Several silent hours passed and everything was still dead. At first, she had curled up on her bed to doze, then she had hummed to herself while stroking her flat stomach. More than once, Edgar came to whine piteously and rub against the outside of her locked door, confused and annoyed that he was being denied entrance to her bedroom, before wandering off. Poor Edgar.
But as night approached, muggy and hot, the house fell incrementally into complete darkness and Christine sought out her laptop for illumination and distraction. The WiFi was down, of course, but her computer had power enough for at least for a few more hours. It occurred to her she shouldn't squander the battery like this—she couldn't predict how long Erik's tantrum would last—but what else could she do?
Listlessly, she paged through selfies and old Skype logs from happier days.
[9:40:51 PM] Slenderhands: I don't live anywhere near you, if that's what you're wondering.
[9:41:04 PM] Christine Daae: Don't you trust me?
[9:41:33 PM] Slenderhands: Of course I trust you.
[9:41:47 PM] Christine Daae: Then why don't you want to tell me? :(
[9:43:41 PM] Slenderhands: I live in the United States.
[9:44:20 PM] Christine Daae: Then why can't you give me a state name at least? I promise, I don't have the money to come surprise you or something.
[9:44:35 PM] Slenderhands: I live near the happiest place on Earth.
[9:45:09 PM] Christine Daae: ... California?
[9:45:27 PM] Slenderhands: Congratulations, you win a prize!
[9:45:45 PM] Christine Daae: Was that really so painful?
[9:45:50 PM] Christine Daae: And it better be a good prize.
[9:47:30 PM] Slenderhands: What would you like? ;)
[9:47:48 PM] Christine Daae: Jewels and a car.
[9:47:53 PM] Slenderhands: What kind?
[9:51:09 PM] Christine Daae: Very expensive ridiculous shiny ones.
[9:52:09 PM] Slenderhands: Well, alright. I will send you a bucket of diamonds and… Do you like Maseratis, Christine? I'll send you a Maserati.
[9:52:43 PM] Christine Daae: A bucket of diamonds? Look, unless I can bathe in them, not good enough.
[9:53:14 PM] Slenderhands: Do you even have a bathtub?
[9:53:38 PM] Christine Daae: Nope, so you'll have to take care of that too. Darn my excellent brain.
[9:56:58 PM] Slenderhands: Oh, fine, if I must. I will buy you a diamond-filled, clawfoot bathtub. Also encrusted with diamonds and other precious stones as well. But first you'll have to show me your apartment so I can get the dimensions right. ;)
[9:57:33 PM] Christine Daae: Mm, nah. Changed my mind. :)
[9:59:19 PM] Slenderhands: ...But I just sent in the order. All sales final. Now what am I going to do with this unnecessarily luxurious bathtub? :(
[10:00:11 PM] Christine Daae: I meant the apartment showing. Worst case scenario, I'll pawn them and have enough money for a coffee machine. ;D
[10:01:20 PM] Slenderhands: What, you aren't going to show me the apartment? After we worked so hard to find something reasonable... :(
[10:01:43 PM] Christine Daae: Serves you right. :l
[10:01:51 PM] Slenderhands: I told you where I lived!
[10:02:37 PM] Christine Daae: You took too long.
[10:03:15 PM] Slenderhands: ):
[10:04:21 PM] Christine Daae: :)
[10:04:24 PM] Christine Daae: Butthead.
[10:04:26 PM] Christine Daae: :) :)
[10:06:10 PM] Slenderhands: What kind of coffee machine costs a bathtub of diamonds anyway?
[10:06:28 PM] Christine Daae: A nice one. ;)
[10:07:03 PM] Christine Daae: But seriously I would love to have a plumbed one one day. If I ever actually have my own house, that's Necessary Appliance #1.
[10:08:08 PM] Slenderhands: If? I'm fairly sure you'll have your own house someday.
[10:08:37 PM] Christine Daae: I'm not!
[10:08:45 PM] Slenderhands: Why?
[10:09:55 PM] Christine Daae: Because I'm poor and lazy and have a terrible work ethic, obviously!
[10:11:08 PM] Slenderhands: You aren't lazy. You just uprooted to a new state all on your own. That's quite an ordeal.
[10:11:55 PM] Christine Daae: Yeah, but barring a very very rich husband, I doubt I'll ever have several thousand unused dollars sitting around.
[10:12:09 PM] Christine Daae: And as for snagging a rich husband: hahaha, no.
[10:12:45 PM] Slenderhands: Are you in the market for one?
[10:13:25 PM] Christine Daae: Well, if some gentleman decides I'm marriage material in my gross barista clothes, I'm definitely not going to say no!
[10:14:26 PM] Slenderhands: What, and you'd marry him solely for his money?
[10:14:41 PM] Christine Daae: Of course not!
[10:14:49 PM] Christine Daae: He'd have to have excellent dress sense, too.
[10:16:26 PM] Slenderhands: Is that all? :p
[10:17:03 PM] Christine Daae: Mm, a sense of humor wouldn't hurt either. And I mean if he was easy on the eyes I wouldn't complain. ;)
[10:17:16 PM] Slenderhands: And if he weren't?
[10:17:46 PM] Christine Daae: It'd have to be a REALLY good sense of humor. :p
[10:19:39 PM] Slenderhands: So if an old, one-eyed, hunchbacked gentleman with a unibrow and goiter hobbled into your shop and proposed marriage (in a stunning Italian suit), you'd still marry him so long as he was fabulously wealthy with an unmatched sense of humor?
[10:20:08 PM] Christine Daae: Mm, probably. If he really liked coffee. I could call him Quasi. :p
[10:20:33 PM] Slenderhands: His name is Coffeemodo, excuse you.
She skipped absently to another log with a quiet sigh. She'd be lying to herself if she said she hadn't had rather a sizeable crush on him when they were still talking online. But then things had gotten so complicated so quickly. Raoul had first asked her out on a date around the same time that Erik had told her he had a crush on her, which, she decided, was either the universe being its usual temperamental self, or Erik trying to stop the development of her relationship.
And then he'd turned up at her front door in a mask and expected her to go along with it. It had been such a mess.
[8:29:45 PM] Christine Daae: Since we've talked about all these pretty girls you've been chatting up. Pretty aside (like say Hypothetical Girl in fact wasn't actually pretty, you just thought she was), what would a really great girl you'd probably date sometime be like?
[8:29:50 PM] Christine Daae: Totally innocent question.
[8:29:51 PM] Christine Daae: :)
[8:31:03 PM] Slenderhands: Essentially, any one that said yes. ;)
[8:31:09 PM] Slenderhands: No, I'm kidding. Let me think, ah...
[8:31:24 PM] Christine Daae: Oh, hilarious. ;)
[8:38:03 PM] Slenderhands: I would probably date a girl who likes music or at least enough to feign interest when I play for her... and it would be nice if she liked talking to me or at least wanted to talk to me. Anyone who enjoyed my company, really. For me a really great girl would also enjoy quiet nights in, perhaps holding hands, and-this is a deal breaker-she must make an excellent cup of coffee.
[8:38:33 PM] Christine Daae: I mean, that's pretty much the most important trait, let's be honest. ;)
[8:38:57 PM] Slenderhands: I'm glad we can agree on that. What about you?
[8:39:31 PM] Christine Daae: Anybody cashed up and fooled into thinking I'd actually be worth it?
[8:39:41 PM] Christine Daae: Pretty much that. ;)
[8:40:02 PM] Slenderhands: Hmm, you know, I think I might know a fellow... Nothing more specific than that?
[8:40:29 PM] Christine Daae: He'd have to be nice.
[8:40:48 PM] Christine Daae: And I wouldn't mind if he was smarter than me because most guys are, but... not be a jerk about it.
[8:40:55 PM] Christine Daae: And nice hair.
[8:40:59 PM] Christine Daae: Gotta have nice hair.
[8:41:09 PM] Slenderhands: Define nice hair.
[8:41:45 PM] Christine Daae: It's a pretty broad spectrum.
[8:41:54 PM] Christine Daae: Well-styled and not gross. Basically.
[8:42:49 PM] Slenderhands: That doesn't seem too unreasonable to me. Any deal breakers?
[8:43:03 PM] Christine Daae: Mmmm...
[8:43:44 PM] Christine Daae: Despite my sentimental feelings towards the smell of pot and cigarettes, I'm kinda turned off by
people who use stuff too much. I think that's kinda gross.
[8:44:09 PM] Christine Daae: And people who are rude to service staff. That's ultimate immediate goodbye forever behavior.
[8:45:57 PM] Slenderhands: I think these seem like perfectly realistic standards. And you haven't found anybody to fit them yet?
[8:46:26 PM] Christine Daae: Ehh, not really.
[8:46:37 PM] Christine Daae: I don't know how interested I am, honestly.
[8:46:57 PM] Slenderhands: In dating someone?
[8:47:11 PM] Christine Daae: Yeah.
[8:47:31 PM] Christine Daae: Because I don't really want to date someone for the sake of dating someone, because I've done that before and it was stupid.
[8:47:43 PM] Christine Daae: I'd wanna date someone because I liked them and... eh. Nobody nearby.
[8:48:07 PM] Slenderhands: You wouldn't consider long distance?
[8:48:36 PM] Christine Daae: I like hugs and eye contact too much for that!
[8:49:14 PM] Slenderhands: I suppose those are important...
[8:49:59 PM] Christine Daae: And... I dunno, I'd be kind of... worried. Boyfriend out of sight all the time.
[8:50:14 PM] Slenderhands: Not even if you trusted him?
[8:50:48 PM] Christine Daae: I'm not sure. It'd have to happen first.
[8:51:02 PM] Slenderhands: What would have to happen first?
[8:52:05 PM] Christine Daae: The me-being-in-an-LDR. Depends on the circumstances, the guy, the people he was friends with, alignment of the stars...
[8:52:45 PM] Slenderhands: Would it be ideal if he had few to no friends?
[8:53:02 PM] Christine Daae: The whole concept isn't exactly ideal.
[8:53:31 PM] Slenderhands: Would you ever be willing to try?
[8:53:47 PM] Christine Daae: Why do you ask? ;)
[8:54:12 PM] Slenderhands: A completely innocent question, I assure you. ;)
[8:54:46 PM] Christine Daae: I might possibly if I liked the guy enough.
[8:58:10 PM] Slenderhands: And in order to like him enough, he needs to be loaded, blinded by affection, have nice hair, while being kind to service staff and staying away from too many recreational drugs?
[8:58:28 PM] Slenderhands: Or is this the bare minimum of achievement?
[8:58:55 PM] Christine Daae: I don't know?
[8:59:16 PM] Christine Daae: I don't really think about it that much.
[8:59:38 PM] Slenderhands: Ah, I see.
[8:59:48 PM] Christine Daae: What?
[9:01:22 PM] Slenderhands: It's nothing. I think too much about these things. ;)
[9:01:45 PM] Christine Daae: Things work themselves out sometimes I think. :)
She truly hadn't seen, at the time, that he liked her. She had wanted to, but her instinct to think the worst of herself was stronger. She had often tried to imagine what would have happened if they'd been in a relationship when they met, if Raoul hadn't been in the picture, but it was useless. There were a million what ifs and they all hurt. For all she knew, things could have ended up exactly the way they were now.
Now, her girlish hopes for money and romance aside, all she really wanted was her baby. And, perhaps, a respectful husband. Eventually.
Gingerly, Christine rubbed the sore place on her upper arm where Erik had grabbed her.
At that instant, she became suddenly aware of a distant whirring as the house hummed back to life. All around her, the digital readouts in her room began to flash insistently. A few moments later, the deadbolt at her door slid back, followed by a tentative knock.
Christine quickly shut the laptop, pushed it away, and curled up on her side..
"Christine?"
It was Erik, as if it could be anybody else.
Behind her, the door cracked open and a slit of light cut through the darkness along the wall. She tensed and shifted closer to her nightstand. Two years ago, in an attempt to rescue her from a scheduled Christmas Eve abduction, Raoul had once managed to beat the crap out of Erik with just his fists, so he wasn't invincible. She might be weaker and smaller than Raoul, but armed with a pair of scissors…
Erik wouldn't be expecting it. Not from her.
"Go away," she murmured.
"Christine… can we talk?" he whispered in a thick voice. He had been crying. The door opened wider, letting in a flood of light from the hallway and silhouetting his thin shadow on the wall. "Please..."
She sat up, wrapping her arms protectively around herself and staring at the floor. Again, pain twinged where Erik had grabbed her and, in the light, she could see a band of yellow and purple around her upper arm.
"I don't want to talk to you," she muttered through grit teeth, rubbing her sore muscle gingerly.
Erik suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, then released it in a low moan of horror, and she heard him drop to his knees beside the bed. "Oh, Christine, your arm..."
She said nothing to that, keeping her back to him.
"I know you don't want to talk to me," he breathed tearfully after a moment. "Why would you? But I need to apologize... please let me..."
Awkwardly, she shifted away from him. "No. Go away."
"Please," he begged, choking on tears. "I'm so sorry... for the way I treated you, I see how badly I hurt you, I am so sorry, Christine... I was wrong from the beginning... I made a terrible miscalculation and I am so, so sorry... I should have listened to you..."
"Well you didn't. I don't know why I'm surprised."
She glanced over her shoulder at him. He had folded his hands over the back of his neck, head bent so dramatically he was staring at his knees.
"Fucking waste of life I am, I know that, I've always known that…You weren't lying to me... because you're such a sweet, good, honest girl... I'm so sorry... What I accused you of, you would never do that to me... You would never deceive me..."
"Oh, you realized that, did you? Well done, asshole. Go away."
"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me what happened?"
A vague shrug. "I didn't want to make you freak out. Especially not if..." Her hand rested on her stomach. "I didn't think you'd decide it meant I was cheating."
"What else was I supposed to think?" He crawled closer and rested his cheek against the bed, coughing on his sobs. "That was never, ever, ever supposed to happen—always such an impossibility—I can't believe it... It's still hard to, I... I'm so fucking sorry, Christine. I wish you'd told me instead of letting me carry on as if this horrific thing never happened…!" He grabbed the back of his neck and dug his nails into his skin.
"I preferred not to think about it too much," she said coolly, now fully turning to watch him haughtily. Her hands trembled.
"You still should have told me so I could... so I could... " He shook his head, knuckles white. "I don't even understand how it happened, I... I listened to the conversation and... I'm an utterly reprehensible piece of shit for what I've done, I know... I can't even imagine being... being in your place, that was fucking disgusting of me... I'm so sorry, Christine..."
She looked away from his excessive display of remorse only to see her phone miraculously resting on the edge of the bed, evidently returned when she wasn't looking. But she refused to touch it, nor even acknowledge it.
Since the beginning, even when turned off, her phone had been Erik's primary tool for surveillance. Raoul's phone, too. Neither of them could go anywhere or say anything without Erik's knowing. To leave their phones deliberately behind or remove the battery would invoke a firestorm of disproportionate retaliation. Her calls and internet traffic would forever be logged, she knew, but the constant recording while she was at home doing nothing should have ended when she became his wife.
Christine felt a cold flicker of violation. Maybe that's what was in the basement: huge servers devoted to logging every precious minute of ambient sound in this house to use against her in arguments. She wouldn't put it past him.
For once, though, she was at least mildly grateful for his obsessive, invasive, utterly unreasonable eavesdropping... because it clearly worked against him, too.
Christine folded her hands together in her lap and stared down at them. "Yeah," she muttered. "Doesn't matter. It's already happened."
Erik leaned heavily against the bed and stared up at her with puffy, red eyes. "It won't ever happen again, I promise. Never, ever, ever again, I give you my word. I am so sorry..."
"Yeah," she repeated. "If you say so."
He watched her a few seconds longer before a new rush of tears welled up. Resting his forehead on his knees, he dissolved into a series of choking, keening sobs, which he smothered behind his hands.
Christine sighed and moved to dangle her legs over the edge of the bed.
Usually when he cried, it filled her with a terrible sense of guilt. If she were stronger, if she were more willing to look past his awful behavior, if she made herself love him or at least pretend to, then he wouldn't need to cry like that anymore. It was entirely within her power. But she couldn't do it. And yet no matter how often he made her fear for her life—or worse, made it feel not worth living—she always felt awful about it. Except for now. Now, she only felt tired and empty.
"It's okay," she said blankly. "You don't have to cry."
"How can I not?" he demanded heatedly. Uncurling a little from his position, he bent to touch his lips to the hem of her jeans, like a relic. "Because now you're knocked up, too, and that's... that's... I'm so sorry..."
"Don't say it like that," she said, frowning and placing her hand on the top of his head. "It's not that bad."
A shiver ran through his body at her gentle touch. "Yes, it is... It's so humiliating and insulting to you... And I still have to make that appointment..."
She froze, withdrawing her hand. "No."
"We can't keep it, surely you see that," he breathed, glancing up. "We will stop this before it's too late..."
She drew back again, curling her legs up onto her bed and out of his reach. "No. No."
"Why not?"
"I'm keeping it. I'm- how c-" She got up, standing on the opposite side of the bed from him, afraid he might attack again now this point of contention had returned. She kept her back to the wall. "I'm keeping it. No."
But Erik didn't appear to move, out of sight from where he sat on the floor. His voice was quiet, pleading. "We'll... we'll get rid of it and... and… you want a child so badly, we'll adopt…! But we can't keep it... Not this one. Not mine."
"It's mine," she insisted protectively, slowly making her way around the bed to the door. "You can't make me."
"You're being so brave about this, Christine, and I admire that, but… it isn't necessary... You shouldn't have to carry my spawn for nine months because of my mistake… I'll..." Erik was watching her, motionless. "You… you deserve a better child than that. We'll find you a proper one..."
"Don't say that," she hissed, standing near the foot of the bed. To get to the door, she would have to pass by him, but if she ran she could make it... "Don't you dare say that about my baby. I don't care."
Tears still coursed silently down the mask's cheeks. "How are you so attached to it already?"
Her face went red. "Because it's mine."
"And that's enough for you? Even though it's a genetic disaster and will be born all wrong...?"
"Don't say that," she said again, putting her arms around herself. "Don't say that like it's inevitable."
"With my luck it will be. My eyes and hair are already dominant traits against yours… what else of mine is? You would allow that to happen to a child?"
"It's not like that."
"Then how is it like?"
Christine frowned, hugging herself tighter. "I w- there's no guarantee and I'm not like your mom, I won't... I won't not love my kid if they're not perfect."
He turned away from her and carefully rolled the mask up; he was coughing and struggling to breathe through the fabric. After a moment, he resituated the fabric and continued in a low, urgent voice. "Listen to me, please. We both know Mother would have been better off getting rid of me from the start... We have a chance to not make the same mistake. If it's born looking like me..."
"It won't be. Or... it…" She faltered, staring down at Erik and his sodden mask. A vague horror gnawed at her. "You always tell me how much money we have. There's surgery."
"That's a long and painful process... if it works at all. And it won't be perfect. It will still look different from its peers... Say it must wait until it's older—a teenager at least—before a doctor consents to do that kind of construction, what will we do for all those years? Homeschool it and lock it up in the house and reinforce its shame? Or do we let it play among its peers and let those emotional scars develop anyway? No matter what we do, the child will suffer and that's a fact…" His tears renewed and he muffled a cry. "Please…"
Sensible though it may have been, she was filled with childish fury. She never got what she wanted. Never.
"Why can't you just let me hope for something I actually want? For once?" She watched him critically, wringing her hands.
"Because I won't do that to a child!" Erik snapped. He glared up at her, but it faltered. "I know you want one and I'm sorry for that, but this is a terrible idea... You have the Johnsons' children... isn't that enough? What if… they came over more often? That would be alright..."
"You wanted a wife. What you had with me should have been enough. But it wasn't, was it?" Her eyes were bright with frustration. "You've wanted more your whole life. You weren't willing to just have things the way they were, were you?"
Erik's shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. He didn't seem to have an answer to that, or at least not one he would admit to. Covering the mask with his hands, he shook his head miserably.
"Listen to me, Christine," he persisted. "It won't be just the child that suffers… You will, too. I am telling you that right now. Mother…" Here he paused before continuing in a reverent murmur. "My poor mother endured so much on my account... I was five the last time she took me to the store with her and I remember all the stares... Not just at me, but at her, too. There was this woman… She thought Mother was abusing me and loudly told her she should be ashamed of herself... She threatened to call child services and everyone was staring at us, and we left without buying anything because someone had called once before, even though it wasn't any of their fucking business. What I'm trying to say, Christine, is she was judged no matter what she did. Everyone will be curious. Everyone will have an opinion. You can't win. Don't do that to yourself..."
You can't win. If she could sum up her relationship with Erik in three words or less.
"I have to risk it." Her voice was small and determined.
She'd be lying if she told herself that didn't sound selfish even as she said it, but the phrase "a face only a mother could love" existed for a reason. She'd love her baby even if it was born with scales and three rows of teeth. That was going to be the one thing she wouldn't screw up. Her one responsibility in life.
"This isn't an environment for children, Christine… I thought we agreed on that…" No longer crying, his words simply sounded hollow and rote. He was calming, which meant she had finally worn him down or he was catching his second wind for another bout.
She glanced to the door.
"How many times do I have to tell you I don't care?"
Slowly, Erik crawled towards her on the floor, speaking in a tone so reasonable and placating it was almost seductive. "You've been so very, very brave…" he murmured, "but sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do…"
But Christine interrupted him, feeling mounting disgust and rage. "Why is it that only seems to apply to me? Never you? When we got married, you said you wanted me to be happy, except so far that only applies when it's convenient for you! You know I love kids and I was willing to give up my own because of you, but you can't just give me a baby then take it away! That isn't fair, Erik! Not after what you did."
"A mistake has been made—I am not denying that," Erik continued, not listening, "and I'm deeply sorry for causing you this pain, but…"
"You're an awful husband!" she snapped.
The words hung in the air.
Erik, frozen, gazed up at her with stunned hurt as if she had kicked him. As his hazel eyes brimmed with tears, Christine stared boldly back, feeling guilty and powerful by turns as she stood over him.
Neither of them said anything for a long moment, listening to the crash of the ocean outside. His gaze suddenly dropped to the carpet and without another word, he got to his feet and slunk out through the doorway like a dog with its tail between its legs. Within seconds, he had disappeared down the hall as if he had never been there in the first place, leaving her blessedly alone.
Well, almost alone. Something furry suddenly pressed against her legs, mewling indignantly. She glanced down; Edgar was rubbing his head against her calf as though trying to knock her over. Even for her needy cat she couldn't manage a smile, but she picked him up anyway and clutched him against her chest. As usual, that made her feel a little calmer, but her heart still pounded with frustration.
The guilt, too, was still there, but only just a little. She shouldn't have to feel sorry for what she said, not when it was true. He was an awful husband who seemed unable to tell the difference between a wife and a pet.
Even with the air conditioning running again, she still felt too hot and went to switch on the water for a nice, lukewarm shower. It did wonders to finally exhaust her nervous energy. By the time she got out, she felt relaxed enough to sleep.
Ignoring the sound of the piano emanating up from downstairs, she crawled into bed where Edgar was curled up in his customary position on her pillow. She buried her face in his fur and clung tightly to him.
But try as she might, she couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning, her ears filled with that distant music that seemed louder now that she had settled. It was a slow, thinly-textured piece she had never heard before, one that wandered gloomily from key to key without any kind of resolution. Her heart ached the longer she listened and when it transitioned from piano to violin, tears sprung unbidden to her eyes.
Quickly, Christine groped for her earbuds in the dark and shoved them into her ears to drown out the sound.
The next morning, Christine crept downstairs to microwave herself a bland breakfast of oatmeal with soy milk, but her nausea made it impossible to eat and she stared listlessly out the window instead.
Maybe she should be pleased. She had won last night's argument with an effective sucker-punch, but she still felt conflicted and not a little scared.
She dug a spoon into her oatmeal. Lukewarm gluggy mush.
Delicious.
Erik drifted in a little while later. Unshaven, he still wore last night's clothing and even behind the mask, she could tell his eyes were puffy from crying. She watched him in silence, but he seemed content to pretend she wasn't there while he poured himself half a tumbler of orange juice, then filled the rest with vodka.
Christine wanted to groan, but she had come to expect this of him. How long would they avoid each other this time? A week? A month? At least this time their fight had a deadline after which Erik could no longer legally argue his position.
As if laws had ever stopped him from doing anything, she thought resentfully, and forced herself to choke down a few more bites of her cold oatmeal.
Whatever Erik wanted, he got, in her experience. She had no doubt that he could find someone willing to perform a late-term abortion… Her stomach gave another dangerous lurch before she could finish the horrifying thought.
With that, Christine gave up on eating. She got up to take her dishes to the sink, which regretfully put her within arm's reach of Erik. Ignoring him, she switched on the water and she began to rinse them as quickly as she could, wondering if she could hide from him for the next seven or eight months until she had to give birth. Then she could sneak over to Hilary's...
"Don't worry," Erik said suddenly, quietly. "I can do that."
"So can I."
"Let me do them, please."
With a sigh, she surrendered her dishes and began to walk towards the glass door leading to the backyard while she wiped her wet hands on her jeans.
"You swear you'll love it, though, won't you?" he asked unexpectedly, apropos of nothing.
"What?" She stopped and glanced over her shoulder to him. He was watching her from the sink, regarding her with guilt and something she had never before seen in his eyes—pity.
"Even if everything goes wrong with it, you'll still love it?"
She shrugged helplessly. "More than anything in the world."
He nodded tiredly, leaning against the counter to drink deeply from his glass. After a moment of silence, he added: "I hope you know what you're doing, because I'm hopeless."
Christine had very little idea what she was doing, frankly, but she would never admit to that, not to him. She watched him warily.
In a low, dejected tone, he continued, refusing to meet her gaze. "I'm confident this comes as no surprise to you, but I don't know a thing about children or families or how a parent is supposed to behave beyond what I've seen on television... Well, I know how not to be a parent, but that isn't the same thing… And, anyway, I don't even like children and they certainly don't like me. In short, Christine, what I'm trying to say is this: I'm an unfit parent, no matter how you look at it. I want you to know that…" Finally he glanced back to her, anxious. "Which is why I'm asking… You know what you're doing, don't you?"
She grew still. Was this… consent? Surely not. Then again, she couldn't remember a time in their acquaintance when he'd sounded so resigned.
"I'm not asking you to be a parent," she said carefully. "I'm asking you to not stop me from being one."
Erik sighed quietly with what sounded an awful lot like relief and nodded. "Alright."
"Alright?"
"Yes, alright. You can… keep the baby—"
Something swelled in her chest and she couldn't stop a stupid grin from splitting her face. Not just the baby, but her baby. Her baby was going to come into the world and she was going to keep it and it would be hers forever.
"—On the condition that I have nothing to do with it," he continued. "It will be your responsibility to tend and feed. I will… monetarily provide, but that is the extent of my relationship with the child. As you said, you… aren't asking me to be a parent and I do not wish to be one."
"I'm okay with that."
She couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy. Actually, she could, but she didn't want to dwell on the specifics as it involved a handsome blonde man in a suit.
"There is, of course, always time to change your mind," Erik resumed morosely.
She shook her head, still beaming. "Thanks, but that won't be necessary."
He gave another quiet sigh, looking more and more like a man planning a funeral.
"What do you need right now?" he asked exhaustedly. His gaze travelled from her face to her stomach and for once she didn't feel the need to cover her abdomen with her hands to protect it from him.
She groaned and covered her eyes. "Decaf."
"You can't have caffeine?"
"Don't think so. It... I read it makes miscarriages more likely."
"I see. You must really want this if you're willing to give up coffee for so many months."
Christine sighed. "Decaf isn't coffee." Or was. In exactly the same way grape juice was a finely aged Cabernet Sauvignon.
"That's depressing. Do you need anything else aside from not-coffee?"
She smiled very slightly, with relief. "Get me a banana, would you?"
"Just the one?"
The smile grew. "Just the one."
Of all her father's vices, feeding his daughter too much refined sugar wasn't one of them. Even now, bananas felt like luxury items in her mind, given as rewards for good grades in middle school the way other children received candy. She hadn't gotten many growing up. She definitely deserved one now.
Erik did not return the smile, nor find amusement in her eccentric request. His voice was flat and his shoulders were slumped, accompanying the defeat in his eyes. "I'll go to the store this afternoon."
Walking back towards the counter, Christine opened up the fridge to grab a can of ginger ale. She cracked it open and took a sip, regarding Erik for a moment. Then she reached out and nudged a fist against his arm in a weak attempt at a fake punch. "Thanks."
Erik curled his hand around her fist, holding it in place against his arm. Gently, he stroked her knuckles with his thumb. She was intensely startled by the sudden intimate gentleness and felt an urge to withdraw, but the sad look in his eyes stopped her.
"So... I take it the site of the future coffee laboratory will now become a... baby room?" he murmured with dismay.
Her smile returned vaguely. "I guess so."
"Is everything alright now?"
She just as quickly gave a frown. "Did you really think I was cheating?"
Erik did not meet her gaze and let go. "My wife is very beautiful and I am inadequate in every way possible. The thought is never far away."
Christine sniffed nonchalantly. "I'm not a total idiot."
"You aren't," he mumbled, embarrassed.
"Thank you."
Much as she knew he loved her, the admission still felt like an immense compliment, especially after last night.
"I'm… going to go sit out in the backyard a bit," she said after a moment, holding her ginger ale in both hands. She watched his face.
"As you like," he replied without resistance. "I'll be making myself presentable if you need me."
Hesitantly, Christine reached up and patted his masked cheek, meeting his eyes for a moment. He lingered longer than she expected, covering her hand with his, before he pulled away. Drink in hand, he retreated to the basement.
It was a good day.
Now that her pregnancy was not a secret, Christine spent the morning and afternoon indulging in all the Googling she had wanted to do since the idea of a child entered her mind. Currently, her baby was the size of a kidney bean. It was forming nostrils, eyes, and lungs. A heartbeat twice the speed of hers.
A heartbeat. Her baby was alive, no longer just a faint, desperate dream. It felt... liberating.
That evening, when she went to the kitchen for a snack—she needed to be eating maybe 300 more calories a day for the baby, after all—she felt a proper smile on her face.
To her amusement, a variety of decaf coffee cans had been prominently arranged into the shape of a pyramid on the counter. At its base lay a single unblemished banana and, off to the side, a large bottle of folic acid. The freezer, she next discovered, was crammed with chocolate soy ice cream and the refrigerator now contained more fruits and vegetables than she had ever seen in the house before at one time.
300 calories was four standard servings of soy ice cream or two pounds of baby carrots.
She smiled indulgently at herself and grabbed a spoon.
So life didn't, in fact, always suck.
A/N: Thank you to all our readers and everyone who has left reviews! You guys are awesome! We really apologize for how long it's taken to get this chapter out on account of crazy holidays, illness, grad school applications, and other assorted drama. This story is definitely not abandoned. We hope to get back to a regular posting schedule soon! :-)