A Light in the Dark

Chapter 18

Chapter 18 Erik's POV

As I strode into the sanctuary of the old church, the sound of pattering voices ceased. Some looked at me with excitement exclaiming that it was Mr. Y. Others spat of my shoulders and called me the devil's spawn. I did not give the murmuring audience the attention that they so much wanted. Instead, I took a seat on an empty row towards the center of the chapel. I watched Gustave as he sat with his section in the choir and wrung his hands nervously. My mind immediately inferred that he was embarrassed by me, but I couldn't leave. I was too proud of him. I had to see him sing. I would make it up to him some other time.

Although, I was proud of my son's accomplishments, I couldn't help but cringe at the little things that the choir seemed to pay no mind to. There were two sopranos specifically that could not maintain a proper vowel. It made them sound out of tune compared to the rest of the children. By the last song, I found myself with a splitting headache. I couldn't tell if it was from the constant conclusions that I was drawing from their tuning issues or the issue in itself. Still, I applauded the choir with my gloved hands.

The choir had cleared to loft leaving only Gustave, his choir director, and the little girl that had approached him on the beach. Her skirt showed her ankles, and I did not approve. Still, if it meant that Gustave had friends, I supposed that I could allow it. Gustave stretched his fingers, hovered them over the keys, and nodded at his director.

"Now, I would like to introduce a special finale that will be performed by our very own Elaina Marion. She is accompanied by Gustave Yousefi, and the piece they are performing was unfortunately written by an anonymous composer. I still hope you enjoy it. I know you will," said the choir director. She went and took a seat in the front rows with her choir, and Gustave's fingers hit the keys with flying colors.

I felt my heart turn in my chest and my stomach fill with butterflies. I recognized the piece as soon as Gustave's fingers stroked the keys, and the composer was not anonymous. The little soprano girl sang his lyrics exceptionally. She was no Christine, but she showed an enormous potential. I immediately realized that piece was why Gustave wanted to come. I felt a familiar feeling in my chest as I took in the sound of his playing. It was the feeling that only Christine had brought to me in my earlier days. There was so much of her in him. Christine had given me so many gifts through the years, but Gustave was by far the best.

As he struck the last chord, my hands pounded against one another in applause. I felt a hot tear run down my left cheek. I stood to give my son and his new friend a standing ovation, and I found out that I wasn't the only one that decided that is what the duo deserved. Gustave's expression said it all. He was in a completely different world. He was lost in his music. The only thing that snapped him out of it was when the young girl threw her arms around him. Gustave jumped and blushed as his gaze suddenly met my tear filled eyes.

I didn't want him to be embarrassed, so I stepped outside and went to the shadows around the corner of the theatre. He met me out there with tears in his eyes. I could feel mine burn with them too. I pulled him close in a tight hug. I pulled my cloak around his shoulder and made sure that my hat was well adjusted over my face.

"So," I said casually, "Is that little girl your girlfriend?"

I could see that I had hit a sensitive subject. I saw the blood rise to his face as he blushed, "No, Papa. She's just a friend," he said timidly.

I gave him another hug. Just then as we passed an alley way, I noticed a group of boys possibly a little older than Gustave leaning up against the walls.

"Hey, Yousefi," said the tallest boy that was obviously their leader. "This masked man bothering you?" He had a heavy Italian accent.

"No! No!" exclaimed Gustave. "He was just walking me home."

"Yeah," said the boy slyly, "That's what they all say. I wouldn't want anyone hurting our school's new musical genius."

He was making an advance on me. He stopped right at my feet and looked me in the eyes. His breath smelled of alcohol, and he threw his cigarette on the ground. He was obviously too young to be involved in such amenities. He took off his jacket and threw it to one of his buddies.

"Don't you know that you shouldn't be messing with small boys, Devil Spawn?" said the boy.

The comment really didn't faze me, but it did Gustave. "Leave him alone!" my boy blurted suddenly.

"Why should I?" the Italian boy snapped. "He's worthless to the world."

"No he's not!" shouted Gustave.

"Gustave, take my cape and go home," I said to him soothingly as I handed him my cloak.

"No, not without you!" he yelled with new tears filling his eyes.

"Gustave, dammit, go!" I yelled, "Now!"

It took the poor boy by surprise, but I had gotten my point across. He went running around the corner of the building. With that, the Italian boy swung his fist. I dodged his punch with a quick step to the side and caught his fist. He looked up at me in shock, but he recovered quickly. He swung his other fist, and I caught that one too. I glared at him through my mask. He glared at me back. I was so busy trying to intimidate him that I didn't see the second boy sneak up behind me. He hit me right in the nose. I did not dare swing back. I knew that was what they wanted.

I reached up to find my nose gushing sticky red liquid right on time for the third boy to hit me in the gut, and I fell to the ground. Next thing I knew, I tall, slim figure pounced on the Italian boy's back. The other two were beating the living day out of him, but he still held on until he had the bully pinned to the ground. He kicked the other two in their groins without ever letting go of the other one.

"Don't mess with my father," snapped the slim figure. Then, he lifted the boy's head by the hair and smashed it in the ground. It was Gustave. He hadn't gone home like I had asked. "Take Lucca home, and don't let him go out of his apartment until he's his usual sober self," said Gustave to the other two boys. They pulled the boy that I assumed was Lucca up by the shoulders and dragged him down the sidewalk. Gustave reached down and helped me up. The bruises on my gut hurt like hell.

"I'm getting too old for this," I said rubbing where my head had hit the ground. "Did you know those boys?"

"I knew one of them," said Gustave. "He was so nice just the other day, but then again, he was sober. I know you told me to go home, but I couldn't just let them do anything to you."

I rubbed the back of his neck lovingly. "It's okay," I said. "Your old man isn't as strong as he used to be."

"Nonsense!" he exclaimed, "You're just as strong as ever! You're in your prime!" Gustave was teasing me. I couldn't help but smile. As he stepped into the light, I noticed his nose was also bloodied. He had a bit of blood running down the side of his temple along with a black eye.

"Come on," I said, "Let's go home and get cleaned up. Tomorrow is Friday. Maybe, I can allow you to just stay home this time. I think it might be better that you don't face those boys tomorrow. Plus, your teacher may wonder how you go that black eye, and I don't want to have to go up there and explain."

Gustave agreed without argument. I could see sleep starting to take over what was the light in his eyes. I wrapped my cape around us both, and we walked home.