MARCH 1915
GUSTAVE
"Papa! Stop running around like a mad man and look at me. I'm going to tell you something that you told me when I met them: calm down!" I said loudly. I stood in the kitchen and watched my father rushing around aimlessly, starting to act on one idea before changing his mind and starting on another. I had never seen him move so fast, but given those long legs of his, I wasn't entirely shocked.
He stopped and took a breath, shooting me a glare. "What do you mean, calm down?" he demanded. "I have to make some sort of meal for three extra people, all while trying to make a good impression on the parents of my son's significant other!"
"Yes, and?" I asked with a raised brow. "You wouldn't let me have a panic attack when I went to meet them for the first time. Why would I let you have one now?"
Papa did not look impressed. "Oh, stop with your logic and help me. What on Earth am I supposed to make for dinner?"
"Simplicity, Papa. There is no need to go all out for this; it is meant to be relaxed. Perhaps the pasta and chicken that you've mastered over the years." I had planned things out more than I cared to admit. I wanted the night to go well and for Lara and her parents to enjoy themselves, but I also knew how anxious my father could get.
He took a moment to consider that, then nodded. "Yes, yes. Simple, of course," he said as he opened a cupboard, only for his shoulders to slump when he did. "And we have no pasta. We are off to a brilliant start! Gustave, run to the store for me."
"Alright," I said as I walked into the front foyer to grab my coat and shoes. "But I'm not going back and forth, so tell me now if there's anything else that you need."
"Pick up something for a salad as well. Whatever you want, I have no particular preference."
"Anything for dessert?"
"Oh dear God, dessert!"
I snickered at my father's exclamation as I opened the door. "I'll think of something, Papa!" I called, stepping out and closing the door, then smiling at Uncle Nadir as he walked up the driveway. "Good afternoon, Uncle Nadir."
"And to you as well, Gustave," he said as he walked up the front steps and hugged me. "Where are you off to?"
"The shop. You know how Papa is when social scenarios are presented. He's an anxious mess about making a good impression and then panics until the last moment," I explained.
Nadir ran a hand through his hair, which was surprisingly still mostly quite thick and dark, with some grey in his beard and sideburns; surprising, since he had to deal with Papa and me all the time. "Ah, yes. The dinner with Lara and her parents is tonight," he said as he gave me a wink. "Don't you worry. I'll handle him."
"Thank you. I'm not sure what else to do. I tried to talk to him, which seemed to work for the moment, although I doubt it will last."
"Oh, it's probably already stopped working by now. You see, Gustave, your Papa is very much a visual learner. That comes with his remarkably creative brain, as well as his inability to hear an opinion that differs from his. So, to get a point across, you either show him your evidence or you knock the sense into him - literally."
"Well, don't hit him too hard," I said with a laugh. "I need him for tonight."
"With that man, no promises can be made in that area. Anyhow, you just relax about tonight so you can enjoy Lara's company. Let me deal with your father and his anxiety," Uncle advised.
I nodded. "I'll be back in half an hour. Lara and her parents are due here in an hour and a half. Hopefully, Papa will have calmed down by then."
"If Allah is willing, perhaps."
I laughed, said goodbye, and started my walk into town, praying to God that my father managed to get it together.
ERIK
When I heard the door open, I looked up from my vigorous scrubbing of the countertops to watch the doorway to the kitchen. "Gustave, you're back-" I began, only to pause when my best friend walked into the house instead of my son. "Oh. It's you."
Nadir scoffed and leaned on the same counter I was busy wiping down. "So you clean when you're stressed, do you?" he asked.
"A newly acquired habit," I replied as I shoved his elbow off of the counter so I could wipe that spot down, ignoring the glare he gave me. "Parenthood gives one some strange qualities and routines, does it not?"
"That it does." Nadir glanced over his shoulder into the dining room. "So what is the plan here?"
"I haven't the slightest! This house is a mess! How have I not noticed before?" My scrubbing only got more intense as my anxiety found an outlet in that action. "I don't know where I should start."
"I would suggest starting with the dining table, given that we'll be eating there tonight," he suggested.
"Oh, so you're joining us now, are you?"
"You know you'll be much more comfortable if you do."
I considered that and then realized how right he was. "True. Let's start with the table, then. Pull off the tablecloth and shake it off outside, I'll wash it later. There is a clean one in that cabinet," I instructed while I tossed the washcloth into the sink and walked across the room. "I'll get the dishes out."
I opened up one of the kitchen cupboards and started to reach for my usual dishes, but hesitated, grabbing a boxed set of nicer china plates instead. I set them on the counter as Nadir walked over, the new tablecloth in hand.
"Those plates are still in the box, sealed. Why do you even have them?" he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, to be honest. I had them since before I knew about Gustave. The people decorating my home put them in for me, just in case I had a moment of weakness and wanted company. Not that I had any friends at that point to have over for dinner, but no need to question it now; they've become useful to me," I replied as I grabbed a knife to cut open the box.
"Sure. I grabbed the serviettes from the cupboard with the tablecloths. Would you like to fold them into little swans?" Nadir queried. I put the knife down and looked at my friend, my eyes wide as I considered the suggestion, but Nadir shook his head. "It was a joke, Erik. You don't have time."
"Don't you think it would add something, though? A formal touch?"
"Do you know how to fold napkin swans?"
"Well, no, but..." I began.
"So there is no point in even holding onto the idea. Now, go figure out what you're going to wear. Choose a suit and a mask. I'll handle the table setting," Nadir replied, laughing to himself.
I ran a hand through my hair. "What do I wear? I suppose I'll wear my mask with the blush, but what about my suit? I can't just wear this, can I?"
"Business casual, my friend. Do you have any other suit colours? A smoking jacket, even," Nadir suggested, only to frown when I shot him a baffled look. "So no, then."
"You should know the answer to that," I replied.
"For one, you should get a couple of smoking jackets. Dark gray and navy blue would look good on you. You have tuxedos and then your poet's shirts - no in between. Back to the matter at hand, though; go change into one of your tuxes. Freshen up and get back down here so you can work on dinner."
"Alright, I'm going," I said as I turned to walk to the stairs. "And I will look into those jackets as well. A little colour could be...okay, I suppose."
~
"Alright, let's figure out the table and-" I trailed off and stopped walking when I stepped into the dining room and found the table completely set. "When did this happen?"
"While you were upstairs. It worked out because I'm not panicking like you," Nadir replied as he joined me at my side with a glass of water. "Would you like candles as well? And what about wine?"
"Wine?" I asked, mildly confused by the suggestion.
"Yes, wine. That drink that people usually buy for dinners? It comes in red and white, generally?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I know what it is. I'm not completely useless, Nadir. I've made an effort to not have an abundance of alcohol in the house, though; my whiskey is about all we have. It brings up some bad memories for Gustave."
"Understandable. I only wanted to inquire," Nadir replied. "So what would the drink of choice be for tonight?"
"Water?" I said with an abundance of hesitancy in my voice. "Then tea afterwards."
"Water will do, I suppose."
I groaned and ran my hand over my face, brushing the nose of my mask as I did; I had become used to not wearing one at home, but I wasn't eager to frighten any visitors by accident that evening. "I only want this to go well for Gustave. He's found a young lady that he truly loves, and I want to ensure that this evening is a success."
"I understand and it will be fine. That's why I'm staying; to make sure that your anxiety doesn't consume you and make you say something stupid," Nadir said.
"Yes, that is much appreciated," I said with a nod.
I heard the door open at that moment just before Gustave walked into the room, two large paper bags in his arms. "Okay. I have what we need and there's a pie on the top of one of these bags. We are good to go!" he announced.
I took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Let's make this dinner happen."
"Well, that was exhausting," I said as I fell into my armchair.
"Indeed," Nadir agreed.
I glared at him. "You set the table and then watched Gustave and I run around the kitchen cooking."
"Well, of course. It was hilarious to watch you run around in your little apron," my friend chuckled.
I sighed and looked down at the red apron covering my clothes. "It is much brighter than my usual outfit," I admitted. "I would imagine it's entertaining."
"Papa, something's burning!" Gustave suddenly yelled from the kitchen.
I mumbled a string of foreign curse words as I bounced up and ran out of the room. I found Gustave standing by the stove, staring at it helplessly, and it only took me a second to smell the same scent of burning food.
"Gustave, take it off of the heat if it's burning!" I scolded as I moved the pot off of the hot element and looked inside.
"How should I know?!" Gustave exclaimed.
"It's logic, soldatino. Just hope that Lara knows how to cook if you get married because I will not feed you for the rest of my days on this Earth." I tasted the sauce quickly and sighed. "It tastes burnt, I'll have to remake it. Gustave, can you-" The words caught in my throat as the doorbell rang and another group of muttered curse words escaped me. "Go get the door, Nadir! Or you, Gustave! Just someone answer it!" I exclaimed.
Gustave hurried off and I quickly tossed out the burnt food, then threw the ingredients back into the pot. As I worked, I overheard the conversation from the foyer and my, was it entertaining.
"Good evening. I'm Philippe de Chagny," a man said. He already sounded more sophisticated and put-together than his brother; a relief to be sure. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Mister Destler."
I managed to muffle my laughter; I could practically see Nadir trying to play that comment off and failing to do it well.
"Oh, no, this isn't my father; Papa is just in the kitchen working on dinner. This is my Uncle Nadir. He and my father have known each other for years," I heard Gustave explain. "To be fair, though, he is like a second father to me half of the time."
"Nadir Khan. A pleasure," my friend added.
"Bonsoir, ma chérie." I couldn't help but smile when I heard Gustave's comment to Lara; the two truly were in love and no one could deny it. At least he wasn't as blinded by love as I had been; things might just work out for those two.
"You mentioned that your father was in the kitchen. Could we meet him?" a woman, who I assumed was Lara's mother, asked.
"He is, yes, but I think it's best if you just wait in the sitting room. He's quite busy and a little nervous, but he'll join us soon," Gustave replied.
"Tell him not to be nervous! We don't bite," I heard Philippe say. "But actually, Gustave, there is something I would like to discuss with you. Is there somewhere we could talk?"
"Of course, that is no trouble at all. Just come with me to the dining room. Could you please show the others to the living room, Uncle?" I could hear the tension rising in Gustave as he spoke, but it wasn't a surprise; that type of opening to a conversation had to be the last thing anyone ever wanted to hear.
"Right this way, ladies," Nadir said as he confidently redirected the women, almost as if it were his house. I truly should be able to attach him to the tax files on my home and make him help out, considering he was here more often than his own home.
My attention returned to Gustave and Lara's father as they walked into the dining room just a few feet behind me. "What is it you'd like to talk to me about, Monsieur de Chagny?" my son asked.
"It's nothing that serious, Gustave, please don't worry," Philippe replied. Clearly he could hear the anxiety in Gustave's voice just as well as I could. "I simply wanted to apologize for what you experienced in my home when you came over for dinner."
"There is nothing for you to apologize for. I could not possibly hold you accountable for the actions of your brother." Gustave had never fully explained what had happened that night, but scenarios started to run through my mind like wildfire.
There was an uncomfortable silence between them for a moment before my son continued: "Is there something else?"
"Well yes, actually, there is. I would also like to apologize for not stepping in when I had the chance. You probably don't remember me from when you were quite young, but I remember you. I can't help but feel that I should have seen something and tried to do something for you and your mother." Philippe sounded sincere as he spoke, which was something I was not used to coming from that family.
"Once again, there is nothing for you to apologize for. You couldn't have known. Mother was very private about everything, so I doubt anyone besides him will ever truly know what she endured." Gustave was getting quiet and I knew what that meant; the memories. Whenever Christine was concerned, they would always resurface, and that was what he did when he remembered; he shut down and didn't want to talk, which was uncharacteristic for someone who always spouted the first thing that came to mind.
"Please, don't feel guilty, I would not want you to needlessly weigh that on your conscience. Mother wouldn't want you to either," Gustave added.
"Thank you, Gustave. I needed to let you know that. I should probably go rejoin the others," Philippe said.
"Feel free. I am just going to go check on my father."
With that, Gustave strolled into the kitchen to join me, patting my shoulder. "They're here, Papa," he said as he surveyed the kitchen quickly. "And Philippe says not to be nervous, by the way."
"That much I heard," I retorted. "And the only thing making me stressed right now besides this damn sauce is you! So get out of here, I'll be there shortly."
"I give you a minute and a half."
"You will give me as long as I need. Just go be a host to our guests and let me focus, please."
"Can I at least taste the sauce first?" Gustave requested.
I sighed and jabbed my wooden spoon at him. "Get out of the kitchen. I will be there soon, but go be with your guests. You left them with Nadir, you know."
Gustave waved me off. "Uncle Nadir will be fine. Now let me taste the sauce!" Before I could even react, he had dipped his finger into the sauce on the spoon and given it a quick taste. "It needs a little more pepper, Papa," he advised.
I rolled my eyes and raised the spoon in a non-verbal threat that had no merit, but it still got him to take off for the sitting room. Even still, as soon as he was out of sight, I grabbed the pepper and sprinkled a little extra into the pot.
I eventually finished the meal preparation and started to walk out to the sitting room, only to freeze and quickly start untying my apron. "That would be a good first impression, wouldn't it? To walk in with a stain-covered apron on. No, let's make this go over well," I said under my breath as I set the apron atop the counter and walked into the sitting room. I set my sights on Philippe first - blond, like his little brother, and had a thick mustache and sideburns, which breathed a level of maturity that the Vicomte simply did not possess. His eyes were a bright blue and were locked on me.
Say something, you idiot! I thought. Don't just stand there and stare!
"Bonsoir, monsieur." I heard myself say the words and immediately bit the inside of my cheek hard. Of all the times for my nerves to kick in and for me to fall back on the language I was most fluent in, why right then and there?! I was sure that the unmasked side of my face had gone bright red by that point, which only made me even more self-conscious.
"Toi aussi," Philippe replied as he extended his hand for me to shake.
"Tu parle français?" I queried, only to curse myself for the stupid question. Of course he spoke French - he was French! But something about him living in England seemed to make me forget his heritage in my anxious state, it seemed.
"Un peu. Je suis venu ici quand j'avais 23 ans pour rencontrer et épouser ma femme, alors ça fait un peu de temps."
"Pardon me for interrupting, but would you care to include those who don't speak French?" Lara asked.
I looked at her and laughed nervously. "Pardonnez...Pardon me. I was just asking your father about his background with French. English is not my first language, so I tend to fall back on my mother tongue at times," I said.
Lara smiled at me. "Don't worry about that. Gustave does the same thing when he's nervous," she said.
"And sometimes I do it just to annoy you," Gustave admitted.
"I know. It works."
I smiled as I walked over to greet Marguerite, who I would have never guessed was Lara's mother had I not been introduced to her already knowing that. Her hair was dark red and curly, and her eyes were a deep brown. Lara, on the other hand, looked much more like her father, with the same blonde hair and blue eyes. She was a beautiful young lady; it wasn't a shock that Gustave was so in love with her.
"At last we meet, Lara. Gustave has told me much about you," I said as I gave her a quick handshake and smiled at the bashful look that appeared on her face. "Well then. Now that our introductions are in order, shall we eat?"
"I'm very glad you're tutoring Gustave in your math class, Lara. After his first couple of tests came back, I began to worry," I said with a laugh. The dinner had gone well so far; Lara was lovely and interested in learning more about music, her parents were easy to talk with, Philippe in particular, and Nadir was behaving himself as well. Everything was just fine.
"Of course, Mister Destler. With all that he's helped me learn, it was the least that I could do," Lara said with a smile - a genuine smile. She looked at me and smiled like the mask wasn't even there. That was something else that hadn't come up all evening - the mask! It was quite a refreshing change; one that I hoped would last.
The room fell quiet momentarily as my conversation with Lara came to an end, but Philippe was quick to fill the silence: "Erik, I'm sorry, I know you likely get this question a lot..."
I had spoken too soon about the mask.
"May I inquire about the mask?" he asked. There was a gentility to his voice that pointed to a simple curiosity that I was not surprised about.
I shot him a weak smile. "It is not a problem, Philippe," I said. "I was born with half of my face looking rather non-traditional. I wear this in hopes of not getting more stares than I already do."
"Well, I would say the mask makes you look quite dapper. It fits your whole...look very well," he replied. I understood that he was trying to lighten the mood, but it had only plunged the room into an awkward silence. He soon spoke again to change the subject, though, prompting me to silently thank God for doing me a favour for once and stepping in. "At our last dinner, Gustave mentioned that you were an architect, Erik."
"Yes, actually," I replied, shooting a side-eyed glance at Nadir to silently tell him to keep his silent laughing to a minimum after the comment about my mask fitting my 'look'. "I currently run my firm and I designed this very home."
"Oh? It's very beautiful, even if it is on the smaller side," Marguerite commented.
"To be honest, Madame, it wasn't designed with the thought of more than one person living here," I said. The comment had been a tad insensitive, though it wasn't shocking to hear. She did come from a privileged background, after all. Still, the remark was amusing; I thought that Gustave and I lived a fairly comfortable life. To her, I was wrong, clearly.
"Had you intended to remain a bachelor, if I may ask?" Philippe queried.
"Well, given the nature of my visage, I never thought I would find someone willing to spend their life with me."
"I'm sure it can't be that bad," Marguerite said gently.
I noticed Lara glance at her mother, and while I appreciated the gesture, it did nothing to quell my anxiety. I felt Nadir's hand on my knee in an attempt to help me relax, and it gave me the confidence to speak up: "Madame, I'm afraid I would have to say otherwise. I have worn a variation of this all my life. My mother gave me my first one as an infant. So your statement is, unfortunately, a brutal understatement."
The room fell quiet again, but not the comfortable silence that was momentary between topics of conversation. No, it was the awkward silence that so often followed the honest statements that I made about myself. I had become detached from silence since becoming a father, but that was still the kind that I despised the most. It was the silence that was usually followed by screams of terror, and although I knew that would not be the case that evening, my anxiety remained relentless.
"Gustave, you mentioned at our home that you help your father with his architectural work. Are you an apprentice of sorts?" Philippe finally spoke, changing the subject and ending that horrid silence. He truly did seem to be the saving grace of the evening.
Both Gustave and I released breaths that we hadn't realized we had been holding in, very glad that Philippe had piped up to divert attention away from me. "Yes, I've always been interested in his work," he replied before looking at me. "Papa, their house was beautiful and so wonderfully crafted. The architect that designed it was a talented man."
"Is that so?" I asked. "I would love to see it. Perhaps take some notes for my designs."
"I'm sure that visit can be arranged," Philippe said with a smile.
"But yes, I work alongside my father with his firm. I suppose I'm an apprentice; I interact with the clients and relay their commissions to Papa, and he'll draft the blueprints. He's helping me learn about drafting as well. I'm actually in the middle of drawing up my first complete home design. It's getting me ready to take over the business when he retires," Gustave explained.
"Well, if you are as talented as your father, I'm sure it will be just as incredible as this house," Marguerite said.
I couldn't help but smile, proud that my son had taken so much interest in my work and was truly following in my footsteps. For so long, I had never imagined that would be possible; but finally having it, I wouldn't exchange it for anything. "I believe it shall surpass my work. My son's talent exceeds mine," I added.
"I actually met Erik through his work," Nadir mentioned. "I was charged with bringing him to Persia from Russia at the request of the shah."
Lara's head quickly picked up, her eyes wide and glittering with a new spark of intrigue. "The shah? Don't tell me that he was the architect behind the likes of the palace at Ashraf? Were you, Mister Destler?" she asked me.
I chuckled; that love of history that Gustave had mentioned was on full display. "The very same. One of my greatest masterpieces. Yet no one knows it was I who designed and built it. I made sure of that," I explained.
"Oh, but why? An architectural masterpiece such as that deserves to have the name of its creator known. No palace has rivalled it for years, what with its vaulted ceilings, jewel-encrusted throne rooms, and beautiful studies! Not to mention the passageways throughout. Why wouldn't you want to be associated with such a thing?" Lara looked confused; distressed, almost. That was her passion, and my demand for anonymity obviously baffled her.
"Well, if people had known that it was me, they would hire me to design and construct more and more buildings of that calibre. I don't think I could ever outdo the grandeur of that palace," I reasoned. "On top of that, it adds intrigue to the story, does it not? You are standing in the place where the great shahs and empresses of an empire once stood, and yet no one knows who put the floors there."
A toothy smile appeared on Lara's face as she took in what I had said. "A beautiful way to put it, Mister Destler. It is incredible for me to be able to meet the architect behind that masterpiece."
"Thank you, and please, no need for the formalities, my dear. You can call me Erik." I then turned to Philippe, a newfound vigour to converse within me. "So, Philippe, what about you? What sort of employment occupies your day?"
"So was there to be a reward for your work?" Lara asked. The meal had finished as a success, and while Gustave and Nadir entertained Philippe and Marguerite, she had offered to help me wash the dishes. To be helpful, of course, but also to have a chance to ask many more questions about my work in Persia. "A palace of that magnitude surely warranted some sort of prize."
"To build it would have been a sufficient prize," I admitted as I set a plate into the dishrack and stopped to turn to Lara. "However, the shah said that if I completed the palace to his liking, I would be granted the ability to rebuild all of Tehran for him."
"The entire city?" Lara gasped.
"Every little bit. It was in shambles upon my arrival; houses abandoned, cracked dirt roads. I had a magnificent vision for it."
"The city is only now truly beginning to improve, though. Whatever happened?"
"Let's just say I teased a few people one too many times and fell out of favour with the shah," I replied with a wink.
"May I interrupt the history lecture?" Lara and I both glanced at the kitchen doorway as Philippe strolled in, a smile on his face. "Or is it too in-depth for someone with no knowledge to even attempt to grasp?"
"Father, Erik's stories are amazing! He was the magician to the Khanum of Persia and best friends with the Daroga, who is sitting right in the other room!" I couldn't help but laugh at Lara's excitement. My stories from Persia hadn't had that success since I told them to Gustave for the first time eight years ago. "Isn't that incredible?!"
"I'm going to nod and pretend I know what a Khanum is," Philippe said, nodding with added intensity to emphasize his point.
"That's the mother of a shah! Like the Queen Mother of England!" Lara laughed and shook her head. "Father, didn't I mention that when I first read about it?"
"Of course, my darling. How could I forget?" Philippe said, kissing his daughter on the forehead. "Well, if you want to get to know the Daroga, Nadir is telling old stories of his police work. I need to ask Erik something anyhow, so go listen in."
"Yes, Father." Lara gave me a grin as she hurried out to the sitting room, Philippe shaking his head with a chuckle as she did.
"She didn't talk your ear off, did you?" he asked. "I'm sorry if she did, but when she gets off on a tangent about history, it can be hard to stop her."
"It isn't a problem at all. I am just as passionate about music, so I understand," I replied. "I do love history myself as well, so our little talk was quite enjoyable."
"Good, good." Philippe paused then, looking down at the floor and sighing before turning back to me. "Erik, I am truly sorry for all of the questions about your mask over dinner. My wife, bless her heart, tends to say what's on her mind, and I was no better with my inquiries. I could see that you were quite uncomfortable, so I wish to apologize."
I waved him off. "It's no trouble, truly. When you come to visit the father of your daughter's significant other, you don't expect a mask. Plus, I am used to the stares. You and your wife asked your questions in a much more polite fashion than what I am used to. Your kindness and subtlety are appreciated," I said.
"Have you truly seen much worse?" Philippe queried.
"For my face, I have been slapped, spat on, whipped, and countless other things I dare not speak. To have a few innocent questions thrown at me was a breath of fresh air," I replied.
"You hardly deserve it. People are much too quick to judge based on looks." Philippe took a glance around the kitchen, seemingly seeking something out. "Do you have a drink we could share while we talk? Please don't misunderstand, the tea is just fine, but it isn't always my first choice."
"Of course." I opened a cupboard and pulled out the whiskey that I had moved out of the living room for the evening; it put it out of sight and mind for Gustave. "I'm sorry that I don't have an abundance of options for you," I said as I poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to Philippe. "After Gustave's history with alcohol and...well, with your younger brother, I try to keep our supply to a minimum."
"Ah yes. My little brother." Philippe's eyes were on his drink, but he eventually looked up at me and smirked. "I do remember him mentioning you now and again, although he painted you in a much more demonic light."
"I'm not surprised. The two of us never did get along. Particularly where Miss Daae was concerned," I replied. "We both loved her and were not pleased about the other vying for her attention."
"Yes, Raoul had been fond of her since he was a boy. I was at the wedding, you know," Philippe said. "She looked stunning in her gown and veil; angelic, almost. Even still, all of the sparkles could not hide the fact that there was a certain dullness behind her eyes as she said her vows. Almost as if something was dragging her mind elsewhere."
It made my heart flutter a bit to know that it was obvious that something...our night together...that I was occupying her mind on her wedding day. "I'm sure she was beautiful, as she always was. Even still, in the short time that I knew them both, I could tell that there was something wrong between them. It seemed like it was clear that she hadn't thought her engagement through," I said. I hated that our conversation even had to happen; if I had just stayed in bed that morning, our lives could have been so different.
"Yes, well, if that was the case, she made the best of it. She was so wonderful to Raoul and Gustave, even if that scenario with the boy was...complicated. Only she truly knew what was in her heart, though. I think on that, we can agree."
I nodded and sipped my drink, but couldn't help the question that formed in my mind. Philippe had known both Raoul and Gustave for years. Perhaps he could give me insight into the scenarios that Gustave would not speak of. I could never ask Gustave myself; I would never ask him to relive that for the sake of me knowing. Sometimes my mind brought me to unsavoury imaginary scenarios, though.
"I know this may not truly be my business, and I would not wish to put you in an uncomfortable position, but I must ask you something," I said as I set my glass on the counter. "Philippe...did he ever lay a hand on them? On Christine or my son?"
Philippe sighed, setting his glass down and crossing his arms in front of him. "You have a right to know. This is the woman you loved and your only son, you deserve to have an answer. While it destroys me to say it of my little brother...there were a few occasions, yes," he said.
Anger quickly replaced my anxiety, and I took to fiddling with the wedding band on my finger to manage it. "Did you see it happen with your own eyes? Or did she tell you?" I asked.
"I never saw him strike either of them, though I saw the aftermath. I stopped by their home on time while I was alone in the area for work, and that is the one instance that stands out. I got to their home and Christine was quick to invite me in. Despite her cheerful disposition, though, I noticed the dark bruise on her wrist that the sleeves of her dress were too short to hide. Then Gustave toddled in with a fading welt on his face. The poor boy couldn't have been more than four, and it broke my heart because I knew exactly what had happened. A drunken stupor, I prayed, and not intentional actions," Philippe replied with another sigh.
I was livid. Gustave had mentioned that Raoul had screamed at Christine and him, but never could I have imagined the physical damage he inflicted. I knew my Christine; she would display outward perfection at all times. Of course she never told anyone.
"Did you ever say anything to him?" I demanded, a newly defensive tone to my voice.
"I tried, I truly did," Philippe insisted. "On that night that I visited, I intended to confront Raoul about what I had seen, but he had already left for the bar when I tried to do so. Christine was so good to him; she deserved nothing like what he gave her. And Gustave...he meant the world to me, so I did my best to be a stand-in father figure for him. I know Raoul; = he always expressed some sort of interest in the boy, but..." He paused mid-explanation and shot me a sympathetic look. "Infants generally look like their fathers in their first six months of life, so I would not be shocked if that realization about Gustave pushed him away. Even still, if I had gotten to speak to him, I doubt he would have paid any heed to my words anyhow. After that visit, he stopped coming to my home. Not even an invitation to a party for Lara got him to visit. I didn't see Christine again until I saw the pictures in the papers when she died, and Gustave and I didn't cross paths again until he started courting Lara. I hated that lack of communication, but Raoul is as stubborn as a mule when he wants to be."
I took a deep breath, quickly finishing my drink in one swallow. "I appreciate your honesty. Being in the dark about that part of my son's past was like torture," I admitted.
"Of course. I hope this will give you some peace in that you no longer have to go back and forth between knowing and not knowing. I am glad you asked, Erik. You're Gustave's father, you deserve to know about such a thing."
I was quick to offer him a handshake. "Thank you. With Lara, though, he is like a whole new person. That part of his past doesn't seem to matter when she is around," I said with a smirk. "Speaking of those two, we probably should get back to them."
"Yes, probably. We can't hide in the kitchen the entire night," Philippe replied with a laugh.
"As simple as that would be."
"My thoughts exactly, but we should go chaperone our son and daughter."
"Of course. What fun would it be if we weren't around to make things more fun and awkward?" I said, only to pause and look out into the foyer when I heard loud laughter from the sitting room. "Although it sounds like they're having quite a good time without us."
"Tsk, tsk. We can't have that, now can we?" Philippe said with a slow shake of his head.
"Shall we go sort out all that laughter, then?"
Philippe nodded and gave me a firm pat on the shoulder. "Come on, Erik. Let's go embarrass the lovebirds," he suggested.
"Well, I would consider this evening a success," Nadir said. "Erik made it through a social event...my goodness. That's something I never thought I would say. I'm so proud of you."
I laughed as I took a seat on the couch in the sitting room. "That I did. Sure, there were ups and downs, but I can say that I do like my future daughter-in-law," I replied.
"Hold your horses. What?" Gustave asked me. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, don't lie to yourself, Gustave. You know you two are going to get married and move to a little cottage in the countryside with all your children and leave me alone," I said.
"You'll have Nadir, Papa." He had ignored the statement about Lara and him getting married, I noticed. So he did agree with me, whether or not he cared to admit it.
"I may as well be alone. He's become background noise at this point with how much time he spends here."
"I am still here!" Nadir pointed out as he walked behind me and gave me a flick in the back of the head.
"Believe me, I know," I retorted with a cheeky smile in his direction. "I have accepted that I am stuck with you until I die. There are worse ways to spend my days, I suppose. Either way, you moving away, Gustave, means that I'll be a grandfather, so that makes up for it."
Gustave smiled and walked over to sit next to me, then leaned his head on my shoulder. "So you like her, Papa?" he inquired softly.
"Yes, mio soldatino, very much. A lovely young lady has captured your heart," I replied as I leaned my head on top of his and gave his knee a pat. "She has won you over and I could not be happier for you."
~~~~~
updated: 11-12-20
word count - 6750
well, there's that chapter! the parents have finally met and get along! for the most part, of course, but I'm sure Erik and Marguerite will warm up to each other.
thank you for reading! chapter 12 is coming super soon!