Meagan and I sat in the cafeteria going over the pamphlets together. Each one made everything sound worse and worse. Infections, immune suppression, hair loss, nausea, vomiting, weight loss, seizures, coma. Death. Not only was it the possible side effects of some of the treatments, it was also the progression of the disease without treatment.
"I don't know what is worse," I said to Meagan. "The treatment or the disease."
Meagan pursed her lips as she looked at another printout.
"Code Yellow, Code Yellow, Code Yellow! Fifth Floor Code Yellow!" came over the intercom. Meagan and I looked around to see what it might mean. The cafeteria was dropping the gate. I went to the security guard who was dropping the gate and asked him what a Code Yellow meant.
"Missing patient. Fifth floor? Some kid who doesn't want their tonsils out or something."
Meagan and I looked at each other. He wouldn't.
"You have to let us out!"
"No can do. Not until the all clear."
Meagan and I went back to our table and nibbled on the muffin, worrying about Jaime.
Less than an hour later, the guard rolled the gate back up. Meagan and I ran toward the elevators. Just as we got to the elevator bank the intercom came on again.
"Mr. Peter Clarke, to Room 5N314, Mr. Peter Clarke to Room 5N314."
Jaime's room. We'd told the hospital to call me by Jaime's last name if they ever needed to page me for any reason.
I found the stairs and ran up the five flights. I didn't even notice if Meagan followed. I ran down the hall and heard shouting and yelling. I turned the corner and there was Jaime, being held by two very large security guards. He looked up, saw me, and then dropped his head. His shoulders started shaking, and I went up to him. The security guards looked on sympathetically as I hugged my son. He wrapped his arms around me and wept into my shoulder. I didn't shush him, I didn't speak. I didn't make him listen to platitudes. I let him cry as I rubbed his back. After a while, his sobs slowed down.
"Alright," I said. "I got you. I'm right here. I got you."
He let me lead him into his room and help him get into bed. He curled up on his side and looked at me.
"I'm so scared," he said. "I wanted to run away and just... I don't know."
"I know you're scared, Jaime. I'm scared too. I'm scared of how hard these treatments might be on you. I'm scared about how sick you could get. And I'm scared..." I swallowed hard and looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm scared I'm going to lose you before I even get to know you."
"Me too," Jaime said. "It's not fair. Why me? Why is this happening now?"
"I don't know, Jaime. And no, it's not fair. But promise me, promise me you're going to fight like hell. Because even if you lose, we'll still know you fought your damned hardest."
Jaime nodded at me.
"I'm gonna fight. I'm gonna fight harder than Mom did," he said. "And I meant Mom, not Meagan."
He smirked at me. I smiled back. Maybe he'd be okay. Maybe he'd take this in stride, too. But if he didn't we'd be right there.
Meagan put her hand on my shoulder. I hadn't heard her come in. But that's okay. Because my focus had been where it should have been. On my son.
"Jaime, we're here for you. You aren't going to be alone through any of this. I promise," she said to him. He smiled at her.
Clearly exhausted from trying to run and the emotional turmoil, Jaime fell asleep. Meagan smiled down on him and smoothed a stray lock of hair off his face.
She turned to me with tears in her eyes.
"We can't lose him, Pete," she said. And in that moment, Jaime became her son, too.
I'd never doubted she cared about Jaime. From the day he came to live with us. Actually, from the day I got Tanya's letter, Meagan was all in. Ready to take on an angry, scared 15-year-old, and show him he is still loved.
Now she sat holding his hand, fussing over his blankets, making sure he was warm enough, that his I.V. wasn't tangling, checking he didn't feel feverish.
She'd accepted Bronx and Saint as part of the package when we'd started dating. Then we had Marvel and I fell even deeper in love with her as I watched her introduce the boys to their baby sister.
And then the letter from Tanya came and Meagan could have walked. Meagan could have resented Jaime for her own reasons. She could have, like Ashlee, worried how a 15-year-old she knew nothing about, would be with our younger kids. I know she worried initially about Marvel and Jaime. Especially when he was so angry all the time. But she had let things play out naturally. And they did.
Marvel adored Jaime. Jaime clearly adored her. And his relationship with Bronx and Saint was growing stronger. Bronx was 13. He looked up to Jaime as his cool older brother. Saint joked Jaime was cooler than Bronx. My four kids. Four! Got along so well.
"I'm glad we did London," I said quietly to Meagan.
"Hmm?" She said, looking away from Jaime. "Sorry. What?"
"I was just saying, I'm glad we went to London when we did. At least I could give him that before all this," I said.
"Pete, we're going to have lots of time to do things like that with him. He's going to beat this."
I wanted her to be right. But Tanya's death weighed on my mind. Jaime accused her of giving up. Had she? Would Jaime? Would it be too hard for him?
I looked at Jaime's sleeping face. I got a glimpse of who he'd been as a small boy. And as much as I rued the fact that Tanya had kept him from me and I hadn't seen him growing up, I was thankful for the time I'd had with him now. And prayed we did in fact have a future together.
But first, he had to kick cancer's ass. And I was going to do what I could to help him.