Erik the Pink

by Matthew J. Metzger

  “Everything okay?” Erik asked gently when he came back, and Andreas shrugged.

  “The usual. What we doing?”

  “I’m sunbathing with my book,” Lauren said promptly. “I got a new book on the history of meditation and—”

  “It’ll put you to sleep just like normal meditation?” Erik suggested.

  She thwacked him. Beatriz shrieked with laughter, and waved a pudgy hand as if to hit him, too.

  “Beach or pool, then,” Jo said decisively. “I want to swim. Don’t care where or how.”

  Erik frowned, biting his lip. He wanted to swim, too—he always wanted to swim—but that was then. If Andreas was struggling today, it wouldn’t be fair to leave him with the baby. But…

  “What’s that look for?” Andreas asked.

  Erik swallowed. “You, uh. I heard you this morning.”

  Andreas’ face clouded. “Oh.”

  “I just don’t want to leave you holding the baby all day if you’re having a rough one,” he said quickly. “But—is she really big enough to go in the water? I mean—”

  The clouds vanished. Andreas laughed.

  “Dios mío,” he muttered. “Lauren, pass up the baby bag?”

  The bag was hefted out from the pouch under Beatriz’ buggy, and dumped on a spare chair. Andreas rummaged around in it, then produced a bright yellow lifevest—in baby size.

  “Yes, she’s big enough,” he said. “They don’t make baby swimming costumes because they look cute, you know. She has a whole kit in here. Water nappy and everything.”

  Erik bit his lip uncertainly. He wanted to get her in the water, to teach her to be a water baby so all their future holidays could go nuts on the waves, but…

  But she was his baby girl. Everything could go wrong in the water.

  “You lot decide where we’re going,” Andreas said, pushing his chair back and hefting Beatriz out of her high chair. “I’ll get this little monster ready for swimming.”

  Erik stared as he deftly stripped her out of everything on his knees and began to redress her in a green swimming costume. She burbled happily to herself, used to being stuffed into her Babygros in a similar fashion, then began to clap happily when he zipped her into the yellow vest.

  “Best put her hat on,” Lauren opined, peering out of the restaurant windows. “That sun’s fierce.”

  “Good point. Damn, I’ve forgotten the lotion. Jo, have you got a bottle…”

  He had been so determined not to be a worrywart all holiday. Jo’s little scolding in the car on the way to the airport had got to him. He didn’t want to teach Beatriz to be afraid of things, he wanted to teach her to conquer the universe.

  It was just…really hard to keep that mind watching Andreas prepare the most precious thing in Erik’s world for a dangerous environment like water.

  “There we are,” he crooned, lifting her up above his head and beaming.

  She beamed back, waving all four limbs like a strange, fat little starfish.

  “All ready for the water. What do you think, Beatriz? Are we going to go to the beach, or the pool first?”

  She shoved most of her fist in her mouth.

  “I don’t understand knuckles in teeth, sweetie. Beach or pool?”

  “Oo,” she decided, stretching out her arms towards him.

  “Can Daddy carry you? I have to bring your bag. You know what Daddy’s like,” Andreas added in a conspiratorial whisper, and Erik rolled his eyes.

  “I’m not that bad,” he objected.

  Both Jo and Lauren snorted in unison.

  “I’m not!”

  Beatriz seemed to agree with her aunts. She fixed him with a beady stare, then wrenched her drool-covered hand out of her mouth again and held both out to him.

  “Uh!” she said.

  “I think her first word might be up,” Erik said, obediently taking her from Andreas.

  She grabbed his hair and pulled.

  “Ow! No, baby girl, we don’t pull.”

  She disagreed, and pulled again.

  “Whatever it is, it’ll happen soon,” Andreas agreed, zipping the bag shut. “Come on, then. Pool.”

  Erik frowned at Andreas’ back as he led the way. He could worry about Andreas, right? Worrying about Beatriz wasn’t allowed this week, but Andreas was still a valid target. And Andreas had always been a—well, not quite as strong as an exhibitionist, but the minute he’d had top surgery, holidays had been conducted in trunks and nothing else, as much as humanly possible. Since landing yesterday, the nearest he’d come to looking like he was on holiday at all was swapping jeans for board shorts this morning. And the sunglasses on top of his head.

  “You not swimming?” Erik asked as they headed out into the sun.

  “Don’t really fancy it.”

  “But you can swim in those, right?”

  “I guess. Why?” he asked as they reached the pool area, and he tossed the bag down on a free sunbed.

  “Beatriz might decide she wants you,” Erik lied. “You know what she’s like.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The tone said quite plainly that Andreas didn’t believe a word of it, but Erik didn’t really care. He smiled beatifically, laughed when Beatriz shoved Auntie Jo’s kisses away with a noisy refusal, and headed straight for the water.

  “Come on, then, little one. Let’s see if you’re a water baby like me.”

  He’d not learned to swim until he was nineteen, sick and tired of not being able to do all the cool stuff at the beach whenever he went to Europe with his mates. He loved water. Swimming, diving, sailing, jet-skiing, the works. Andreas was a good swimmer and could be persuaded to join in the fun sometimes, but he was equally happy if a holiday featured no more water than fitted in an Evian bottle. Ever since they’d found out their efforts had been successful, Erik had been hoping Beatriz would take after him when it came to water.

  He just had to be brave enough to teach her.

  “Okay, baby girl. Let’s do this!”

  He sat on the edge with her for a good few minutes. Jo joined them, sliding into the water with a couple of toys for her, gently splashing her legs as Erik held her in his lap on the side. She didn’t seem too sure about it, staring at the expanse of blue with her fist in her mouth and not making any of her usual happy, curious noises.

  But she wasn’t crying either, so…

  “Want to give Auntie Jo a cuddle?” he coaxed.

  “‘O,” she said, and—to his relief—stretched forward. Jo beamed and took her, but the moment she pushed back from the side and the water swallowed Beatriz up to her chest, there was a distinct shriek of anguish, and she twisted back to Erik.

  “No-no-no, I’m coming, too,” he soothed, sliding into the water and taking her back at once. She settled against his shoulder, and he bobbed up and down with her gently. “See? It’s just like a really big bath. You like bath time.”

  Slowly, she began to explore her new watery world. Erik felt a burn of pride as she firmly established that anybody but her father holding her in the pool was out of order, and screamed furiously when Jo tried to take her to let Erik go and get a drink. But once she was back in his hands, she seemed to rather like water. She refused to strike out in her little vest, but by lunchtime, would let Erik put her in the rubber ring Jo had blown up for her, and tow her around in that rather than carry her on his shoulder.

  “Hey.”

  “Ba!” Beatriz squealed, reaching up. “Uh! Uh!”

  “Hello, gorgeous,” Andreas said, squatting down by the edge and waving at her. “Lauren and I are wanting lunch.”

  Erik almost said, “Thank God,” but kept it behind his teeth.

  “Do you guys want to come with, or you sorting yourselves out?”

  “I’m coming,” Jo said. “I need a drink. And some earplugs.”

  “Uhhh,” Beatriz insisted, and stretched up for Andreas again. “Uh! Uh-uh-uh!”

  “First word is definitely going to be up,” Erik said, extracting her
from the ring and passing her up to Andreas. She cooed happily, chewing on the collar of his polo shirt as he cuddled her.

  “Hola, cariño,” he crooned gently. “¿Qué tal?”

  “Taaa,” she echoed softly.

  “¿Tienes hambre?”

  “Amby,” she mumbled, nuzzling her head under his cheek. She blinked at Erik, who grinned.

  “I think someone’s a bit sleepy, too, judging by the look I’m getting.”

  “Well, she looked pretty enthusiastic about the pool from where I was sitting,” Andreas said. He grunted as he stood up with her. “You coming?”

  “Yeah,” Erik said, heaving himself out of the water. It streamed off him in rivers, and he grinned at the obvious once-over that Andreas gave him. He’d never thought of himself as a sexy sort of bloke until the first time they’d gone on holiday together and Andreas had ‘accidentally’ put all his shirts into the safe in their hotel room and ‘forgotten’ the combination. But Andreas was into the fat and fuzzy look, and had bitched like mad when Erik had tried to go on a diet last year.

  “If I wanted Attitude magazine, I’d not have dumped my ex,” he’d said tartly. “You can lose five pounds. Any more, and I’m dumping you for your assistant manager.”

  Erik had lost three pounds, then risked no more. And what with the new baby, he’d probably put them back on by now. But the look said Andreas was very happy with the result, and Erik stuck out his chest smugly. Get him. Best-looking boyfriend in the complex, and a beautiful baby girl. Find him an Attitude model with that.

  He dried himself leisurely at Andreas’ sunbed, watching said boyfriend pace the poolside with their daughter. By the time he was dry enough to not be kicked out of anywhere serving food and had thrown a T-shirt over his furry chest, Beatriz was fast asleep.

  “Um.” Erik cleared his throat, and kicked the corner of Lauren’s sunbed. “Do you—er. Do you two mind going and finding somewhere and we’ll catch up?”

  Lauren raised her eyebrows knowingly. “With or without the baby?”

  “Without.”

  “Oh!” The smirk vanished. “Okay. Sure. You know the road to the beach? Jo wants to try the cafe right at the end of that.”

  “Cool.”

  “Everything alright?”

  He nodded, squeezing her arm reassuringly as they gathered their things, then scooted over to sit on the edge of her lounger and watch Andreas walk with Beatriz. She was getting so big. And looking more and more like them every single day. Her nose and mouth were so clearly Erik’s now, and her skin—although dark like Andreas’—had started to show an outcrop of freckles already from splashing about in the water. A perfect blend of the two of them. The dark curls ringing her face under her little green hat were one hundred percent Andreas’—but as her father bent his head to kiss the top of hers, Erik adjusted his thoughts.

  The pair of them were one hundred percent his.

  “You okay?” Andreas asked as he slowed and paused next to the buggy, still bouncing her lightly. She shifted, but didn’t wake up.

  “Yeah,” Erik said. “Just wanted a minute to watch and appreciate.”

  Andreas smiled, propping his cheek on the top of her head.

  “Yeah, I might have taken a few minutes to do the same while you were trying to persuade her into the ring.”

  “She’s perfect.”

  “Mhmm.”

  “You’re perfect.”

  “Now that’s stretching it—”

  “Nah,” Erik said. “You think you can put her down yet?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “She’s still got a death grip. I’m happy to walk with her down the road, though.”

  “Sure?” Erik said, even as he started to pack up the buggy.

  “Mm. She’ll wake up screaming for a feed within the hour, not much point in setting her down.”

  “So,” Erik said as he gathered their things. “I did want a quick word, actually. Away from the girls.”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  “It’s not.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to change my name.”

  “What?” Andreas said, staring. He stopped moving entirely for a moment, and the sun-creamed bundle on his shoulder began to whimper. He hastily started to bounce in place once more, but didn’t stop staring. “What do you want to do that for?”

  “Because—because you’re Mão de Ferro. She’s Mão de Ferro. And I’m not.”

  “What does that matter?”

  “I want us all to match.”

  “No offence,” Andreas said, “but you can’t even pronounce Mão de Ferro.”

  “That’s kind of what I wanted to ask.”

  “What, language lessons?”

  Erik snorted. “No. If—if you’d mind changing yours.”

  Andreas cocked his head.

  “That depends what you pick,” he said gently. “I’m not changing it to Smith, or something as ridiculous as Lerouge.”

  “But I found an acceptable name, you would?”

  Andreas brushed the front of his trainer against Erik’s bare toes with a faint smile. To anyone else, it must have looked like two men talking over a sleeping baby’s head. Two friends. Nothing more.

  But Erik saw the soft look in his eyes, and knew better.

  “You know I would,” Andreas said gently. “If it meant that much to you, I’d let you take mine. If it was really agitating you, I’d even change mine. So if you want to find a whole new one, for our family? You go ahead.”

  “But no Smiths?”

  “No Smiths.”

  Chapter 17

  The holiday was perfect.

  The sound of Spanish all around him, the heat of the sun beating down upon his skin, the feeling of warmth sinking in bone-deep not just from the weather, but from Erik’s growing confidence and glee in hefting Beatriz around, and the soft tinges of Spanish pronunciations beginning to seep into her baby-babble.

  There was a word coming any day now, and Andreas couldn’t wait.

  With four people to look after the baby, it was relaxing, too. He knew it wouldn’t last—the more kids they had, the more demanding it would get, and on the holidays that Mike managed to come on, he and Jo didn’t get involved in babysitting much—but for that week in the sun, Andreas was enjoying every minute of it.

  Especially on the fourth day, when Beatriz discovered the beach.

  She was a very touch-oriented child. She wasn’t interested in cartoons or the aquarium, because she couldn’t touch. But she’d been fascinated by a guide dog belonging to another English guest, and the pool water was her new favourite thing now she’d figured out that she couldn’t sink in her yellow vest.

  So on the fourth day, Andreas voted for the beach, unloaded the baby bag and her toys onto a sun lounger, and plonked her right down onto a shaded patch of sand.

  She blinked.

  “There you go,” he said in Spanish. “Sand!”

  She prodded it doubtfully.

  “Me and Jo are going to test out this board,” Erik said, clapping a hand on his arse and kissing him without giving a damn if he passed or not. Oh, for being that big. Andreas rolled his eyes. “You and Lauren alright with the little one?”

  “I’ll give you an hour, then we’re going to sunbathe and you’ll need to watch her.”

  “Deal.”

  Andreas watched Erik bounce off down towards the waves with Jo, then sat on the edge of the lounger closest to Beatriz and got out her bucket and spade.

  “You want to build a sandcastle, baby?” he asked in Spanish, and she peered up at him curiously. “This is a beach.”

  “Baba!” she said loudly.

  “Daddy’s in the sea.”

  “Baba!”

  He gave up on turning baba into papá. She was obstinately refusing to get that one right. “In the sea,” Andreas repeated insistently. “Can you say sea?”

  He wanted her first word to be Spanish. Mostly just to wind Erik up, but it would be a perfect end to a perfect first fam
ily holiday.

  So he satisfied himself with repeating beach and sea over and over again, hoping that her grasp of the ‘a’ sound and the simple Spanish words would lend themselves to a first word moment. He suspected she wasn’t saying Daddy yet because she’d not once made an ‘e’ sound, and ‘p’ was apparently the devil and should never be used judging by her refusal to finish the word ‘up’ despite plainly understanding it.

  Lauren said she was probably too young, but Andreas could remember all of his younger siblings learning their first words at this age. They hadn’t talked until well after their first birthdays, but one or two words had been mastered at the nine month stage. Ana had even managed her first word—typically for Ana, it had been the word no—at seven months. And he was hoping that Beatriz might follow in the Ironhand footsteps.

  So it was the one thing he’d paid attention to from Erik’s parenting books and baby apps. How to encourage a child to talk early. He’d sung to her before she’d even been born, taken great care to talk to her all the time, and he knew he was to blame for her distress if there was silence. She screamed the place down if there was absolute silence, but Andreas would take the trade off in exchange for one little word—any word—in the next few days.

  Andreas knew full well the irony of his desire to have children. If he’d been a girl, he would have been perfectly happy never leaving home until it was time to get married. He would have been blissfully content with the path his family had laid out for him and all their other girls. He liked cooking, he didn’t mind cleaning, he enjoyed being at home with Beatriz while Erik worked. Marriage and a whole tribe of children? He would have been so perfectly happy. Married a nice Spanish boy, had half a dozen kids roaming around the village he grew up in, and never known—or cared—any different. He would have been happy.

  If only he’d been a girl.

  But ultimately he’d found happy anyway. The night he’d left, he’d given up hope of having it all, or even a tiny slice of it. But here he was, building a sloppy sandcastle with his daughter while his boyfriend tried—he looked up, squinting—and failed to master surfing off the busy Valencian coast.

  “Baba!”

  Andreas jumped. “You want to go see Daddy?” he asked, sticking to his mother tongue.