It's been four months since Erik found the woman under the opera house. Tonight Gabrielle is preparing a traditional American dish for dinner. Things get a bit— interesting.
CH. 6 – Fun with FoodSupper was served nightly, six days a week at 6pm prompt. The seventh day, Sunday, was a day of ease when everyone took the day off and fended for himself or herself. The Roux's were always invited to supper, but rarely came, however tonight Erik had insisted that the Roux's break their usual tradition of dining in their cottage and join him. I learned that when Erik got a notion in his head, you'd do well to suck it up and comply. I imagine that's what Henri suggested to Marie that they do tonight. Perhaps Erik had gotten used to my company at the table and going back to solitary supping had become distasteful to him. Even thought he often ate alone, the reticent man was one for proper etiquette and that involved taking your place at the table, dressed and ready.
From my place in the kitchen, I heard Erik seat himself at the dining room table. Soon there were other voices drifting into the kitchen. I poured the hot liquid into a porcelain tureen and walked it to the dining room table where I set it down gently. After I had finished placing the bread and condiments on the table, I sat in my chair opposite Erik and smiled at them.
"I hope you don't mind, I took creative liberty tonight in preparing supper. I thought a good hot stew-like meal would warm up this cold night."
I waited for an unfavorable sign, but saw none, so I told everyone to help him or herself and instructed how to use the toppings. Suddenly I was interrupted, "what in the name of Moses is it?"
"It's a thick soup Erik, white chili, you eat it with the bread I made, it's quite good— I call comfort food."
He sat stock still frowning at the chili as if it had teeth. "How old are you, 12?" I wanted to say. I ladled some into his bowl and passed it onto the Roux's. "I know it's not typical French cuisine, but if you give it a chance I thing you'll enjoy the dish. Please, Just try it won't you?" I hated to beg people to eat my food.
"Well I think it smells divine Mdm. Thomasen," Henri complimented as he ladled up a large portion into is bowl.
"Here my dear." He gently handed the tureen to Marie who held a look of stony trepidation on her face. Nothing out of the ordinary, so I really wasn't offended. She took a bit and set the bowl down. I showed them how to use the condiments, stirring my cheese and sour cream into the hot liquid and took a bite. "It's Pretty good if I do say so myself," I thought. Seeing that I had not poisoned myself, the Roux's took their first bite. I was pleased to see Marie register a look of approval as she sipped the chili.
"It's a splendid bisque my dear," M. Roux complimented as he added a large spoonful of cheese.
Erik, however, was still starring rather irritably at his. I couldn't help myself and laughed, "what, is there a fly in your soup Monsieur? Just take a bit Erik, it's good."
His furrowed his brow at me and huffed, "Mdm. I am not accompanied to eating peculiar food. Throw out this swill and bring me something edible," he demanded.
"Was he kidding? "I will do no such thing you big baby. I thought you had better manners Erik, really how insulting."
"Forcing your crude American victuals on me is not your duty Gabrielle. You are to serve me a reasonable array of fine French cuisine. I will not eat this!" He threw his spoon into the bowl, splashing the hot contents onto the tablecloth.
I shoved my chair back noisily and stomped off to the kitchen. "And I will NOT be in here making you something else—eat or starve Monsieur!" I yelled over my shoulder. I sat at the tiny table in the kitchen drinking a large glass of Red Bordeaux and nibbling a stay piece of cheese and fuming. The man seems so worldly yet he won't even take a taste of my American dish.
"French snob," I seethed under my breath.
I heard the Roux's excuse themselves as their chairs quietly slid over the dining room floor. With a heavy sigh I rose to walk back into the dining room. Erik was still seated at the table, but his bowl and bread plate were empty. Had he eaten the food or dumped it back in the tureen? I said not a word as I removed the dishes from the table.
"You were correct; the dish you made was palatable."
"Gee Thanks Erik; I'm so glad that my food did not cause you to retch." I starred at him icily.
"Will you be needing anything else monsieur, or may I be relieved?"
"Gabrielle, you didn't eat yours, wouldn't you like to sit down and finish your supper?"
"Unbelievable," I thought. I'm not hungry anymore Erik."
"Oh?" his visible eyebrow rose. "Who is acting the child now?"
Rolling my eyes I took my usual place. This man would not get the best of me. "You're right Erik, I should eat what I cook," I dipped more into my bowl to warm up that which had cooled off. I ate in silence thinking that it was a good batch of chili and how much my Dad loved the stuff. Erik moved from the table to go into the kitchen, returning briefly with another bottle of Bordeaux Blanc.
"Thanks," I said as I grabbed the bottle from his hand and took a crude swig off of it. Erik blanched, and then slowly began to laugh. The sound was low and melodious as it came from his diaphragm, into his throat, eventually founding escape out his mouth. I too laughed, nearly spitting wine from my nose. I offered the bottle to Erik and he took it from me, repeating my actions.
"We're a rather gauche pair aren't we?" "Oui Monsieur, don't be a piggy, share," I teased reaching for the bottle. We carried on laughing, drinking and talking about nothing until I had tears running down my cheeks.
- o -
Erik began to look tired as he warily massaged his left shoulder. His muscles must be sore from chopping wood today, I thought. I stood. Here, get up, I ordered, offering my hands to Erik. Looking at me quizzically, he obeyed, taking my hands in his, and then pushing back the chair with his legs to stand. I gave him a come hither look as I led him up the staircase to my bedroom. Erik's eyes changed from jade to forest green, his breathing had increased and he looked flushed. Too much wine, I wondered? Once we entered the bedroom I released his hands.
"Remove your garments from the waist up and lie face down on the bed Erik."
A roguish smirk touched his lips, "My dear Gabrielle," what wicked games have you in mind for the rest of our evening?" he purred deeply while his eyes roamed over me as if I were dessert.
"What the—Erik, you naughty boy, I simply noticed that your back was hurting you and I thought that, well, living alone, it may have been a long time since you've had a proper massage. On the bed, now, face down," I ordered as I grabbed a bottle of Jasmine massage oil from the dresser and proceeded to the bed where my patient now lay. I sat to his left, on the bed and poured a generous amount of the oil in my hand to warm.
"Allow yourself to be comfortable and relax, if there are any spots that are particularly bothersome to you, let me know and I will pay special attention to working out the tension there."
"I suppose my neck, and shoulder on the right are quite sore."
Erik seemed to be flummoxed at what I was preparing to do, and for some reason this caused me to smile.
"It's a good thing be in control once in a while."
I applied the oil, spreading the fragrant balm lightly over his bare skin, working first at the neck and shoulders, and then moving down his spine to where his trousers began. Once he was used to my touch, I then began massaging the larger muscle groups up to his shoulders again. At one point Erik released a sigh that sounded like air escaping from a tire tube. I smiled, "Ah, finally he is letting go, the man is a virtual sphinx." Just as he had indicated, there was a hard knot on the left side of his neck that moved into the trapezius muscle on his shoulder and upper back. I applied pressure to the area, kneading it thoroughly. I had also noticed that his lower right side was tight, so, after daubing on more oil, set to relieve the tension. If I was to relieve him of his stiff neck, he would have to remove his mask, of that I was not sure he would be willing to do, but I tested the waters anyhow.
"Erik, I can relieve you of this nagging neck problem, if I can massage your scalp, which would mean removing your mask, are you willing to do that?" His hear jerked up simultaneously with a sharp "no."
"Oh dear, I didn't mean to upset him so, now I would have to work harder to relax him again."
"That's alright, I soothed, I can work around that." He relaxed once again and I continued to massage his muscles.
Erik was a lovely specimen of a man. His shoulders were fairly broad, and he was lean and well muscled. What troubled me were the curious gash marks on his back, scars as if someone had cut or whipped him. Good lord, there was so much that I didn't know about this man. There had been occasions when he had spoken of being hated and mistreated as a child because of his face. Once when I was visiting the horses in the barn, Monsieur Roux had told me that Erik had been held captive as a child in a traveling fair. His gypsy master had put him on display as "The Devil's Child."
M. Roux's sister in law had been the ballet mistress at the Paris Opera house. Madame Giry had known Erik as a boy. I supposed she had passed along stories to his elderly caretakers.
Simply knowing of these atrocities could explain why Erik was so strange. He was always secretive and aloof, yet one moment he would be cold and threatening, then, in an instant, gentle and generous.
As my hands touched his scars, I began to weep. How could anyone treat a child as an animal? No matter how many stories of child abuse I covered as a young journalist, I could never comprehend what would cause an adult to perform such brutal acts upon an innocent.
I rolled my head back, willing the tears to drain back into my eyes. Erik did not strike me as the type of man who would appreciate pity, even if it were genuine.
I had been massaging his back for over n hour now and my hands were beginning to ache. I drew my fingers up his spine in a light feathery motion; a subtle sign of completion.
Erik's head was turned toward me, resting on a pillow. His eyes were closed. I whispered his name, but got no response. I had stroked him to slumber on my bed. "
"Oh well, nothing else to do but tuck the baby in," I sighed throwing a spare quilt over him.
"Good night you Prince of Paris," I murmured softly.
Now, where was I going to sleep? I glanced around and decided that the velvet chaise would be long enough to crash on for one night. Grabbing another spare quilt from the closet and a pillow off of the bed, I undressed down to my chemise and made myself comfy on the chaise.
Morning seemed to approach mere moments after I had closed my eyes. The curtains were drawn and the fragrance of fresh fruit and pastries filled the room. I was also not on the chaise anymore. Sometime during the wee hours I had been placed back in the queen sized bed and carefully tucked in up to my neck. "Weird; how did he do that without making a sound," I wondered?
Hummm…What's next? I'll have more chapters up later this week.
Thanks for reading and reviewing. – Leesainthesky