A Light in the Dark

Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Gustave's POV

As the summer drew to a close, I drew closer to my father. The grim reality hit me that I would have to start school in a couple of weeks. I was a bit of an outcast. I found it more entertaining to read a book and get lost in a fantasy as opposed to throwing a ball and getting grass stains on my pants. I liked to watch people or get lost in the music that was played by the organ at the daily Phantasma shows. Other little boys at the park liked riding rides and yelling and pulling their mothers behind them. It wasn't that I was against having fun, it was just that my definition of fun was different than the other children. I suppose I took up that quality from my father.

Every night before bed, I would always scoop the roses up and smell them. My mother's perfume always smelled just like the roses. I felt like I was close to her. I noticed that Father tended to walk by and take in their sweet smell from time to time as well. Every time that he did, one of two things would happen: either he would smile, or a single sparkling tear would run down his cheek. He never wanted really to discuss her or his past. I understood that it brought him pain to talk about those things, but I knew the real reason why he did not discuss them. He knew that if he did, we would both start crying again, and he wanted to be an example of a strong man for me.

I played piano more and more as the summer went by. Occasionally, my father would give me suggestions on how to improve my techniques. I made up my own melody that later grew to be somewhat of what you might call a song. After I went to bed at night, Papa would sometimes play with this song of mine and add new harmonies and chords with it to make the song something different every time it was played.

Nightmares didn't seem to haunt my mind as much as the used to. I didn't dream of drowning so much, and when I did, I would always remind myself that my father was just in the next room, and he was not going to let anything happen to me.

The farther the summer dragged on, the fewer tourists came. There was never a day that it wasn't busy, but it was not like when I first came and you could not even walk through the streets without brushing shoulders with every person that came across.

I had always been told that time heals all wounds, but I knew from my mother that it was not true. Just as she had missed my father through the years, in the same way, I missed her. It seemed that the longer that I was without my mother, the more I thought about her. Sure, I did not cry about it as much as I used to, and the roses that were kept on the table gave me some sense that she was there, but it was almost haunting the way her lullabies swarmed inside my head. They were lullabies that I would never hear her sing again as long as I lived. I sometimes wondered if this was how my father felt for those ten years that she was gone. It was painfully difficult. Just hearing my mother's name made me uncomfortable. I missed her terribly, and though I told myself to move on, I also told myself that I didn't want to. I missed her deep blue eyes, her soft curls that she always pinned back, the way she smelled like roses; I missed the cakes she made when I was having a bad day and the sound of her voice. I understood why father loved her because I did too.

The more I spent time with Father, the more I understood some of the things that my mother used to do. Sometimes she used sit in the dark just as my father always did. She hummed tunes around the house that I came to discover my father had written. My mom always bought a particular kind of Persian tea that my father also bought. I should have seen the connection that they had the night I had met him as "Mr. Y." They were very much the same, yet, they had such different ways about them.

Whenever I looked in a mirror, I saw both of them in me. I had my father's hair, eyes, and thin yet strong build. I had my mother's smile and body language. None of these qualities were bad, and every day, I told myself that I would make both of them proud.

I took up signing my full name as Gustave Henri Daaé Yousefi. It was completely French, and there was no denying that I was not American. I wondered what the other kids would say. I remembered what father had said about my name being my name, so it was my decision to choose what it said. I chose to add Daaé to the name to keep a piece of my mother and old life.

So many things had changed since I had come to America. I adjusted quickly to living in the dark. Truly, I didn't mind it so much. Although, there was something that bothered me about the lair, I was not allowed into my father's room. He gave me instructions not to go in there, but he never gave me a reason. I suppose I was scared to ask.

I enjoyed going back and forth to the theatre and to the lair. I liked talking to the various performers, and I think father enjoyed hearing what they had to say without ever having to leave his work. Truthfully, he didn't like to be interrupted, but the majority of the time, he was alright with hearing the stories his performers had to tell. I mostly saw it as playing games as a child, but now I realize that I was really the connection he had to other people since he did not like to make public appearances.

Occasionally, Madame Giry would come down to make sure that Father ate something from time to time and to hear what he was working on. I never saw much of Miss Giry anymore, not that I wanted to. She pretty much stayed away from Phantasma. I can't say I blamed her. Really none of the performers liked her since they had heard the rumor. Everyone said that she had accidentally shot the Vicomtesse, and she was supposedly the master's mysterious lover. They all said that she was the entire reason that he had built Phantasma. It was to get his mind off of her. I can't say that I liked them talking about my family, but I also can't say that what they said wasn't true.

As I was approaching my fifth grade school year, I became more used to my surroundings. Little did I know that my father had designed this place to be connected in every way, and there was so much to explore in the places the crowd did not dare to tread.