Like Father, Like Son | Phantom of the Opera

xxxvi. Epilogue (Figuring It Out)

tw: reference to self-harm

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JANUARY 1923

ERIK

"Erik, you've made this dish before, I don't see why you feel the need to have me here watching you," Nadir said from where he was leaning against the counter and watching me cook.

"If you haven't realized yet, you are the Persian person here, hence why I want your opinion when I am cooking a Persian meal," I replied with a roll of my eyes; I couldn't see why he was pretending not to understand my wish for him to be present. "Besides, I haven't made this for a while, I'm out of practice."

My friend laughed to himself. "You are not. You pay a ridiculous amount of attention to the most minute details, this is going to be fine. It smells very good if that's any consolation. Not to mention that you know how to tweak it slightly to fit our friends' European palettes."

"Well, this isn't particularly spicy, to begin with - I made sure to pick a recipe that wasn't, especially with Lizzie, even as mild as Persian food is, - but I didn't think any of them had had much interaction with turmeric and all the other various Persian spices, so I figured I would play it safe, even if they are missing out on spices other than salt."

"You raise a good point, my friend, but playing it safe is wise."

I laughed quietly at the commentary on our companions' limited spice range before I checked my watch and quickly confirmed that the chicken I was making had finished cooking. "Okay, taste that and then the salad while I fluff this rice so you can taste that too," I instructed."

My friend nodded, grabbed a fork, and made quick work of tasting the various parts of the meal. "It's very good, Erik. Put a little more lime juice on the chicken and you'll be set," he replied.

"More lime, okay," I said, quickly picking up the little green fruit and squeezing it over the pan with the chicken before setting a lid over it to keep it warm just as I heard the front door open. I smiled right away at the sound, knowing exactly who it was; Maddie, Charles, and Lizzie had finally returned from the English countryside. They hadn't intended to be gone eight full months, that much I knew for certain - Charles had missed the first months of the school year with his new students as a result, which I knew he hated, - but within a couple of months of their arrival, Maddie's mother had succumbed to her illness. So between the grieving process, the funeral arrangements and legal matters, as well as supporting her father, their stay continued to be extended. I understood why, but I was still thrilled to finally have my closest friends and my goddaughter back home.

I quickly wiped my hands off on a dishcloth before I walked out to the foyer to greet them. "Hello, you three. It's so good to see you all," I said, smiling wide when I saw Lizzie shoot me a grin before starting to hurriedly take off her shoes. "I've missed having you here."

"Yes, good, where's the baby?" Maddie asked. "It is lovely to see you, really, but I want to see the little princess."

I rolled my eyes playfully as she pushed past me in search of my granddaughter, but I wasn't the slightest bit offended; she hadn't seen Christine, who was already eight months old, since only a few days after her birth. She had every right to be as excited as she was, but that didn't mean I was going to let it go without a bit of a fight.

"A baby in the house and your best friend no longer matters. Fine then," I said as I stepped out of the foyer to look into the sitting room, smiling when I saw Maddie on the sofa with Christine in her arms, tickling the little girl's side to make her giggle. That baby was practically a granddaughter to her, given how close she was to Gustave, so I wasn't surprised to see how drawn she was to Christine.