Chapter 5 - That's What Friends Are For

The blast of music takes Nadir's breath away when he opens the door to the Eyrie. Erik informed him years ago the room was completely sound proofed when it was built, but this was the first time the Persian saw, or rather heard the truth of that claim.

Although a devoted fan of music of all sorts – opera and orchestral pieces being his particular favorites – he is now accustomed to the more popular styles of music performed here at the theater and believed Erik was content to produce works while complex and beautifully written – even that silly trifle "Bathing Beauty," were unlike his love of more classical pieces.

What he is hearing was hardly along the lines of Beethoven, however. So much discord and sounds he could only describe as cacophony and, yet, there was definitely a connecting thread to the pounding of the base with the fine fingering of the keys at the far right of the keyboard. The tempo was intense and he found himself drawn into the main room by the strange magnetism of the music his friend was feverishly producing on the magnificent grand piano.

Ugliness from beauty and back. So like Erik. The music could be the man he now watches completely engaged in the music he is creating. Nadir cannot recall ever seeing him so caught up in playing…composing. So many layers to this man.

When they first met in Russia, he was a young man, but a husband and father – daroga of Mazandaran, recruited to find the deformed violinist who also had a reputation of being a skilled assassin. Erik was little more than a boy in age, barely into early adulthood. What he would come to experience in those short years would shock the Persian, but there was always the small boy hovering beneath the surface. The craving for love and acceptance. Vulnerable.

The past, how many years was it now…eleven since their fated reunion on the pier, when he saw Erik had become a man both loved and loving. Christine was responsible for uncovering the human being Nadir always believed existed within Erik. The success of Phantasma, his children, the esteem of those who worked for him all lay at her feet.

Why now is he feeling an odd sense of concern for the man pouring his heart out creating this mélange of notes sounding very much like pain and fear?

He sits down on the long sofa and waits for Erik to either finish or notice him – sense someone else in the room. The man was absolutely prescient when it came to knowing when there was another person close by – much like a feral animal. Except for one time…

"I brought her to my lodgings and when she fainted, I lay her on the bed in the second bedroom."

"You kidnapped her?"

"No. Well, not exactly."

"You kidnapped her."

"That idiot Raoul was trying to seduce her. I could not let her go out to dinner with that fop."

"They were childhood friends – you told me that yourself."

"They were no longer children," Erik retorted. "Besides, I had expended so much time developing her voice, I could see her running off with him – just when she was having her gift recognized."

"She had not seen you before then?"

"No."

"How did you teach her then?"

"In an old dressing room no one liked to use – haunted, they said."

Nadir chuckled.

"I needed some way to move back and forth from the theater to the tunnels." Erik shrugged. "There was a mirror."

"Two-way no doubt."

Erik raised his eyebrow and waved off the comment. "In any event, once the dandy left the room, I invited Christine to join me instead and she did."

"I am sure that is exactly how it went."

"Close enough."

"As I was saying, she fainted. I told her…sang to her about my music…my life…how I wanted her to stay."

"And she fainted?"

"Yes. Probably did not eat dinner before the show. Christine always has stage fright before going on – does not like to eat."

"You do not think the shock of you kidnapping her and taking her though a mirror to a place within the walls of the Palais Garnier would not be overwhelming?"

"It was not as if I was a complete stranger. I was her Angel of Music. As it turned out the angel was a man."

"Wearing a mask and living in a house in the cellar – however nice it might have been as you described the place to me."

"What was I to do?"

"Oh, I do not know. Introduce yourself to her as a human and see where that took you."

Erik sighed deeply. "You really do not understand what it was like for me at all?"

"I know you better than any other human being, Erik. You were never afraid to put yourself in the face of someone else – daring them to say something."

"This was different," he said. "I would have been content to continue as we were – Raoul changed that."

"So what happened? Something changed besides her finding out her Angel of Music was a man."

"She saw my face without the mask."

"How?"

"As I have been trying to tell you, she fainted. I lay her on the bed in the Louis Phillippe room and went into my music room and began to play…to work on my opera – Don Juan Triumphant."

"Did you think she would sleep through the pounding of a piano?"

"Organ. I had an organ."

"Organ, then. Did you think she would sleep though the sound of an organ playing in the room next to her?"

"I did not really consider it…once I began playing…"

"So, she woke up and discovered you playing. Did you stop?"

"I had no sense of her. Something that never happened before. I do not know if I was lost in the music or if she was just so naturally there…part of me. I sensed nothing."

"So, you were playing without your mask?"

"No, I was not completely unaware – at least not when I began playing."

"So, how?"

"She took it off."

"And you were less than a gentleman I take it."

"I terrified her. I was horrible."

"You do that quite well…being horrible. You had quite a talent for intimidating people with or without your mask."

"She was the last person I ever wished to frighten. I loved her so, even then before I truly knew her."

"What happened?" Nadir asked quietly.

"Somehow we both wound up falling…on the floor, I crawled to her begging her to accept me. I had my face covered with my hand, but let it fall for a moment…hoping she would not shun me."

"And?"

"She turned away in fear…but handed my mask back to me."

"You were right to love her, my friend," Nadir said. "It may have taken years for that love to come to fruition, but you have always been right about Christine."

The silence when Erik stopped playing was almost as stunning as the music he was playing.

"You let yourself in."

"So it would seem," Nadir replied. "I rang the bell first. You were busy."

"My opera. Performed once. Actually not completely performed. The show ended quite abruptly," he says, standing up, stretching his entire body. "I have not thought of the piece in some time. Took me twenty years to write the damned thing and then it was over in a heartbeat…or what might have been a heartbeat."

"Yes, I recall you telling me of your last days in Paris."

"A lifetime ago."

"But now you are living a life many would envy."

"A miracle is it not?" Erik walks toward the kitchen. "Tea? I believe there are some of those walnut cookies you like so well, although how you can enjoy them after deadening your palate with sugar cubes is beyond me."

Nadir follows him, leaning against the door frame as Erik fills the whistling tea kettle with water. "Handy utensil, but a samovar will always make the best tea."

"Why not get one?"

"I brought the one I had here to the house. It mostly collects dust as an art piece these days," Erik says, a sense of wistfulness about him as he spoons tea leaves into a China teapot. "I have become Americanized, I believe they call it. Spoiled, Christine says. She worries about the children feeling too privileged. Emilie makes her quite anxious. The others, Henry and Margaret not as much because they know loss and need."

"Perhaps I can start those classes with Emilie that we discussed before…"

Erik pours the hot water into the pot, tops it with a knit tea cozy. The walnut cookies are placed on a plate – the pot, cups, a bowl of sugar cubes and the cookies loaded onto a tray Erik carries back to the main room, Nadir following. After placing the snack on the coffee table, he pours each of them a cup, pushing the sugar bowl towards the Persian. Once settled into his leather chair he looks at Nadir and smiles. "Considering what you yourself have been dealing with, I thank you for the offer."

"To be honest, the diversion would be welcome. Dealing with a precocious child might be just what I need."

"Emilie is no Reza," Erik says.

"But she is young and spirited and lives in the real world."

"No change in Adele?"

"Not really. If anything she has gone deeper into herself," Nadir says, a grim set to his jaw. "Darius says this often happens in old age…dementia was the word he used. That combined with a sort of amnesia from shock."

"Why does Meg never bring LuLu to see us anymore?" Adele asked in one of her lucid moments. "Gregory becomes enraged whenever I ask. Is she angry with me?"

"I told you Meg returned to Paris on a whim, leaving Gregory with the baby. Do you remember now?"

The frown on her forehead suggested she did not. Of course she did not. Many were the times she looked at LuLu with no recognition at all. "Who is this baby and why is she here?"

Other times she hugged the toddler, nuzzling her face in carrot-colored curls. "Marguerite, belle jeune fille. Maman loves you so, as does your papa. Is that not so, Louis?"

"Of course," Nadir replied. "We are most fortunate to have such a beautiful little girl to love."

Most of the time he was grateful for the lapses – even when she forgot who he was. The increasing forgetfulness about most things was a blessing. Adele lived in a very small world of memories now. Whatever anger, disappointment, frustration he may have felt over Meg's death, he pushed aside. There was no place for those feelings in his life. Adele needed care not recriminations for something she could not recall. Phantasma was a thing of the past for her now as well. The visits with LuLu and other brief outings were how she broke up her days of looking at pictures of ballet dancers, listening to recordings on the phonograph or her caregiver reading to her.

"I miss her…us," Nadir says. "Working with Emilie would be invigorating – she has many of Adele's traits – speaks her mind quite effectively.

"Some might argue that being a positive trait, but she has come by in honestly," Erik says. "Well, I can speak for both Christine and myself when I say this would be a big help right now." As he speaks, he looks off towards one of the tall windows defining the room.

"A pleasure," Nadir says. "Are you alright? You seem distracted." Erik's problems were infinitely more interesting to him and he is grateful his friend seems so preoccupied. Talking about Adele…thinking too much about her was something he avoids as much as possible.

"Me?"

"Is there someone else here? Yes, you?" Nadir chuckles, picking up a cookie. "The music. You seem distracted. Not like yourself. I believe I can say that without argument since I have known you most of your life."

"Yes, I suppose you have."

"Erik." Nadir puts his cup down and slaps his hand on the table. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I do not know. Christine…"

Raising his arm, waving his forefinger, Nadir exclaims, "I knew it. This new family of hers is interfering."

"No. No. Why would you say that?" Erik asks. "Did you find something nefarious about Oskar? I cannot imagine Maddie being a criminal."

"You think Oskar is a criminal?"

"No. He is quite charming and I like him – not intimidated by me at all – neither of them. I find that quite refreshing," Erik says. "Is he…a criminal?"

"No. He is exactly what you told me he is. Problem is he is getting of an age and word has it they are looking into hiring a younger man to do his job. Nothing solid, but what I managed to find out."

"We do not have any animal acts," Erik says. "That is what he is skilled with."

"We could offer pony rides – there a few attractions we could eliminate, build some stalls."

"Work on it, then," Erik tells him. "Is that all?"

"How much do you want to know?"

"Anything that might hurt Christine."

"I would say their mere appearance has unsettled her, if I am any judge of people…and I am," he chuckles. "Is that what is troubling you?"

Erik shrugs – returning his gaze to the window. "She is different."

"If I may be so bold – are you not getting along?"

"I cannot put my finger on it – it could be this woman's change she is experiencing…that and the relatives, thinking about her father and the life they had together."

"She told you this?"

Erik nods. "I just do not know what to do."

"You may not believe me, but you are blessed. I could never get Mitra to tell me what was bothering her and, now, Adele. Be grateful."

The amber eyes meet those the color of emeralds. "Are you certain?"

"You cannot fix everything for others, Erik. If she is telling you what is troubling her, then be grateful."

"I suppose so." Erik leaves his seat and walks to the window, drawing back the curtain. The sky and everything outside is gray making it difficult to distinguish between the ocean and the sky. "Looks like more snow."

"Is there something else?"

"I suppose not."

"Erik?"

"I do not know. I do not know what is wrong, if there is anything. She did not want…oh, hell, I cannot speak of these things." His shoulders sag, the life force seeming to drain from him.

"I am no expert on women, Erik, but unlike you, I have been with a few."

Erik glares at him.

"Not so many as to deserve that look. Mitra, Adele…another woman or two in the years between."

"You never spoke of anyone else."

"There was no point, they are no longer a part of my life and certainly not a part of yours," Nadir replies. "You are trying to keep from talking about yourself as always."

Erik sighs deeply, turning to face his friend. "I wonder if she still…desires me. There. Are you happy?"

A dark eyebrow quirks along with the upturn of one corner of his mustache, he sniffs, "Sometimes they only want to be held. Has this happened often?"

"Once."

"That is all…once?" Nadir raises his eyebrows, whistling softly.

"Well, actually twice, but the same night."

"And then?"

"She just wanted to be held."

Nadir shakes his head. "What did I tell you?" Walking over to Erik, he pats him on the shoulder. "I will call m'lady Emilie and arrange a date with her to discuss her Farsi lessons…oh, and I will look into turning an area into a stable and a place for pony rides."

"Thank you," Erik mutters. "I will await your word on the new project."

"Erik, I am telling you the truth. Trust me. Have I ever failed you?"

"No, I suppose not – especially now since you shared your vast experience to back up your assertions."

"That is the spirit. Your sarcasm has returned," Nadir says. "My job is done here. I am off to find some ponies to buy."

"Make sure they are the best and workable for rides."

"Your word is my command," he says making his way to the door.

"Hmmm, so you say."

"I say."

"Nadir?"

"What is it now?"

"Thank you for everything."

"Of course."