Like Father, Like Son | Phantom of the Opera

xii. A Hello and A Goodbye

"Do you really think I would still be alive if he was being sent to the front?" I asked as I looked down at my hands, my wrists in particular, knowing how quickly I would have spiraled into a darker place than I had ever been in before if that had happened. "I broke a cup against the wall when I read it the first time."

"When does he leave?" Nadir inquired. More questions coming from the man who had all the answers in his hand, though who was obviously too afraid to look.

"He is expected at the train station in a week," I said slowly as a realization dawned on me. "The day after his performance at school."

He didn't respond for a few minutes, but put the paper on the coffee table and kneeled in front of me, looking me in the eyes. "Then we will all be there for him. I will be there at the train station with you. You don't have to do this alone, Erik," he said softly.

"I...I just don't know what I am going to do without him," I confessed.

He straightened up and sat next to me on the couch, patting me on the back. "We will figure it out. Just as we always have."

"I have had nightmares about something like this happening, Nadir. About him being stolen from me. " Any resolve I had towards keeping my composure was being chipped away piece by piece as though I was a block of marble. But there was no sculpture to be formed, only rubble.

I hadn't realized it yet but my hands had balled themselves into fists and before I knew what I was doing, there was a familiar sting of pain on my thigh. The release felt so good, so I continued; I pounded over and over on my leg as tears streamed down my face. Soon though, Nadir seemed to snap out of his otherworldly train of thought just in time to catch my wrist mid-swing.

"How could I ever let this happen to him?" I croaked.

"You cannot blame yourself, Erik, you know that. And what would Gustave say if he saw you doing that to yourself?" His steady grip was the only thing keeping my wrist pinned to the couch. I had lost the willpower to control my actions long ago.

I didn't have anything left to say, for there was nothing more that could be said, so I simply sat there and choked out the sobs that I had been holding back as we spoke. Nadir seemed to have understood that I had run out of words to utter as he pulled me into a tight hug. We sat like that for a while, experiencing the same pain once more. It reflected the grief that we had shared over Reza's death decades ago, but with the present case, we both had time to let our emotions flow free. We didn't have to put on a strong facade to stand before a king, we no longer had to be present in court, slaves to the beck and call of those in power. For a change, we were able to grieve openly and be by each other's side; a relieving shift.

When we finally let go of each other, we simply sat there looking at the letter not knowing how we were supposed to tell him that he was leaving.

~~~~~

Nadir had left hours before Gustave arrived home but my eyes had yet to run out of tears. I had managed to get them under control just before he left, but as soon as the door closed - as soon as I found myself faced with the impending loneliness that I was to be left with soon enough - they flowed freely all over again. I had moved to the study in hopes of throwing myself into my work, but nothing seemed to be helping. I barely even realized the time going by until I heard Gustave walk through the door.

"Papa, I'm home from school!" he cried through the house. I didn't respond right away, as I was too busy trying to get my voice to sound somewhat normal before responding, but I couldn't seem to accomplish that. Eventually, he called out to me again, determined to get a response: "Papa, are you home?"