Unconventional

The Seventh Month

"Raoul wants to take me away for a while. Just a few weeks, back to the shore where we honeymooned, before the winter sets in. He thinks it will do me and the baby well."

"The hell he does! Christine, if you think I'm going to let you disappear from me for weeks in your delicate condition then you're sadly mistaken. I will not have you and my child in a place where I can't protect you."

"Protect me? From what, Erik? My husband? Because he is still my husband, and you have no right to tell me what to do."

"When you're carrying my child I do."

"It's my body, and my child also. I will do as I please!" I was met with silence as he turned away from me and stalked towards the piano. "This stress isn't good for the baby, I'm leaving." He let me go, but of course I heard his turmoil and anguish through the chords he beat out on his piano. Even though I knew Erik would react in such a manner, I was still shocked with the possessiveness he showed. It reminded me of those early days when Raoul had returned to my life and Erik was still my Angel of Music. Naively, some small part of me was clinging to the hope that he might for once agree with Raoul and put our baby's wellbeing first. But no, he still wanted control.

Later that night I went to her home. I was filled with remorse and hoped to make amends before she left for the shore. I prayed my temper hadn't caused her damage.

She was sitting at her dressing table lovingly caressing our unborn child. She jumped when she caught sight of me behind her in the mirror.

"I had to check you were alright," I apologised.

"Erik, come here, the baby's kicking! I'd felt flutters, but this is much more!" She grasped my hand and laid it to the swell of her stomach. "You can press harder than that!" Again, she took my hand and pressed her own against it until I felt the definite and rhythmic beats of a small foot kicking from inside.

"Oh, Christine..." I knelt at her feet. The kicking continued with more fervour than before.

"She likes the sound of your voice," Christine smiled.

"She?"

"Well, of course I don't know, not for certain, but I picture a girl. Do you hear that?" she spoke to her bump, "that's your father."

Suddenly all the emotion I'd been holding on to, confiding only in Nadim poured forth in tears that rolled down my cheeks and landed on our hands, still entwined over our child.

"I'm sorry, Christine, I thought teaching this child when they were older would be enough, but it's not, it's just not. How can I continue to live my pitiful life in the dark, knowing that my child — my daughter — doesn't even know that I exist. Bring her to visit me, please. I'll make it safe for her in my home. I will miss everything if she's only here, and I want to be around for everything. Please Christine, don't keep my daughter from me, I love her."

Christine gently tilted my head up to meet her gaze. "She will know you from the beginning, I promise." She leant forward and lightly pressed her lips to mine. It was a chaste kiss, not romantic, but a vow sealed.

Two and a half weeks later Raoul and I returned from our trip. The sea air had done us all good and I'd enjoyed the time spent with him. But I missed Erik. This window of time had taught me that to be apart from him would only cause my heart to hurt. Goodness knows, he probably felt the same way.

Erik appeared on my balcony again that night and I rushed to him, eagerly wrapping my arms about him. "I've missed you," I said into his coat.

"Tu m'as manqué aussi, ma petite," he whispered back.

There was a noise outside my bedroom door and Erik immediately moved to the shadows.

"It's alright," I whispered to him, pulling him back to me and sitting us both on the bed. "Raoul took a room down the hall as since last month I've needed more space and sleep."

"Well, that was considerate of him."

"He does treat me well, Erik."

"Because he loves you—" Erik was interrupted by a bundle of fur leaping in through the window and up onto the bed. "Oh! Who's this wonderful creature?" He asked, stroking her as she nuzzled into his hand, claiming him as her own.

"This is Luna, she was a gift from Raoul during my melancholia."

"Well, she's beautiful."