Always Something There to Remind Me
"It was all your fault, you know," Adele says, when Erik and Christine enter the den. Settled in on the divan, a patchwork quilt laying across her knees, she places a glass still showing a small amount of amber liquid at the bottom, on the floor next to her.
Nadir rushes to pick up the glass. "Whose fault, dear?" he asks, his tone bitter. "Mine, Erik's…Christine's? Some might say the fault lay in your stars."
"Very funny," Adele retorts. "So who next? The trio?"
"Hello to you as well, Adele," Erik says. "We are here to pick up our daughter and to see if you or Nadir needed anything from us."
"What daughter?"
"Emilie. She was here taking lessons today."
"So you had two children with your soprano?"
"Erik and I have six children, Madame, as you well know," Christine says. Looking at Nadir. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"Yes. Yes, of course, your daughter," Adele says with a small laugh. "Takes after her father."
"The way you say that you make it sound like a bad thing," Erik attempts light tone.
"You never were one to think of other people."
"How dare you speak to him like that," Christine says. "He takes care of everyone – even when they are ingrates."
"Meaning me?"
"Meaning people who owe their lives to him whoever they might be."
"When you showed up he forgot those who were kind to him…who saved his life."
Holding up his hand, Nadir waves at Christine, shaking his head at her. "Adele, do you know where you are?"
"What does that mean?"
"You know your mind tends to skip from one time to another," he replies. "Do you know who I am?"
"What a ridiculous question," she says, unwilling to meet his eyes. "Is this some sort of test?"
"Yes. It is. Who am I?"
"Erik's friend from Persia?" she says, puffing up with pride.
"Is that all you remember about me?"
"You saved the boy…from Meg…she shot me…I almost died. How could she do that to her mother?" Pointing an accusing finger at Erik, she says, "She wanted to marry you. But, no, you had to bring her from France. None of this would have happened if she had just stayed where she belonged."
Christine takes Erik's arm, looking up at him.
Pressing her hand, he says quietly, "She meant to shoot herself as I recall. Shooting you was an accident."
"That was many years ago, Adele," Nadir continues, his voice soft.
"It was? When Erik is around there always seem to be accidents. How am I supposed to keep track of all of them…falling scenery…the chandelier…Buquet…Piangi…the list is endless," she pouts. "You were talking about accident, I recalled you from the one on the pier. Has there been another?"
"Yes," Nadir says quietly. "Take a moment to rest your mind, then tell me where you are."
The dark eyes take each of them in, then return to her husband. "I am at my home in Bay Ridge. An infirm woman who, judging from the way you are speaking to me, is not always in her right mind," she says, sighing deeply. "I went off again, did I?"
"You did, my dear," Nadir casts an apologetic look to Erik and Christine. "I should have been more forthcoming about our situation. Please sit down," he says, nodding to a pair of cane-backed chairs. "I apologize – the room was not designed for entertaining, these are some I brought in from the kitchen when I knew you were coming."
"I am sorry, Adele," Erik says, leading Christine to one chair – taking a seat in the other, "I was not certain why you are angry with any of us – most especially Emilie. You terrified her."
"She terrified me," Adele snaps. "Where is she?"
"In the kitchen," Christine says, "I thought she might like a snack and wanted her out of earshot in case you felt the need to lash out."
"What is wrong with Auntie Adele, Maman?"
"I am not exactly sure, but I know she is still very sad about Meg's death and does not want to remember that time."
"I did not like Meg, but Margaret loved her, she knows Meg died. She never pretends she did not."
"Meg was Madame's child. When you lose a child, it is a different kind of grief."
"How do you know?"
The words struck like a knife in her chest. So like Emilie – so unflinchingly direct – but how could she know? "I lost one baby after Gustave was born – another boy," Christine said, holding back the tears forming in her aquamarine eyes. "A few years later, I lost another baby…barely formed – but believed was a little girl."
"Before me."
Christine nodded. "When you were born, I was so happy to have a healthy, beautiful daughter."
"You were?"
"Of course, you do not think so?"
Emilie shrugged. "Papa always seemed to be the one who took care of me."
"Well, that is because your Papa was even more happy than I to have a beautiful daughter. He would race to your cradle when you cried to change your nappies or to rock you. When you were teething, he let you gnaw on his fingers. I believe If he could have fed you, he would have done that as well." Christine stroked the girl's cheek. "I am sorry I did not push him away more often to spend more time with you. You were extra special for him and I wanted him to feel that love ."
"So, you remember that your babies died?"
"Yes. I still grieve."
"That is sad."
"Yes, it is," Christine said, "but I have you and Gustave and Joshie and Angelique and we were blessed to add Henry and Margaret to our family, so that makes it easier, but I still miss them."
"Is Auntie Adele so sad because Meg was her only child?"
"Possibly."
"Would you be sad if I died?"
"More than you know."
"Would you remember if I died?"
"Of course."
"Then why does Auntie Adele not remember?"
Eyebrows raised, Christine says, "I have no answer to that, except her memory seems to come and go – at least that is what Uncle Nadir says."
"She remembered meeting Papa when he was a boy."
"Did she?"
Emilie nodded. "He played his violin for her a long time ago. When she came to where Uncle and I were studying she thought I was him and that is when she got upset."
"I see."
"If she could remember Papa, why does she forget about Meg?"
"Maybe she does not want to."
"And how is the little princess?"
"My daughter is fine, no thanks to you."
"Well you are no longer the meek little mouse."
"I have never been that, Madame, but think what you will. Emilie is actually concerned about you." Looking up at Erik. "Is this necessary, she is being quite tiresome and I am, frankly tired of this masquerade. She is using this amnesia or whatever you want to call it to behave like a petulant child."
"Christine, I am sorry," Nadir says. "I gave Adele some whiskey to calm her and," glaring at his wife, "it appears to have both loosened her tongue and caused a loss of manners and appreciation."
"So, you are no longer my loving husband?"
"I do not know what happened to you or when, Adele, but you have lost your way."
"Perhaps if we all sat down and remembered we are family," Erik says, "this conversation might go a little better."
"Look who is playing diplomate."
"I will be honest, Adele, if it was not for Nadir…and my appreciation for what you have been to me, I would take Christine and Emilie and leave now," Erik says in measured tones. "You have no reason or right to speak to any of us as you have been doing."
"No?"
"No. You were primarily responsible for what happened on the pier with your interference in my life…and that of Meg's, encouraging her to do who knows what to win my attention."
"Erik," Christine says, "This is not necessary."
"It is. I was trying to be diplomatic, because I love everyone in this room and for the past twelve or so years, you have been my life and family – things I did not have before then," he says, taking her hand. "But I will not tolerate any more criticism of you or blaming you for her relationship with Meg. I will also not condone her sharing any part of my past with any of my children."
"And who told you that?" Adele asks.
"Emilie said you revealed elements of my past to her."
"My past as well." Is her retort.
"Perhaps, but still not your business to disclose these memories to any of my children."
"In fairness, Adele was having one of her spells," Nadir says, his green eyes darting back and forth between them.
"So it would seem. She appears to be able to turn the spells on and off depending on her mood," Christine says, speaking to Nadir, but glaring at the older woman. "You said there would be no problem teaching Emilie here. You preferred the privacy and quiet. Instead we are now all at one another's throats."
"So it is my fault your daughter is thoughtless and speaks without thinking?" Nadir retorts.
"No," Erik says, "it is likely mine, however, you have never been one known to mince words, so I should think you would appreciate her candor."
"She is a child and should have kept her mouth shut when she saw Adele was not entirely in command of herself."
"Oh, please, you were always pleased and amused when Reza would make an honest and, often, ruthless comments about my character. Which I admired in him, by the way. She is only eleven years old and meant no harm."
"She said Meg was dead," Nadir growls, his green eyes flashing.
"Meg is dead," Christine argues, "and Adele was the cause of her death. Which is the whole point of her supposed breakdown and this meeting."
"Oh, God," Adele cries out. "We were just talking when the mirror fell, I did not cause the accident. She was alive when you carried her from the dressing room. How did she die?"
Nadir and Erik exchange a look.
"Oh, god, she still does not remember," Erik mutters.
"I heard you. I know I am not right, but I am not deaf," Adele snorts. "First I am to blame for the boy almost drowning, then having my daughter shoot me. Bad enough a child is the only one honest enough to tell me my daughter died from her injuries."
The silence in the room is disturbed by the doorbell.
Erik steps away from Christine. "That must be Darius. I asked him to come."
"Wonderful," Adele says. "A party."
"Adele, calm down," Nadir says. "Was this necessary?" he asks Erik.
"From what Emilie told me – and from what Adele is saying now – yes," Erik says over his shoulder. "This cannot continue for all our sakes – particularly your wife's.
"We were under the impression Adele recalled her behavior after the accident…" Christine says.
"What behavior? I suppose my presence in the room is sufficient to accuse me of murder, if that is what you are insinuating."
"Adele…no one is insinuating anything," Nadir says.
"No? What else is there?"
"So, it seems your memory has returned, Madame," Darius says as he enters, the den, Erik close behind.
"Not enough, according to some," Adele sniffs, angling her head toward Christine.
"Hello Darius" she says, rising to her feet. "I think I will go check on Emilie."
"Oh, no, you started this business about my memory."
"Yasmine is seeing to Emilie," Darius says, smiling at Christine. "She quite enjoys her company – her curiosity and outspokenness."
"Well, I suppose there is hope for her after all, then," Erik manages a small laugh.
Darius raises an eyebrow. "Anything you want to discuss with me?"
After a glance at Christine and her slight nod, Erik waves him off. "Later, perhaps."
"Fine." Darius turns his attention back to Adele. "So what happened?"
Nadir relates the events of the afternoon. "It seems we made some inaccurate assumptions about Adele's memory."
"Not surprising when you know more about the situation than she is able recall."
"What is all this gibberish?" Adele says. "I have these spells, like mistaking Emilie for Erik…at least that is what Nadir told me. I will fall asleep and wake up and days have passed. Is it so strange I cannot remember Meg dying?"
"There are times when you have memory lapses, Adele," Darius says. "Some of which is due to aging. Some is due to trauma. Today you mistook Erik's daughter for him. When you engaged in conversation, Emilie told you Meg was dead and you broke down. Is that correct?"
"I suppose." Adele shuts her eyes tight, small tremors announce the tears beginning to fall from her dark eyes. "I thought she went back to Paris. I was hurt she did not tell me herself. When the girl said she was dead I remembered the accident. All the broken glass. All the blood. Nothing is clear after that. When I try to remember nothing comes to me."
"Good, you are doing fine." Looking at Erik, he says, "I wonder if you and Christine might want to leave me with Adele."
"No," Adele says. "Everyone stays."
Erik looks to Nadir.
"Are you sure?" Nadir asks.
"Please stay, everyone. I am sorry for being such a chienne," Adele says, reaching out a hand to him. "I am frightened – so deeply frightened. I do not want to remember. From the look in all your eyes, I think if I remember, I will die."