The first week passed in a blur. Erik asked Bernard if all of his work could be done from home for next few months, and it felt surreal to Erik to say the words out loud - "my wife had a baby" - when asked why. Bernard had been quite congratulatory upon hearing it, and his request was immediately granted, along with a number of gifts that were sent to his house - flowers, a fruit basket, and a cake.
It was only after the first week had passed and nothing had happened that Erik finally began to believe that Christine wasn't about to keel over and die at any given moment. It was an odd realization. He'd been so terrified of something happening, and yet here they were on the other side of it, alive and well, all three of them. It made him want to scratch his head.
After the first two nights, he had moved out of her room, ceasing to sleep on her divan at night, and instead retreated into his own private room. He had spent so few nights in it before, and he found it surprisingly lonely yet surprisingly easy to get used to again. Loneliness, after all, had been the theme of the majority of his life.
He could hear the baby cry at night, sometimes. He'd hold his breath, listening to the little wails, hoping and praying that Christine would answer them. She always did. Within moments he would hear the child quiet, and hear the soft sounds of her moving about her own room, talking and pleading with the baby. It wasn't really fair, he mused, that there was nothing he could do to soothe the baby in her place, but the was how life was, he supposed. Besides, no baby wanted to wake up in the middle night seeking comfort and see Erik. Gustave would probably never stop crying if he saw him.
Erik spent most of his time working in his office, and if not that, cooking for Christine, which was the one thing he could do. She would not have to cook or prepare a meal for at least the next year if he could help it.
Erik was amazed at how easily his little wife took to her new role. She was a doting mother and always seemed to know exactly what to do. If the baby cried, she tended to him. It was like she had some innate sense to know just what the child needed.
Taking care of an infant was more work than Erik expected. She seemed to have her hands full at any given moment. He felt guilty at times. Gustave consumed her every waking moment, and then seemingly woke her at all hours to demand even more attention. On occasion he would nearly offer a hand to her, try to find some way to help ease the load of raising a child. But he always pulled back before doing so. He didn't know what he was doing in taking care of a baby. Christine was perfectly suited to motherhood - she was practically built for it! No, he would only be in the way of things.
Christine felt like she was in a haze. She loved her baby, but she was terrified that she had no clue what she was doing most of the time. Why was he crying? Was he hungry? Did he need changing? Was it too hot in the room? Too cold? She felt on the verge of pulling her hair out. Surely she was the most clueless mother on the face of the earth, and she prayed that she wouldn't accidentally mess the baby up for life. So many times she almost asked Erik for help or for advice, but decided against it. She hated feeling like she didn't know anything about what she was doing, but things slowly, very slowly, seemed to get better - or if not better, at least slightly less chaotic.
The door to her bedroom was open, and Erik paused in the doorway a moment. Little Gustave was fast asleep in the bassinet, and Christine had fallen asleep on her couch.
He quietly entered the room and stood a careful distance from the bassinet, looking in at his son. It never ceased to amaze him that something so normal could have possibly come from him, and he had nightmares, sometimes, that they would wake up one day and find the child starting to deform into something hideous, as though Erik's condition was something that could infect and lay dormant until it finally came to the surface like some kind of horrible pox. But Gustave looked as angelic as ever, a perfect little child just like his mother.
He turned his gaze to Christine, noticing that she didn't look terribly comfortable how she was sitting. She must have sat down for just a moment and accidentally fallen asleep, exhausted from caring for the baby.
He silently walked over to the couch and scooped her into his arms, settling himself into a comfortable sitting position on the cushions before gently arranging her to rest on his lap, her head pillowed on his shoulder. She didn't wake as he did so, but she unconsciously shifted to be closer to him and her arms went around his neck. He smiled at the gesture. They hadn't shared a bed since two months before Gustave was born, and he wondered if she missed it as much as he did.
He sighed and let his eyes slide closed, content to simply hold her sleeping form. His little wife was a miracle. He had known this for ages, of course, but he was reminded of it every day, more so now than ever. How could she be anything less, with all she did for him? To willingly allow his touch, to happily bear his child? To actually love him, in spite of his many shortcomings? He gently pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear with all the reverence that was due her. She put up with so very much, he knew he was never easy to live with - but now, with the child, too-
Her hours had been more erratic than his ever had. He often heard the baby cry at all hours of the night, and the soft sound of Christine trying to soothe him as she attended to his constant needs. But the sweet girl never once complained. Erik wished, for a moment, that he were a better father, that he too could do more to look after Gustave, but the thought frightened him.
The baby was still so very small (no matter what Christine said to the contrary), so very fragile and tiny... What if Erik dropped him? What if he didn't hold him correctly and hurt him? Christine would never forgive him! He would never forgive himself. What if... What if he held Gustave, and the baby started crying? What if Gustave was afraid of him?
No, far better for his mother to take care of him, even if it was terribly tiring for her, than for his strange father to get involved. It hurt too much to think that the little boy might reject him somehow. Far safer to keep his distance, then.
These were the reasons Erik would readily admit he was limiting himself in his fatherly capabilities. There was, however, another reason lingering in the back of his mind, one he was scared to admit even to himself.
The child seemed perfectly normal now, yes. But what if Erik had some sort of corrupting force about him? What if, by virtue of simple proximity, Erik changed him somehow? All of Christine's friends who came to visit always cooed and exclaimed over what a good baby he was, and Erik supposed he really was, though he didn't have any frame of reference to actually know. Still, Gustave was rarely unreasonably fussy, and when he did cry he usually quieted down quickly enough. But what if, after Erik started looking after him, he started being a bad baby? Christine was so good with him, she knew so easily what to do in any given situation. But Erik- Erik didn't know anything. He really might corrupt him with his own wickedness even though he didn't mean to. Perhaps he would no longer sleep at all, keeping his mother up at even odder hours. Perhaps he would start to cry constantly and for no apparent reason. It seemed very likely.
Perhaps- perhaps he really did have a corrupting influence, and that was why Christine loved him.
He swallowed hard.
He had corrupted Christine - he must have - how else could she have let him do such vile things to her? How else could she smile when he kissed her? He had spent so much time around her that he had warped her soul and twisted her mind, and that was why she loved him. Well. He had corrupted an angel, but he would not corrupt her son.
He held her tightly as he stood up and carried her to her bed, placing her on it. With trembling hands he pulled the blankets up around his poor, sweet angel, and kissed her on the forehead. She would have to manage her on own in raising Gustave, it seemed. But no matter - she was perfectly fitted for the job. He slipped out of the room, not daring to glance towards the bassinet again.
It was a little while later that Gustave woke and, upon not seeing his mother nearby, began to fuss. Christine blinked awake, groggy and confused as to how she had ended up in bed when the last she remembered was sitting down on the couch. A smile formed on her lips. Erik. He must have moved her. Or had she sat on her bed herself and forgotten? She sighed, uncertain and unable to say for sure. She got up and made her way to the bassinet, picking up the now loudly crying baby.
"Shhh, it's alright, darling, Mamma is here," she cooed, rocking him in her arms.
He quieted after a few more moments. Christine wondered where Erik had gone. She paced the room a little, her baby in her arms, and she turned her mind to the thoughts that were never far away.
Erik had never even held his son. It had not escaped her notice, though she was certain that he presumed that it had. But no - Erik had never held Gustave.
Once she noticed this, she tried to gently correct it.
"Erik, can you hold Gustave till he falls asleep so I can go take a bath?"
"Just put him in the bassinet, Christine. There's something I need to finish tonight for Bernard."
He always seemed to have an excuse.
"Oh, the baby is crying - Erik, can you bring him here?"
"What was that, Christine? I couldn't quite hear you."
He would make up the most brazen lies and practically dart from the room in a panic whenever she tried to rope him into interacting with his son. She couldn't wrap her mind around it.
Somewhere along the line, she began to realize something else, too.
Erik had been distant with his son, but he'd also been distant with her. She didn't think he'd as much as touched her shoulder since the day the baby was born. He'd always been very close to her in all of their marriage before - holding her hand, stroking her hair, kisses, hugs - but all of that had seemingly vanished.
Perhaps he was just trying to give her space. It was true that she'd been sleeping in her private bedroom still, and maybe he was simply trying to respect what he assumed was her need for privacy. It had been much past the amount of time that the midwife had recommended she refrain from activities with her husband, and yet still Erik hadn't even kissed her on the cheek. Sometimes it made her head ache to think about. Half of the time such a concern didn't even have room in her head, so consumed was she in taking care of the baby. The other half of the time she spent between wistfully thinking of him and being torn that she was glad he hadn't asked due to how tired she was.
She rubbed at her eyes as she sat down next to her son's bassinet, him fast asleep inside. She felt she might fall asleep too if she sat still for more than a minute. She propped her elbow on the armrest, leaning her chin on her hand, and dozed off, dreaming of a day when she wasn't so overwhelmed, when Erik would step up and take more care of their baby, and when her husband might kiss her again.