After Christine dropped off to sleep, I went down to the parlor. Reza regarded me just as blankly as Christine had.
"What, do you hate me now, too?" I rasped.
He winced at the sound of my voice. "None of us hates you, my friend."
I poured a brandy and flopped on the sofa. "How long was I lying up there?"
"Three days, not long."
"I suppose I should thank you," I confessed.
"Don't; I know you would have preferred that I let you go. I was thinking of Christine and the children. Someone must, you see." He smiled in his kind, gentle way; so at odds with the words he spoke.
"I thought you said you didn't hate me," I accused.
"I don't hate you, but I am fed up with you at long last," he half chuckled.
My face felt hot, smarting as if it had been slapped. "Christine told me to clean out my room for Masson. She says the piano can come downstairs."
"Yes, we've discussed it," he nodded.
"She told me to take my coffin back to my lair."
It seemed I waited forever for Reza to answer me. "Daroga! Say something!" I squeaked when I tried to shout.
"What do you want me to say? Shall I reassure you that she loves you, that surely she'll forgive you AGAIN? That everything will be fine? How many times, Erik?" he demanded.
"Daroga—"
"No, don't cry to me about how frightened you are, how sorry you are, how confused and pathetic you are. If you're that much of a mess—which I no longer dispute—then you had a responsibility to leave that girl alone." His finger stabbed at the ceiling in the direction of the room I shared--or, should I say, used to share--with Christine. "She has nothing, Erik. She gave up her reputation to be with you—everything, she gave up everything. And you, who claim to love her so desperately…time and again you abandon her!"
I hung my head. After all these years, my old friend was berating me, making me cry. "I wasn't trying to abandon her, Reza. It was the pain, I just wanted to make the pain stop!"
"And it's alright for you to end your pain at the expense of Christine and your children? What of the unbelievable pain your death would have inflicted on them? Even now, that dear woman blames herself for being unable to erase all your suffering. Erik…don't you even want to be a man for her sake?"
"How?" I wailed. "How shall I be a man?"
Reza leapt up and snatched me to my feet. He shook me so hard I had to clutch my throat. I gasped and choked; pleading for him to stop.
"You stop running, Erik! You plaster yourself to her side and let her lean on you for a change! You swallow your doubts and fears! What, do you think no other man feels afraid? You think that you have to be a disfigured madman to feel unworthy? Everyone feels unworthy! We do the right thing anyway!" He groaned with rage and threw me back onto the sofa. "Get away from me, Erik. You know how I hate feeling angry."
I went to the kitchen, feeling lost. Silke was puttering around; she asked if she could get something for Christine, so I went up to see if she was awake. Masson was curled up asleep with his Mama. My son, my wife…priceless evidence of my ultimate failure.
I crawled over to Christine's bible on the bedside table. I drew it onto my lap with trembling hands. Was there any peace inside those pages for me?
'When I was a child, I spake as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child: now that I am become a man, I have put away childish things.'
'Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.'
The delicate, well-thumbed pages smelled of Christine's perfume. I laid my head upon the book and closed my eyes. I didn't want to cry anymore, it made my throat hurt.
I was awakened by thumping feet. "Potty! Potty!" Masson dashed out of the room. I sat up and returned Christine's bible to the table. Christine was stirring.
"Ooooh. Erik?"
I caught her hand. "Right here, Love."
She stretched and shook her head at the sound of my voice. "Don't speak. It hurts to speak, doesn't it?"
I indicated that it did, a bit.
"Mama! I did it! Come see!" Masson was beaming. In his excitement to deliver the news, he'd left his pants behind.
"Show Papa, darling," she smiled weakly. She was not well; I wanted to get back to her quickly. I congratulated Masson on his achievement, helped him dress and wash his hands, and gave him a chocolate prize.
When I returned to Christine, she was flailing like a turtle on its back, trying to get out of bed. I helped her up. It felt marvelous to hold her, even if it was just to haul her from the bed.
"Erik, will you please help me get into a bed gown?" I grabbed the first gown I touched in the drawer.
"No, not that one; an older one, so I won't mind it being ruined. Is the pink one in there?"
Ruined gown? Ruined gown? What the devil does that mean, I wondered. Was she--? It must have shown in my eyes: confusion, panic. Christine chuckled and rubbed her belly.
"Yes, I think the baby's coming. Here." She took my hand and placed it on her belly. "Wait a minute. You'll feel my whole tummy get hard."
While we waited, Christine ran down her list of what I was to do. "Please tell Silke I'll need her and Reza to look after Masson." She saw me register surprise."Oh, no; I'll need you here, to hold my hand," she smiled. It was almost the smile of my old Christine. Suddenly, I saw her eyes darken slightly, her face tighten. "Here, feel that?"
It was true; her entire belly got hard. Oh, god.
"Does it hurt?" I worried.
"Not yet," she patted my hand reassuringly. "Come; help me get out of my clothes. Did you clear out your room yet?"
"N-not yet…" I confessed haltingly, slipping her dress from her shoulders. She whacked my arm; it stung horribly.
"Erik! You only have a few hours! Get that room cleared out, now!"
I began to race off.
"Wait, you ninny! Help me get undressed—then clear the room out!"
"What about the midwife?" I offered, utterly adrift as to the right thing to do.
"No need to send word to her yet. I'm sure it won't be anytime soon."
Once Christine was comfortable in her gown, she waddled off to the bathroom. I shadowed her, wringing my hands.
"Erik, don't worry. I'm fine; go clean out the Big Boy room," she laughed at my discomfort as I dashed off.
I ran into the coffin room—the Big Boy room—whatever. What to do? I'd forgotten my instructions. Tell Silke something…I stumbled downstairs. I threw myself into the parlor. No one there. I raced back to the kitchen. Good, everyone was there: Darius, Silke, Reza, Masson.
"Baby. Baby," I gasped. I turned and scrambled back upstairs.