A Light in the Dark

Chapter 13

Chapter 13 Gustave's POV

I woke up the next morning refreshed, and I headed to the living area. My father wasn't there, so I went to knock on his door. I knocked continuously for a few minutes, but no one answered. I immediately panicked. My first instinct was something might have happened to him during the night, but that's when I noticed that there was no picnic basket on the table nor were there any towels or a blanket. I knew Papa had went back to get them last night. I quickly threw on some clothes from my top drawer and pulled on some shoes. I did not even think about running a comb through my matted hair or tucking in my shirt. All I could think about was that if something terrible had happened to Papa then I would never forgive myself. I ran through the tunnels and came out on the shore. That's where I found a large figure lying near a large red blanket. I ran to him and shook him. He sat up rather slowly. He was clenching the small of his back and moaning in pain. The right side of his face was still covered by the white porcelain mask, but his left was now covered in a mask of sand where he probably rolled off of the blanket sometime in the night.

He moaned some more and asked, "What is it, Gustave?"

I was relieved that he was alright, but I was also angry he had put me under so much worry. "Nothing," I replied. "It's just that I expected you home at eight." I reached into his front trouser pocket and pulled out his pocket watch, "Oh, look at that, it's now nine-thirty."

He breathed a short laugh at my comment. "Sarcastic- just like your mother." He stood up and rubbed his eyes, "It seems that I can't practice what I preach."

"No, it seems you cannot," I said angrily, "You had me worried sick."

He looked at me for the first time that morning with blood shot eyes, "Now you know how it feels."

I felt guilty for a moment, but it didn't last long because Papa suddenly noticed my haggard appearance. He was always one for looking his best, and he expected me to do the same.

"What in the world was going through your mind this morning, Gustave?" he asked me in an irritated tone, "My God, you didn't even tuck in your shirt! Have you gone mad?"

I was about to tell him that I was so concerned about finding him that I forgot, but he seemed infuriated enough without me adding something to it. Papa bent down and gathered the towels and blankets in one arm and wrapped the other around me.

"Come on. Let's go get the both of us cleaned up. I think I have sand in my pants, and it's not a pleasant feeling," he said.

"Papa, can I be frank with you?" I asked looking up at him.

"Of course, Gustave. You can tell me anything."

"I don't really want to know that you have sand in your pants. I think that's more information than I wanted to know." Papa laughed and ruffled my matted hair. We twisted our way through the tunnels once more to our home.

He sat the towels on the table, and smoothed down his hair. "Go freshen yourself up, Gustave," said Papa, "I'm going to go do the same.

I went into my room and put on some clothes that actually matched. I had just about outgrown them, but it was enough to get by. I ran a comb through my hair several times. It still stuck up all over my head. Although my hair was straight like Papa's, it was unruly like my mother's used to be. She always had to pin it back because if she did not, it never failed that one stubborn curl would fall in her face and get in her way. I sort of laughed at the thought. I remembered a performance she had when I was about seven, and the curl had come bouncing out of her updo. She had to flick it out of her face every few seconds while she was singing. She still sang perfectly all the same. Likewise, there was always one twig of hair that managed to stand straight out from my forehead. I sighed and threw a cap over the annoying strand; then I went into the living room and presented myself to Papa.

He looked like the perfect gentleman as usual. His hair was combed back to perfection. His white mask had been newly polished. He was wearing his typical white bow tie (he always said black ties were less formal). His clothes were perfectly pressed, and his shoes had been spit shined until you could see the white mask reflecting back at him.

He reached out to grab his cape off of the coat stand when he suddenly noticed me standing in the doorway of my room. He sighed. "Gustave," he said, "You're growing up to be a handsome young gentleman. I believe it's high time you looked like one."

I down casted my eyes. I felt guilty about my appearance. Papa had taught me how to spit shine my shoes and press my clothes, but I hardly ever did. I felt like I had more important matters on my hands.

"Come now, Gustave," he said, "No need to feel bad. I ordered you something. I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I believe now is as good a time as any." He handed me a stack of three white boxes tied together with a sheer blue bow. I looked up at him, and he told me to open it. I hesitantly pulled away the bow, and opened the top box. In it there were three bowties. One was white, the other red, and the other blue and white polka dotted. There was also a black satin hat with a white feather pinned to the side of it. I looked up at my father and smiled.

"I got Mr. Brannon who works on costumes upstairs to tailor you a couple of things. He says that the fashion has changed highly since the war. He said that you would probably like what he made."

I nodded. I hadn't even seen what was in the other boxes, but the hat had me sold. Other boys in my grade were dying to have one like it, but they were stuck with their old newsboy caps like I had been.

"Keep digging in that first box by the way," said Papa.

Under the hat there had been a can of Dapper Dan Pomenade. I laughed. I knew from now on Papa expected me to keep my hair slicked back, and I was happy to do it for him. I was getting tired of covering the unruly mess up.

I opened the second box. There were three white dress shirts and a new black belt with a matching pair of cuff links. He also included a new pair of black patent leather shoes.

In the last box, I got to see my new suits. One was a typical black formal suit. It had tailcoats like the ones my father wore. It was trimmed in black satin. I didn't know what I would wear it for, but whatever it was, I had the perfect suit for it. The second one was a typical everyday suit. It was navy with gold buttons. It wasn't very special, but it was definitely going to make me look more like a gentleman than the old sweater vests and knickers that I wore to school every day. The third one that was under the other two suddenly caught my eye. It was white. It was had gold buttons and my father had tucked in a red dress shirt. It was the kind of suit that only the silent film stars wore. I picked it up carefully. It was soft and was obviously made out of some sort of expensive fabric. Out of the jacket pocket, a little gold band with a little blue stone tumbled out. I picked it up. The ring matched the buttons on the coat. It wouldn't fit any of my fingers except my pinky. It was obviously a ring for a woman, but something about it looked familiar. That's when I noticed the ring my father always wore on his left pinky was not there.

"Papa," I said quietly, "I can't take this. You always wear it. It's not right. The ring is yours."

"No, Gustave," he said, "Look again."

The ring had my mother's name engraved on the inside of the band. "When I intended to marry your mother," said Papa, "I made that ring for her. Of course, you know the whole story. She returned it." My father's eyes started to tear up. "I've had it ever since. It's yours now."

"But this is the last piece you have of her. I can't take it away."

"It's not the last piece, Gustave." He patted his chest. "There will always be a very, very large piece in here."

I slid the ring on my finger. I looked at it for a second. The blue crystal would have matched my mother's eyes. I started to tear up once more as well. I threw my arms around my father. He wrapped his arms around my waist. We stood there like that for a long time. I knew I was growing up. Sometimes I wished that I had known my father from the beginning so I could have had more time with him, but I also knew that I probably wouldn't have appreciated him as much if I had known him for so long. Yes, it was undeniable that I was growing into a young gentleman, but I would always be my father's little Gustave, and he would always be my Papa.