Like Father, Like Son | Phantom of the Opera

xii. A Hello and A Goodbye

JUNE 1915

ERIK

The worst day of my life began with the postman dropping off the mail. It was such a routine at that point that I hadn't thought of how that day could have been any different from the day before. Everything had happened that day just as they had for the past eight or so years; Gustave and I had woken up and eaten breakfast before I sent him off to school. I picked up the mail and was drinking a cup of tea while I read.

However, just as always, the world would not let me be happy.

Anger filled my chest and I clutched the teacup tighter as I read. When I reached the end, I threw it across the kitchen, screaming something that I couldn't be bothered to even process. Of course I had considered the possibility but I never imagined it actually happening. My hands were shaking, but I somehow steadied myself enough to walk over to the phone. Tears were welling up in my eyes as I asked the operator to connect me to his phone.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Nadir, I have some news." My voice was cracking like old plaster as I spoke, every word paining me to utter.

He must have heard how distraught I was in those few words since he responded quickly and firmly, saying: "Don't tell me over the phone. Stay out of the kitchen and I will be there shortly."

The line went dead and I stood there with the earpiece still in my hand, unsure of what to do next. He told me not to go into the kitchen, for reasons he and I knew all too well; there were too many things in there that I could use to do myself harm. So I moved to the living room and sat in Gustave's place on the couch instead, the letter still in my hand. All I could do was stare blankly at the sheet of paper in my hand. I wanted to crumple it, throw it in the fireplace and watch it burn, but I just sat there looking at it. It hadn't seemed like I had been there for very long when Nadir burst through the door.

"Erik, where are you?" he called. Obviously, he thought I had been in the kitchen, ignoring his request for me to stay away from the room and the hazards it held.

"I am capable of following simple instructions, Daroga," I replied, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

"You'll have to forgive me but our history together precedes you," he said in an attempt to crack a joke, but as he walked into the living room to join me, he quickly gathered that I could not bring myself to engage in our usual banter. "What is going on?"

"I got this with the mail today," I managed to say as I handed him the letter so he could see for himself. "Gustave has been drafted for the war."

Without even reading what I'd given him, his head shot up and he looked me in the eyes. "You can't be serious," he breathed.

"Do you really think I would joke about this!" I demanded. I was feeling so many things at once that it was hard to distinguish between the emotions. The tears started flowing as I said those words out loud, seemingly making it real. My son had been drafted. He was going to be a part of the war tearing our world apart.

"I'm not suggesting that you would, Erik. I am in just as much shock as you are. What sector?" He still had yet to read the paper in his hands; all that information was there, if he would only just take a moment to look over the letter instead of forcing me to recite it all.

"If you read the paper that is in your hand, it would tell you all of the details but he was assigned to the engineering department."

The relief that washed over his face caused me to relax a little, though only for a moment. "Thank god he isn't being sent to the front."