As much as it hurt, I made an effort to visit Tristan with Leilani every day that week. Leilani kept insisting to me that the presence of loved ones was often what made victims of head trauma wake up; but each time we visited, Tristan seemed as small and vulnerable as ever. He didn't move, he didn't change, he hardly breathed.
It made me wonder, with a terrible sinking feeling: if we couldn't wake him up, who could? And the longer he stayed comatose, the less likely it seemed that he would ever wake up. That thought scared me more than anything.
Together, we made our way up to the familiar white corridor and through the familiar door. The same nurse that had greeted us several days before was working again, and she glanced up and nodded at us as we entered, before turning back to her work.
Just being in the room made me sad. All those sick babies—and one of them was ours.
Tristan was, of course, lying in his bed by the window, exactly as we had last seen him: on his back, his arms and legs slightly outstretched, his eyes closed, a tangle of tubes emerging from the glass case that confined him.
Leilani and I sat down on either side of him and, tenderly, she placed her hand on his small arm and began stroking the skin there. She was murmuring under her breath, too low for me to hear the words.
"Sometimes it helps when you talk to them," she said, looking up at me.
I nodded, not meeting her gaze. Slowly, my hand snaked out to rest in his soft hair. "Hi," I said softly, and my voice sounded too loud in the quiet room and the words got caught in my throat. I cleared it and tried again.
"Hi, Tristan. It's me, it's your dad. I'm home..."
He didn't stir, and because I didn't know what to say I found myself talking about various adventures the band had while on tour: How we had missed our turn and drove for two hours in the wrong direction, how Josh had fallen over the barrier into the arms of the rabid fans; the pranks Brett pulled on all of us to keep us loose and the nights we stayed out until three and woke up at seven and did it all again the next day.
At last I ran out of things to talk about and my voice trailed off. Tristan hadn't stirred. My eyes met Leilani's, and wordlessly we both got to our feet. From her bag Leilani pulled a small teddy bear, and placed it in the corner of Tristan's bed. He couldn't see it and didn't even know it was there, but maybe it would give him some comfort anyway.
"You really love them, don't you?" Leilani asked gently as we made our way out of the building. "The other members of your band, I mean."
I just nodded mutely. I hadn't told Leilani about the tension that had sprung up between the boys and me recently; I didn't really understand it myself. All I knew what that I didn't have the strength to worry about their problems as well as my own.
We made our way across the parking lot towards our black van. Next to it was standing a lanky figure that I would recognize anywhere, and I halted in my tracks.
Leilani looked at me curiously, and after a moment I resumed walking, my heart pounding in my chest. What the hell was Ian doing here?
"Mike!" he called out as he saw us approach. I raised my hand and gave him a half-hearted wave.
"What are you doing here?" We came to a stop in front of him.
"I was just walking by, and saw your car in the lot." This seemed rather unlikely, as there was nothing to distinguish my car from those around us, but I was too anxious to challenge him. Suddenly Ian's face turned serious. "The better question is what are you doing here?"
"Our—our niece," I said, scrambling for an excuse. "She—she has—leukemia. We thought it would be nice to pay her a visit." It was probably the worst lie I had ever told, and I struggled to push down the guilt that was rising within me, to stop it from showing on my face.
I saw Leilani shoot me a sharp glance, but I ignored her. I would tell her the whole story later, but for now I just hoped she would play along. At the moment, I was focused on Ian and his reaction. I was a terrible liar under the best of conditions and Ian knew this, but something seemed to be preoccupying him, and he didn't notice my stuttering. His face fell into lines of pity and sympathy.
"Aw man, that's terrible. Is she gonna be okay?"
"We—we don't know." I thought of my son, and how we didn't know if he would be okay either, and the tears that pricked my eyes were very real. "We'll have to wait and see."
"I'm sorry." Ian looked at both of us. "Where's Tristan?"
"We—we left him with the neighbours. He seems too—young to see something like this. And there're all sorts of—diseases floating around a hospital..."
Ian nodded, buying my flimsy excuse without batting an eye. "If you come back to visit again, do you mind if I tag along? I'd like to talk to her in person, the poor kid."
My heart sank. Most certainly Ian couldn't accompany us on a visit to a phantom person. But that was something I could lie about later; for the moment I just shot him a weak smile. "Sure." Another thought hit me. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be visiting family?"
"My mom's got the flu," Ian said quickly. "She thinks it would be best if we all visited at another time."
I nodded. "Well..." I said awkwardly. All I really wanted was to get out of there, and quickly; I was terrified Ian would realize something else was up. "We—we should really get home and—and pick up Tristan. He doesn't like to be away from us for too long."
"I should probably get going, too. I have things to do." Ian gave Leilani a sad smile and waved shortly before turning and walking away.
For almost ten minutes, we were completely silent. "Why'd you lie to him?" Leilani asked at last.
I hesitated before answering. "Because I don't want them to have to deal with my problems, too." It was the simplest answer, and I used to believe it was the only one, but now I realized there were others.
Because I saw that look of pity in Ian's eyes, and I didn't want that pity turned on me. Because they could be sympathetic, but they'd never understand, because they didn't have what I did. Because somehow, speaking bad news only made it worse. Because I wanted to be strong enough to get through this on my own.
"You know, you don't have to handle everything on your own," Leilani said, as if she had read my thoughts. "You should tell them; they'd want to know. You know they'd be nothing but supportive." There was a brief silence as she waited for me to reply. When I didn't, she continued, "Have you at least told Jani?"
"No." Immediately, I felt guilty; Jani had been my best friend for years and we had long ago promised to be there for each other, through everything, no matter what. Even if I couldn't bring myself to tell my bandmates, I should tell him. "I'll call him later."
"Why don't you invite him over for dinner? I think you two probably have some catching up to do."
"Yeah. Yeah, I think I'll do that."
Leilani smiled over at me and I smiled back, a real genuine smile. Just knowing there was someone I could confide in, someone who wouldn't feel pity but would support me staunchly through it all, made me feel as if a giant weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
And maybe, after I told Jani, I could get around to telling everyone else. Leilani was right; they deserved to know.
