CHAPTER 4 Through the Gate.
The hairs on the back of Gustave's neck began to tingle and stand on end before he heard the first set of footsteps fall in behind him, growing steadily louder as they gained. Then another joined them, and then a third set. He'd nearly broken into a run when hands violently pushed him to the ground. Gustave landed hard on the pavement face first, scraping his chin painfully. He tried to get up right away but was stopped by a swift kick to the ribs. The sound of laughter whirled around as he fought the dizziness that filled his head. As the world came back into focus, three long shadows circled above him.
"Are you lost little man?" said a roughly accented voice.
"It's not safe for little rich boys round here kid." came another from above him.
"Ain't it the truth Bobby ole boy, too bad for you kid but good luck for us? I'm sure daddy doesn't let you out without a bit of pocket money." said the third.
"True nuff Nicky; now let's see what sonny boys got for us." The thug bent down to start rifling through the boy's pocket, but in that moment Gustave was able to reach the knife that was hidden just inside his breast pocket. He swiped the blade at the man's searching hands and made a long gash down the forearm from elbow to wrist.
The thief yelped in pain and staggered back. It gave enough of a distraction for Gustave to stand up and make an attempt to run, but another of the men lunged at him and pinned him against an old rusty iron gate. The man's hands locked around his throat and Gustav thought he was about to join his mother. Then the man's eyes began to grow wide as they glimpsed something beyond the gate. He released the boy and leapt back, knocking clumsily into his bloodied confederate.
"RUN, it's the harpy! Run boys, she can have the kid!" and all three turned tail and bolted up the road. Gustave spun around, searching the darkness of a densely overgrown garden beyond the Iron Gate. He made sure to brandish his bloodied knife to look as imposing as possible. He saw nothing. A strange mist was hovering in the stillness of the jungle. Just then the floating particles swirled around an emerging form.
It was black except for the round orb where a face should be. Gustav wasn't like other young men. He'd seen grotesqueness that most people ran from, but he'd been able to accept it and find the beauty underneath. He didn't flinch or run as the image began to resolve itself. He saw no harpy, but he understood how a passerby might be frightened by it.
A woman now stood flush against the iron of the gate. She wore a midnight blue cloak that covered all but her face, a face that was far from being harpy like. Except for that of his mother's, it was the most beautiful face he'd ever recalled seen. Above high cheek bones her eyes sparkled like emeralds against a lightly tanned oval face. Her lips were full and pleasantly shaped, pouty as if she was ready to receive a kiss.
Gustave couldn't guess her age, for it seemed as the mist danced around her features they looked at once old then suddenly young again. It was an amazing visual effect. He was overcome with a floating feeling that infused his mind and kept him hypnotized staring back at the woman.
"You're a brave little one. Don't I scare you?" said a deep feminine voice that poured over his skin like warm water after a cold snowy day. He had to swallow hard before trying to respond.
"You're not scary at all. I've seen much worse than you." He tried to sound brave, but his reply was shaky. He concluded that it must be the shock of the attack, but the longer his eyes stayed linked with the strange woman the more strongly they gripped him.
"Really, where?" the silky voice became excited, as if hungry for information. Gustav found he was equally eager to feed both their curiosities. He took slow steps to stand directly in front of the woman. He'd sprouted since his last birthday and begun that fearsome conversion from boy to man, but he was still slightly shorter than she by a few inches. It was less than the near foot with which his father towered over him. Whenever the man was cross he would use the advantage of height to intimidate, not just his son but anyone he considered subordinate, as if the mask wasn't enough to subjugate anyone who saw him.
"Well, Coney Island. That's where I live." He volunteered in the trusting way children often responded to beautiful strangers, regardless of possible danger.
"Wonderful! Do you speak of the freak show? Oh, it's been so long since I've been there, so many years ago." A shadow passed across her face, but was gone as quickly as it had come. He nodded once in response. The woman regarded him with her jewel eyes. She was making a decision, and when it was made she grinned wide revealing a sparkling smile.
Gustav couldn't help but smile back, until unseen hands unlocked the gate and it swung inward. She seemed to disappear as the world of the garden was opened. Without considering the risk or consequences the boy stepped over the threshold. This woman may not be the kind of harpy he'd read about in fairytales, but there was something about her that drew him in. She reemerged from the overgrown brush to his right.
"We should get you cleaned up. Maybe you'd like some tea, and you can tell me more about Coney Island? Maybe I'll tell you a few stories of my own. Come along, my name is Lisa. What's yours?" she asked.
"Um, I'm Gustav Destler." As the gate clanged shut behind him he finally felt a shard of unease pierce him. The woman noticed. From the folds of her cloak appeared one delicate hand extended to touch his face while the other carefully took his hand. Gustave shivered as she touched him. He felt the glimmer of a long ago comfort he'd nearly forgotten. Despite being an intelligent and well-reasoned individual, he had an overwhelming feeling that he should trust this person in spite of only having just met her.
Gustave's mother had told him before that his heart would always recognize those people who were part of his story. She encouraged him always to trust his heart and not let the preconceptions of his head rule his judgment. It was advice that had guided him these past years and helped his faith that things with his father would work out.
The woman led him through the dense over growth and waning fog. The waning sunlight of the late afternoon barely made a difference in the garden, especially in the shadow of a large edifice that emerged from the trees. It was clear that they were headed for it and within a few seconds they'd reached the door. The building reached up as far as Gustav could see. The boy turned away to glance behind, but the jungle of plants had closed in behind them and he doubted that he'd be able to find his way back if he ran. The sound of a door being opened drew his attention back. She was looking at him again with that smile and it made most of his anxiety dissipate, but not all.
"Don't worry; you'll leave here in a better state than when you arrived and through the front door." She had leaned over and whispered to him like she was giving a secret. "I think you're special, like me, and I don't meet many others who are special." The close proximity made his skin prickle.
Beyond the door a full and welcoming light revealed a long wide hallway. Lisa had stepped inside and waited for him to follow. The moment he crossed the doorway it seemed a barrier had been breached and he'd passed the point of no return. Lisa closed the door lightly and led him down the long corridor.
The walls were papered in a light blue color, making one feel as though they floated in a cloudless sky. They passed a few doors before emerging onto a large open foyer. Gustav gaped at the wide stair case that emanated from the center of the space. He realized he'd been admitted into a mansion, or maybe even a hidden castle. From where they stood one hall extended to the rear of the building, and two others extended to the right and left to what must be the east and west wings. It was obvious the residence was large. He stood transfixed looking about the area. Lisa had to come back to collect his hand and lead him away.
"I'll give you a tour some other day, but it's late and I'm sure you'll be expected home soon." They crossed into the far hall across the foyer and she led him through a door. A fire crackled gently in the fireplace and gave light to a well-furnished sitting room. It was a comfortable salmon color in here and felt as homey as the French cottage he'd shared with his mother, making him feel a pang of homesickness.
A wide assortment of couches, loveseats and cushioned chairs were scattered about the area. Some were circled around tables, while others faced windows. At first glance one might have thought an assembly of people was sitting amongst the furnishings because there was an odd fullness to the area, like that of a busy restaurant.
Lisa immediately headed to a set of high backed chairs that were gathered in front of the hearth. Embraced by an ornate armchair sat an old woman whose face lit up with the light of a thousand suns at seeing Lisa. She wore a pastel turquoise taffeta dress. Its sleeves covered her arms to the wrist and the skirts were deeply pleated from waist to floor. A light lace shawl was draped over her shoulders, which was covered by a wealth of silver hair that hung freely to frame her face.
"My dear, where have you been? I never like it when you go traipsing about the grounds like a phantom." Lisa leaned forward and accepted an affectionate peck on both cheeks. "Don't be like that Mama; you know I have to stretch my legs every now and then."
"But I know it's better than always being trapped in here. Oh, now who is this?" it had taken the old woman a moment to register Gustav's presence, but far from being alarmed she greeted him with another radiant smile very much like Lisa's.
"Today I've made a new friend, this is Gustav Destler. May I introduce my mother, Mrs. Gloria Aguilar" She said.
"How do you do madam?" Finally calling upon the manners and charm he'd been taught, Gustav gave her a deep bow and brought one soft wrinkly hand to his lips. She smelled like sweet peppermint and it teased his nose pleasantly.
"Your given name is Swedish, and your surname is welsh I believe, but your accent is French. How did that come about young man?" she asked.
"My mother was Swedish and I am named after her father, but my father was French." He hesitated only slightly before continuing. "And I was raised in a chateau at Perros before coming to America." His father had no idea what he'd been called at birth, if his mother had even deigned to name him. He had told Gustave that he'd acquired the moniker of Erik Destler via his travels. After the death of Gustave's mother, his father had actually given him the choice of what name he'd like to use. For Gustave, there was no need to debate and he'd chosen Gustave Daae Destler.
He was his father's son in blood as much as in spirit, attitude and affection as well, an affection that had always been lacking in his relationship with the Vicomte. Although his father had said it was of little importance to him, Gustave caught the look of prideful satisfaction when he'd chosen to use Destler.
"Oooohhh, and why did your family come here?" She asked.
"Why don't you have a seat Gustave, and I'll get my things to clean your wound while madam interrogates you." Lisa left them sitting in matching chairs before the fire.
"Wounded? What?" Mrs. Aguilar produced a pair of spectacles from the folds of her dress to examine him.
"I had a run in with some hooligans in the street, but Ms. Aguilar was able to help me escape them." He explained.
"No, no. Lisa's last name is Faolan. She was married once, but Charles died many years ago, along with my Armando. But never mind that, only ever call her Lisa as she prefers. I want to hear about you now, we get so few visitors. What are your parents' names?" The old woman's open acceptance and affectionate manner were as effective as any truth saying drug would have been. Gustav only hesitated briefly before he found himself unloading his life story with very little argument.
"My mother's name was Christine Daae." He said.
Lisa had returned within moments and she had attended to the abrasion on his skin, cleaning it with a stinging ointment and covering it with a small bandage. Gustav could only stare at her as she worked. The dark cloak had been shed, and to his astonishment she wore a pair of trousers underneath, with a man's shirt that billowed out around her arms.
Her hair was a reddish-brown color that shimmered in the light of the fire as if it had caught the embers and was alight. It was twisted into a long thick braid that rested on her shoulder. On her feet were very feminine slippers to contrast the rest of her attire. It was not the kind of day wear anyone would see on the street, but she wore it audaciously. It took the old woman several attempts at clearing her throat before he returned his attention to her and began answering her questions.
"Oh?" the old woman's thin eyebrows furrowed for a moment as she processed the name. Gustave's heart thudded for a moment as he feared her recognition. "Yes, yes. I remember it from the papers when she died tragically. I'm so sorry my dear boy. She was quite the gifted singer as I recall."
Normally the pity of others regarding his mother's death would annoy and anger him, but the look she gave made him welcomed the sympathy. Her eyes were the same striking green as Lisa's, dulled only by a life more full of joy and sorrow but no less alive and seeking. He'd cried enough childish tears that he felt dried up of all the emotion from the loss, but even still his eyes moistened.
"Thank you for your kindness. I do miss her terribly. Since then I've lived here in NY with my father. We have a home on Long Island, and he manages Phantasma on Coney Island." He explained proudly.
"But I thought Madam Daae's husband returned to France, the Vicomte De Chagny." asked Lisa. All the blood immediately drained from the boy's face. He'd forgotten that the grisly and personal details of the event had been in all the papers. Under the women's expectant gaze Gustav squirmed in his seat. He'd never discussed the experience of seeing his mother die with anyone, and it was still a subject he hoped never to relive.
"The Vicomte was my mother's husband, but he was not my father." He said shyly, and then stammered. "I really should be getting home. It will be dark before I get there and father will be upset." The women exchanged curious looks, but pressed him no further.
He had spoken very little to anyone about his parents and the turn of events his life had taken. It always seemed that the presumptions of some and prejudice of others, especially those associated with his real father, meant that parties interested in his story were usually for salacious purposes. Gustave felt no ulterior motive from the pair of women as he inspected their lovely faces one more time. He saw just the honest curiosity of someone wanting to know him, and it had been so long since he'd felt like someone understood his feelings on the subject.
It was one of his father's failings that, although he was always open to hear what Gustave was thinking, he didn't usually have a way to empathize with his son. The result was that with his mother's absence the yearning to be known and understood the way a child desires had welled up inside. It made his heart ache and fill with loneliness. Being now in the company of Lisa and Mrs. Aguilar, he felt as peaceful as he ever had since his mother's death.
"Of course, I'll show you out. I'm sorry to have kept you, but it really was a pleasure in having you visit with us." said Lisa. "Perhaps you can come again? I'm sure momma would like it."
"Yes, yes. Please come again my child. We could have such fun. Lisa might even show you where the fairies live." She whispered, giving him the kind of playful wink that children were certain to respond to.
"Momma, please behave yourself." Chastised the younger woman, but Mrs. Aguilar gave the boy a mischievous smile that he found endearing. "Follow me darling."
He said his farewell to Mrs. Aguilar and Lisa led him back to the foyer. They exited out a pair of doors onto a gravel path just as overgrown as the rest of the garden. It led down to a larger wrought iron gate that Lisa opened with a set of keys kept in her pocket. He turned around to glimpse her several times as he walked up the road towards home.
The front gate faced the western setting sun as it poured down the lane and shone on her like a flame while she watched him walk away. It was ethereal, and Gustav knew that come hell or high water he'd return to the house hidden in the jungle as soon and as often as he could.