Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 11

"Take all the time you need," Estelle said. "We'll take care of things for you in the meantime."

We sat talking for a few minutes more until my uncle Pierre arrived. Phoebe asked Justine, Estelle, and Craig to leave the room while she, my uncle, Charlotte and I—the immediate family—discussed personal matters.

My uncle was greeted warmly by my aunt and took a seat opposite her. He looked a bit tired and wet from the rain, but otherwise seemed his old self. Charlotte poured her brother a cup of tea and sat beside him.

"You look well," my aunt said to her former husband. "How are you feeling?"

"I can't complain. It's just that the rain sometimes aggravates my arthritis. And you?"

"I'm holding up I guess. Holly and Charlotte have been a great help to me."

My uncle looked at me then at Charlotte. "Two fine women," he said jovially. "Two very fine women." He took a sip of tea and cleared his throat. "Phoebe, there is something I must say. I know it will hurt you to hear it, but it must be said."

"What is it, Pierre?"

"It concerns our daughter."

"If you feel it's necessary."

"It is."

My uncle gently put his tea cup down onto the table in front of him and looked at me.

"I know that Angelique told you some things about me," he began, "and I want to clear that up once and for all."

"Of course, uncle."

"Without belaboring the issue, what she told you is all lies. There is no truth to anything she said."

"If you say so, uncle."

"I do. Now I want you to know the truth because I've been living with this lie for so long that I've almost come to believe it myself."

"Well then, tell her, Pierre," Charlotte said.

"I want you to understand, Holly, that I never sexually abused my daughter. She just made that up. Did I hit her? Yes, I did. I beat her up pretty badly sometimes. It was the rage—this curse of the Anjou line. Did I beat my wife? Yes, I am sorry to say. My business was failing and I was in great debt with no way to pay off my creditors, so I took out my frustrations on my family. May God forgive me. I never meant to hurt anyone. You must believe that, Holly. I never meant to hurt anyone."

Charlotte took her brother's hand in hers. "Dear Pierre."

My aunt sat quietly listening to his every word. I saw that her eyes were welling up as she remembered their shared past.

"It is important that you believe me," he continued. "I am not the monster my daughter accused me of being. It was her rage speaking, and her poor, troubled mind, not anything that I did."

My aunt was softly crying now and Charlotte was crying, too. Something told me that he was telling the truth. It wasn't the words themselves, but the timbre of his voice—the bittersweet recollections of a time long past, a time that could never be recaptured, a longing that could never be appeased. He stretched out his hand and placed it upon my own.

"I am a good man," he continued in a quavering voice. "I just have a bad temper."

"Oh, uncle!" I said, throwing my arms around his neck. "I believe you."

My own eyes now began to fill with tears as I felt both my aunt's and Charlotte's hands caress my face.

We sat there crying for a good, long time. Even my uncle had tears in his eyes. It was a cathartic moment for all of us, a much needed denouement to our collective grief.

I spent the remainder of the day with Craig. Charlotte chose to stay at the chateau for a few days just until my aunt was feeling better. Before going to bed that evening, she caught me in the kitchen eating some cherries.

"You eat so much fruit it's no wonder you don't turn into a cherry yourself!" she joked.

"Best food in the world!" I said, happily munching away.

She took a seat beside me and poured herself a glass of wine. "I prefer the grape product to the grape," she said, lifting her glass to me.

"To each his own."

She took a sip and then pondered for a moment. "You know, I was thinking about that dream you had. You know which one I mean?

"The dream about Angelique."

"Yes. It was that dream—that vision—that brought you to my house. I was thinking how fortunate it was for you to have such a dream, especially in light of recent events. You have to admit that it is very, very strange that the images you saw were so close to the real thing. Oui?"

I put down my fork and shrugged. "Of course. I'm such an idiot. The dungeon, the torture instruments, and the golden light that…"
"That resembled electricity! That was how she died. The golden glow that you saw was the electrical current. That thing you saw moving in the light. It was her. It was Angelique."

"The monster in my dream."

"Yes. But she really wasn't a monster after all, was she?"

I felt a sudden pang of remorse as I remembered how I had wished for my cousin's death. "No. No, she wasn't."

Charlotte sat next to me for a few moments lost in thought. "I'll tell you this, Holly. I have the gift of clairvoyance, but I have yet to predict the future. The very nature of prescience is that it is infinitely malleable. It is the same with you, as it was with our dear Lenore, may she rest in peace. Our visions can act as our guide, but they do not tell us the whole story, or even the whole truth. That is why we must depend upon our what our minds and hearts tell us. Most times it is all we have to go on."

We shared a few drinks and then we said goodnight. Craig was waiting for me as I crawled into bed next to him. My mind and heart told me that our love for each other was the only truth I truly understood.

************

The funeral took place on a sunny Monday morning at 9:30 AM. A small service was held at a chapel in Paris and then my cousin's body was borne to the cemetery a few miles away and laid to rest in the family plot. During the funeral rites, my aunt and my uncle stood together hand in hand, supporting one another through it all. Craig and I tried to offer what emotional support we could, as did Charlotte and the other Sisters, but although my aunt appreciated our efforts, I could tell that nothing, short of her daughter coming back to life, would ever compensate for the loss she had suffered.

In the weeks following my cousin's funeral, my aunt informed everyone that the bunker was going to be destroyed and the underground chambers permanently sealed up. I was glad to hear this because it meant that she was finally making an attempt to put all things related to Angelique's insane plans to rest.

"I can't sleep at night knowing that bunker is still standing," she said to me one day when we were having lunch. "It's got to go."

And the following day, it was gone.

As the days wore on she began to look and feel more like the woman I had always known. And I was glad to see it. Yet, there was always a faraway look in her eyes, as though her mind was fixed on distant things and remote places. When December rolled around I got a call from Mary Kate, who told me that she and Ashley were in Paris filming their movie. We made plans for them to come and visit me on Sunday, their day off, so that we could spend the day together. It was during their visit that my aunt finally revealed to me what had been on her mind for so long.

"I'm leaving," she said flatly. "I'm giving up the chateau, the vineyards, everything."

We were sitting at the dinner table, all four of us, and in the midst of our meal when she gave us the news. I thought she was kidding.

"Oh, you've said this before, but you don't really mean it. Do you?"

"Yes, Holly. I mean it. It's time to move on."

"Are you sure?" Ashley asked my aunt. "Because if you're not, Mary Kate and I could rent it from you in the meantime. No problem."

"Thanks Ashley, but no. I want to sell it. Take the money and maybe buy myself a yacht and go see the world. What do you think?"

"Radical!" Mary Kate exclaimed. "But I like it."

I had been wrestling with myself as to whether or not I should remain in France if ever my aunt decided to leave, and over the past weeks had discussed the issue at length with Craig. I felt that now was the right time to let my aunt know what I was thinking.

"I've made a decision, too," I announced.

"Really?" my aunt said. "About what?"

"About moving back to San Diego."

My aunt looked surprised. "San Diego? You'd have to give up leadership of the Sisterhood in that case."

"I know."

"But why, Holly? You've worked so hard to get here. And Lenore. What would she think? Explain it to me because I don't understand."

"If there's one thing that you've taught me aunt Phoebe it's that life is too short to be unhappy. And I'm not happy being a leader."

She cocked her head to one side and frowned. "No. I don't believe it. Is this true?"

"I don't want to be a leader, or a follower. I just want to make my own destiny."

"I thought that's what you were doing here," she said looking mystified.

"No. I'm just trying to play the role that someone else fostered upon me. I thought it was what I wanted, but it's not."

The twins had stopped eating all during our conversation, their heads moving left and right in unison whenever it was my aunt's or my turn to speak.

"Well I'll be damned. You really want to give it all up?"

"Yes, just like you do."

My aunt laughed. "To be honest with you, I never wanted to be a Sisterhood leader either. I'm too much of a free spirit. I guess I'm like you in a lot of ways. I prefer to carve out my own niche and let the chips fall where they may."

"That's not a bad philosophy auntie."

"Well, all I can tell you is, if it worked for me, then it can work for you, too. I congratulate you on your decision."

She and the twins raised their glasses to me in salute.

"I've spoken to Justine about my plans and I've decided to name her as my successor."

"I think Lenore would heartily approve of that."

"It's the logical choice. She has the experience, the temperament, and the desire. I think she'll make a fine Sisterhood leader."

"And so she will," my aunt said, approvingly.

"Oh, and another thing. Craig and I are getting married!"

I got a big round of cheers for this announcement.

"That's fantastic!" Mary Kate squealed.

"When? When?" Ashley exclaimed.

"This is wonderful news!" my aunt said with a big smile. "He's a great kid!"

"He is wonderful isn't he? We plan to get married next December. I've always wanted a December wedding."

"I thought you wanted to wait a few years," Mary Kate inquired.

"I thought so too, but what's the point? Life is too short, right aunt Phoebe?"

"Right you are my dear niece. Right you are!"

When the twin's new movie came out the following summer, it was a big hit. Ashley was nominated for an Academy Award for best actress in a leading role. And Mary Kate was also nominated for best actress in a supporting role. And they both won! After years of churning out lackluster movies, they had finally gotten it right. I was there when they got their Oscars and it was simply wonderful.

My aunt sold the chateau to a wealthy Parisian couple. It was agreed that Craig and I would stay on until the end of the month so that my aunt could begin her trip. By the end of February she was out on the open sea on her yacht that she had named "Angelique". Charlotte had chosen to go with her on her world wide sailing adventure, having become my aunt's closest friend in the wake of Lenore's death. It was hard saying goodbye to her and Charlotte, and all my Sisterhood friends. I told them that I would continue to attend Sisterhood meetings and events at the local San Diego chapter, and I promised to remain in frequent touch with each of them.

A few days before Craig and I were due to leave, I went down into the Masturbatorium for the last time. Every single vestige of Sisterhood property had been removed and shipped to the secondary headquarters in Paris. The new owners would have absolutely no idea of what had transpired in this basement complex. Even the black and gold Sisterhood banner had been removed. It looked like any other finished basement now. I felt sad leaving it, remembering how much fun I had had partaking in its lascivious history.

On the last day of February, when all the furnishings had finally been removed, I stood in the great hall with Craig by my side, saying goodbye to the place that had been my home for the past ten months. A wave of nostalgia swept over me as I touched the bare walls upon which once hung some of my aunt's most prized paintings. All the murals that hung so nobly from the rafters above were gone now. The household staff had long since been dismissed and I don't think the chateau had ever been so silent.

The sun shone brightly through the stained glass window, casting a rainbow of color upon the marble staircase from which I first beheld my aunt, looking as beautiful and ethereal as the angels that graced the windows themselves. I thought of Angelique, who would have grown up to equal her mother in beauty but never in character. And my uncle Pierre, who had caused great pain to his family, but who had subsequently suffered so much himself and, through the power of love, was vindicated and made whole.

A single ray of light fell onto the circular image in the marble floor bearing the crest of the Anjou family name. It was the only thing in the entire house that was left to remind me that they had once lived here.

"It's funny," I said to Craig, my voice echoing off the barren walls. "This chateau. It's just a thing. Despite all its beauty, it has no feelings. Without people in it, without the laughter, without the sorrow, it's only just a thing."

"Of course, Holly. What did you expect?"

"I don't know. Somehow it seems wrong that people spend so much of their lives accumulating things when there's nothing of them left behind—no memories, nothing. It's like the life force has disappeared. I mean, this house should be talking to us by now. It's so strange."

Craig kissed me gently on the lips and watched as I put the key in the door for the last time. Behind us stood the red Ferrari that I had inherited from Lenore—our means of transportation to the airport.

"I don't think it's so strange," he said. "Love is the only thing that really lives on. And only people can feel love, not things. This house was made beautiful or ugly by virtue of its occupants; whatever they left behind doesn't matter. What they took with them is what's important. What they took with them."

As I closed the door I half expected to hear a low groan emanate from somewhere deep within the foundation of the chateau. But whatever thoughts may have existed in its hallowed frame remained buried within its ancient walls.

THE END