So Anci was duly settled in a position with a doctor and his young family. Christine and I spent a week in uneasy détente, Raoul circling at a barely respectful distance and glaring daggers at me. Masson accepted me as if I'd always been there, and in a matter of days I had a chubby blonde shadow.
I built a peg box for Masson's birthday. Square, round and triangular pegs and a big mallet to pound them with. I never saw a little boy that didn't like to pound things, and my chubby cub was no exception. Our ears suffered for it, and I was not the most popular fellow among the adults, even though it endeared me to my son.
I gave Christine a bouquet; she didn't understand.
"What is this?"
"Who deserves a gift today more than you?"
"Erik," she blushed, raising the flowers to her nose happily. "But I have my gift!" She laughed and pirouetted like a child. "Look." She looked over at her fat baby, banging and singing merrily.
I couldn't speak. Seeing Christine carefree and girlish again, knowing I was the one who'd taken her joy away. How could I make it up to her?
"Bbbbtttthhhhllll, bbbbtttthhhhllll."
"Darius happened to see Anci the other day," Reza sipped his coffee.
"Oh, really. Mm, thank you." Masson was sharing his hot cereal with me.
"Bbbbtttthhhhllll."
"Erik, what is that he's doing?"
"We must blow on the cereal or it's too hot, Reza. Don't you know anything?"
"HOT sirril! Bbbbtttthhhhllll!"
"Oh; silly me. Yes; she says she is settling nicely and everyone is very kind."
"Excellent; let's hope that sordid chapter is closed. Yes, but what about another bite for Masson? One more?"
"Bbbbtttthhhhllll."
"It's easy to see why she was so fond of you; you're marvelous with children."
"I am a man of many talents, indeed." I took a napkin to Masson's hands. He was reluctant to release the spoon.
"I daresay you could have been a governess," Reza mused.
"Yes, but when I saw the uniform I was done in. The skirt is simply not flattering for a big fellow like me."
"You fop," he laughed aloud at his own feeble attempt at humor.
"Daroga, I believe you are the funniest man you know. Well, young man, I'd say we've done quite enough damage. Darius? Here, thank you." I handed over the bowl. Masson was performing a percussion solo. "Do you suppose he'll play tympani, Reza?"
"He is fond of banging, isn't he?"
"But he has a wicked pair of lungs; perhaps a tenor." I attempted to unglue my fingers. "Now Papa is fit for a bath."
"NO baff!"
"No, no bath for Masson, bath for Papa; look at messy Papa."
"NO baff!"
"Yes, I hear you, Son. It's the strangest thing, Reza: he shrieks like he's being beaten when he has to have a bath, but once he's there with his twenty five pounds of toys, you can't get him out. The child turns blue and wrinkly," I marveled.
"He looks like you, then."
"I suppose I walked into that one."
Masson had been still long enough. Something caught his eye in the back garden; he hit the floor and was off. My heart resumed its new usual place: in my throat. He was not stairs-proficient when he was in a hurry. Fortunately, the coffee had an effect, and I was equal to the challenge.
We had to take a walk. Never mind that he was in his nightshirt and I looked like an unmade bed.
"Masson, let's go inside and get shoes. Mama wants you to have shoes, and clothes for that matter. Come, we'll come right back out—"
I would almost swear that he feinted in my direction to throw me off guard before he did the fat baby escape. I caught him quickly enough, but he'd been headed in the general direction of the street.
"Son, we don't go in the street; we could be hurt."
"Ow."
"That's right; big ow. And that would make Mama very unhappy."
He said something about Mama. I was still at about ten percent comprehension. Christine's skill at understanding him was amazing.
The day was shaping up poorly. My mask was plastered with oatmeal goo and Christine was in the kitchen when we got inside.
"Erik—" she rescued her naked baby from my errant arms.
"We were just coming in for shoes and clothing. He took it upon himself to go out. We've already had breakfast," I added, hoping there would be a slight indulgence which accrued to that.
"So I see," she was smirking, but had the good grace not to laugh in my face.
When I reappeared ready for our walk, Christine asked, "Do you mind if I join you? "
"I hope I never mind escorting a beautiful woman along the streets of Paris," I purred, holding the door for her and Masson.
"Behave yourself, you shameless flatterer!" Reza called after us.
Christine smiled. "He is so happy to have you back." She let Masson down to run and took my arm. It thrilled me.
"I'm glad; but I'd prefer that you were happy to have me back," I confessed.
"I like having you back, too."
"I wasn't fishing."
"I know you weren't; I do like having you back. I like hearing your voice, and seeing you—" Christine blushed and stopped herself.
"Pray go on," I smiled. "I'm soaking this up. Masson," I called, extending my hand. He was rather far afield. He raced back and slammed into us; nearly knocking adults off their feet is great fun. "You might have called him Goliath," I suggested, lifting him like a sack of sand. Masson chuckled; Christine even giggled. I loved to hear her laugh.
"You have some color in your cheeks," I noted. "And your appetite seems good."
She nodded agreement. "I'm feeling well."
"Perhaps we'll fatten up this little piglet yet, hm?" I teased. She giggled again, like a little girl.
Suddenly, her eyes lost their glimmer. What had I said wrong?
"What you see here, whatever figure I have," she shook her head, embarrassed. "It's just…the baby."
"Excuse me for saying so, Christine, but I remember…how lovely you look."
Again she shook her head, denying what she heard. "Still, no matter what I eat, I'll never—" she clapped her lips shut, as if she had said too much.
"What is it? You'll never what?" I was hobbling along like a crippled soldier. The baby was standing on my foot and clinging to my leg. His pride at discovering this new mode of transportation was obvious.
"I'll never be as lovely as Anci." She blushed again, bright scarlet.
"Christine, please tell me you're not worried about Anci."
"I would do anything to have a body like hers."
"You are more beautiful to me right now than she ever was." The passion in my voice startled me.
"No." She turned away.
"Yes, Christine. Yes! Always."
She began walking again, and I could see by the way she held her shoulders that she'd finished with that topic of conversation.
"Would you like to see the Opera?" she asked.
"I would love to see it; is it under roof already?"
Suddenly she withered. "No, perhaps we shouldn't."
"Christine, what is it? Are you ill?"
"So many memories," she worried. Masson frowned, sensing maternal distress, and demanded to be picked up. She bounced and patted him over her shoulder, as if he was the fretful one.
"If it distresses you, we needn't go. Let's walk the other way, come."
"It doesn't distress me; I just…can't go there with you. I'm not ready to be swept away yet," she confessed. Masson wriggled and she set him down.
"Christine, I'm not laughing at you, but how swept away could we be on the street--with a baby?"
"I guess you've forgotten," she murmured.
"I've not forgotten anything," I growled. I slipped my hand around her waist and pulled her tight against me. She gasped and placed her hand against my chest. It was a lightning bolt of a different sort, from her fingers into my heart. My lips engulfed Christine's; it was intoxicating to feel her surrender to me, but I honored my promise and released her even as I felt her melting. She blinked, confused and breathless, but relieved. "I haven't forgotten," I repeated. I kissed her again, but gently.
In the next instant I felt a wicked thump on my leg.
"PAPA NO!" Two more genuinely painful thumps. "NO MAMA!" Masson grabbed two great handfuls of Christine's skirt and threw all his weight into trying to drag her away from me. He glared at us with clenched fists and a furiously furrowed brow. His lip jutted forward in a colossal pout. It might have been comical, but he was deadly serious. He dashed at me, pushing and shoving. "GO! NO MAMA!"
"Masson, stop!" Christine cried, scooping him into her arms. "It's alright. Mama's here; Papa's here."
"Papa go. Bad Papa." He clutched her breast protectively.
"No, Masson. Don't say that!"
I could see that his reaction distressed her, but I didn't think any good would come of her scolding him for his jealousy. I understood perfectly: he liked me fine, but she was his Mama.
"Christine, let him be. It's natural he should want you all to himself."
"Erik, he's just like you with Raoul! I don't want him to be like this!" Christine appeared well on her way to hysteria. I searched my addled brain for any and all platitudes.
"It's temporary. Perhaps he senses your ambivalence. I shouldn't have done it anyway," I shrugged.
"It's alright. You've been a gentleman."
The little lion seemed to be pacified. He rested against Christine's breast and sucked on his fingers as she stroked his curls. He looked ready to fall asleep; I suppose the trauma of Mama being kissed exhausted him emotionally.