Between Mirrors and Roses (A Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction) ✓

39: Family

Christine

I barely remembered my life before my children—my life before Erik and Meg and the country that I fell in love with more each passing year. I was happy.

Sometimes I caught myself wishing for future technology, but mostly I was content with my place in history. I thought that one day I might visit America to reminisce and to see what it was like in this day and age, but traveling could wait until the children were older.

They aged so fast; I fell asleep one day and like Rip Van Winkle woke up to see my babies grown.

They talked like miniature adults and learned to read music before they could read words. Four-year-old Marius loved to sing, and his voice stunned all who heard it. He was sprightly and outgoing—always bouncing with energy—but he quieted down under Aria's supervision.

Six years old now, Aria was the more reserved of the pair, but she adored her younger brother as much as he adored her. She would play the piano while he watched, and they even worked together to write songs—her inventing the music and he the words.

We were an incredibly close family, and the word extended to include Jeanette, the Girys, and Nadir. Madame Giry had become Madame Khan last spring, and she was as happy as I had ever seen her.

Meg was overjoyed at the match and joked that since her mother had married my surrogate father, we were that much closer to being sisters in name as well as in heart. Meg was also Marius' godmother, and she spoiled him mercilessly.

Marius adored her. His face lit up whenever "Auntie Meg" came over.

She and Nadir had an ongoing, friendly rivalry. "Ha! My godchild beat yours in the footrace," one would say, or, "Mine got a box of imported chocolates for Christmas. I'd like to see you top that!"

Since Marius' birth, Erik had rarely worn his mask around the house, and the kids were so used to his unique features that they never even mentioned them. Erik doted on his children and they were devoted to him in turn. He was their tutor, doctor, music instructor, father, and friend; indeed, they rarely left the house except to go shopping with me.

"Do you think our children are lonely?" I asked Erik one evening after putting them to bed.

He looked up from his book with a puzzled frown.

"It's just that they don't go to school, so they don't have many friends," I explained.

"Many children don't go to school," he replied. "Is their education lacking?"

I waved this away. "No, our homeschooling is certainly rigorous. I meant that they don't interact much with children their own age." I sat next to him and leaned my head on his shoulder. "They spend ample time with each other, which is fantastic, but they should learn to play with other kids too."

Erik stroked my hair. "I shall set up interviews with the most esteemed children in our neighborhood," he vowed with humor.

I lightly hit his arm.

"No, really, we must arrange for only the best playmates."

I rolled my eyes. "I am being serious."

"I know," he said, sobering, "but I'm afraid Aria and Marius don't get along well with other children. They are too intelligent, too advanced, and, to put it frankly, they have been raised in a different environment."

I shifted so that I faced him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I know that in your day girls are educated equally, but that is not the case in this time. Aria is being given the best education I can provide. I see that she is intelligent enough to learn the material, so I teach it to her as if she were a boy."

"And I love that," I interjected.

He smiled at the ground, and then the smile morphed into a frown. "The trouble is, she might find it difficult to relate to other little girls. There is also the matter of me."

I raised myself so I was kneeling. "What? What about you?"

He hesitated. "I was watching from the window as our children played with some others on the street. One of the neighbor boys made fun of me, not knowing I could hear. I think their parents warn them about us."

I was indignant. "But certainly our children don't mind how you look!" Erik shushed me and put a placating hand in mine. I had spoken louder than I had intended.

"They don't: that is the problem. They defended me and wouldn't play with those children again."

I was torn. I wanted our kids to have friends, but not the kind who were cruel to a man they had never met just because he looked different. "What do we do?"

"Leave them be, I would say. We can expose them to other children, certainly, but it is up to them to make friends."

He was right. We couldn't force them to like the other children they met, and neither could we choose who they became friends with.

I realized later that this meant they might pick friends I wouldn't have even considered.

"Veronica?" I stood in front of Aria, who had just requested that her new friend come inside to see her room. "Veronica Badeaux?" I was vaguely aware that our nosy neighbor had a girl near Aria's age, but how could the two have met?

"Yes. Is that all right, Maman?"

Naturally, I gave my surprised assent, and Aria led the little girl through the house.

She was taller than Aria, with crystal blue eyes and flaxen curls piled on her head. She smiled politely at me as she passed and said hello.

They were fast friends, and I was ashamed at my prejudice when I realized how sweet of a girl little Veronica was—nothing at all like her mother. She called me "Madame Daae" and brought me flowers every time she came over. Her mother, it seemed, was of the opinion that plants had no place indoors. But I always thanked Veronica profusely for her bouquets of wildflowers and displayed them in vases all over the house, making her blush and smile.

The two girls and I, and Meg when she was around, braided flowers into one another's hair. Marius, loath to be excluded, sometimes helped, weaving clumsy knots that his godmother wore around proudly.

Of course, the friendship between our daughters meant that the older Madame Badeaux and I had to visit more often, so we made forced conversation over tea while the girls played with dolls on the parlor floor.

...

"Erik, this has to stop," I protested halfheartedly as the scruffy kitten clawed the hem of my dress. I scooped it up, ignoring its yowls of protest, and scratched behind its ears until it settled down.

Erik had a bad habit of taking in stray animals. Ayesha, to our dismay, had passed a few years ago, but we currently had two cats, a puppy, and an owl whose broken wing Erik had set. (Most injured animals we never saw from again, but this owl, dubbed "Spectacles," took a liking to us and built a nest in the garden shed. He came to Erik when called and ate food from the children's hands if they held still.)

This latest acquisition—the kitten—was covered in black and white splotches and had a torn ear.

"But it was lost and helpless out in the gutter," Erik pled. "How was I supposed to leave it there looking like that?" My husband's eyes were as large and pitiful as those of the tiny creature in my hands. It mewled plaintively as if to prove his point.

"You'll be bringing home an orphan next asking if we can keep it," I muttered, but the kitten was purring in contentment, and I, as usual, had fallen in love.

Marius ran down the stairs with Aria on his tail. "Is that a cat? Please don't put it back on the street!" he begged.

"Will you take care of it?" I asked. Three heads nodded in agreement.

"Certainly we don't have to keep it if you do not wish," Erik added, already knowing that he had won.

I handed him the kitten. "Just give it a thorough cleaning before you let it loose in the house," I said and smiled at them as they rushed past me to the kitchen.