Chapter 27: The Brothers Y
[featuring "Family Bonding", "His Father's Son", "An Old Argument Resurfaces" and "Another Round of Paternal Revelations"]
~ Summer 1912 ~
When Erik saw the motherly way Christine nurtured their newborn son, he realized she was serious about raising the deformed child as if he were any other normal baby. Well, if that was the case, Erik was determined to be the best father he could be to the little boy.
Christine beamed with pride when she walked past the nursery and caught her husband sitting in the rocking chair with Baby Alexandre in his lap, but she gasped in anger when she overheard the story Erik was telling.
"Erik!" Christine shrieked as she tore into the nursery. "Erik! That is not a suitable bedtime story!"
"What! I'm just warning him not to end up like me!" Erik defended himself as if there were any legitimate chance Baby Alexandre was planning to become an assassin in Persia.
"Well, you can do it without instructions for making a Punjab lasso," Christine scoffed. "Is this what you've been teaching Gustave in those 'survival' lessons?"
"I don't know…maybe?" Erik shrugged. He'd thought his older son would enjoy some hands-on lessons away from the books, and indeed he did; Gustave soaked up every one of his father's "survival" tips, even though it was highly unlikely the aristocratic boy would ever need to rely on them. Erik's heart swelled with happiness during the father-son bonding time, but perhaps the lessons had been a shortsighted, selfish idea. All he did was ruin his sons! He sighed in disappointment when Christine took Baby Alexandre out of his lap and cradled her little darling to her breast.
"Erik, wait," Christine said sadly as her husband sulked out of the nursery. "Would you like me to teach you some proper bedtime stories?"
Erik paused in the doorway and turned around; Christine smiled at him, and Baby Alexandre stretched out his chubby hands, reaching for his father.
"Oh, alright," Erik said with a soft smile. He resumed his seat in the rocking chair and grinned when Christine replaced the baby in his lap. She knelt down at her husband's and rested her head on his knee, so she could stroke Baby Alexandre's deformed cheek as she began the famous tale of Little Lotte and the Angel of Music.
"Erik, are you crying?" Christine asked after she had finished the story. Erik fiercely shook his head in denial, but that didn't stop the tears from rolling down his face. Christine giggled, but she looked at her husband with concern. The story wasn't sad, not at all, but perhaps Erik was reminiscing over their complicated past at the Paris Opera?
"He's just so little…" Erik whispered through his tears as he held his son's hand in his own. The baby in his arms was so small and defenseless against the cruel world, but Erik swore he'd be his protector.
Christine smiled and stood to her feet, so she could wrap her husband in a warm hug. Erik had missed out on the majority of Gustave's childhood, but there was no doubt in her mind that he would've been a devoted, loving father to the boy if he'd only been given the chance.
Though Erik, Christine, and just about everyone else at Mazandaran doted on Baby Alexandre, Gustave was less enthused by the new addition to the family household.
In the music room, Gustave groaned as his baby brother's latest temper tantrum wailed through the sturdy walls of the manor house, even though all the doors were closed. It was bad enough his father had assigned him a frustrating amount of challenging material to prepare for his piano lesson, but a crying baby was the final straw.
"Will someone please tell that little monster to shut up?" Gustave shouted at the top of his lungs before collapsing across the grand piano's keyboard with a discordant smash of notes. He jumped when the door to the music room whipped open with a load bang against the wall. His mother stood furiously in the doorway with Baby Alexandre on her hip.
"Did I hear you refer to your brother as a monster?" Christine fumed. "We don't say that word in this house! Apologize! Now!" she demanded, shoving the baby's monstrous visage in Gustave's face.
"Sorry, Alex," Gustave grumbled, pushing the baby's grubby hands away as they tugged at his older brother's hair.
"You're just lucky your father wasn't around to hear you say that," Christine clucked. She strode out of the room, cradling her baby to her chest.
Gustave rolled his eyes. Why were his parents so overprotective of Baby Alexandre? Why were they so adamant that the boy have a "normal" childhood? Gustave's childhood had hardly been normal: finding out the Vicomte wasn't his real father, watching his mother get shot by her best friend on a Coney Island pier, being toted across the ocean by his mother's husbands, being taught how to make Punjab lassos… His father certainly had some weird hobbies. Living in this house itself was the farthest thing from a "normal" childhood.
But Gustave soon realized his parents' motivation in shielding his baby brother from any and all harm. While the child had the face of a demon, Baby Alexandre was an absolute angel and needed to be protected at all costs.
"Gustave, will you hold your brother for a moment?" Christine asked one day.
"I'm practicing, Mother," Gustave said with a groan. Last week's piano lesson had been rough, and his father was pushing him harder than ever before.
"I just need to fetch something from upstairs," Christine assured him. As she hurried out of the room, she plopped Baby Alexandre into the lap of his unwilling older brother.
"Get your grubby hands off the piano," Gustave grumbled, but Baby Alexandre kept pounding away at the keys, giggling every time his older brother roughly swatted his little hands away from the piano. Gustave huffed. The stupid kid actually thought this was a game! He folded his arms across his chest waiting for Baby Alexandre to get bored, but instead the little boy turned his deformed cheek over his shoulder, staring up at his older brother with all the adoration in the world. Gustave's cold heart melted.
"Alright, fine. You win," he said begrudgingly as he swatted the baby's hands away from the keyboard.
Baby Alexandre clapped his hands. The game had been fun when he was thoroughly annoying his older brother, but now that Gustave was actually enjoying it also, Baby Alexandre stubbornly refused to continue.
"Hmph. You really are your father's son, aren't you?" Gustave grumbled. He'd tried banging on the keys himself, gently, of course, to arouse a reaction from Baby Alexandre, but the boy ignored him. "Perhaps, you'd like this better?" Gustave said as he began playing a lullaby.
Baby Alexandre clapped his hands, and from the doorway, Christine stood proudly when she caught her two boys in the middle of a bonding moment.
"Oh, good. You're finally back," Gustave said as he held his baby brother out to their mother.
"I can leave him with you, if you'd like," Christine offered.
"No, get him away from me," Gustave replied, but when his mother had taken Baby Alexandre out of the room, he realized how lonely he was, locked away in the music room with nothing but mountains of work to keep him company. He really was his father's son after all.
For the past week, the household of Mazandaran had been confined indoors, watching rain beat against the windows as summer thunderstorms shook the house. When the clouds parted, even Erik didn't even need to be coaxed out of his study to enjoy the sun and fresh air. He sat with Christine on the terrace, smiling peacefully as his wife fanned herself with her lacy handheld fan and shared all the gossip from her circle of friends.
"My, aren't they cute?" Christine commented when Gustave and Baby Alexandre returned from a walk on the beach. Gustave's trousers were wet to the knees after he'd carried his brother through tidal pools in search of seashells washed up from the storm.
"Indeed," Erik replied.
"I'm so happy that he has a little playmate again," Christine added as she sipped her lemonade.
"Actually, Christine, I was wondering about that...Don't you think we ought to enroll Gustave in a suitable boarding school?"
Christine froze. She smacked her fan closed against her palm, and Erik shrunk into his seat in fear when he saw his wife's agitation. Though he did not know it, his suggestion had awakened Christine's maternal protection over Gustave. It was like her crumbling marriage with Raoul all over again.
"Why would he need to go to school?" Christine asked coolly as she began fanning herself again. "You already teach him everything he needs to know."
"I know, but don't you think he'd rather be with kids his own age instead of cooped up in the library with his old dad?"
"Erik, he loves you," Christine assured her husband, hoping flattery would win him over.
"Really?" Erik perked up, but he sighed sadly and sank into his seat once more. "I just worry that spending all this time around me has made him weirder. He used to be so normal and now he's just…"
Erik gestured to the garden below where Gustave was having a screaming match with Baby Alexandre. The match ended with Gustave taking a deep breath before emitting an ear-piercing, blood-curdling shriek that caused a flock of birds to flee from a nearby tree, but Baby Alexandre giggled and clapped his tiny hands delightedly.
"Erik, Gustave was never normal," Christine scoffed. "How do you think I knew he was yours in the first place?"
On top of Gustave's prodigious musical talent and all around precociousness, the boy had an eerie fascination with the macabre and bizarre. It sent shivers down Christine's back. She'd truly thought she was raising the second incarnation of the Opera Ghost, but luckily Erik turned out to be alive and, well, ghosting her.
"Well, I guess, that makes me feel better," Erik said in relief. "But I still think it'd be a good idea if he had some more formal education. In a few years, he'll be old enough for university and I want him to be adequately prepared."
"University…" Christine whispered. Since when had her son gotten so old?
"Well, of course, Christine!" Erik said proudly. "He's a very bright boy, and there's no question whether he should attend university if he so chooses. Although perhaps he'd rather a conservatory…"
Erik stroked his chin as he contemplated his son's future, while Christine slumped back in her chair and avoided thinking about the subject as much as possible. She'd been having such a splendid time outside on the terrace, but Erik had to go and ruin it by bringing up old arguments with her ex-husband.
"I think I've had enough sun," Christine said abruptly as she stood from her chair and hurried off the terrace.
"Hmm?" Erik replied in confusion. He looked over her shoulder, but Christine had already disappeared inside. What had gotten into her? Usually it was him heading back inside to return to work while Christine was the one begging him to stay outside. Was she really so upset about Gustave attending school? Surely, she knew he'd suggested it out of love for the boy?
After much deliberation, Erik thought he was correct about his son's educational needs, but if both Christine and Gustave were firmly against the idea of boarding school, he would not force the boy to go. At dinner that night, Erik broached the subject with his older son.
"Gustave, what would you think about attending boarding school?" Erik asked.
Around him, everyone froze. The Girys looked toward Christine who was glaring at Erik, her lips pursed tightly in anger. Gustave had been wiping a smear of mushy food off his baby brother's chin, but his head shot up when he heard the suggestion.
"Boarding school!" Gustave exclaimed.
"Yes, your mother and I were discussing it earlier today," Erik said and Christine pursed her lips even tighter. "Your English has vastly improved, and you're a diligent worker in all your other subjects too, well except for your French homework!" Erik laughed. His son enjoyed musical composition very much, but writing composition did not come as easily.
"I promise I'll work harder!" Gustave pleaded.
"That's the spirit!" Erik said enthusiastically. "And if you keep up the hard work, you could even attend university! What do you think of that?"
"Well, that's a far way off…" Gustave looked toward his mother to save him. "Mother, what do you think?"
His mother had been passionately against the idea of boarding school before, and from the look on her face she was passionately against the idea now. Surely, she'd put his father in his place just as she always did. When Gustave called on his mother, Christine's expression softened as everyone stared at her, waiting for her to speak. She bit her lip and averted her eyes to her plate.
"Gustave," Christine said with a deep sigh. "I think your father is right." She glared at Erik, silently ordering him not to say a single word.
"What…" Gustave said, unable to believe what his mother was saying.
"If you want to attend university, you'll need to go to school," Christine explained, "and I'm afraid there aren't any suitable day schools in the near vicinity."
"Hmph." Gustave slumped back in his chair. So, even his real father wanted to ship him away to boarding school. And his mother was actually agreeing! Why was her response so different with this husband? It didn't take long for Gustave to deduce the answer.
He had been replaced.
His mother had a new life with a new husband and a new son; Gustave was part of the old life in the old country. He glared at his younger brother, but Gustave couldn't bring himself to hate his adorable best friend.
While Erik had hoped Christine and Gustave would be more interested in deciding which of the many elite New England boarding schools the boy would attend, they both refused to engage, so Erik had free rein in the selection process. It was late in the summer and deadlines had been missed, but Erik pulled a few strings, made a few bribes, and arranged for Gustave to begin school that September.
"Will you help him pack? I can't do it!" Christine wailed as she stumbled into her husband's study. She threw her arms around Erik's neck and sobbed into his shoulder. Gustave's first day of school was less than a week away, and she still hadn't gotten used to the idea of her older son going away to boarding school.
Neither had Gustave. When Erik entered the boy's bedroom, Gustave was sitting helplessly beside his half packed trunk amidst the chaos of books and uniform garments that his mother had neatly folded.
"I heard you needed help packing!" Erik said chipperly.
"Yeah...thanks," Gustave replied dismally. He bit his lip anxiously as his aging father allowed himself to the ground.
"Listen, I know you're not crazy about the idea of school, but you'll grow to like it," Erik said as he carelessly tossed a stack of shirts in the trunk, ruining Christine's neat folding.
"I just don't see why I have to go!" Gustave complained.
"Listen, I never had a formal education." Erik placed a hand on Gustave's shoulder. "I never got to play with children my own age, and I want better for you. You can't spend the rest of your life hiding away in this place."
"But I like it here!"
"Well, Mazandaran will be your home as long as you'd like it to be, but it doesn't hurt to get out and meet people your own age." Erik enjoyed the solitude of his manor too much for his own good. It was his own little paradise, and he wasn't surprised his son felt the same. "Listen, I'm not getting any younger," Erik said gently. "If you and your brother are going to take over Phantasma some day, I want you both to be educated."
"But you said you never had formal education, and you turned out alright," Gustave argued.
"Well… thank you, Gustave." Erik didn't agree with that statement, but it was for reasons his son wouldn't understand, and they didn't need to get into that right now. "But it took me a while to get where I am today. I don't want you to be an old man by the time you find success and happiness. Life doesn't last forever."
Gustave stared at the ground and nodded. He didn't want to think about his father dying. Baby Alexandre would hopefully get to grow up with their father, but Gustave had already had so little time with the man, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his father's life away at a boarding school.
"Do you get what I'm trying to say, Gustave?"
"Yes, I understand…Father." Gustave never knew what to call the man; he'd only recently gotten used to calling him "Father", but now the word had no meaning to him anymore.