Reza appeared at the door, a huge black cloud over his head.
"What is this?" he demanded.
"I happened to be in Budapest," Raoul smiled, "And stepped in a bit of dog shit. I went to scrape it off, and what do you know? It was our own dear Erik."
As I moved past him over the threshold, Reza whispered aghast, "Erik, who is this child?" I just glared at him.
"Comtesse?" Raoul asked Darius, indicating the parlor. Big eyed, the manservant nodded silently. Raoul pushed the door open and backed away, grinning.
"After you, Phantom."
I gasped. Christine was a pale, emaciated ghost of her former self. There was a blanket draped over her chest; Raoul was right; the child was huge.
"Why did you bring him here? You agreed to leave him alone." Her voice was as beautiful as ever, but thinner and more delicate. "Excuse me, please."
Raoul jerked me around to give her some privacy as she buttoned up. "I didn't intend to bring him, Christine. I went to challenge him to a duel, but he's too pathetic to kill."
"Alright, thank you," she called softly. My pulse roared in my ears as we turned.
It was a boy. He was somewhere around a year old, but the size of a child twice his age. He was sprawled all over Christine's lap; head back, mouth open, arms over his head. Everything about his posture demonstrated that he was absolutely secure in the knowledge that he was safe and loved. He had a head full of Christine's curls and a perfect face, like an angel. When I looked up, Christine was studying my face, emotionless.
"Well, Raoul, do you intend to stand here and listen to our entire conversation, or will you eavesdrop in the hallway with Reza?" she asked.
Duly chastened, Raoul ducked out. Christine stood with some difficulty under the child's weight and approached to lay him in my arms.
"Masson Gustave Chagny; your son. You're just in time for his birthday next week."
I took him from her. He was a fine, solid boy; a beautiful child. No one would imagine he was not Raoul's. I was trying to sort out what I was feeling when Christine slapped me: once; twice; three times. The baby started awake at the sound and howled. She snatched him from me, eyes blazing in her gaunt face. Purring, she offered him her breast again and he fell silent. I marveled at how they gazed into each other's eyes; they seemed like lovers. Christine made an exquisite Madonna; I felt my own eyes beginning to burn.
"No wonder you're so thin," I blurted. "He's too big--"
"As usual, you don't know what you're talking about, Erik," she snapped. "He only does it to settle for naps and bedtime."
Suddenly, she demanded "Why did you come?"
"As Raoul said, we were going to duel, but before we did, he realized that I intended to let him kill me. It infuriated him. He said he was going to bring me back and make me see all the suffering I'd left behind."
"Still trying to be a tragic hero and die for love." She smiled to herself, shaking her head.
"I never stopped loving you, Christine. I don't blame you for not believing me, but I didn't want to make a mess of your life!"
Christine raised a skeletal hand. "Stop, Erik. You know, if only you would admit that you were terrified and had to run, I might forgive you."
I felt so alien with this woman that I adored. I didn't know what to say to her.
"You seem unwell," I ventured.
"I have not been well since you left, Erik."
I lowered my eyes.
"First, it was the shock of being abandoned," she continued. "Then, toward the end, Masson was quite large and I was uncomfortable. The delivery was not an easy one."
I groaned. "I'm sorry. Christine, I'm sorry!"
"Please keep your voice down," she murmured, brushing the baby's hair from his brow. "He's teething and fussy. I like him to sleep, if he can. Besides, you can say you're sorry till you're blue in the face."
"I mean it," I protested.
"I'm sure you do. You always were glib," she shrugged. "Anyway, you saw what Raoul wanted you to see: frail, abandoned Christine. You can go."
I lifted Christine's hand from her baby's head and covered it with kisses and tears. "You're better off with Raoul, Angel."
She snatched her hand away. "I am not with Raoul, Erik. It is Masson and me, here with Reza and Darius."
"Christine, why didn't you leave here and move on? I've sent you money. If not Raoul, you can find another to love you."
"I have a man to love me; this little man right here. Where would you suggest I go? I can't leave Reza; he's old. You broke his heart, too, when you left, by the way."
"I'll speak to him, if he will speak with me. Is he angry with me too?"
"I'm not angry with you, Erik. I was angry with you, but no more. And for your information, I don't want your money, or another man. I wanted you."
"Jesus, Christine, why not just slap me again?" I buried my face in my hands.
"Firstly because I don't want to wake Masson, but mostly because you don't deserve to get off so easily. That's right; you think that you disappear and Christine will forget about you and move on, so you can be noble and say, 'Yes, I was right, look how she is thriving in her new life. I gave her up for love; I am a tragic hero; I did the right thing.' No. No. As you see, I am not thriving. I miss you very day."
"Let me make it up to you, then."
Christine groaned again. "That has to be the stupidest thing you've ever said, Erik, and you've come up with a few gems in your day. How would you begin to make it up to me?"
"I don't know," I admitted.
"Well, at least that was honest."
"Can I help you? Can I play with him while you eat? You're so—he's sucking the life from you."
That was a very bad thing to say. Right before me, Christine turned to stone. I saw nothing in her eyes that I recognized.
"YOU sucked the life from me, Erik; not Masson. HE is the only thing that keeps me going. If you ever say another unkind word about him, I promise you that I won't even attend your funeral, much less see you while you live. Not that you should care."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything against him. It's just such a shock, seeing you—"
"I suppose you think it is no shock for me when Darius runs up and says 'Mr Erik, Mr Erik with the Comte and a girl!' Who is she, anyway?"
"The place I stayed, my landlady's daughter. Anci."
"And you brought her because?" Christine's eyes narrowed.
"Because I hoped she could find a decent position here, perhaps have a better life…"
"You are the absolute soul of chivalry, Erik," she dripped sarcasm. "Is she pregnant?" Christine's gaze was so unwavering, it was unsettling. I couldn't bear to think about what it meant that it was so easy for Christine to see…what Anci had been to me.
"I don't believe so."
"Good for you, telling the truth again. You see? I'm taking note."
"I didn't bring her here for me," I rushed to explain. "I'm through with that; I wanted—"
"I understand; she was a 'convenience'. Now you're home, I suspect you're hoping for better things."
"I can't tell if you're mocking me or not," I confessed sadly.
"I'm not mocking you. I'm probably not sparing your feelings as much as you'd like, but I'm not mocking you. After all, I hardly imagined you'd be a monk when you left me…"
"But—"
"I hope you're not going to say something about your face." Christine groaned and rolled her eyes. "Really, Erik: find something else to blame your troubles on. Your immaturity; your lack of self-discipline; your need for constant reassurance; your low frustration level; your absolute refusal to learn from your mistakes; please, not your face. Clearly your face is no impediment when it comes to securing playmates."
"Are you finished?" I demanded.
"No; have you had enough?"
"Yes, I believe I have. I don't even know what's going on here!" I protested.
"You're trying to determine whether I'm receptive to the idea of taking you back before you stick your neck out and ask. Typical." she smiled.
"You impertinent little baggage! I am not!"
"Keep your voice down," Christine ordered, patting the child's bottom as he stirred. "And Erik, if you want me to agree to try again, you'd be wise to hold your temper. You're expected to be contrite for a significant period; I just mention it as a suggestion."
The baby would not be stilled. He wriggled and grunted, pulled himself up and began bouncing his substantial bulk on Christine's fragile lap. I winced, though she did not seem to be suffering. She was glowing at him.
"Masson, guess who is here? Who came to see Masson?" The baby looked at her, then one way, then the other. He plopped down in her lap and looked at me with obvious recognition. A dimpled fist shot out; a chubby finger pointed.
Christine whispered, "Who is that?" He breathed something at her and she nodded.
"'SON PAPA!" he cried. He had a musical voice like his Mother's, and but his eyes were mine. It was eerie having those eyes reflected at me. Perhaps he could not pass for Raoul's.
"Yes, Masson's Papa," Christine smiled. I noticed her chin quivering. The child slipped down and sped toward me on sturdy legs. He claimed my body without hesitation, pulling himself up on trousers, sleeves, whatever came to hand. He chattered away the entire time as he clambered into my lap, pausing for only a moment to regard me most seriously. He did the same little eyebrow thing that I do.
"Hello, Masson, I am very pleased to meet you." I tried not to sound terribly formal, but I know nothing about children. He fell against me as if I were part of the furniture; this startled me and I caught him. He felt good in my hands; I smiled at this discovery. I looked to Christine, feeling guilty, but she watched us placidly.
Suddenly Masson went for my mask. I didn't know if this was just his personal effrontery or a general lack of consideration common to all babies, but he pried it from me with astonishing dexterity and speed.
I wanted to ask Christine for help. "I don't—"
"Ow," the baby said. Babbling something I could not make out, he patted my distorted cheek with his fat paw and kissed it.
"Yes, Masson kiss it all better," Christine translated. That was too much for me.
When he saw my tears, the baby stretched his arms around my neck, patting and soothing just as Christine would do.
"You're a good boy," I wept.
It troubled Masson that he could not comfort me sufficiently. Brows knit, he pushed down and went after Christine. Clearly he felt Mama could stop me crying if he couldn't. He led her over to me, climbed back up and conveyed that she was to kiss my cheek all better and hug and pat me. I embraced her gingerly in return, the big boy between us.
"I am only doing this for my son," she whispered in my ear. She drew away suddenly; I believe she tried to wipe a tear without my seeing. I obtained permission from Masson to don my mask. He rested content in my lap, exploring me and my clothing. He was completely unguarded and proprietary with me as he fell to comparing our hands.
"This is quite startling," I confessed. "I thought babies were wary of strangers."
"You're no stranger," Christine assured me. "He sees your picture all the time, and I've told him much about you. As you see, he's very inquisitive." Her pride shone.
"Was that wise?"
"He has a right to know about you," she declared.
Masson had lost interest in me for the moment. He slid down, landed like a log on my instep, and headed for the parlor door. He could just reach the knob if he stretched, but could not get a grip to open the door. He turned to me and said something. I could make out 'Papa' and 'Masson', I think.
"Papa cannot open the door for Masson," Christine interjected. "We must stay in here now. Would you like to read? Bring me your book, please." Funny; until then, I had not noticed the cache of baby toys in a basket near the sofa.
"NO!" The intensity of his refusal was astounding.
"Perhaps now you see why it is impossible for me to forget you?" Christine asked pointedly. She headed for Masson, and he darted off like a squirrel. I don't know what he was saying, but it sounded like baby blasphemy.
After a moment, Christine gasped, "Erik! Stop gawking like an idiot and get him!"
Well, I tackled him eventually; cracked my head and my knee. Then he shrieked his outrage and deafened me in the left ear. The way he threw himself around, I wondered how little bony Christine kept a handle on him.
Darius popped his head in to call us to dinner. Christine indicated I should put Masson down and he raced to the dining room, all drama forgotten.
"Aren't you concerned he'll stumble and crack his skull?" I worried.
"Yes; what do you suggest?" she quipped.