Another Burt Bacharach inspired title. E/C Fluff - kind of.
"I hoped I might find you here when I called the house Grace said you went out," Christine says as she enters the Eyrie, eyeing the teapot and empty cups on the coffee table. "You had a guest?"
"Nadir stopped by – we discussed Oskar and a possible job for him here," Erik says, walking over to her from the piano, giving her a kiss on the forehead before returning to gathering up the music on the board, and putting it in the bench.
"Oh? I did not know he needed a job," she says. After a beat, she nods. "Ah, I understand, you had Nadir check up on them." Setting down a small brown cardboard box on the coffee table, she removes her hat and coat, throwing them over the back of the long sofa. "And, are they criminals?" A note of sarcasm in her tone.
"No they are not criminals…"
"Well, I suppose that is a relief," she says, "I just wish you did not feel it was necessary to investigate them."
"Anyone who becomes involved with our family and Phantasma has a background check."
"Everyone? I had no idea."
"Phantasma is vulnerable to ne'er-do-wells, as you might imagine. History has taught me to be cautious of strangers."
"But they are my family."
"You have not seen these people in years – in any event my intention had more to do with Oskar's employment than any suspicion of wrongdoing."
"He has a job – one he very much enjoys – or so it seems."
"He is aging and the people at Luna Park do not have the best reputation in dealing with their employees or anyone else."
"And?"
"Nadir found out they are planning to let him go to hire someone younger."
"Oh no, they really do not have much as it is now – their apartment is small, two rooms and a shared bathroom. Their children all have their own homes, thankfully, even so."
"Well, they will be fine," Erik says. "Did you enjoy your visit?"
"I did…we did." Opening the box, she removes a plate from the bag, holding half a chocolate cake and half a yellow cake. "Kladdkaka, is the chocolate. The other is Swedish almond cake, Auntie Maddie made them especially for Gustave and me. He took some for himself and the rest to the kitchen to show Chef along with her recipes."
"Looks good. The children will be thrilled with something other than fruit or tapioca for dessert."
"Speaking of sweets…did you already fill up on the walnut cookies?" she asks, eyeing the white plate holding only crumbs.
"That would be our friend," Erik chuckles. "Note the diminished level of cubes in the sugar bowl. I should not indulge him – he says he has cut back. I am a terrible friend."
"You are a wonderful friend," she says picking up the dirty dishes and removing them to the kitchen. "What job did you come up with for Uncle Oskar – since he works with animals and Phantasma lacks animal attractions."
"Uncle?" Breaking off a piece of the chocolate cake to sample, he follows her.
"They asked me to call them uncle and auntie. Does that bother you?" Fresh plates, napkins and cups are brought in to serve the cake. "Is the tea fresh or should I make more?" She asks, lifting the cozy and pot lid to examine the contents, her fingers testing the heat of the porcelain."
"It should be fine – a little tepid perhaps, but not undrinkable," he replies. "The chocolate is quite tasty. Perhaps she would like to make an occasional cake for the restaurant. I mean if they are really in need of funds."
"So you do not mind my using familiar terms for them?"
"No. No, of course not. They are your relatives, after all – who better to be addressed in such a way. It just seems…sudden – your acceptance of them," Erik replies. "As for Oskar…pony rides."
Christine bursts out laughing.
"What?"
"I would have imagined you creating a zoo of some sort – tigers and lions."
"It was Nadir's idea – Luna already has burro rides. I assumed those were the animals he took care of. Those bastards killed one of their elephants – before Oskar's time, I am surprised they are allowed to have any animals at all."
"Auntie Maddie said nothing about it."
"He has not been let go yet – they are probably waiting for the new season, but Nadir's contact said it was imminent," Erik says, "We are just getting a head start – building stables, a place for the rides to take place and buying the ponies."
The aquamarine eyes mist up. "You are quite a man, my Angel of Music. I am sorry I was cross and misjudged you." Walking over to the piano, she wraps her arms around him. "I love you very much, do you know that?"
Shrugging, he says, "There are times when I wonder."
Pulling back she examines his face – greeted by eyes unwilling to meet hers. "What is wrong? I have not seen you behave like this since…I cannot remember when. Paris, perhaps?" Turning to the piano bench, she lifts the cover and pulls out the sheet music Erik placed inside. "Don Juan Triumphant? You have not worked on this in years."
Taking the music from her hands, he puts it back in the bench. "I had some ideas."
"You are thinking of reviving the opera?"
"Not exactly."
"Erik, what is going on? You told me the opera was the vision you had of your pain and anger…and, um, unexpressed, um, needs." Placing her hands on his shoulders, she forces him to face her. "I cannot believe you are worried about my having some sort of family is a threat to you."
"No. I do not know. We were orphans together in a way, and I…"
"Feel left out?"
"Perhaps. I have never been very good at understanding my feelings. I would never begrudge you anything that would make you happy."
"I am not so certain how happy I am by this intrusion into our lives, if you must know."
"Why not? You longed so for your father."
"That was different. I do not know these people and despite their seeming lack of wealth, I cannot help but feel like I am some sort of encumbrance. An outsider in their settled situation."
"I had not considered we might be a problem for them. I suppose change of any sort is disruptive."
"There are also my womanly issues. I considered following your advice and speaking to her, but she is a stranger. I would feel more comfortable having the discussion, if I have any discussion at all, with Grace or Irene or Veronique…or to be honest, you."
"I simply thought someone you did not know…?"
Christine laughs. "Oh, Auntie, so nice to see you after 35 years, let me tell you about my female problems and some of the issues that have arisen with my husband."
"So you do have issues with me?"
"That is it then? Are you upset over the other night…when I was…distant?"
"Nadir said sometimes women just want to be held," he says, refusing to meet her eyes.
"You spoke to Nadir about it – us?" Stepping back from him, she presses her hands to her flushed face. "How could you? I just told you I could not discuss such things with my female relative."
"There was no discussion." A half-hearted effort to reach out to her is halted by her hand stopping him in his tracks.
"Then why would he say such a thing?"
"He came in while I was playing and supposed something was upsetting me," he says weakly. "He knows the only thing in the world that might be the cause of my upset was you. I am afraid of losing you."
"Oh, Erik," she says, rushing to hold him close again.
"I could not bear losing you," he says, tears flowing. "Damn, I have not cried in years. You must think me a fool."
"Never," she says, leading him to the long couch. "Sit beside me and hold me close as only you can hold me."
"I forget you are struggling right now with things I simply know nothing of. I feel so inadequate…am inadequate more and more often."
"That makes two of us," she laughs. "If anyone might have said I would not want to be one with you, to know you as a part of myself physically, once I knew you in that way, I would have called them an idiot and told them to move on for being so unknowing."
"But you did not want to be with me."
"For a brief moment, only that." Biting her lower lip before continuing, she says, "I find myself shunning the touch of the children, even my clothing distresses me at times. It is as though my mind and body are divorced from one another."
"This is recent?"
"Fairly, but some sensations remind me of when I was young – a bit younger than Margaret is now, I had similar confusion about myself. My body began to change outwardly and I watched my breasts change. One day I looked like a boy but within a few months I had breasts, the change was both fascinating and painful. I seemed to be always sore. And hair – in places it never grew before. I no longer recognized myself. I am grateful I can be there for her and Emilie to help them understand. For myself, though, now the hair is disappearing and my breasts, well, you know…"
Erik clears his throat and adjusts himself on the sofa.
"Is this too much for you? I just keep thinking about what is happening."
"I remember hair growing in, um, new places. I saw other men naked, so assumed it was normal, and yet I felt it was one more thing I had to deal with," he says, warming to the conversation.
"Yes, exactly." Sitting up straight, she faces him pressing her fingers into his arm. "I had no one. When my monthlies began, it was horrific. How could I tell Pappa, but there was no one else. He asked the mistress of a boarding house we lodged in for a brief time to guide me, and she told me about using clean clothes to capture the blood.
"Tis about bein' a woman. Some call it the curse of Eve for not listenin' to God's word in the Garden."
"A curse?"
"Tha's what the nuns say. I dunno myself – just another part of life. Hard to trust ever thing nuns say about women things when they be virgins and all. Some women don' use enathing, but here," she said, handing Christine a small stack of clean, white cotton cloths. "Best to rinse them with cold water after so the mess don' stain, then wash with the lye soap. Dryin' in the Sun will make them good as new."
"How long will this go on?"
"Oh, each moon give or take. Lasts a few days. The only time you will na have the bleeding for longer is when with child."
"Forever?"
"Na, just until yur as old as me," the woman laughed. "Might seem like it though."
"I thought I would bleed to death, the pain in my stomach, cramping until I wanted to scream. I soon understood my own cycle – a period of irritability where Pappa swore he did not know he raised such a bratty girl.
"I do notice there are days when you are not your sweet self – not that I would ever complain."
Releasing her grip on his arm, she slaps him lightly on the hand. "I notice on my un-sweet days, you manage to find work to occupy yourself here or in your office with the door closed."
"Erik, why did you leave he conservatory door open, Ayesha just brought in a dead pigeon and left what was left of it on the table."
"I did not this time, but I shall certainly take care not to do so ever again. Where is the poor bird, I shall bury it in the yard."
"I took care of it, just like I have to take care of everything around this house when people do not remember simple things like not letting the cat out."
"You have my promise I shall be careful not to be so forgetful again. I am so sorry."
"My only release was to go into to the woods, if there were any near and scream and cry and pray it would be over soon. Then there was the blood – the mess – hoping I would have enough cloths – hoping there would be someplace to bathe or at least clean myself. After that woman, I knew no one to discuss this with. Then it just became a part of my life."
"Did you have other feelings?" Erik asks, crossing his legs.
"You mean the way I feel now with you?"
He nods, a crimson blush coloring his cheeks.
"Mmhmm. I did not know what to do. Touching myself seemed wrong, but sometimes the sensation was so strong…did you?" she asks, eyes wide.
"Not exactly. Not at first. I remember waking up and finding myself wet. Javert woke me one morning, laughing."
"So, the monster boy has become a man."
"What do you mean?"
"Who were you dreaming about?"
"No one." I raised my arm afraid he was going to beat me.
"It is better if you arouse yourself when awake with your hand. Catch the discharge in a rag so you do not mess up your clothing and bed. You will enjoy it more as well since it is unlikely a woman will ever want you."
"Oh, Erik, how cruel." Finding his hand with both of hers, she squeezes the long fingers.
"That was not the worst of it – my voice was different."
"What is wrong with you? Are you mocking me?" Javert screamed.
"No, I…this is all I can do." The once pure soprano cracked, the once beautiful aria Javert announced would be sung by the Child of the Devil was a distortion of broken notes.
The crowd booed loudly. "Gypsy thief. Devil child has the devil's own voice."
"I can still play my violin," Erik said, lifting the instrument to his chin, offering a sweet melody to calm the throng.
"Lucky for you," Javert hissed.
"Your suffering never occurred to me when Gustave and Henry were dealing with their own vocal problems."
"The boys are fortunate in other ways as they will never run out of handkerchiefs thanks to my experiences," Erik laughs.
Snorting Christine says, "Poor Gustave…and Helen. She had no idea why he had so much laundry. Goodness, I wonder if she told Raoul about those days."
"I am still upset you hired her at the hotel."
"Would you prefer she gossip to him about the goings on here?"
"I suppose not."
"Suppose?"
"Well, if you put it that way."
"I still cannot help but laugh, poor Gustave – he turned all shades of red when she asked about the handkerchiefs," she says. "For you, though, it was a matter of life and death."
"He was right, though, about women not wanting me. Every day with you is a blessing."
"For me as well, all during my time at the Palais I feared some patron would want me. The girls talked about being with a man – how horrible they felt."
"Adele protected you."
"Yes."
He smiles.
"That was you," she exclaims, holding more tightly to his arm. "Even then it was you – looking after me."
"I never wanted to see you hurt – then or now. That is why I left you after our first time." With a squeeze of her hand, he pulls away. "I will never forgive myself for hurting you. If you only want to be held, I am fine with that."
"Well, I am not fine with that," she retorts, tugging him back to her. "In fact, I intend to show you how not fine I am with that."
"Here on the couch?"
"Why not, we have explored every other part of this room," she smirks. "I am surprised I did not think of this sooner."
"Better late than never, I always say."
"No you do not."
"Hush," he says, stroking her mouth with his thumb.
Nipping his fingertip, she licks her lips and says, "Much better than cake."
"Infinitely."