Chapter Two
How could it be?
How could Satine have a child and not tell Christian? He tried not to doubt
her, but it seemed to be too unbelievable. If Satine did have a child, how is
it possible that Christian found her? So many things about this didn’t make
sense.
“You know her?” She asked again, with a longing in her eyes.
Why would she lie to him? What motive would she have? He had no money, he had
no speakable future, he really didn’t have anything. Why would it not be true?
But then why would Satine hide this from him? He had so many questions, and
feared they would never be answered now.
Corrine walked over to his bed and sat next to him. “Please, Monsieur, if you
know my mother, please tell me.”
“I did know her,” he said.
He saw a light in her eyes. “You did. Is she here? She’s still at the Moulin
Rouge?”
He looked into the young girl’s eyes that held more pain than he knew. For a
moment those eyes gleamed with hope. He didn’t want to tell her, he didn’t want
to relive the pain of losing Satine.
Christian got up and walked to the kitchen, with the hopes
Corrine finally got the hint and quit asking. She felt crushed. The thought she
would have answers, finally. She went to the couch and tried not to cry.
After looking through all his cupboards he found a gin bottle with a small
amount left in it. He drank the last drop. Setting the empty bottle down on the
countertop, he looked up at Corrine. She was sitting on the couch, her head in
her hands, crying. Not like a ten-year-old girl, but like a thirty-year-old
woman. He had to tell her that she was dead, but how could he do that, when he
had just begun to come to terms with it himself. He went to the couch where the
skinny, dishwater blonde-haired girl sat and looked at her. He could now see
parts of Satine in her. She had Satine’s green eyes and her definitive nose.
Corrine was going to be a beautiful woman, just like Satine was. He knelt down
and softly said, “I knew Satine. She was a dancer at the Moulin Rouge. And a
year ago,” he paused, “she died.”
Corrine looked at Christian with tears streaming down her cheek. She never knew
her mother. She remembered what she looked like only from a foggy memory when
she was two and Satine came to see her. That was the last time, though. She
felt a sense of closure upon learning of her death, and also a sense of loss.
She had hoped to see her mother again and live a normal, happy life with her.
She had dreamed of the day that Satine would come to pick her up and take her
home. She had even tried to go inside the Moulin Rouge once or twice, but they
wouldn’t let children in. Now she had nothing. No hope of ever being rescued
from her impoverished life. “Were you one of her clients?” She asked.
Christian was surprised that Corrine knew about that, that someone so young
knew what went on at the Moulin Rouge. But Corrine was not a normal ten-year-old,
she had seen things and done things in her short life that most people never
see or do in their whole lives. Christian replied, “No.” And left it at that.
Corrine got the hint and smiled at him, glad at least to know what she did.
****October 1889****
Satine sat alone in her dressing room, wondering what she was going to do. It
was getting to the point where she could not hide her forbidden pregnancy much
longer, and rumors were flying. When any of the other girls had gotten
themselves in trouble, they always knew of someway to end their pregnancy, but
that was not an option Satine wanted to explore. She had to tell Harold, she
knew he would be able to help her. He must have read her thoughts because at
that moment there was a knock on her door.
“Cherub, I wanted to see if you could work a little longer than usual tomorrow
night?”
“Uh, Harold, sit down, I need to talk to you.”
He sat in a chair in the corner of her room.
“I am with child, Harold. I have been for at least three months. I can’t hide
it anymore and I need to take time off to figure out what I’m going to do.”
Harold wasn’t fazed. “Have you thought about one of the clinics. I can get you
an…”
“No, I don’t want to risk that. It’s dangerous, I could get a disease or an
infection or something.”
“Okay. Can you work at least for another week or so?”
She was appreciative; Harold was like a father to her. He took her in after her
mother died and taught her the tricks of the trade. She knew she could trust
him, and she knew he wouldn’t replace her. “Yes, Harold. Thank you.”
*****MARCH 1890*****
Satine’s belly was so big; it was becoming the girl’s shelves. They would put
their brushed on it, or use it as a place to keep the elaborate head costumes
while Satine was helping them get ready. She had stayed there to help the girls
and to be a stagehand for the dances, but never got on stage, never had any
clients. She was strictly not to be seen by anyone except Harold and the girls.
She had written to her sister, who lived just outside of
The delivery was hard and painful, and Satine couldn’t bare the thought of
leaving her little baby girl, but she knew she had to. She didn’t have any
other means for money, she didn’t know who the baby’s father was, and she
couldn’t raise a baby at the Moulin Rouge, so, heartbroken, she placed her new
baby in her sister’s arms and walked away.
After that she would get letters saying Corrine was healthy and happy, and
Satine was even able to visit, but when Corrine was two her sister told her she
couldn’t come around anymore, it was too confusing to her. So Satine sent the
money every month, but never saw her beautiful daughter again. She vowed never
to talk about it, to anyone. It was too painful, and she that thought never
talking about it would ease the pain. It didn’t.