His Dancer
Chapter Six
Meg had remembered her mother had been sick before, weak from old age, but not so much as bad as this. The coughs were strange and funny, and did not bode well for the future. Meg became extremely worried as her mother rested more often, her cough getting worse and worse. Finally, she could stand it no longer and sent for a doctor.
"I am sorry to say she has tuberculosis," the doctor sighed after checking her mother.
"Will she live?" Meg began to cry.
"I do not know. We must see how she fights such an illness. I must say though, I don't believe there is much hope," he said, shaking his head.
Meg's tears poured over the brims of her eyes and flooded down her cheek.
"Let me see her," Meg whispered, and without waiting for the doctor to permit her to do so, Meg pushed past him and into her mother's room.
Mme. Giry turned to look at Meg and smiled. Meg cried harder. Her mother was so weak, so pale.
"Maman," Meg sobbed. "Fight this, Maman. Do not leave me!"
"I am trying not to, darling," was the wizened reply.
"I have practically no future without you, Maman. I need you to help me get by," Meg cried.
"I will not die, Meg Giry. Dry your tears and pay the doctor," Mme. Giry ordered firmly.
Meg wiped the tears away, but they came again as she bid the doctor farewell as he walked away with the money. She went back to her mother, but Mme. Giry had fallen asleep again. Meg's tears constantly weaved their way down her now damp cheeks as she fixed dinner. She carried a hot plate to her mother, and woke her, encouraging her to eat, but Mme. Giry would not, declaring she was too tired.
"She is dying," Meg thought sadly as she ate the plate herself.
Meg had not stopped crying during the night.
Days grew into weeks. Meg felt she would drown herself in tears. Her mother finally could not move out of bed and she lay in the cot, becoming thin and frail.
"It is as if I brought bad luck with me when I returned from Erik," Meg would tell herself.
The doctor made more frequent visits. Each time his news got worse, until, one frightening day, he emerged from the room and dared not look into Meg's eyes.
"You must say your goodbyes now," he said, still afraid to meet Meg's gaze.
Meg flew into the room, sobbing.
"Maman! Don't leave me! What would I do without you?" Meg wept to her mother.
"Meg…" her mother said so hoarsely she didn't even sound like herself. "Be strong."
"Maman, you keep me strong. I shall surely fall if you die," Meg choked out the words.
"Go…to him…" Mme Giry breathed, then her eyes slowly clouded over.
"Maman!" Meg screamed, and at this the doctor came in, shaking his head. He closed her eyes.
"I am very sorry," the doctor said, his eyes filled with sadness. "I shall pay for the funeral, if you would please."
"Thank you," Meg whispered, staring at her mother, gone forever.
In a few days Meg dressed herself in black and said her final goodbyes to her mother. She had never forgotten her mother's last words and almost wanted everything to go quickly so she could do it.
Meg sold everything, every piece of furniture, item, and finally the house. She made sure she hadn't forgotten anything for selling, for she wouldn't need it. She put the money in a small purse she did keep, and took her coat.
Finally, Meg closed the door of her small home in which she had lived in for such a short time, and without looking back, walked briskly down the street to the destroyed Opera Populaire.