I am not dead; as least I hope I am not dead, because I'm in unbelievable pain. Perhaps I am dead; leave it to the Almighty to do it to me again. Now I'm dead, can't You find another ugly bastard to abuse?

Violin. Alright, I feel sleepy; perhaps this is the good part of being dead coming up.

I awaken; still violin, still pain. I open my eyes…not dead, damn it all. How much more of a failure can a man be than when he can't even kill himself?

My beautiful baby sits beside me, playing Concerto in D. The stupid cat is probably the weight I feel by my feet. Oh, god, my head.

"Papa?" Masson has noticed I'm awake after a fashion. "MAMA!"

"What?" Christine's voice and rustling; she's here. I try to turn my head to see her…no. My neck. I groan but no sound emerges.

"Ssshhh, keep still; don't speak." Christine is here, soothing my brow. She does not know what I've attempted; she believes it was an accident. I know this because her eyes show the same love and tenderness as ever.

"Don't cry, my Angel; I'm here." It hurts to cry, hurts to draw a breath.

"What is it?" Reza's voice. "I heard—well, there he is." Reza smiles at me. He squeezes my hand and departs, moved.

It hurts too much to stay awake.

Christine tries to get me to take broth, or wine; anything. It hurts too much to swallow. If I was a dog she'd let me die. I wish I could speak.

I close my eyes again and hear her arguing with Reza. He wants her to lie down, rest somewhere else and let him watch over me. She won't leave me. Why won't she give up on me?

Christine is crying. Reza is telling her how wonderful she's been for me, all the remarkable changes she's wrought.

"No one can mend all his wounds, Christine. Erik must find a way to love himself, too. It's not enough that we love him."

My son sleeps with me, plays for me, sings to me. He asks his mother when my neck will be better, when will I get out of bed and take him to the park again. She says soon.

This morning, I felt slightly better when I awoke. I still could not speak. Christine and I had a pen/paper and voice argument.

"COFFEE"

"Erik, if it hurts to swallow, it would be so much better for you to tak a bit of broth instead of coffee."

"COFFEE"

"Please, just a little bit, for me?"

"COFFEE"

"Fine."

Christine met Reza in the hallway.

"How is he this morning?"

"Impossible."

"He must be feeling better then, my dear. Take heart."

"PAAPAA! PA-PA, PA-PA, PA-PA!" Masson thundered in and began bouncing on the bed.

"Can you talk?"

I shook my head and wondered if my neck would ever stop hurting.

"Can we go to the park today?"

I tried to say "I don't know, I'll try."

Christine returned with a cup and ordered Masson off the bed and downstairs for breakfast.

I took a sip. Broth.

"WHAT HAPPENED?"

Christine read my scribbling and sighed.

"Reza knew something was troubling you...it was obvious when you and Masson returned from your walk. So, he sat up late in case you came down to talk with him. Finally, he decided you weren't coming. Luckily, he was headed for bed just as you made your way downstairs and out the door. He followed you. You see? Another second or two, and you would have made a success of it."

I could not read her tight little smile.

"He brought you home and saw to you; he said he knew you wouldn't want a doctor. At first, he told me you'd had a fall. He didn't want to upset me anymore that I already was."

She buried her face in her hands. She looked so tired and discouraged.

"What is it, Erik? I understand that you're suffering somehow. But did you even bother to think of Masson, fatherless? Me, with another child here inside me? It's Budapest all over again!"

I shook my head fiercely despite the pain. No, it wasn't like that at all.

"I'M AFRAID YOU'LL HATE ME IF THE CHILD IS UGLY."

"So you were going to leave me to deal with it all alone? BASTARD!" She thumped me hard in the chest.

"CHRISTINE. I'M SORRY. AS USUAL, I DID NOT THINK. MY MIND RAN AWAY WITH ME. I LOVE YOU."

Christine crumpled the note up.

"But you did think, Erik. You thought of yourself."

I had no answer for that.

"I don't really want to discuss this now. I'm going to have my baby any day. Make yourself useful; take Masson for a walk."

It was a relatively quiet walk. I could manage a painful rasp when I tried to speak, but I could not bear to walk silently with my chatterbox. He stayed close and would not let go of my hand, except to feed the ducks.

"Papa, did you fall?"

I nodded.

"Why?"

"It was an accident, Son. I told you the opera is a dangerous place."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"How did your voice get hurt?"

"I don't remember, Masson," I confessed.

"When will it be better?"

"I don't know."

"We should be quiet so you can save it up. I'll tell you a story." We walked through the park and he made animal noises for me. Children are all forgiveness.

We circled past the candy store. I am not sure how long I was in bed, but Masson assured me he needed coins, and probably Mama needed marrons glaces and flowers. I brought a rose home for her as well.

"MAMA! LOOK! CANDY FLOWERS!" Christine received the box from Masson with a genuine smile.

"Oh, what a wonderful treat, Masson; thank you!" Beaming, he raced upstairs, on to the next item on his agenda. Christine straightened slowly and painfully. I moved to offer her my arm, which she accepted with a nod. She rejected the proffered rose.

"Save it, Erik. Help me get upstairs."

Masson was playing violin next door. I settled Christine on the bed and kissed her forehead.

"Stop it," she whispered, irritated. "I need you to get your junk out of that room and set up Masson's big-boy bed. I have spoken to Reza; your piano will have to go into the library."

"My coffin?" I rasped.

"Take it back to your lair," she ordered flatly. She grimaced and tried to fuss with her pillows. "Help me!"

I struggled to remain calm as I rearranged the pillows for her. Is she sending me away?

"Do you want anything, Christine?"

She nodded, clutching her belly. "Rub my feet?"

I watched the tension drain from her body as I massaged my little ballerina's feet. As useless as I felt, I was grateful to be able to do something, no matter how insignificant.

"Erik, I may doze awhile," she sighed.

"Of course, Angel."

"Don't go far," she advised.