Five days later, June 1st, 9:01am, the hotel:
"Papa, I'm four today!"
"I know, darling. You're getting to be such a big girl now!"
Martin struggled to comprehend how four years since the day he gave birth to Esme, his youngest and last child, had passed, seemingly in an instant. He could still vividly remember the slight bittersweetness he felt throughout his pregnancy with her, though he and Alan knew that two children were all they wished to have. Witnessing his children grow up was both a liberating and daunting feeling and he wanted to make every moment with them worthwhile. He stood daydreaming whilst Esme danced around the room in her dress.
"How old is Daddy today, Papa?" She asked, sitting herself down on her parents' bed.
"I'm not sure Daddy would want me to tell you that." Her father tickled her before beginning to finish fixing her hair.
In the bathroom, Alan looked at his reflection in the mirror and brushed his teeth. Suddenly, he felt a dull yet sharp pain in his abdomen. Dropping his toothbrush, he let out a grunt and wrapped one arm around himself, waiting for it to subside. It wasn't enough to truly get to him, but it did take him by surprise.
"That's annoying." He muttered to himself, straightening his torso again when the pain lessened.
He continued getting ready and soon left the bathroom to see his family.
"I see the birthday girl's all ready." His daughter came running over to him to be picked up.
When he did so, he felt as though his abdominal muscles had been stabbed, forcing a pained sound out of him.
"Careful, Mae." Martin quickly walked over to to his husband and daughter, filled with concern. "Are you alright, love?"
"I feel a bit sore around here." Alan didn't know what else to respond with, showing Martin where he felt the pain the most. "Probably just fatigue. Nothing to worry about."
"Not on your birthday," His husband seemed almost shameful. "Well, we are parents, bound to get fatigued from time to time. Can I get you a painkiller or anything before we go?"
"You don't need to, love. I'm alright. Anyways, where's Poppi?"
"In the lobby with Dave. They're getting something for the pair of you."
"Oh?"
"What is it, Papa?!" Esme bounced herself within Alan's arms.
"You'll find out later." He winked at both of them. "But for now we really ought to be getting to the beach. I reckon there'll be some traffic en route."
"Good idea." His husband chuckled, placing Esme back down. "I'm guessing I'm driving?"
"Actually, Fletch offered to be at the wheel since it's your birthday. But if you still wanted to-"
"No, no! I don't have a problem with that."
Smirking at each other, they began gathering their necessities to leave.
~~~~~
Two hours later, 11:29am, the car:
The sunshine peeked through the tinted windows and formed shadows across the road. With every blunt turn and movement the car made, the pain Alan felt took hold of him time after time. He squirmed in his seat and adjusted his seatbelt as an attempt to distract his mind from what was happening to him. He knew he couldn't allow it to affect he and his daughter's day.
"Are we nearly there?" Poppi asked, flustered by impatience.
"Very nearly, Pops. If you look closely, you can see the sea from here!" Martin replied, pointing above the rear view mirror.
Both she and her sister gasped as they saw the tip of the body of water over the treetops.
"How cool is that, girls?" Alan interjected to distract himself further.
"Really cool!" The elder girl answered.
Their journey continued further down the road, and as it did, the two children began to feel restless.
"Papa, my tummy's rumbling." Esme complained, suddenly cranky and tired.
"Mine too, Mae. Good thing we're almost there, aren't we, Fletch?" Martin replied and tapped the back of Andy's seat as he asked.
"Yep, only got this roundabout and we'll be there." Andy smiled through the rear view mirror.
But Martin couldn't help but notice the dread on Alan's face when Andy mentioned the roundabout.
"Hey, you doing okay, love?" He tapped his shoulder and Alan turned to look at him. "Still fatigued?"
"Yeah, a little, but I'll be okay."
"Sure? Remember, we're staying in the beach house overnight and you could always go and have a rest when we get there."
"No, no, I'm alright. I think I'll feel much better once I'm out in the open." Alan assured him.
"Okay, if you're sure." He pecked his husband on the cheek before settling back into his seat beside his two daughters.
Alan hated lying. He knew he wasn't a liar. He just hadn't told the truth.
~~~~~~~
Four hours later, 3:52pm, the beach:
An issueless day it had been, for the children had played in the ocean, collected crabs and built sandcastles with their parents and uncles for hours. The sun and their moods remained sky high as long as the afternoon lived.
Alan was so immersed in he and his daughter's celebrations that he had forgotten about the pain, so much so that he began to believe it would not return. However, as he stood beneath the gazebo drying his hair, he felt what he had dreaded, returning much stronger than hours before.
"Ugh," He lied his towel onto the table and hunched over, his hand pressed into his abdomen. "Uughh."
Martin was passing Poppi and Esme their cups of lemonade when he noticed Alan's state from the distance across from them. His face immediately dropped and drained of its colour.
"One second, girls." He got up from the table they sat at and jogged over to his husband.
"Alan, love, are you okay? What's the matter?" He gently shook Alan's arm.
"N-No." Alan muttered. "I feel- I feel terrible."
"Okay, let's get you sat down for a minute."
As Martin tried to help Alan stand up straight again, he yelled and his legs began to buckle beneath him. Taken aback, Martin panickingly dragged a deckchair close to them and helped Alan into it.
"Please, please tell me what's wrong, Alan."
But Alan couldn't respond, for he foamed at his mouth and tears streamed down his cheeks. He began to feel delirious with pain and he cried out uncontrollably.
"Oh my gosh." Martin could hear only Alan's screams and his own heartbeat as it pounded with fear, looking around in search of help. "Right, you wait there. I'll be right back." He regretfully left his husband's side for a moment and sprinted up to the beach house, where he knew someone would have to be.
He pulled the glass door open and continued running indoors, his chest hurting as he did. Soon enough, he saw Andy sitting in the lounge.
"Fletch, Fletch," He speedwalked to the sofa, prominent panic in his voice.
"Yeah, yeah, Mart, what's up?" Andy shuffled to the cusp of his seat and took hold of Martin's hand as to bring him comfort.
"I need you to call a doctor; Alan's not well." His bandmate whimpered in distress. "I've never seen him like this. Not once. He never gets sick!"
Not bothering to question Martin any further, Andy nodded and got up to find a telephone. "We'll get one here as soon as possible."
"Please hurry." He wiped tears from his eyes as he began running to the beach house's exit.
~~~~~~
Three hours later, 7:00pm, the waiting room:
Martin had cried for what felt like eternity, sitting in the waiting room. His eyes were bright red and puffy, his head hurt and his stomach was in tightening knots. He was prohibited from seeing Alan as the doctors and nurses carried out their assessments and examinations on him, and with every coming second he grew more and more anxious.
"Martin Wilder?" At last, he heard a nurse say as she entered the room.
"That's me, hi." He sniffled, grabbing another tissue from the tissue box.
"Hi there." The nurse shook his hand before she crouched down in front of him. "I'm Kathryn. I've just come from our geriatric assessment unit where we've been treating your husband, Alan Wilder?"
"That's correct."
"I can see that you're very upset and I'm terribly sorry that you haven't been able to see him yet. We have him on pain relief and IV fluids and he's stable currently. But from his blood and urine samples and internal scan it's looking like he has a kidney stone."
"Okay, right," Martin nodded, trying to process what he was hearing. "That shouldn't be much trouble, though, right? I mean, please correct me if it's needed, but I'd assume that he'd be sent home on pain relief meds and he'd pass it on his own?"
"You're not incorrect; that's always an option." Kathryn began. "However, due to the stone's size, we do not believe it would be safe for Alan to pass it on his own. Our surgical team are assessing him as we speak and they're going to determine how exactly to go about it, but the most likely outcome will be that Alan will require a surgery to remove it."
Martin gulped, for Alan had never, in his thirty-four years, been in need of an operation. His head spun at merely the thought.
"And- And when would this surgery take place?"
"Tonight, for definite. The stone needs to be ridden of quickly."
He could only sigh, more tears falling.
"I'll just go and check for any updates from our surgeons; you'll be allowed to see him after that. Can I get you anything before I go? A glass of water, or?" Kathryn passed him a new tissue box.
"I'm alright, thank you."
"Alright. I shall be back in a few." She got up and walked out of the waiting room's exit, leaving Martin alone once more.
Minutes passed; he watched the clock. The sun had not yet disappeared but the sky glowed orange and pink through the blinds. More than any emotion, Martin felt guilt rising inside of him.
"It's not fair on him." He whispered, angling his head downwards and continuing to cry; it felt as though it would never stop.
~~~~~~~
The next day, June 2nd, 2:03pm, the hospital:
Alan hadn't woken up yet, but Martin didn't want to disturb him. Instead, he took a seat in the chair beside his hospital bed and carefully took hold of his husband's hand. Alan's surgery of the previous evening had been successful and now it only remained to recover. Martin knew what it meant. He would have to become used to caring for their daughters on his own until Alan was well enough to return to his usual routines.
Moments later, Alan began to make small grunting sounds as he at last awoke from his sleep, and Martin waited for him to open his eyes.
"Good morning," He said to him with a soft, encouraging tone. "Well, I should say good afternoon; it's about two o'clock now."
"Mmmm," Alan's eyes were open only slightly. "Martin?"
"Yes, Alan? I'm right here, my love."
Drawing closer and closer to awareness, Alan could feel that Martin was holding his hand.
"Are you okay?"
"Of course I am." His husband kissed his cheek. "Other than being worried about you. How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
"I gathered that. But that kidney stone that was up to trouble is gone now and we just have to focus on getting you better."
"I didn't-" He stuttered. "I didn't want my own and more importantly Mae's birthday to go like that. She must- must be so upset."
"She isn't, babe. She understood that her Daddy's poorly and needed some doctors to help him. And, tell you what, before we left for the hospital, she said to me "Well, we had fun today, didn't we?""
"We did. It was brilliant." Alan reflected on the yesterday. "And- And I know Mae and I had this- this joint present you were going to give to us; I ruined all of that."
Martin got up again to raise Alan's bed. He kissed him on the head as he did so.
"Nothing's been ruined, my love. That present is still waiting for you back at the hotel."
"Ma- Mae can open it on her own, I don't mind. She deserves it."
"Too bad, she's sworn she's not lying a finger onto it until you're both able to open it together." His partner smirked and giggled. "All any of us care about right now is that you're safe and okay."
"I love- love you, Mart..."
"And I love you." They kissed once more on the lips.