Chapter 28: Years Come and Years Go

[featuring "Teenage Angst"]

Life was changing rapidly at Mazandaran. Everyone felt Gustave's absence heavily, especially Erik. Even though boarding school was best for the boy, he missed giving lessons to his older son and was plagued by the guilt of sending him away.

Gustave's boarding school claimed to be strict, but there was always room to get away with pranks and escapades. His ingenuity made him the accepted ring leader of the boys' antics. As long as he kept his grades up and never got caught, there was no reason for his parents to know about the trouble he was getting into.

Every time he came home to Mazandaran for winter and summer holidays, Gustave was welcomed with open arms and tight embraces from his mother, intellectual conversations with his father, even though the young man was supposed to be on break, and excited screaming from his kid brother, Alexandre, who always grew so much when Gustave was away.

"I want to hear about everything you've learned!" Erik said proudly while Gustave was being squeezed to death by his doting mother.

"Alright, Father. Will do," Gustave replied distractedly as he tried to loosen his mother's embrace. He bent down and picked up his jumpy younger brother. Luckily, Gustave had a strong soft spot for the little tyke, otherwise he might've been annoyed by the way the boy clamoured for his big brother's attention.

With Gustave home, the household was complete, and the family spent many a night crowded around the magnificent grand piano in the music room, singing while Erik or Gustave played the accompaniment. While Gustave enjoyed making music with his family, he much preferred the hours he spent reading in the silence of the library.

Although Gustave went to the library to be alone, he was often joined by Mademoiselle Giry, who had taken to writing and was always in need of an editor. Erik and her mother were always so busy; Christine's written English was even worse than her spoken English, and little Alexandre couldn't read, so the task often fell on Gustave, not that he minded editing Meg's writing. Even though she was well above Gustave's age, she was much like a teenage girl who never grew up. He could still remember that day on the Coney Island pier…

Mademoiselle Giry tugging at his arm…the water beneath them, so calm, yet dangerous…She knew he couldn't swim. It was no wonder his mother had turned hysterical whenever he'd to climb on the railings of the ocean liners. Did she ever have flashbacks to that horrid day? Did she ever stop in the middle of the most mundane tasks and see Mademoiselle Giry pointing the gun…Mr. Y jumping to stop her instead of blocking the woman he claimed to love…the face of her son as she teetered on the edge of life and death…

Gustave dug his nose further into whatever he was reading. His mother had forgiven his father for everything, for things that Gustave himself didn't know the extent of. It'd taken time, but she'd forgiven Mademoiselle Giry, and she'd probably forgiven the Vicomte, too, now that she was happy with her new family. His mother never ran out of forgiveness. Why couldn't he be like her? Why did he have to lock everything away like his father, the father he never wanted?

Gustave set down his pen and returned the manuscript to Meg. "It's very good. I like it a lot," he said.

Her latest story was inspired by her recent cross country expedition to San Francisco. None of New York high society eligible bachelors were interested in the "old spinster" Meg Giry, so Erik had suggested the bubbly woman do some travelling to get out of lonely manor. Meg couldn't get enough of seeing the world.

"Are these really the only suggestions you have?" Meg teased as she flipped through the pages. Gustave had left barely any marks on her writing, but she knew how much work the story needed if she wanted to get her book published some day.

"Well, everything seems to be grammatically correct," Gustave explained, "and the story is very interesting and imaginative. I really didn't know what else to say."

"Well, thank you for reading it." Meg giggled like a little girl, not that Gustave knew how girls giggled since he hadn't been around them much. "I might come back in a little while and make you read it again," Meg said as she trotted out of the room.

"It would be my pleasure, Mademoiselle Giry," Gustave replied as he returned to his book, but it wasn't long before he was interrupted again, not by Meg, but by his father.

"Hello, Gustave," said Erik as he sat in the seat Meg had just vacated.

"Hello, Father," the boy replied without looking up from his book. Didn't his family know he came to the library to be alone?

"What are you reading?"

"Father, do you need something?" Gustave's tone was harsh enough to express his displeasure at being interrupted, but not rude enough for his father to accuse him of disrespect.

"I was just wondering if I could give you a music lesson," Erik said sadly. "It's been so long…"

"Yes, well, since you sent me to school, it makes having lessons a little difficult, wouldn't you say?" Gustave sassed. The underlying accusation only made Erik feel worse for sending his son away to boarding school.

"Yes, I suppose...but what do you say? Do you want a lesson?" the guilty father asked again. He and Gustave were not as close as they used to be, and the fact broke Erik's heart. He'd tried to do what was best for his son, but instead he'd just gone and ruined what little relationship the two of them had once had.

"No, I think I'm past the age of needing lessons." Gustave stood from his seat, ignoring his father's disappointment. He didn't really think he was too old for lessons; one never reached that age, but the ordeal would be dreadfully awkward because of how much time had passed since their last lesson. If he had to endure an embarrassing situation like that, Gustave would really never want to take lessons from his father again. At least they could admit they had some good times in the past without tainting those memories by attempting to relive them.

"Ah, yes. I suppose you don't need them anymore," Erik whispered as Gustave left the library.

Gustave sighed as he climbed the grand foyer staircase and headed toward his bedroom. He couldn't complain about having a loving family, but ever since he began attending boarding school, he preferred his solitary time when he returned home for the holidays. The longer he stayed away from Mazandaran, the less he enjoyed being home with his family. Though Gustave had welcomed the stability and peace of the paradisal manor, once he'd had another taste of life outside its walls, he began to understand what his father meant by the dangers of permanently secluding oneself from the outside world with no one but an eccentric cast of characters for company.

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