To my Dearest Friend

Opera

I read the letter I got from Yves. I look at the money he sent me. I sigh, absinthe, I didn't think Yves would ever ask for that. I thought we know everything about eachother. I sigh and look at the beautiful watch. He is and always was so considerate. Though it seems like there is a certain sadness and anger  seeping through. I don't get it. But I must say that Yves is an enigma to me, however much I love him he has always has been hard to understand. He doesn't tell me a lot about his past but most of the things I know about it haven't been pleasant for him. I know he has always had a rocky relationship with his father, although it's still unclear to me why they hate eachother so much. I also remember this aunt of him that taught him a lot but he abhorred her. He never told me why. He didn't tell me a lot about his family, he did tell me about the accident at the church. He always used to say to me that if god caused that it would not be possible for him to be compassionate. I always told him it was his feeling of responsibility talking. I know that he financed everything for those two children. He paid for them to be an a boarding school, he paid for shelter, he paid somebody to raise them. For those children he was an angel. The oldest is sixteen and Yves has encouraged him to study literature at Oxford. Those two boys were blessed and cursed in one day, they were gifted the lives of rich children but they had to lose their mom in the fire in the process. Yves still feels guilty. I will never get it, he saved them. But like I said. He is an enigma. There's also this weird unwilling nature of him to commit to anything when it's not academical. He hates not being free but I say he hates responsibilities he didn't make up. I also never know if he actually agree with me or if he's being polite. And still when I remember him he paints my face with a smile, he might be an enigma but he is my enigma

I put on my white tie. I'm going to the opera. I'm going to Carmen. I must say that unlike Yves the opera has always been a way to get familiar with the rich people in town. I never cared much about the music though Yves would always gift me the libretto everytime we visited the opera, he would know the whole opera and its meaning by heart and his eyes would twinkle every time a singer would begin its aria. He never cared for the whole idea of showing your money. Unlike many he would simply have his white tie, his frock coat, maybe in a beautiful pattern or colour if I was lucky. But his opera glasses would always be the most beautiful of the night. He never used one two times, well, he would not use the same with another opera he has one designated to every opera he had seen. I remember the time we went to the Vienna opera house, and la scala while on our grand tour. I had never seen Yves so happy. I smile. I grab my cane and leave my apartement. In front of it my driver is waiting with the calache.

I arrive at the Palais garnier. The people are all looking their best. 'What a coincidence.' I hear behind me. I turn around and there is Émile. I smile 'Great to see you in white tie.' I say. 'I must say you are quite the sight for sore eyes too' I laugh. 'Are you alone?' he asks. I nod, 'What about you?' 'I planned to go with Augustave but he bailed last minute so I shall be alone. Unless you'd like to join me in my box.' I smile. 'I'd like that' we walk through the beautiful foyers of the palais garnier and the unbelievable staircases. I marvel at the beauty of the building. 'It's extraordinary is it not?' Emile asks. When the opera is about to begin we sit down in our box. I grab the libretto I got from Yves and a pair of opera glasses: I also got from Yves. 'Who's initials are that?' he asks. I look at the opera glasses. I forgot both of our initials are engraved in it. 'my best friend. His name is Yves Montague, you might know his father.' 'Ohh Yves, bright young men, very friendly.' I nod. 'Is he also in Paris?' I shake my head. 'He's still in England.' He nods. 'Shame, would've liked to see him again. Last time he we were I think 22. We crossed paths in Vienna.' I smile. 'He never told me about you, is your name really Emilien?' he nods 'We were simple acquaintances, we knew eachother from the moment we were born. I never had an intimate friendship with him though, we were forced to know eachother because of our fathers. He is nice though.' I look at him. 'He's much more than just nice.' He smiles. 'I see.' I look at the watch Yves gave me. It is time to begin.