Chapter 2: What Are Friends For?

You've got a Friend

When you're down and troubled
and you need a helping hand
and nothing, ooh, nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me
and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest nights.

You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I'll come running, oh yeah baby
to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
all you have to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah
You've got a friend.

If the sky above you
should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
and soon I will be knocking upon your door.

You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
all you got to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah

Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?
People can be so cold.
They'll hurt you and desert you.
Well they'll take your soul if you let them.
Oh yeah, but don't you let them.

You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Oh babe, don't you know that,
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
Hey now, all you've got to do is call.
Lord, I'll be there, yes I will.
You've got a friend.
You've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend?
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend?
You've got a friend.

James Taylor

He looked into the mirror, fussing with his cravat for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night.

"Still not right, damn it!"

Muttering, he sighed irritated with himself.

"What does it matter anyway? No one is going to see me, but for Raoul and Phillipe. It is not as if I had someone to impress or ever could have someone to impress."

Raising his eyes to inspect his image in the mirror, he attempted an honest appraisal of the man looking back at him. His thick golden brown hair was expertly styled to hide the places where his deformity would not allow hair to grow. His hair appeared normal, as did the left side of his face, most of his forehead, all of his chin, half of his nose and all of his lips. He turned his head to the right, hiding the right side of his face.

"Why can I not look this way on both sides?"

Another sigh escaped his lips.

The dream had been exceptionally vivid and relentless the night before. Today, he felt tired.

Turning his head to the left, he renewed his assessment of his features. The most noticeably marred part of his face was the area around his eye. The lower lid seemed atrophied and the eye sunken. He had no discernable eyebrow and the flesh of his lower forehead and cheek seemed twisted or, perhaps, slightly melted, giving his skin, the appearance or texture of clotted curds. When he had first ceased to wear the masks, his face had been mottled and pale. The years of exposure to the air and the sun had much improved his skin's appearance. The overall tone of the skin was good and appeared healthy, unlike the jaundiced appearance of his childhood. Perhaps, his face was not the horror he thought it. With one final tug to his cravat, he left his room to go downstairs to wait for his friends.

"Why did I ever let them talk me into this?"

He knew it was the irrepressible Raoul's fault that he was subjecting himself to this night on the town. Only Raoul could pester him into agreeing to attend tonight's gala at the Opera Populaire. It was not that he did not like attending the opera. What he did not like was people seeing him at the Opera. The inevitable staring that preceded him and whispering that followed in his wake. He took some comfort from the fact that no one screamed or fainted in his presence, as he once feared they would. Still, he was lonely.

"Damn that Raoul! If he chips the paint on the door again, I am going to paint it using that fop's hair!"

"Elaine!" He called aloud. "Please answer the door and tell the brothers I will be right down, please?"

As always, his housekeeper appeared as if from out of nowhere and made her way to the door.

He quickly grabbed the emerald cufflinks from his bureau top then slipped them into the pocket of his waistcoat and hastily, returned to the entry of his home. The sight that greeted him from the top of the stairs caused him to grin and he had to suppress a guffaw. Raoul, as usual, was teasing the prim and proper Elaine with his roguish sense of flirting. His housekeeper ignored the boy and somehow sensing her employer's approach, turned towards him and held out her hand to him as he went to walk past her.

"Monsieur? Your cufflinks, please?"

All three men smiled and rolled their eyes simultaneously. Erik retrieved the links and handed them over to his imperious housekeeper. Silently, she expertly threaded the links through the cuffs and secured them. She nodded her satisfaction and gazed into the master of the house's eyes softly smiling at him.

"Shall I be expecting you late, Monsieur?"

She solicitously inquired. Erik returned her regard and nodded to the older woman who appeared more like a noble than the two gentlemen who flanked her.

"Yes, of course. We are going with Raoul, after all."

With a nod of her head, the woman withdrew from the entry and the men exited the house. Raoul began to shout out his protest at Erik's remark, but with a swift severe glance from his older brother, the young man stifled his overly enthusiastic response. He grumbled.

"Aw, Phillipe! You are no fun any more!"

"And you, Raoul, never learn. Come, you two or we shall be late! I need to pay La Sorelli a brief visit before the opera begins or there will be hell to pay!"

The men climbed into the awaiting carriage and with a thump of Phillipe's cane on the roof of the carriage, the conveyance lurched forward.

The older man still cut a dashing figure in his evening attire even though the barrel chest of his youth was now beginning to slide to his waist and his blonde hair now gleamed with streaks of silver. His face was ruggedly handsome lined only by the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. The feature women found most captivating was his smile, as it transformed him. Phillipe did not simply smile with his mouth; he smiled with his entire face.