Until Erik came for me Christine could be my little project; could I take this sniveling, backwards girl and turn her into someone Gloria Steinem would be proud of? I didn't really care, but I needed something to do.
I followed Christine to her room and tried to find something in her wardrobe that was wearable. I couldn't wear my Vera Wang every day of the week. Going through all of her dresses I did not find one to wear.
There was something else though. "Oh, this is beautiful!" I pulled out a white slip that would have been considered a dress in my time. I held it up to me.
"You're not planning on just wearing that are you?" Christine asked.
"Why not?" the slip was very pretty, and God knows why, the slip was shorter than the rest of the dresses. It hung just below my mid calf.
"It's not…proper!" Christine said indignantly.
"Listen, proper and improper change! There was a time when it was improper for a woman to wear anything without a bustle! And look at how hair styles have changed! And for God's sake! These dresses are so low cut they show half of your breasts! Now damn it! I'm going to show my ankles!" I was making a stand about how much I could stand. If I was going to be stuck in 1882, than things were going to change.
I went back to my room, changing into the slip dress and putting my black heals back on. I didn't care if I did have to wear these all week; I refused to be just another girl in Paris with cheap shoes. I checked myself over in the full length mirror. The slip was a little tight; God that Christine girl was thin! And my hair was a big blond mess! Oh well, I thought as I ran a hand over it, so I would go for the bed head look. That was sexy…
A few minutes later we were walking toward the Opera House. It was a beautiful day; if we had been in New York City it would have been a perfect day to take Sammy to the park. I hoped the dog was alright, but who was feeding him now that we were gone?
That thought was too sad to so I tried to concentrate on the moment. However the moment smelled; there were horse droppings on the street along with people's garbage. I assumed that this was before the invention of sewers and regulations against pollution.
It had been my idea to walk and I was beginning to regret it. Unlike the smoothed paved streets of New York where my Manolo's were as good as any running sneaker, Paris streets were cobble stone and it was like walking an obstacle course to keep from tripping and falling.
"Your shoes are so…high!" Christine exclaimed. They were; with them on I was a quite a bit taller than Christine, who was in flats. "Isn't it difficult to walk?"
"Of course not, clearly I have been having a lot of success so far; if twisting my ankle back there was any indication," I said dryly.
Christine was taken aback by my coolness and mistook it as anger toward her. She was silent the rest of the way. I recognized the building the moment it came into view. The Paris Opera. I had a sudden jolt of remembrance; Mark had proposed to me right in front of this very building 125 years into the future.
And now I was back again. I hoped my experience here this time would be less heartbreaking, though I doubted it. I was going to have to stay here forever. There was nothing more painful than that. All I had was a promise from a strange man that I would be reunited with Erik.
As I thought about it I realized it might not be very wise to place full trust in an odd gypsy man. What if Erik was not coming? Was if I was just stranded here by some cruel twist of Fate?
Christine was having unsettling flashbacks as well. Remembering being trapped miles below the beautiful Opera House and thinking her life was over. Thinking Raoul was going to die, or she was going to be forced away from him by a monster. But now…had she been wrong? In Erik she had seen an Angel, a gift from her father, a teacher, a phantom and a ghost; never a man.
But then what of me? Christine was confused. It did not seem possible that someone as independent minded as me would be taken in as she had been. So Erik must have changed.
Christine pulled the door open and we stepped inside. I had never been happier to see marble floors which were completely devoid of horse crap.
"The stage is through there," Christine pointed, "They are probably rehearsing right now…with the opening so close,"
"Who are we looking for exactly?" I asked her.
"Meg Giry…she used to be a very good friend of mine, when we were both dancing together," Christine thought about the progression of their friendship. They had met when they were very young and had grown up together. But Christine had always kept a secret from her friend, the secret of her Angel. Eventually this secret had ripped them apart. No, Christine thought, it was not Erik; it was Raoul who had forced her to leave her friend.
They were rehearsing. We took several steps closer and the clacking made by my high heels was drown out by the sound of the orchestra. We walked into the main theater; the stage was magnificent; everything about the place was stunning, including the large chandler hanging from the ceiling.
The most amazing thing to me was that the theater had not changed; when I had visited it in the future it had looked almost exactly the same…or should I say that in the future it would look exactly the same?
Christine was hit with another wave of emotion. This time it was not overwhelming fear or sadness, it was excitement. Performing had been her passion! And now she was at the heart of it all over again.
It looked like they had just finished. Everyone was talking and the players in the pit were picking up their music off the stands and putting away their instruments. The dancers were eagerly taking off their toe shoes to ease their tired feet. One woman was removing a giant head piece which must have weighed a ton.
As we walked down the rows of seats toward the stage several people recognized Christine and began whispering to each other. They felt the Christine had betrayed them; she thought she was too good for them now that she had her husband.
Christine spotted Meg immediately. She was standing in the middle of a group of other girls and after giving her frienenemy one cold glare she ignored her completely and disappeared into the group of other dancers.
"Meg!" Christine called out uncertainly; nobody paid any attention to her, "Meg!" she tried again.
This was useless, I thought. This Meg girl had a right to be angry and she was. One of the most sacred of rules of female friendship was never abandon your girls for your man; because as hard as it is to find a good man, it is even harder to find a best friend.
You could cut the animosity on that stage with a knife. Everyone was leaving and no one was listening to my new little project as her vainly called to her friend. One of the players from the pit was leaving but I stopped him.
"Excuse me; can I use these for a moment please?" I took the symbols out of his hand and smashed them together. They made a defining crash and my arms shook from the force of them clashing together.
Everyone turned to stare at the girl in the slip with big shoes holding symbols. Handing them back to the confused looking man, I spoke in my loudest voice, "Is there a Meg Giry here?"
A tall, blond girl wearing an elaborate tutu emerged from the crowd of dancers. "What are you after Christine?" she addressed her friend and not me. It was clear by her voice that Christine was far from forgiven but this girl was willing to talk to her to make her go away.
"I just wanted to talk to you, to apologize," Christine said meekly.
Meg rolled her eyes and then they landed on me. "Who is she?" she asked.
"This is Adriana Lima," Christine said and I walked forward. I had been standing on the steps going up to the stage, but I now climbed them to the top and I heard the company begin to murmur as I stepped into the full light. No doubt they found my dress as odd as Christine had. Ironic considering their own costumes, but I guess they would not have worn them outside.
"One of your new, high class, friends Christine?" The dancer looked coldly from Christine to me.
"Actually no," I said, "If I was one of those stuffy old bags who cares more about who your great grandfather was than who you are, do you think I would be wearing this dress?"
"Where are you from? Your accent isn't familiar," Meg asked me, her eyes were still narrowed.
"New York City,"
The expression on her face changed instantly. Instead of angry she looked amazed, "Really? I've heard so much about it! I met a man from New York…" her smile faded, "We had one great night together and then I never saw him again,"
I had to laugh; no matter where or when you were you could count on one thing. That a man from New York would be thinking about his next great chance for sex while you were picking out his and her towels. Wham, bam, thank you Madame.
"Men from New York are impossible," I smiled, "That's why my fiancé is French,"
"Oh! Is that what brings you here from the Americas?"
"That would make sense, yes,"
Everyone had stopped looking at us and gone about their business the moment they realized they were not going to see Meg ripping Christine's head off. Meg had defrosted a bit; it appeared that no matter what women could bond over men and broken hearts.
After our little defusing conversation Meg turned back to Christine, "So what are you here for?" her voice was still cool, "I'm quite busy; those of us without rich husbands who don't give up our dreams have work to do. The Opera reopens on Friday,"
"I know," Christine wrung her hands, "And everything looks wonderful! I wish I could see it…"
"You mean you are not coming to the opening?" Meg demanded, her arms crossed.
"Well, Raoul…" she began. My God this girl was hopeless! Here I was, telling her to apologize for being a pushover when it came to her husband's wishes, and here she was, still being just that.
"Umm…don't you think we could continue this conversation over lunch?" I broke in before Christine put her foot in her mouth. Not to mention I was starving.
"I don't know…does the great Christine have time for that?" Meg asked coldly.
"Meg please…" She was distraught.
"She does have time," I said quickly, "Where are we going?"
We waited for Meg to change. Her dress was somewhere between mine and Christine's in terms of appropriateness. Not quite as scandalous as mine, and not quite as conservative as Christine's.
Our destination was a middle class restaurant that Meg led us to.
"Here?" Christine eyed the place as though it were the very gates of hell.
We both turned and looked at her, "What is wrong with here?" I asked.
"Raoul doesn't…" Christine began.
"I don't care Christine, what Raoul likes and what he doesn't. If you want to talk to me you do it on my terms," Meg said, her hands on her hips, "and I happen to like this place,"
When Christine stood still and looked uncertainly at the restaurant, I lost my patience. With a sigh I hooked my arm through hers and dragged her in.
I couldn't see why Christine's husband would not approve of this place. It was not dodgy, it was clean…and it had food so I was content. I realized I had not really eaten since the Ball.
We were led to a table right by the large window looking out on the street. The host excitedly seated us and took our drink order, something I thought it was odd for the host to do. And then we all realized why.
Absolutely gushing he said, "I will bring them out right away. I hope you enjoy everything; it is such an honor to have you here Viscountess!" and then he scurried off.
Apparently although this was a nice place, it was not frequented by the very peak of French society. I watched as the host found the head waiter and whispered in his ear, nodding toward the table. The other man's eyes widened.
It was clear that Meg was not at all amused by the stir caused by her friend. She was glaring down at the elegant paper menu which had been placed before her.
I was looking at the menu to. I found I was getting better at understanding the French language, probably because it was all I heard. It was taking me a bit longer to read the menu though. Eventually though I recognized the words for chicken and duck and lamb and was able to make a choice.
It was not until after our orders had been taken by the excited head waiter that we talked.
"So, after a year of nothing, you come back and try to apologize for snubbing your best friend," Meg began, her eyes narrowed. "I want to think that it is because you have realized your mistake, but I think it has more to do with your husband leaving you,"
Christine gasped, "You know…?"
"Everyone knows he has been living with his sister," Meg said coldly.
"Oh," Christine looked down at her hands in her lap.
I looked from one girl to the other. I took a deep breath and bit my lip. This was not going to be so easy.
"So what did you have to say to me Christine?" Meg asked exasperated.
"I know I should not have stopped talking to you…but you don't understand! Raoul wouldn't let me! He said you weren't the right sort…"
"Oh Jesus," I muttered and put my head in my hands. Telling your friend that your husband thought she was beneath him was not the best way to apologize.
Both women looked at me, I looked up, "Let's just say this; Christine was caught up, trying to fit into a world of really mean…bitchy women!" I turned to Meg, "She was…confused! She didn't want to upset anyone!"
"It might be nice to hear this from her," Meg said, crossing her arms and leaning back from the table, her eyes on Christine.
"Well, say it," I said out of the side of my mouth to Christine.
"Say what?" she whispered back.
"What I just said," I shook my head slightly. It was like teaching someone to walk in heels.
Christine took a deep breath, "Meg, you know you are my best friend…and you know how much I love Raoul, and you know how badly I wanted to be with him. And it almost didn't happen! You know how scared I was! And then when we were finally able to be together…I just wanted us to be happy. You know I'm not as strong as you are…I just…" Christine sniffled, "I wanted to make it work,"
Meg shifted, "Go on,"
Christine bit her lip, trying to think of something else to say, "Raoul…his sisters; they were all telling me things. And I wanted to make Raoul happy; after all he had done for me. He almost got himself killed coming after me,"
Meg shuttered, "Yes, I do remember that awful night," she said in a low voice.
Suddenly I felt a ringing in my ears. I realized that she was talking about Erik; my Erik had almost let her fiancé die. It just didn't seem possible! The man I knew wouldn't do that. The Erik I knew was kind, loving, and funny. My Erik lent me his coat and held my hand and played with our dog…how could he be the same man who Christine was so afraid of? Who had threatened to kill her fiancé?
It hurt. It really hurt to think that Erik had been so troubled. Knowing what I did about Erik's past I had begun to follow the development of his madness. I had taken psychology in college; I knew that the easiest road to madness was abandonment and neglect. From what I could tell, Erik had been abandoned and neglected by everyone he met.
These other people in Erik's life…they could just brush him off. Here was the proof right in front of me. To Meg and Christine Erik was nothing more than an ugly problem. He was something that needed to be gotten rid of, shunned, and then they could be happy. Meanwhile Erik was left out in the cold; past from unfeeling heart to unfeeling heart without ever finding what he needed.
I suddenly felt like I was sitting with the enemy. I didn't even care that the two girls were smiling at each other. They seemed to have made up while I was thinking about my poor Erik. My eyes shifted to Christine. Her pretty smile, shining hair, slight figure…I could see how Erik would seek her acceptance, her love. And she had broken his heart. From the moment she saw him he went from angel to devil. His face had made him something she wanted to distance herself from…and she had run right into the arms of Prince Charming, even though he would take her away from everything she loved and subject her to the cruelty of his sisters and the rest of his circle.
I felt disgusted by her. With a wicked smile I realized I could destroy her if I wanted to. I had her trust, I could lead her right down the path of her own destruction…make her husband leave her, make everyone hate her…I could claim to be helping her and advise her to do things that would bring around her own devastation and she would do them without a thought.
It would be glorious, I knew. I was cunning enough to survive the legal world of 2005; I dealt regularly with people who had absolutely no soul or morals and made them do as I wished by putting them in the exact position I wanted. I could certainly bring down this simple minded girl.
Of course, my plan was no better than what Christine had done to Erik. And it didn't bring Erik to me any sooner. I decided that for the moment I would wait, bide my time. When I did see Erik again, I would ask him what he wanted. If he wanted to see this girl suffer as he had, than she would.
"Adriana?" Christine asked me and I snapped back to the conversation.
"Yes?"
"Meg just asked to see your ring,"
"Oh," I gave her my hand with the engagement ring on it.
"Oh wow!" Meg took my hand, "It's gorgeous…and it's so big! Why, it looks even bigger than Christine's!"
I looked proudly down at the ring and then over to the one Christine wore. I knew it was petty, but mine did look bigger.
"Is your fiancé nobility?" Meg asked.
"Hardly," I laughed, "He's an architect,"
"Where is he now?"
"Working," I said quickly, the lie coming off my lips before I even realized it.
"So how do you two know each other?" Meg asked Christine and me.
I responded before Christine had the chance to say something stupid, "My fiancé knows her husband. They arranged that we stay together months ago,"
Meg sighed, "But he is French, your fiancé? He's not from New York?"
I allowed myself a small smile. I couldn't help but be angry with these women for how they treated Erik, but again, for the moment they were all I had. "Yes, he was born in France, though after a year in the city I think he has probably changed," Just how much he had changed they would have to wait and see.
"Well I thought that the man I met from New York was a perfect gentleman. He was charming, and handsome, and quite wealthy I think…he promised he would write to me after the nigh we spent together…and he never did," She sighed, her expression confused and hurt.
"Wait," I said with a wry smile, "You are saying that you slept with him, after knowing him for, how long, a day?" She nodded, "And you thought he was a perfect gentleman?"
"He said he would write!"
I had to laugh, "He says he will call, he says he will write…he says he will see you again. What he means is great sex, have a nice life,"
"But I don't understand! I though we had a connection…"
It was odd; she might as well have been one of my friends, complaining about men. So, it seemed that for years, women had been wondering about the actions of the other sex, and we still hadn't figured it out. But we had made some new discoveries.
"Maybe he was just not that in to you," I said. Meg and Christine looked at me like I was speaking Japanese. "Alright, maybe he just didn't like you. It's not the end of the world,"
"But I liked him!" Meg did not seem comforted.
"But was he the best looking, most charming man you ever met?"
"Yes!"
I shrugged and looked around, "Alright but what about him?" I pointed to a man who had just sat down at a table across from us.
"Well…he looks nice," What a stupid statement, I thought after Meg said it. People didn't look nice, they look handsome or sexy. They might act nice, but you had no way of telling that from looks alone.
"So, get him to look at you," I said. As much as I disliked this girl, this could be entertaining.
"How?" entertaining and hopeless, I thought.
"Look over at him, and then when he turns to see who is watching him, look back over here," I said.
"I can't," Meg blushed.
"Oh do it!" I said, and I snuck a look at the man sitting across from us, "Oh! I think he is looking over here at you!"
"Really?" without another thought she looked over at the man. Their eyes met and then they both quickly looked away.
"Fine, but I did give you a chance," I smiled wickedly before I got up from the table.
"Adriana?" Christine looked questioningly at me,
"What are you doing!" Meg looked like her face was going to explode it was so bright red,
"Wait here," I walked over to the table. The man was not eating alone. He had two of his friends with him. Perfect.
"Hi," I said to him when I reached his table, "Uhh…my friend over there," I pointed to Meg who buried her face in her hands, "Thinks you look…very nice," I smiled at him, "And she would love it, if you and your friends would join us for lunch,"
The man looked at Meg and then at me. He smiled, "That would be lovely Mademoiselle,"
The man turned out to be Philippe de Winter, an Englishman who had moved to Paris two years ago. His two friends were a Monsieur Aleksandr Petrovsky, a former French starving artist turned businessman and a Mr. John Big, an up and coming tycoon from my neck of the woods; New York.
From the start I made it perfectly clear that I was engaged, just as Christine made it clear she was married. However, the men made it clear they didn't really care. We had a good lunch, which turned into a long walk on the hot April day; which later turned into them taking us to their favorite night spot.
It was a lounge with minimal lighting and hot music. Very un Raoul I daresay. Meg was the only one of us how was having a good time at first. She enjoyed all three men very much, though she mainly clung to Philippe.
Christine and I were both missing the men we had already fallen in love with. I made it obvious to both Monsieur Petrovsky and Mr. Big that I would not be unfaithful to my fiancé at any point during the night and they left me alone. Christine was too polite and did not have as much luck. And wicked me I let it happen.
I watched as her eyes silently pleaded with me, begging me to do something as Monsieur Petrovsky, after a few drinks, offered to give her a tour of the place, the main attraction being a dark corner.
She broke Erik's heart, now she was getting her just rewards. But Goddamn my stupid conscience I couldn't go all the way through with it. At the last minute I decided that she had had a good scare and I quickly went and rescued her, pulling her away to the bar.
"Thank you," She said when we reached it and I called for two glasses of wine, "I just couldn't seem to get him to leave me alone,"
"Men are tricky," I said simply.
The rest of the night went better. Neither Christine nor I were bothered by anyone the rest of the night. We laughed, we drank, hell we even danced, all in innocent fun. Meg's fun was not so innocent. After awhile when we did not see her, we searched the more secluded corners and found her and Monsieur de Winter in a rather compromising position.
Meg wanted to go home with him at the end of the night but Christine and I prevented it. "Not on the first night," I said.
We brought Meg back home with us, because we didn't think she could make it home on her own. Alone at last in my room I thought about the night. I had been entertaining, but I found the entire time I had been close to tears. It was like being single again, and I didn't want that. I saw just how miserable I would be. Every man I saw I somehow I hoped it would be Erik. Every time I was disappointed. I knew that this proved it beyond a doubt. I would never want anyone except for Erik.
I hugged one of my pillows and closed my eyes, pretending it was my fiancé I held in my arms and not a sack of feathers.
Erik was not sleeping well either. He lay on the sofa; it was too small for his long legs and they hung uncomfortably off the end. He had spent all day wondering what he was going to say to the boy when he saw him the next day, if he saw him the next day.
It was ironic, Erik thought. When he had not wanted him around he could not get rid of him. And now that his future depended on talking to him he was not there.
He had spent all day finding out as much as he could about the split between the newlywed de Chagnys. He had various sources, mainly the Persian, but also the old nosy widow who lived next door. She was obsessed with the social page and was able to re tell most of sad fairy tale.
Apparently, the two had gone off and eloped in the country of Christine's birth; just as they had planned. The old widow mentioned the terrible scandal and the monster which had almost claimed the young beauty before her fiancé saved her. Erik shifted in his seat as this. How many times did he have to be the monster in the story?
It was when they had come back that they had run into problems. The finances of the de Chagny estate had been a mess and the new husband had had to sort them out. Of course this had kept him away from his new wife. Alone, she had become more and more upset. The widow had said she had seen a picture of them together on the social page and it looked like the new bride's smile had been forced.
And the boy's two sisters did not help either. The epitome of old school aristocracy, they strongly disapproved of their brothers chosen wife and of the thought of their family money going to the children of this woman and not to their own.
All this had put stress on the new couple as Raoul tried to force his wife to fit the mold of a proper French lady and Christine tried to understand her husband's world. Eventually, they cracked.
Erik rolled over on the sofa. Sighing, he reached over to the table in front of him and picked up his wallet. He took out the picture of him and me and stared at it in the dark. He touched the picture to his lips and then placed it under the pillow.
I could have slept all day, but I was not allowed to. I was stirred awake by a maid knocking on my door.
In a hurried rush of French I gathered from her that Christine was having a bit of a breakdown in the drawing room.
I ran out of my room in nothing but a nightgown and rushed down the stairs. Christine sat, crying again, on the sofa. Meg stood by her. Somberly she handed me a copy of the newspaper.
"Raoul is going to kill me," I heard Christine mutter.
Erik had gotten up early and stared his now familiar walk to the Navy offices. If the boy was there at all today than he would talk to him.
To his relief, he was told that the Vicomte de Chagny was in his office and Erik didn't wait to hear any more before he practically ran down the hall and up the stairs. He loudly knocked on the door. He expected to hear the boy call him in right away. Instead he heard something fall down inside the office.
Tentatively Erik opened the door. He had heard something fall down; the boy. Erik watched as the boy cursed and stood up. Erik's eyes went from his disheveled appearance to the half empty bottle of whisky and he had to admit he was surprised. He had never pegged the boy for a drunk.
Raoul de Chagny stood, after tripping over a chair on his way to the door, ran a hand though his hair in an attempt to make himself look more presentable but he knew it was useless. He shrugged and shook his head.
"I'm sorry Monsieur Pitt," he said heavily, going back and sitting down at his desk. "This has not been a good morning for me,"
For the first time Erik noticed a copy of the daily newspaper which was lying on the top of the desk. Following his eyes Raoul looked at the paper. He picked it up and gave a small, mirthless laugh before he threw it in front of Erik.
Picking it up Erik tried to hide his surprise. He was looking at the society page of the newspaper. There, in huge black and white, was a picture of three people Erik recognized in an instant; Christine, Meg, and me. The heading above the picture read 'Viscountess about town." The picture itself was the three of us smiling in the lounge the night before. There was nothing particularly damning about it by 2005 standards, but 1882 was another story.
Erik had to smile though. My fiancé looks happy, and lovely, he thought. He was bothered by the fact that I was going out to lounges at night while he pined away on the Persian's sofa. However I was standing between Christine and Meg; no man in sight; and I had my hand holding my drink so my engagement ring was in full view. Erik read the story below the photograph. He had to smile again when he read that the Viscountess's two friends were noted ballerina Meg Griy and New York City socialite Adriana Lima. What were the odds that I would give that name just as he had given Brad Pitt?
"That's my wife," Raoul said, shaking his head. "I tell her she's not acting properly and this is what she does,"
Erik took a deep breath. Now was the time. He could feel it; now was when he would have to help this boy. And he didn't know what to say.
"It's as though…she doesn't even care! I've told her a hundred times…and now…" He shrugged and picked up his bottle, "My sisters have been telling me to do it for months…I just signed the divorce papers,"
Erik knocked the bottle right out of Raoul's hand.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked Raoul furiously,
"Monsieur Pitt," Raoul was shocked by the sudden outburst and looked up confusedly,
"Do you love your wife?" Erik bellowed at him. Raoul just stared and blinked, wondering why this man seemed to care so much, "Do you love your wife?" Erik repeated angrily. Raoul still said nothing.
"Your damn right you do," Erik glowered, his voice rising even more "I remember a time last year when you wouldn't let death threats, kidnapping, fire or water come between you and this woman! You went down into what might as well have been the dungeons of hell for her! And now you want to give it all up because of your sisters? Because your wife went out and had a good time?"
Raoul's mouth gaped open. His mind spun. But even more than that regret stirred in his heart.
"There is still time to fix this," Erik said, placing his hands on Raoul's desk and leaning forward, "Where are the papers you signed. We can rip them up and pretend they never existed,"
"I wish I could!" the boy was miserable, "But I sent them off already…my sisters are on their way to take them to her now,"
Erik thought quickly, "You stay here. Sober up. When I come back we are going to fix this!" With this, Erik bound out of the room and practically jumped down the stairs.
If he ran like hell, he thought, he might be able to stop the sisters before they reached the de Chagny house. Erik didn't even hear the young man wishing him good day as he ran out of the office. He sprinted down the street toward the de Chagny house, running over anyone in his way. Within minutes he was panting and he felt like his legs were burning.
If those sisters got to the house, they would devastate Christine. It would certainly make it harder to patch up the couple if Christine found out how divorce happy her husband was. Erik felt sweat running down his forehead; it was another hot day.
It was quite a ways from the Navy offices to the de Chagny mansion. Erik ran as fast as he could for as long as he could but eventually he had to stop to rest. He bent over and grabbed his knees, panting. He looked up and he saw it; a large carriage. Inside were too shapes he had once seen in the box's at the opera seated with Raoul de Chagny.
"Shit," Erik muttered, and he stared to run again.
The carriage was still ahead of him but the sight of it was enough to keep him going. His legs felt like they were literally going to fall off but he kept going. It was a great relief to him when he saw the house come into view. On his first day he had asked the Persian where the de Chagny house was located, purely out of curiosity. Now he realized how lucky that had been.
The carriage stopped and the first sister began to alight and then walk toward the mansion.
"Wait!" Erik called, running toward her, "Wait!" he skidded to a stop in front of the two confused and appalled looking women.
"Who in God's name are you?" One of them asked.
Erik smiled, holding up a finger to indicate that he needed to catch his breath. Gasping, Erik began, "I…just came…from you brother," He took one huge breath of air.
"Oh, and what did the socially challenged boy have to say?" One sister said, crossing her arms.
"He," Erik took one more deep breath, "He instructed me to take the divorce papers, and rip them up before you gave them to his wife,"
The two sisters looked at each other and then back to Erik and laughed, "You expect us to believe that?"
"Yes, I do. Now please, the papers," Erik held out his hand.
"Absolutely not Monsieur!" One said, "We finally talked some sense into him and we are doing what is best for him,"
"Madame please, I am under your brother's orders! He wanted to look over the papers again…I'm sure two ladies as smart as you can understand that!" he smiled and prayed to all that was holy that he was being charming, "Now please, I work for your brother and he'll kill me if I don't bring those back before you show them to his wife. Now, can't you do me this one favor? Please…I ran all the way here…my job is in jeopardy...can't you two, lovely women do a poor man a favor?"
Erik smiled and, reaching out, grabbed both women lightly by one shoulder. He waited several agonizing moments before the women responded. After quite a few years of marriage and after never being the epitomes of beauty themselves, having a handsome looking man beg them for help made them blush.
"Well…no harm in letting him have another look at it," One sister said.
"And we wouldn't want you to get fired," The other sister said in a slightly giddy voice as she handed Erik the papers.
"Your angels, both of you," Erik said smiling with relief, "And I have your promise that you won't mention this to Madame de Chagny?"
"Well…we won't mention the divorce, but we do have to reprimand her from her actions," Erik supposed there was no stopping that.
"Many thanks again ladies," Erik said, bowing to them slightly as he backed away. And then he thought of something, "Ladies, is Mademoiselle Lima staying with Madame de Chagny?"
The ladies faces hardened, "Yes," one sister said, "She is a terrible influence,"
"Oh I completely agree. But all the same, would you mind telling her that Monsieur Brad Pitt thought she looked absolutely beautiful in the newspaper?" Erik felt a great longing, knowing that if he walked into the doors of the mansion he would see me again, but the man had said, as one of the rules, he was not to see me for a week. All the same, he hoped his message would be taken in.
One of the sisters nodded and they walked into the house. With one last sigh, Erik started the long walk back to the Navy offices.
The sisters entered the house while we were still in the drawing room. Christine looked up at them and stood up, "Oh wonderful! What news do you have from my husband then?" she asked hysterically, "Is he going to have me publicly stoned or just, banished from Paris?"
"Not yet, you are lucky Christine," One sister said.
The other sister sighed; she had promised the handsome man that she would deliver the message and she would not be a liar, "Mademoiselle Lima?"
Surprised I turned to her, "Yes?"
"A Monsieur Brad Pitt wanted me to inform you that he thought you looked absolutely beautiful in the newspaper,"
Brad Pitt? It had to be Erik! It absolutely had to be! "Where did you talk to this man? Out on the street?"
"Yes, just a few moments ago,"
I ran out the front door and searched through the people on the street. To my dismay I realized Erik was no where in sight. Defeated I walked back inside. It was uplifting thought, to know that Erik had seen me, and that he thought I was beautiful…But I couldn't help but wonder, why hadn't he come in if he knew where I was?
Erik reached Raoul's office again. When he walked in the boy looked coolly at him.
"How did you know so much about my past Monsieur Pitt?" he asked suspiciously.
So the boy has caught on, Erik thought with a smirk.