The morning's cheer brightens the streets, coaxing children outside to play. Warmth beams down without a cloud or breeze to bother it. Butterflies literally flit past my head and rest on beds of pink tulips, and trees, covered in splendid green, line the streets and bask in comfort. Spring blooms to the sound of birds singing. Signs of life leap out everywhere.
A horse, pulling a sleek buggy, rhythmically trots by me. Inside a young woman giggles with her friends. She's probably an aristocrat out for a ride in the countryside; only the rich can afford such extravagant and inefficient modes of transportation.
The city seems at ease and carefree, but I am apprehensive.
I walk to Edmond's house, hoping desperately to find him there. Yesterday's timing was awful. He's probably had second thoughts, or he thinks I have, since I never came back. I try to move my feet a little faster.
When I finally round the corner, coming upon his street, I feel ragged, and almost turn around. If he isn't there, what will I do?
0-0-0-0-0
For the first time, in a long time, Gankutsuou found himself wide-awake. A patient specter, he had waited years, and now his soul quivered. The boy approached, but that was Edmond's concern, not his. Something else drew near, something that would change their lives, and move them towards an answer. To what end or resolution he dared not guess, but, whatever the direction, it would be better than this day-to-day stagnation. He cast his eyes up, and grinned.
0-0-0-0-0
Relief momentarily clamors through me with joyous whoops, he's not only home but leaning against the frame of his front door, dressed in a simple shirt and tight blue pants. The feeling, however, instantly dwindles, for now I face the reality of discussing yesterday, and all the tomorrows ahead of us, if any.
He's distracted, staring at the sky, and does not react to me until I am standing in his yard. A mug steams in his hand. The liquid within smells both bitter and sweet.
With all my ability I try not to look nervous and force my voice to be steady, "Hi Edmond."
He stares at me with an ambiguous expression. I can't tell if he's angry or if he even knows I'm here, but I'm guessing angry, and start apologizing, "Look, I'm really sorry. I came back last night but you didn't answer the door. Something important came up and I couldn't get out of it. I'm really sorry."
His head nods, but otherwise he peers at me without sharing his thoughts. I should be used to Edmond staring at me, I think he does that when he's deciding what to say or do, but right now I feel scrutinized, awkward, and embarrassed. "Edmond?"
Wavy hair falls to the side as he tilts his head, making the line of his neck and jaw both visible and tantalizing, but I chastise myself for noticing something like that at a time like this.
"Albert?" And that's all he says.
Suppressing the shudder of my shoulders proves challenging, but I hold my ground and wait. He must be furious, and I wouldn't blame him. Eventually he steps back into the hallway, gesturing to me to follow. "Come in."
A bit relieved, I walk across the cobble stone path and cross over the threshold. His graceful hands set the cup down on an end table made of cherry wood.
"I don't know what else to say, I didn't mean to not show up."
There's a snap as the latch on the door clicks into place.
"If there's any way I can make it up to you I will."
He faces me.
"It won't happen again, "
A hand brushes the hair from my forehead. His touch is gentle, but his claw-like nails tickle my skin. I feel my cheeks glow, not something I'm proud of, but also not something I would to bother concealing.
"You aren't mad?" I plead.
"No."
"Then what's going on? You seem. . . off."
He kisses me, and everything inside of me hums. It's a tender, gentle, long kiss, unlike the ones we shared yesterday. When we part I'm a bit dazed, and confused, but thrilled. Honestly, I expected him to have prepared a speech about why yesterday was a big mistake, or how mismatched we are.
"Forgive me," he says, "I had an. . .interesting experience last night. But that's not what I wish to discuss with you." He pulls back, picks up his mug and walks to the kitchen.
0-0-0-0
Years ago, on the streets of Janina, the Count had approached her. Impossibly tall to such a small little girl, grave and daunting, he had terrified her. His overall appearance did not help: black with glittering flames upon his cuffs, and a top hat that extended his height even more. His blue skin and long hair made him distinct among the dirty streets and battle smudged soldiers. When she saw his mismatched eyes fixed upon her through the crowd, she panicked, for her days since the horrible death of her mother and father were a string of strangers poking, grabbing, hitting, or abusing her.
Some of them paid to 'test out' the other girls before dragging them onto fancy ships, leaving their homes behind to live as servants, or worse. Some of them paid extra, an event that always ended with Haydee or another slave cleaning up pools of blood from dark rooms.
She stepped back, slipping in a puddle of mud. Its slick and greasy waters splashed onto her legs and drab dress, bonding to skin and fabric with an aggressively thick consistency. The mud took hours to soak off, for it had mixed with the pollution from the Frenchmen's ships until it resembled glue or sap.
Janina was a broken and dirty city, wearing the scars of battle and failure on its ruined buildings and starving people. Once proud and cultured, her glorious and artistic race now resembled their former capitol city: putrid and shamed. Those women and girls who had escaped slavery watched as their men were dishonored or publicly slaughtered, and too many were reduced to selling whatever they had, body and soul, for a meal or vaccine.
The merchant, an ugly man with short and wild hair, dragged her back up to her feet, smacking her hard across the face for falling and disrupting the line. The once majestic heir to the throne let out a pathetic whimper, and the merchant raised his fist again to teach her silence.
But, the blow never landed. Her fate was never like those other girls on the block, and the only bondage she faced was of loyalty to a man consumed by hatred. However, even at his worst, he had placed her on the path of luxury, helping her regain her status, to find justice for her people, and her parents. He had done great things: made the poor and starving rich, and rooted out corruption.
He could have done so much more without his hate.
Haydee closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, waiting for the ship of Sister Jadea to arrive.
Edmond Dantes had, at his heart, always been a good man; never deserving the lot he'd drawn. If Gankutsuou lived, she would see him defeated and cast out once and for all.
0-0-0-0
Blackness stained the interior surface of the mug in rings, and the coffee had gone, by now, cold. Though he had not brought it to his lips in some time, Edmond grasped the white porcelain handle as one clings to a lifeline during a storm, barely moving, as if the fragile material would somehow ground him.
Albert sat opposite, running his fingers over the rough metal that framed the perimeter of the circular table, and tucked his other arm across stomach as one does when injured.
He shook his head, as if denying what he'd heard, "But. . . I've seen you eat, I just saw you drink, and you're up during the day." He did not make eye contact, and scratched at a bump in the metal's grainy surface, a flaw caused by too much exposure to air during the casting process.
"Well, I suppose it does depend on how you define vampire." Edmond answered, "Joining with Gankutsuou was much more intense when you and I first met, and my body showed more signs. However, I am no longer relying on him to keep me alive, or to give me power. I still feel the hunger, however, I do need blood. I'll let you decide if the semantics are right."
Something slammed next door, and a woman called out, yelling at her daughter to stop jumping down the stairs.
Edmond paused during the racket. He could see the young man shrinking and withdrawing, as if every sentence cemented a new brick in a wall between them.
"And here I thought we were going to discuss the difference in our ages, or something easy like that." Albert rubbed at the table a bit harder, as if trying to scratch the bump out of the metal. "So, you came back to teach Gankutsuou about humans."
"Not just that. I was also sent back to find redemption."
"And those flowers keep you from drinking blood." Albert nodded at a potted plant on the back porch. Its petals opened out to five points, like a star. Each was a rich color of a rosy purple and contained a single white stripe that ran down to a well of nectar, cupped within the flower's center. Two or three large and luscious buds grew on one stalk, and it stood happily out of a brown terracotta pot.
"Yes. They are very rare, and contain vital nutrients."
Albert took his time examining it, but a heaviness set upon his eyes and posture, and when he finally looked up, it was with effort. "So, Gankutsuou is still with you."
"Yes."
"And you agreed to this."
"I did."
"Even after what he made you do to me?"
Edmond frowned, "Albert, you may not like hearing this, but it is the truth: he didn't make me do anything. It was my plan, my idea, and my revenge. He merely gave me the means by which to complete it."
The weary eyes turned away, and Albert's body seemed to curve further inward. "But he encouraged you to hurt us, his evil twisted you, he wanted you to feel hate."
"He did not have to do much to accomplish that, Albert. Twenty years in the Chateau Di'f did most of the work."
"Have you been hiding from me because Gankutsuou is still around, and you're afraid he'll hurt people again?"
Edmond sighed and released the mug, moving his chair closer to that of the other man, taking his hand. "Gankutsuou did not hurt anyone. He watched, and waited. The wrongs that were done, the feelings that you have, the anger and the hurt: they are justified. But make no mistake; you should direct them at me. What was done was premeditated. No one controlled me. I made my own decisions. As a desperate man I accepted power from a demon, but I wielded it freely."
"Right." He answered flatly, "and was he watching yesterday?"
"No, he is able to fall into a deep slumber nearly at will. He gives me privacy when asked."
"Is he watching now?"
"No, he's focused on something else."
They locked eyes, briefly, before Albert pulled his hand away. Luster drained from his pallor, his forehead creased with wounded anguish, and his breathing all but stilled. "He really didn't do anything at all?"
"Well, he aided my plans, helped make them solid, and he enjoyed what I did."
"Did you enjoy it?"
The taller gentlemen stiffened slightly, "Are you sure you want to ask that question?"
"Yes." The reply was weak, but contained conviction.
He sat back, and looked away, "Yes, getting my revenge felt good. You must understand, those men didn't just steal my career, or freedom, or lover, those men destroyed everything I was and let me rot in my insanity without a trial, without giving me the dignity of knowing my crime. I lost my innocence, my hope, my faith, and my mind because of their greed. Did it feel good to take the same from them? Yes."
"But you hurt so many other people to get back at them, aren't you sorry at all?" His voice cracked, miserably.
"I am sorry it hurt innocent people, those who had nothing to do with their wickedness. I understand that my revenge stole from you, and your friends, many of the things that I lost. I did not expect to live through it, but now that I have, I would not deny any of you the same right to anger and vengeance. But rather than offer it, I thought the kindest thing to do was to stay away, to stay dead, and let you move on with your lives."
0-0-0-0
This is what I get for being a fool, for hoping, for loving him all these years. What did I really think? I knew, not even that deeply within myself, that Gankutsuou's was not the source of corruption or evil in Edmond. But when he came back, I wanted it to be easy. I lied to myself.
He was, and is, a sick and broken man. I knew that, and I deserve this to hurt as much as it does, for being naïve and stupid.
His house is the wrong setting for this. I want to stand on a brooding cliff with a churning ocean splashing its white foam against the rocky walls, the surf crawling up the jagged edges like fingers. A storm should be darkening the sky with ominous clouds, and lighting should rip through the peace with terrible groans of thunder. That is the right setting for a conversation like this. But it's not where we are. His house is picturesque, tasteful, and even lovely. Under my feet, the expertly laid mosaic gleams with little glass beads that reflect colored dots onto the ceiling. Edmond has always loved the arts, and culture.
He's sitting so close to me, I can smell faint cologne. It's intoxicating. But despite this unmistakable and inconvenient attraction, I cannot make myself look at him.
This has to be because of Gankutsuou. I'll admit I don't want it to be Edmond's fault, but Haydee's words stay with me. She said he controlled Edmond, that he changed the count. He could make Edmond lie to me right now.
Or maybe she's wrong. Maybe Haydee can't stand to see someone she idealized willingly giving himself to malice.
He's stopped talking, and waits. Both of our bodies tense, but I don't know what to say. I had forgiven him for all of this, assuming he felt bad for it, but to hear that on some level, on any level, he doesn't regret destroying my family, Eugenie's family, Valentine's family, and Franz. . . that hurts, that really hurts.
0-0-0-0
The fangs in Edmond's mouth created little creases under his bottom lip as he frowned. Death's advice, simple as it was, resounded in his mind: to live. He had spent so many years living for one thing, and without it he did naught but drift, and now his pain had passed onto Albert.
"This is not helping." He sighed, taking to his feet. "Why would it? I am sorry you and your friends were hurt, Albert, but I did what needed to be done. I cannot take that anger away nor change the past. This is why I did not seek you out; I did not wish to prolong your pain. It would have been better if we had not met again, what future is there from here? I'm twice your age, and almost married your mother! Even without my actions seven years ago, exactly how are we compatible? How is my presence going to help anyone other than giving you a target for your anger?"
"You're supposed to find redemption." Albert muttered.
"And if bearing your wrath is the way I'll find it, I'll do it gladly."
"Yeah, but loving me is just too damn much to ask for."
0-0-0-0-0
My response stunned him for a moment. He doesn't say anything, so I stand up, aware that I'm so close to his face that I seem aggressive. I don't care. "Sure, Edmond Dantes: happy to further revenge and pain, but when it comes to healing or love you're instantly ready to throw in the towel."
His face looks like I slapped him, he gets angry. Good.
"May I remind you that we barely know one another?" he protests, "And what we do know we learned from your childhood and lies? It's been seven years, you have changed, I have changed."
"Yeah," I don't let him start another sentence, jumping in instantly with my retort, "and I notice you don't ask me how I feel about you and mom, or your age, or any of that; instead you decide that we're not compatible, and that the only way to handle anger and hurt is fucking unhealthy revenge."
Icy would be too weak a word to describe the change in his demeanor. I have seen Edmond ablaze with rage, I have seen him in pain, I have seen him hate, but I have never seen him defensive before now.
He scoffs, and snarls "And transmitting hurt into infatuation is any better? You believe that pressuring me to love you, in an attempt to symbolically undue my actions, isn't channeling hurt in an equally unhealthy way?"
I shove him back away from me (or try, he doesn't budge) and start walking to the door, but since I may not speak to him again I want to say what I need to, 'I know I love you Edmond, and I don't need to justify it. Yeah you and my mom, together, is a creepy thought, but it's where we are. I can't help that I care for someone that my mother cared for. It happened, and I'm not going to second guess it. She doesn't care, I don't care, which means you're the only person who can't accept it. As to being younger than you, I'm not the first, and I won't be the last person who falls for someone older. Is it healthy? I'm not here to answer social questions. I don't care about how other people see it or what other people do. I know what I feel and understand what it could mean later down the road, so once again you're the one with the problem. If you're going to let stupid shit like that hold you back from being with me, you're an idiot."
"But I know you're not, not really. You're a strong, intelligent, cunning man who knows how to get what he wants, you're just afraid right now. And, before you say that I don't know you let me stop you there. I know that, generally, you're charming, rational, creative, and a natural leader. You love plants because they're beautiful, complex, and predictable, unlike people. You love opera and art because you appreciate beauty, hard work, and the way it captures the human condition. These two things embody something very fundamental about you; you both love and hate humanity. I think I do know you, too well for your tastes, and I think what you're afraid of is finding out that your revenge has left you empty. You don't want to face what it did to me, to Haydee, or Franz because it might mean you were wrong. Taking a hard look at your own life, your own condition, threatens you. Its why you're defensive right now."
I look back over my shoulder, he seems a little shocked, "You've stumbled into the classic problem with revenge, after it's over, there isn't anything left. You've got no drive, no plans, and no goals. Accomplishing that revenge is all you have, and if its wrong then all you know, and all you have, is also wrong. But you know, you could have had something more. You could have had me."
"I also know that really, your heart is soft, which is why you treated Haydee and Ali and the others with such kindness, and why your friends' betrayal and loosing mother drove you to such rage, and why when you were looking at me, seven years ago, you could not shoot me. It doesn't take long, looking around your home, to see that you haven't changed much, so yes – I love you, but I won't chase after you. I've done everything I can to know you better, but you have no interest in knowing me. I'm not going to pine for you. Let me know if you decide to stop being such a coward."
I turn around, and walk to the door, saying before I close it behind me, "Love, by the way, isn't selfish, and since you are still justifying ripping my life apart to make yourself feel better, it must not mean you care very much about me. Maybe that means you don't want my love, maybe you were randy yesterday, or I came on too strong and you pitied me, but I guess I'll know by what you do from now on."
I walk out the door, and I don't look back.
