Pete's POV
The drive home from the hospital was silent. Jaime had more or less retreated into himself. He wasn't speaking, responding, or really, seemingly, aware I'd tried to get his attention. Meagan held my hand as we drove and had suggested I give Jaime space. We didn't know for sure his cancer was back already. It was just a number on a blood test that even the doctor had said might have been an anomaly, but that he needed to be prudent and make sure we were prepared for the worst case.
The worst case, in this case, would probably mean I was going to lose my son. I don't know if he's got the strength to start all over.
Meagan was also stunned into silence. Just the other day, my son had basically asked her to be his mother. He'd asked to call her 'Mom' and she'd been so touched and honoured. And now we were facing the very real prospect that our family of six was going to become a family of five again. I couldn't face that.
As soon as we got home, Jaime went straight up to his room and closed his door. Meagan went into the laundry room with his bloodstained shirt. She wanted to soak it and try to get as much of the blood out before trying to wash it. It was just a plain white T-shirt, but I guess she felt she wanted to do that.
I went into the kitchen and stood at the island going over some mail that had come in. I wasn't really concentrating, just flipping through the envelopes.
"That's your third time through that pile of mail," Meagan said, coming up to me and putting her head on my shoulder. "I'm pretty sure the senders and receivers haven't changed."
"What? Oh," I said, looking at the envelopes in my hand. "I wasn't even paying attention. I think my hands just wanted to be busy."
Meagan wrapped her arms around me and leaned on my back.
"What are we gonna tell the kids?" She muttered into my back.
I sighed.
"Nothing. Let's wait for the test results. Dr. Jensen said he would have them tonight."
I felt Meagan nod. Then she pulled in a shuddering breath. I turned around and saw tears flowing down her cheeks. I pulled her into a hug.
"I can't lose him, Pete. I can't. He asked me if he can call me 'mom'. He wants to be my son. He wants me to be his mom. And he's been my son since, pretty much, he came to live here."
"I know," I said. "I know."
It was all I could say.
"What are you going to do about the game tonight?"
"I'm going to try to convince him to go. He needs a distraction. And the doctor will call my cell."
Meagan sighed.
"I'm glad the kids are at Ashlee's," Meagan said. "I couldn't have handled them asking about Jaime right now."
I nodded, not quite trusting my voice.
I held Meagan for a bit and then broke our embrace.
"I'm going to go downstairs for a little bit," I said.
"Aren't you going to talk to Jaime?" She asked.
"Yes. But right now, I need to go downstairs and make some noise."
She nodded and I went downstairs. I picked up one of my bass guitars, one I hadn't packed for tour, and started playing. I just played whatever as loud and hard as I could.
I don't know how much time passed, but I felt a little more clear-headed and went upstairs. Meagan was still in the kitchen. Or back in the kitchen. She was eating some fruit and smiled sadly at me as I came upstairs.
"I'm gonna go talk to Jaime," I said as I headed towards the stairs. She nodded.
I went slowly, not sure what to say to my son. Not sure what frame of mind he'd be in. Not sure that he'd even want to talk to me.
"Jaime?" I knocked on his door. He didn't answer. That worried me.
I opened his door and saw him lying on his bed, hands behind his head. And his earphones firmly in his ears. He sat up when he saw me come in and pulled his earphones off.
"Sorry. I didn't hear you knock," Jaime said. I nodded.
"Guess not," I said, sitting down on his bed. "So, about tonight."
"I don't want to go," Jaime said.
"I was thinking we should still go. The doctor didn't say it's back. He said it's possible the test was an anomaly. So I was thinking the game would be a good distraction. Like when you had your imaging before the beach. You wanted to pretend you hadn't just had an MRI and wanted to forget for the day. Let's do that. Let's go to the game. The doctor is going to call my cell phone anyway and I'd rather not be sitting around the house waiting for that call. If it's bad news, we'll leave. If it's good news, we can celebrate at the game."
Jaime wouldn't look at me.
"What do you think?" I asked. He shrugged.
"I guess," he said.
"Okay. I was thinking we could leave around four, grab a bite to eat and head to the arena?"
"Sure," Jaime said. "I guess."
I sighed.
"Jaime, talk to me," I said.
Jaime looked down and shook his head. Then he raised his head and looked right at me.
"I don't think I can handle starting chemo from scratch again. I can't do this again," he said, tears flowing from his eyes.
I wrapped my son in a hug. Jaime cried. He didn't wail or scream, but he held tightly onto me and he cried hard. I just let him. I held him and let him cry. I couldn't make this better. But I could distract him for a short time. The basketball game would work for a while.