It all started September 7th. My son, Joshua, wasn't feeling that well in the morning, but being his first day in Joseph Lister High School, I dismissed it as a bad case of nerves and sent him off. Well, actually, I asked my oldest son, Ryan, to take him, but that's beside the point. The point is that I knew he wasn't feeling his best, that his stomach was bothering him, and I made him go to school anyway. I'd forever blame myself for it. Anyway, last week he'd had a concussion playing soccer, so he'd been taken ibuprofen and I thought maybe the slight nausea was from that, and the pain in his side was probably due to muscle soreness.
I sent him off with the usual "be good" and "study hard" requests, hoping for a much needed day of rest. After all, spending a summer with a couple teenagers, a five-year-old and a three-year-old isn't what you could call "restful".
Ryan was sixteen and thought he had suddenly become an adult. He was part of a basketball team which was doing well thanks to him, and this made him feel like the king of the world: great and important. That was probably mostly the reason that the tall guy was so moody in the first place. However, even if he is blond, he's got a good head on his shoulders. He's pretty smart. And I can count on him to take good care of little Jamie and Michael, so he's pretty responsible too. Still, he got these weird mood swings all the time which made him an unpredictable person to live with. In terms of looks, he was kind of tall (5" 9), had blond hair cut short, and gray eyes. He was more on the thin side, probably because he liked sports so much and was always on the run. Ryan was not one to sit still.
My second son, Joshua, couldn't have been much more different, in terms of personality. He was fourteen and half years old. He was the most peaceful of all four, his passion being, like mine, music. He had grown up listening to the great classics of music, which included the Beatles, Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra and could sing very nicely, however what he enjoyed the most was playing the piano. If you put him in front of one, you could pretty much expect not to see much of him for the next few hours. He was a very good player, having done so since he was only five years old. You could count on him to be the sweet guy and was the most empathetic of all four of my children, actually stopping to think before he did things, and was not at all selfish. That was what I liked most of him. There was so much of me in him, and yet he was so much unlike me. He was also blond, but his hair was a lighter shade than Ryan's, and shaggy looking. It covered most of his forehead. He was not as tall as Ryan, 5" 5', but also he was thinner, particularly over the summer of '05 he grew thinner, almost too thin in my opinion. His eyes, a piercing blue, were beautiful. They had a twinkle in them as if he was always about to laugh out loud, which was probably his most handsome feature.
My only daughter, Jamie, was five. Beginning first grade, she liked to show off about her knowledge by correcting everything and everyone around her. Like her brothers, she was smart, and could already read. She was very curious about everything and cheerful. Like Josh, she wanted to learn music, and I could already tell she had an excellent voice, it just needed training. I had signed her up for singing, hoping that she would like it as much as I used to. She could be rather bossy, though, and whinny whenever she was in a bad mood, which was, fortunately, seldom. She hated the Beatles and liked Hilary Duff and Kelly Clarkson, which, in a way, was lucky for me, as I could arrange for her to meet Hilary Duff, but the Beatles? Tough. She was a red head, and her soft white skin was sprinkled with cute little freckles. She was short, which would be expected for a five-year-old, and was on the chubby side, but she was still young enough that it looked cute. Her eyes were gray also, like her mother, Julia.
My youngest son was Michael. Michael was a quiet little guy, forever shy and bashful, but irresistibly adorable. I know I'm his father, but what can I say? It's true. He was short and blond, with blue eyes like Joshua's, though lacking that edge that was uncomfortable to some people, that sharpness that seemed to bother people and make them feel like they were being x-rayed. What he liked most was art. The refrigerator was covered with all kinds of finger paintings and marker drawings, and the kitchen counter was always full of his clay-projects and play-doh. The other children, too stuck in their own things, didn't really mind this. But I thought that, in the amateurish style of the art of a three-year-old, I could see talent peeking out, thought of course, I'm biased. In some ways, he was a lot like Joshua. He was just as curious and sweet, and a beautiful personality was hidden behind that shy, irristible smile, that made you want to pick him up and give him a hug.
Between these four kids, there was enough to make a set of parents crazy! Subtract the mother and you get what I always think of as "the nut house", which would be our mansion.
In other words, step into our lives. Welcome to the Carters.

"Dad?" I heard a familiar voice on the phone. It was 11:00 A.M. on September 7th, Joshua's first day in High School.
"Josh, that you? Shouldn't you be at school?" I wondered out loud.
"Yeah, I am, but..." That's when I remembered that Joshua hadn't been feeling all that well. Had something happened? Was he suddenly feeling worse?
"Are you feeling worse, honey?" I asked, pretending that I'd remembered the problem all along.
"Yeah, it hurts so much." He moaned. I could tell by his voice that he was about to cry.
"Don't cry, Josh. You want me to pick you up?"
"Yeah..."
"Is it still your side?"
"Yeah..."
It seemed to be all he could say.
"And I'm getting a headache, too." he added.
"Okay, well, you get your stuff and I'll be there as fast as I can, okay?" I told Joshua, partly trying to reassure him, partly trying to calm myself down. I wasn't going to be able to pick him up if I was so worked up about stuff.
I took a glass of cool water, hoping that would help me calm down.
"Michael?" I asked after a gulp. Supposedly he was taking his mid-morning nap, but knowing him he might be using his markers for one of his new creations.
"Daddy?" he said, stepping out of his colorful room.
"Hey, Mikey, we're going to go to Joshua's school, okay?"
"The big school?" his eyes widened.
"Yup!" I said, picking him up easily and setting him on my shoulders. Michael giggled with delight. "We'll both have a little water and then we leave, okay?"
I filled a plastic cup of water for him. "I want the blue one!" he whinned.
I got the blue cup and poured the water from the orange cup into it. "Here you go, Artist."
Mikey giggled again and, in the process, spilled most of the water on my shirt.
I finished off my own water and set Mikey down. "Go put your shoes on, think you can do that?"
"Of course I can!" Mikey pouted.
"Okay, just making sure, honey. Go on." I smiled at him and watched as he went to get his shoes, then went to my own room to get myself a dry shirt.
"Let's go." I said a moment later.

* * *

"Hey, Daddy, you took forever." Josh moaned. He looked pale as a ghost, and was holding his arms around his stomach.
"Sorry, Josh, Mikey was having a bit of trouble with his shoes." I explained.
"I was not!"
"Are you feeling badly enough to go to the doctor, son?" I asked with concern. Josh was not looking well at all, and I saw now that this was no simple case of nerves.
Josh nodded shortly.
I started the car and directed my way to the Louis Pasteur Pediatric Hospital, where I had only been once before, with Ryan when he'd had a case of bronchitis and had needed to stay for a couple days.

Anyone who's had this happen to them can tell you. As they say, the Day that it all began always seems to be frozen in time, minute to minute, detail to detail, second to agonizing second.

I got to the hospital in record time, surprisingly without any speeding tickets.
Mikey seemed to sense my mood and was quiet, but maybe the big hospital made him feel small and vulnerable. Being shy as he is, it wouldn't have surprised me if it had been that. That would have been a typically "Michaelish" attitude.
"Hello." I said breathlessly to the receptionist.
"Hello." she smiled at Michael, who shyly looked away. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but it's an emergency, can you find a pediatrician?"
She seemed a bit taken back. "Well, I'll do my best." she answered, picking up one of the three phones.
"Hi, Dr. Harrisson. Are you busy? Oh, really? Can you take a boy right now? Yeah, his father says it's an emergency... Oh, good, I'll send them right up."
I felt slightly relieved that a doctor had been found so fast, at least something was going well.
"Dr. Harrisson can take you. He's in the second floor, Office 13. Do you need someone to take you there?"
"No, I'm sure we can find it." I assured the receptionist. "Thank you so much."
We took the elevator upstairs. I was busy trying to stop Michael from bothering the tall man with the little girl, but agreeably, Michael was feeling too shy to do that.
The Office 13 was not hard to find, and I knocked on the door, putting my arm around Josh's shoulder, who was looking paler by the second, but maybe that was just me. I could overreact pretty easily.
"Good morning." I said.
I took a look at the man. He looked like he was in his mid-fifties with a mostly bald head and what little hair he had around the sides was gray. He had wrinkles on his face from laughing, and was just a little shorter than Josh.
I felt a lot more relieved when I took a look at the amount of diplomas crowding the soft yellow walls.
I sat on one of the two chairs in front of his desk, with Mike on my lap, and Josh took the other one.
"Good morning." the doctor said. "I'm Dr. Benjamin Harrisson."
"I'm Mr. Carter, this is Michael and this is Joshua."
"What seems to be the problem today, Mr. Carter?" Dr. Harrisson asked.
"Joshua here's in quite a bit of pain."
"Where's the pain, Joshua?"
"In my right side." he said, pointing to the exact area.
"Okay, come over here, Joshua."
Josh laid down on the bed with the paper on it, and the doctor started feeling his stomach.
"His spleen seems a little enlarged." he said after a few moments. "On the scale of one to ten, Joshua, how much is the pain?" he turned to Josh.
Joshua thought for only a moment before he answered: "Nine."
"Do you think it's something really serious, Dr. Harrisson?" I asked, feeling really worried. After all, Joshua's pretty stoic about pain.
"I'm not sure, Mr. Carter, I'll have to do a few more tests."
"But he's going to be okay, isn't he?" I asked, mostly wanted to be reassured that this was nothing.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

We were there for a good two hours, waiting while Josh had a couple tests done.
"I'm hungry!" Michael said. That was when I came out of the trance that I'd been in, and realized it was nearly two o'clock.
I was reluctant to leave the waiting room, like something would happen if I wasn't there, or I wouldn't find out what was so wrong with Josh, and I headed to the cafeteria, where I bought a couple sandwiches, a water bottle and an orange juice, and returned as fast as I could to the waiting room.
Michael enjoyed his juice and sandwich, I think, but then he was just three, not really old enough to understand what was happening.
I ate my sandwich like a robot, not really tasting it, and now even if I think really hard I can't remember what type of sandwich it was.
"I'm bored!" Michael announced, and I tiredly told him he could turn on the TV set.
I didn't bother to watch along with him, instead, my eyes were fixed on the doorway, hoping that someone would appear there in just a moment to explain to me just what was going on, anything! The wait was killing me.
'Ring, ring...' It was my cell phone. I took it feeling a little cross, but then I realized that whoever it was didn't have any idea what was happening, so it wasn't really his fault.
I took a look at the caller ID, but I didn't recognize the number.
"Hello?" I said cautiously. Who could it be?
"Hello, Mr. Carter, it's Mrs. Gardner from the Elementary School."
Uh-oh. Why did this sound to me like it wasn't good?
"It seems like you forgot that, being the first day, class was only until one o' clock.
"Oh, my, Mrs. Gardner, I'm so sorry. I'm having some problems with another of my sons and somehow that just flew right out of my mind...."
"Jamie is kind of upset, would you please talk to her for a minute?"
"Of course." I said.
"Daddy?" She'd been crying. "Did you forget about me?"
"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't forget, okay? There's just a problem with Josh."
"Did he get lost?"
"No."
"Is he sick?"
"Yes, very sick, honey. I'll go get you as soon as I can, okay?"
"Yeah."
"In the meantime, do me a favour and cheer up, okay?" I said, trying to sound calm and even. "I don't want to see sad Jamie, who's been crying, when I get there, all right? I want to see happy Jamie, who's just had her first day in the big kids' school."
"Okay, daddy."
"See you later, sweetie.
"Bye, daddy."
I hung up. I felt so bad about forgetting about Jamie, and I would feel so bad if I left Josh here by himself. I felt torn between my two children, and didn't really know what to do.
"Michael, we're going to go get Jamie, okay?"
"Yeah." Michael said while staring at the TV.
I talked to one of the nurses, who assured me that she would tell Josh we would be right back, and that it was all right to go, then we left again.
So much for a restful day.

I was back with Jamie and Mike in just over fifteen minutes, but I was still pretty restless to get back. I cared about all my children, of course, but at that moment, Joshua was the priority.
Thankfully, it wasn't long before Dr. Harrisson was in the waiting room, looking tired, but apart from that, his face showed no emotion at all, which I didn't know whether to take as a good sign or a bad sign.
"Hello, Mr. Carter."
We shook hands.
"Did you find anything?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Carter, but at the moment neither the blood test nor the X-ray indicate to any problem at all. Nothing showed up on the X-ray, and the blood counts are within normal ranges. I think the worst thing it might be is a slightly collapsed lung, which is quite common in tall, thin boys, like Joshua."
"A collapsed lung?"
It seemed bad, but not as bad as it could have been, so I was more relieved than anything.
"Just slightly, and that's not even for sure. In any case, I'll send him home and you can come back if it gets worse later."
"All right." I agreed, but I still felt uneasy. Two little kids, a sick teenager and another moody teenager seemed like an explosive combination, surely it was not going to be a very calm night.

* * *

It wasn't.
I spent the whole night up, first making pizza, then trying to make Josh feel more comfortable, then telling Jamie and Mike a story, and then I was with Josh for the remainder of the night.
"It's getting worse, Dad..." Josh moaned. "I think I'm dying..."
"You're not dying, Josh, gosh no, you're not dying..." I said, feverish with exhaustion and wanting to make us both feel better. Having a sick son is heart wrenching, and worse if your wife isn't alive to help you through it. I was never that good at dealing with it, and Julia was. Julia was the best mother. And I, one of the worst fathers. Okay, maybe not so bad, since all four kids are still alive and relatively intact, but I missed Julia so much. Somehow, I felt that if she'd been here Josh would already be all right, and all the kids would be under control.
"I guess we'll go back to L.P.P.H." I said.
I went to Ryan's room. I shook him gently.
"Whaaa..." he sleepily said. Then he sat up in bed. "What's the matter?"
"Josh is feeling worse, I'm going to take him back to L.P.P.H., okay? I need you to be responsible for the kids. I'll call you if I get news, all right?"
"Yeahhh..." he yawned. "That's all?"
"Basically. I'll be back soon." I hurriedly replied, while stepping into my shoes again, which had been carelessly tossed next to the couch in the living room. I grabbed my keys and hurried out to the car, where Josh was waiting for me. Before turning the car on, I felt his forehead. He was burning up with fever.
The X-ray may have showed nothing and the blood test neither, but this was no joke, I had to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Josh's very life depended on it.
To hell with "normal ranges".

It was five hours later, at seven a.m., after another X-ray, another blood test, and an MRI, plus one false diagnosis (a pulmonary embolism), when I was finally told just what the problem was, what it was that was causing such a terrible pain (according to Joshua, it was now a 10 in the scale of 1 to 10).
"It's a lymphoma. It's some kind of mass in his chest that's bothering him." said Dr. Fernandez, with a face that didn't express much emotion. I really preferred Dr. Harrisson, who was much nicer to both of us and seemed older and ten times more experienced, if you judge by the number of diplomas on the walls.
How could he say such a thing so calmly? I may not have gotten such good grades at school but I happened to know that lymphomas were a type of cancer, and not harmless, either.
And I know that doctors face saying similar information every single day, but I bet they feel bad for the patients, too. It occurred to me that Dr. Fernandez was maybe putting a face or maybe his strong point wasn't telling the families, but I would have felt a little better if the doctor had been a little sympathetic.
"You'll have to go to the 5th floor, Oncology, where they'll do several other tests and then they'll tell you what to do next, all right?" Dr. Fernandez said, ignoring Josh as I suspected he'd been doing for a few hours and not at all sympathetic to him, who was staring at him with an open mouth, or me, who was trying to grasp the information but not really succeeding at it.
We took the elevator upstairs, with Josh crying uncontrollably and I trying to comfort him but not really succeeding, as I had entered some kind of trance and I was kind of trying to deny it, myself. I mean, how do you just accept that your son has cancer? It can't be done.
That was the way that the longest day of my life began, and it slowly unfolded that the lymphoma was not the only concern.
By the end of the day, we were told that not only did Josh have a lymphoma, but also acute lymphocytic leukemia (ALL), a fairly common type of leukemia in children.
At first I was worried that Josh wasn't going to be able to go to school, nor to soccer practice, perhaps not even to piano lessons. But as the diagnosis sunk in, I started to understand that there was a lot more in stake than a simple soccer game, that Josh would have to fight harder than he ever had on the soccer field, and that a much larger team was involved, a team that included family, doctors, nurses, the school, and many, many friends...

I wish the confusion had just ended there, but no. Life's more complicated than that.
The first person I thought to call was Brian. Having been my friend for so many years, and being such a caring person, I thought it was a pretty adequate choice for the first person to know.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hey, Brian." I said, doing my best to sound a little happy, though that's difficult if you're sitting on a recliner watching your tired son sleep on a hospital bed with an IV going into him. I didn't want to scare Brian directly.
Of course, it didn't work.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Are you feeling badly about Julia again, Nick?"
"I wish it was just that, Frick." I answered.
"No? Then what's wrong? Something with your kids?" He knows about these things, on account of his seventeen-year-old kid, Baylee, and his thirteen-year-old daughter, Christina Anne.
"Yeah." I tiredly answered. "Josh's really sick."
"What do you mean? Since when? Have you been to the doctor?"
"Well, he'd been feeling badly for a week or so, and on Wednesday, well, yesterday, he called me to pick him up at school. His side was hurting so badly-"
"Does he have appendicitis?" Brian interrupted.
"No. So then I asked him if he felt bad enough to go to the doctor, and he said he did."
"You did, didn't you? I mean, take him to the doctor."
"Yeah, of course." I told Brian. Sometimes I think he's sure I'm totally clueless on parenting, but that wouldn't be so surprising since when Ryan was born, I WAS clueless.
"So what did he say?" Brian asked.
"If you would stop interrupting, maybe you'd find out!" I exclaimed crossly.
"Dad?" I heard. It was Josh.
"Now I just woke my son up, thanks a lot!" I shouted into the phone, then turned to Josh. "I'm sorry, honey, go back to sleep."
Josh closed his eyes obediently.
"I'm sorry, Brian, I'm just... I feel so..."
"I understand."
"So, as I was saying, the doctor did a couple tests and said it all seemed fine and it was probably just a collapsed lung, and that we should return home and come back if it got worse, which it did, so at two o'clock we were back at the hospital, and as it turns out, Josh has a small lymphoma in his lung, which is what was bothering him-" This time I wasn't interrupted, but saying it made it seem more real. "-and he has leukemia."
"Leukemia?" Brian said, sounding very sorry. "Oh, my, Nick, you must be feeling so bad..."
"No, actually, I'm feeling pretty much numb now..." I said. "It just doesn't seem real... you know?"
"Yeah, I bet. That's how I felt when I was told I had to have open-heart surgery... But then, you can't compare the surgery with the leukemia. Oh, dear, Nick, it's a long road ahead of you."
"Yeah, I know that." I said sadly.
Josh's breathing was even now, so I could tell he was asleep, but it still both amazed and saddened me how quickly he had done that.
"He's sleeping again." I commented.
"That's good, sleeping is what's going to help the most, you know. You get healed the most when you're sleeping."
"I didn't know that." I muttered.
"You want me to call the other guys? 'Cause I can understand if you don't really feel up to it."
"Would you do that?"
"Yes, of course I would." said Brian solemnly.
"Thanks, Brian. You're a real good friend." I said. "I'll call home now, I left Ryan with the little kids."

The next thing I did was call Ryan. After a whole day at the hospital, I figured he would be anxious for news about Josh, and I was right.
"Is he all right? Is Josh okay?" he quickly asked.
"He's..."
"He's alive, isn't he?"
"Yes, of course, but turns out that, well, that he has leukemia, Ryan."
"Leukemia?" Ryan gasped loudly. "Is this one of your sick jokes?"
"Unfortunately not, Ry." I sadly replied.
"What are we going to do?" He was talking to himself. "Can we go see him?"
"Well..." I thought about this for a second. "I think it may be better for Josh to rest for a while, but maybe tomorrow afternoon would be good..."
"Are you serious?" Ryan didn't seem to believe me. "You're asking me to stay home while my brother is, like, practically dying in the hospital?"
"I'm trying to do what's best for Josh at the moment, and he's exhausted. He's been having tests all day and hardly had anything to eat." I crossly replied.
"And I've been pacing the house all day wondering what the hell is happening to Josh and trying to get to little kids in control, cause they are like, off the walls. But no, you only care about Josh, that's all that's important, isn't it? You never worry so much about me when I get sick!"
"That's cause you've never been this bad, Ryan. I mean, far as I know, you've never had cancer." I quietly reminded him. "Ryan, this isn't easy for anyone, okay?"
"I know that." he stubbornly answered. "But you could have thought and called earlier, you know? I'm sure you spent most of the day in waiting rooms, didn't you?"
"Yes." I admitted. "But you have to understand that it's really difficult to deal with this things, you know? It's not like you have a nice little agenda and plan your day ahead, and see exactly what you have to do cause you're worried sick and really can't think of anything more than to fix the current problem. And being almost an adult, I thought you'd understand that."
"Yeah." Ryan said. "I understand, I've just had a hard day, you know? I sent off the Jamie to school, then sat around wondering whether I should call, then picked up Jamie, was dealing with Mike all day cause he's gone WILD, I mean absolutely wild. And it hasn't been really easy. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry, it hasn't been easy on anyone." I forgave him. "Maybe you could come for a little while, after all." I added. "Maybe that's better for Josh, anyway."
"Yeah, maybe. We'll be there in about half an hour, okay?"
"All right, it's the fifth floor, room number 593, got that?"
"Yeah. See you in a few."
"Bye. I love you, Ryan."
Sometimes you need things to be taken away from you to realize just how much you need them. Having Josh the way he was made me realize how grateful I should be for my four amazing children, that they're so sweet and smart and intelligent. I tend to get stuck on the bad things, like, why am I stuck with four children without a wife to help me to get through every day? Why can't the kids help out more than they do? And the one that haunted me the most, every day for exactly three years and four months and a few days, why did Julia, my sweet wife, have to die while she was having Michael?
Was it really necessary for one sweet woman to leave the world, for a sweet little man to come into it?

Chemotherapy began as soon as the diagnosis was confirmed. Dr. Wilson, Joshua's new ped./onc. (pediatric oncologist) explained that there are two different courses that can be taken once this kind of leukemia is diagnosed. One is chemotherapy, the safest way to go, and in that case Josh would have a certain protocol consisting of several phases with certain drugs and doses. The other one is a bone marrow transplant (BMT), a much more risky way to go, in which case all the family would have to be tested for compatibility, as it is much more likely for family to be a good match for him (your bone marrow has to be similar to Joshua's to lower the risk of GVHD, a very serious form of rejection to the bone marrow).
They'd try with chemotherapy first, Dr. Wilson explained, and if it didn't work they'd prepare Josh for a BMT.
This was when I found myself calling Brian and asking him to pray for Josh. I knew he would probably do it anyway, as he is a Christian, but I felt better asking him specifically to do it. Not being particularly religious, I would feel strange trying to pray for Josh, though at moments it was one of my strongest desires, just to do anything to try and help him.
Ryan, Jamie and Mike's visit was short but helpful for Josh, I think. Just the thought that someone actually cared, as he told me later, was comforting.
I felt a little hurt by the comment, 'cause I care, doesn't that count? But I realized Josh meant someone other than me, but the thought that still stung was that Josh might really think I didn't care.
However, the trio had to leave soon because Josh was about to have his first chemotherapy session, not really something he was very accustomed to to begin with, and I'd read enough about cancer to see that side effects are bad, to put it nicely.
So I decided to spare the kids from what may have become an ugly sight and sent them off just about half an hour after they'd arrived. And Ryan was right anyway, the kids were just too wild and nervous to keep them around for long, because Josh was already tired to begin with, and believe me a five year old and a three year old can be tiring, not to mention if they aren't very calm to begin with. They were asking all kinds of questions and bothering practically the whole floor, or at least that's what it seemed like to my confused mind. If you don't know from experience, thinking when you've spent about 38 hours without sleeping isn't particularly easy.
So I spent the rest of that awful day, September 8th, a day that will forever be etched in my mind, with my fourteen year old son, watching him have his first chemotherapy session of a course called "Induction". Just believe me when I tell you that it's not something a father enjoys to watch.

The next couple months I can't describe in much detail, as they were slightly calmer, but still rough on me and more on Joshua, and I was feeling so bad that everything seemed to happen really fast and to be so confusing. Adding to the fact that I barely slept six hours a night, when I was lucky, because I was so worried that my son would die suddenly that I couldn't get myself to sleep.
As I'd expected, Josh had most of the side effects of all the drugs. He threw up constantly, causing him not to enjoy what little food he could eat, not that he liked the hospital food anyway. He lost a few pounds, bloated terribly and had a little stomach pain. Yeah, I know, not fun. What was worse (or sounded worse to me), was that Josh was experiencing some sort of blood leakage due to a chemo drug called aspariginase, in which the blood somehow leaked from his veins onto "third spaces", which caused his blood volume to be low and him to be dehydrated, so his blood volume was dangerously low and he was dehydrated, but withholding several pounds of fluid in his feet, legs, abdomen and the pleura around his lungs.
All of which led to a long stay at the hospital, battling three different infections and in a very dangerous condition for a few weeks, until he slowly got better.
The next concern was that the chemotherapy wasn't working as well as it should, because a little over a month into Induction, a bone marrow biopsy was done on Joshua and it indicated a significant amount of leukemia cells in the bone marrow. That meant that if the amount of cells didn't start getting lower fast, he would have to quit the chemotherapy regimen and prepare for a BMT, which of course would have been devastating.
So I'm happy to say that the 1st day of December I was given the amazing news that Josh was finally in remission. Which meant that he wouldn't have to quit chemotherapy after all (although he said he would have probably preferred to quit chemo, because he got so sick from it).
Even Dr. Wilson said it made his day. He seemed nearly as joyful as I was over the news, which made me feel like Josh was loved and in good hands.
Funny how things that you didn't used to know or care about, like remission, can suddenly become your primary goal, your utmost wish.
As the social worker said: "You will get used to a new normal."
I guess she was right, but you know what? Sometimes the new normal sucks and I wish I could get back to my old life when I had three perfect kids, a wonderful wife, the magnificent mansion, the greatest friends, and the best job I could ever wish for. Something makes you wonder, why did this have to happen to my son? Everything else loses importance as you battle cancer along with him, nothing else matters that much anymore.

I was finally thinking everything might be okay after all, until the following day, the 2nd of December, something really wrong happened.
I awoke at seven am, as was by now usual for me. I was reading for a while, then I began to prepare breakfast for the kids to eat.
I sent Jamie and Ryan off to school, leaving me alone with Michael.
"So, Mikey, what do you want to do today?" I asked him.
"Can we go to the aquarium?" he asked hopefully. I found his blue eyes especially endearing and his soft, innocent gaze was just irresistable. How could I refuse?
"All right." I answered. "What do you say we make ourselves a picnic and stay all morning at the aquarium, then we come back home and make drawings of sharks and fish and dolphins, then go see Josh and pick up Jamie?"
"Okay!" Mike seemed excited, and I was beginning to feel that way too. After all, I'd spent several months on Josh's bedside, so a break was more than welcome. And I admitted to myself that I'd spent way too much time with Josh at the hospital. I mean, I loved him of course, but that didn't mean that I had to abandon my other children. I admit it was hard for me to pull myself away from Josh, however much I hated to see in what state he was.
I prepared myself a huge sandwich, then one for Michael.
"It's too small!" Mike said. "I'll eat it in one bite!"
I decided not to bother him too much about it and cut him a bigger piece of bread.
"No, no, that's too big!" Mikey smiled. I looked at him wondering exactly what it was that he wanted. "Just kidding, that's perfect." he said, only it sounded like: 'juss kidin, 'ats pehfect', really cute in his boyish little voice. How do you resist a boy like this? He is just too adorable and innocent looking.
Then I packed the napkins, cups and water bottles in a small little backpack, knowing that my little adventurer (that would be Mike) would want to carry it, anyway.
"I love you, daddy!" Michael exclaimed with a giggle and a soft hug, which I kneeled onto my knees to accept.
"Let's go, honey." I said, picked him up and easily eased him onto my shoulders. I handed him the backpack and we went on our way.

* * *

After paying for two tickets with an impatient little boy right next to me, we went inside to be pleasantly surprised by very few visitors. I figured that being a school day, we might be lucky and have a peaceful (okay, relatively peaceful, considering Mikey was there) visit. Although it had been just about twelve years since our last CD, I was still not at all comfortable in crowds, and I constantly worried about the press finding out where I was. I guess that we didn't record any more CD's because we were all busy with our own things: Kevin, Brian and I with our families, AJ and Howie with other things like Howie's lupus foundation. Even if we'd spent twelve years out of the music scene, we had managed to somehow stay in the public's eyes. I guess that proves how loyal our fans are.
So I was glad that we were left in peace for once.
Or so I thought, until a flash of light, undoubtedly from a camera, blinded me momentarily.

I blinked, trying to rid myself of the darkness that sometimes comes after flashes.
Once I was seeing all right, I stared into the face of the person who had taken the picture of me.
"Excuse me, do I know you?" I asked, feeling confused. Maybe twelve or fourteen years ago I was used to this, but definitely not any more. I may still appear in the news every once in a while, but it's not as bad as it used to be.
The owner of the camera was a thirty-something year old woman. She appeared slightly embarrassed. She was rather short, with thick, brown hair full of small curls and very plain brown eyes.
"Hello, Nick." she said, playing with one of the brown curls. She shoved a microphone right in front of my face, which I wasn't expecting. "Are the rumours true, Nick? Is your second son dying?"
"No comment." I said, in my straightest possible face, holding Michael's hand tightly. I knelt down to him and whispered: "Don't say anything, okay, Mike? It'll be our little game."
Mike eagerly nodded. "I love games-" then he realized he was talking, which he had just agreed not to do, and closed his mouth, clapping his hand over it, then giggled.
"Are you on a family outing?" she asked
"No comment."
The reporter directed her attention to Mike, realizing at once that she was not going to get a word from me.
"Hey, Michael, can I ask you a question?" she asked with false softness, in dark contrast with the sharpness she was exhibiting just moments before. She knelt down to be at the same level than him.
Mike nodded, looking up at me uncertainly.
"Is your big brother sick? Is Joshua dying?" she asked, putting an arm around Mike. I saw her grab Michael's small arm, as if threatening to hurt him if he didn't respond.
Mike, as I'd asked him, said nothing.
In any case, I saw it was the moment to intervene. "Hey!" I pushed her away from my son. "Leave us alone and if you ever touch my son again I swear I'll sue you." I was maintaining my calmness quite surprisingly, because I knew from experience that whenever I raised my voice it all just got worse.
The woman hesitated, then walked away. "Excuse me for trying to clear the rumours." she said under her breath. I knew what she was doing. She was trying to make ME feel bad for what SHE wanted to do and I wouldn't let her.
"Hey, Mikey, you were great, I'm going to have to buy you a prize." I said.
Mike didn't say anything.
"Don't worry, Artist, the game's over now." I reassured him, then pulled him close to me into a tight hug. "Some people are like that, you just have to learn to ignore them, okay, baby?"
"Is Joshie really dying?" he asked under his breath. He certainly looked confused and worried over this.
"Honey, I thought you knew. Josh is going to be just fine, and everything will go right back to what it used to be."
Then I wondered to myself if this last sentence was really true. Was life really going to ever go back to what it used to be?

Nonetheless, I held Michael's hand comfortingly. Although it was meant to comfort him, in a way I found that it was also making me feel better.
I looked around for something to distract Mike from his worries. It made me feel sad, though. A three year old shouldn't have to worry over if his older brother is dying.
"Look, Mike... sharks!" I exclaimed. I pulled him gently over to the sharks, watching as his face light up in delight. Many small children are afraid of sharks, but Mike loves them. He used to think they were the best animals that existed.
We were watching the large animals for several minutes, and I watched along with him, but mostly I was observing his face. He was taking in every single detail, I knew, and trying to photograph them with his mind in order to draw them later. His face while he did this was priceless to watch, he was watching in awe, with his mouth open and his eyes open wide. My mouth was also open, but for different reasons. I may be his father, and thus biased, but... Michael's soft, perfect nose, his blue eyes strikingly beautiful, his blond hair, though I hadn't combed it, looking all perfectly in place, and his shortness making him look young and innocent. I wondered how I had ended up with such a handsome little boy.
About half an hour later, I softly suggested we move on, so we went on to see the fishes. Michael liked some of them but, as he explained: "The fishies all look the same and all day do is swim."
"What do you think sharks do?" I asked, amused.
"Swim. And eat. And sleep. And attack other animals."
"Fishes do those things, too." I stated.
Michael looked impressed, and from then on looked at the fishes more carefully.
Next I asked him what HE wanted to see. He stood for a moment in deep thought before exclaiming: "The ponies!"
I looked at him strangely. "We're in an aquarium, honey, there's no ponies." I said, sorry to disappoint him.
"Yeah, there were some last time!" he said, pouting.
"Maybe you're thinking of when we went to the zoo, Artist."
"No, no, it was here!" he said.
Suddenly it clicked in my mind. Of course! He wanted to see the sea horses.
"Oh, I get it, Mikey, let's go find the ponies." I smiled at him and took his hand.
You know, maybe the trip was not a disaster after all.
We found the sea horses and were watching them for a while until Mikey took my hand and led me to the dolphins, probably MY favorite part of the whole aquarium. A show was about to begin, so we entered and took the best seats we could find. I surprised myself by realizing that I was excited, like I would have been if I'd been Mike's age, maybe even older, over this. I came to realize, though, that my excitement over dolphins, sharks, music, and other things had long since faded. It was then when I realized that I had actually been depressed, ever since Josh was diagnosed, and that's why I never felt like doing much anymore, and my head was always hurting, and I felt sad all the time for no particular reason. I had been blaming it on the leukemia all along, but in fact it was all in me.

After the dolphins, which we both enjoyed very much ('almost as cool as the sharkies!', said Michael) we went on to see the whales, starfish, jellyfish, and other strange creatures, before it became one o'clock and I decided it was time to leave.
"Let's have lunch at the park." I suggested.
"Yeah! On the swings!" Mike agreed.
"Well, maybe not on the swings. But you can play on the swings as long as you want after we have our sandwiches, 'kay baby?" I persuaded.
"All right."
We had a good meal and after it, with Mike's leftover bread (because, as I'd predicted, he didn't eat the entire sandwich) we fed the ducks at the pond, which was quite enjoyable, even for me.
"Look at the one with the green neck! He ate my bread pieces!" said Mike.
"They're called crumbs, honey." I corrected, looking at the duck in question. "He's a nice one, isn't he?"
"Yes." Michael agreed.
Then I was pushing him on the swings for some time before he got tired of it, and I was standing there wondering what to do next when Michael himself thought of a solution.
"Can I push YOU now?" he suggested excitedly.
I laughed. "Sure, go on." I sat on the swing and laughed as Mike grunted and pushed with all his might, managing to push me slightly. "You're really strong, aren't you?" I smiled, taking his arm with my hand carefully. Mike showed me his biceps and I used the occasion to...
"Tickles, tickles!" I shouted.
Mike laughed and laughed. "Stop, ha, ha, ha, stop!" he said. He seemed truly happy. Once again, I wondered how I could have such a wonderful son.
Then we both fell on the grass, and I began rolling down the hill, laughing. Mike threw himself after me with a fit of giggles.
"That was fun!" he said, breathing heavily and laughing.
"Yeah, it was!" I agreed, taking him in my arms. I stood up and began to make believe Mike was a helicopter by turning around in circles, which only managed to make him laugh harder.
"Okay, honey." I said looking at my watch. "It's just about time to go if we want to fit in a short visit to Josh before going to pick up Jamie."
Michael looked let down, and I tried to figure out why. After all, he'd just had a really great day. Then it made sense to me that Michael was feeling totally neglected since Josh had been diagnosed, and that's why he'd had so much fun today: not so much from the aquarium, nor the activities that followed it, nor even the picnic. It was all the attention. Michael was yearning for attention. Kids his age need it more than others. And, being the youngest it usually happens that you don't get much of it.
Sure, I'd stayed home a few times within the last few months, but mostly I had been concentrating on Josh, my oldest. I thought I had been doing that out of love, and I was, really, but my children didn't interpret it like that. They thought that I loved Josh more than any of them and that that was the reason I was neglecting to spend some quality time with them.
The babysitter may have tried to tell me several times, but in all honesty I was so wrapped up in worry about Josh, that I never realized just how much I was hurting my children by leaving them behind.

Okay, so now you may be thinking: "And what was so bad about the day?"
Nothing really, I found out the following day, the 3rd of December, when I unfolded the newspaper promptly at 6:20 am, ready to find out what disasters were happening in the world at the moment.
I was reading along, rather bored, when something caught my eye:
"NICK CARTER, THE HEARTLESS PARENT
Nick Carter was spotted yesterday, the 2nd of December, at the local aquarium, enjoying the sea animals with his youngest son, Michael, age 3. He watched the sharks and dolphins and seemed to be having a good time. All of this, of course, is perfectly normal, but as we all know, Carter has another son, 14, who is currently battling cancer in the hospital. Mike seemed teary-eyed when asked about Joshua, his brother, and doubtfully explained that Josh was near death and awaiting a transplant. Despite his father's attempts to shush him, Michael explained in detail all the horrifying details about the way he had been tested as a possible bone marrow match, and how Joshua had dealt with the side effects of chemotherapy, which did not help cure him. Now the question we are all asking ourselves is, is Nick Carter a heartless parent? Why did he leave his other son in the hospital by himself? Why is he so happy and carefree while his son may be dying? Hopefully we will soon be answered.
Sheila Roberts, reporter, The Overview."
There was two pictures, one of me with Mike in my arms doing the 'helicopter trick', as Mike calls it, and looking overjoyed, and another of Mike and me together at the aquarium by the sharks, me looking at Michael in awe, and Mike looking overwhelmed with amazement.
This, of course, was a huge blow to my self esteem. How dare she suggest that I was so happy? Did she even know anything about all the feelings I'd been dealing with lately? And she had filled the newspaper with lies!
I immediately got a piece of paper and angrily began to write a letter to the newspaper editor:
"Dear editor of the Overview,
I read an article in your newspaper regarding me the other day. I felt terribly offended by the remarks of the reporter, Sheila Roberts, regarding my love towards Joshua B. Carter, my son, and towards Michael H. Carter, another of my sons. I was sorry to read such lies about Joshua's condition and find that, if you really needed to print this offensive piece of news, you should have at least printed the truth. I found you had no respect to my privacy as a father or as a person, really. I have been dealing with negative feelings for a long time and in fact, I love my sons and my daughter very much. The 2nd of December was a very good day for me emotionally, but I think you will be sorry to realize that you've just ruined it for me.
For the record, although Joshua does have leukemia, the chemotherapy is working and he is far from death. Mike has not had any tests at all nor even been forced to watch the side effects of his brother's treatments. Besides, neither of us said anything at all to the reporter. You should be ashamed of printing such a bunch of offensive lies.
I will rethink if I ever read this newspaper again.
Deeply offended reader, Nick Carter."

I sent the letter off right away, hoping to have it printed in the newspaper, or read by Sheila Roberts. She had perhaps not realized to what extent this bothered me, and I was just guessing here, but she was doing it all for the money, of course. No respect to celebrities. Some reporters are okay, others are absolutely annoying and act like we aren't people. We get offended. We make mistakes. We have feelings, too. Some people just don't get it. It's like they need to catch us doing something normal to believe we ARE normal.
I quickly put the newspaper in the paper trash, hoping that Ryan wouldn't see the news, because being so moody and strong-willed as he is, he'd probably persuade me to sue Sheila, which of course I wouldn't do. I've got enough problems in my hands to, on top of it, go to court for a stupid paragraph about me on a newspaper that perhaps 20.000 people read, because it was only a local newspaper, and it wasn't even on the headlines, anyway.
Unfortunately, Ryan came downstairs at around seven, hungry and wanting to know what was happening in the world, as I had just earlier.
I hoped he wouldn't notice my name on the paper, and tried to distract myself by making pancakes for Jamie and Michael, who would be waking up a little before eight.
A photograph caught my eye, a photograph that was attached to the refrigerator with a tiny magnet. It was a family photograph, but Michael wasn't in it. A different person was, namely Julia. Ryan, thirteen at the time, looked handsome but very different from now. Josh, eleven when the photo was taken, looked very cute but, for some reason, troubled. Jamie, at the tender age of two, was proudly standing up, her head high, showing off her beautiful, soft red hair and cute little freckles. I was looking same as usual: proud of my great family, holding my arm around Julia, who was about eight months pregnant of Michael, looking radiant and more beautiful than ever, except perhaps when we married.
Julia was one of the greatest people I'd ever known. She was from Spain, and I met her purely by mistake. I happened to be on tour in Spain, about seven months after the release of Never Gone, when we were allowed some free time before our concert in Barcelona (actually in Badalona, which is nearby). Brian, Howie, AJ and Kevin had plans of their own. They might have let me join in but for some reason I didn't want to, so I put on a disguise and went down to the Ramblas. I enjoyed the people dressed up as soldiers and flowers, as they seemed practically real, they were like statues. I liked the birds they sold, even thought of buying one, but then realized it wasn't very practical to take a bird home. Finally I came to an interesting building. My Spanish wasn't that good, but I managed to decipher a sign that read: "Museo de arte: exposición temporal de Julia García." (Museum of art: temporary exposition of Julia Garcia).
For some reason, this intrigued me, and despite myself I walked in, pleased to discover that it was free.
Many of the paintings featured the ocean, which just helped maintain my attention, until I stepped back to gaze at a particular painting, and bumped into a woman.
She was tall, almost as tall as me, and gorgeous. Her hair was long, wavy and a dark shade of red. Her eyes, gray, were big and beautiful. She was thin, but not excessively thin: just right.
You guessed it, it was Julia. I instantly fell in love with her physical appearance, and gradually I came to love her soul as well. I don't think I'll ever love any other woman as much as I loved Julia.

After a long talk with Ryan, who was furious about Sheila's article, I had the kids eat breakfast, sent Ryan and Jamie off to school, and buckled Mike into the car to go visit Josh, which had become part of our daily routine.
However, I could never get used to Josh's new appearance. Mike was confortable around his brother, but I could never come to see Josh's new look as normal.
Curled up like a baby in it's mother's womb, Josh looked small and vulnerable. His arms were circling his legs, hugging them close to his body, and both were a lot thinner than they used to be, as if he had anorexia.
I knew better. God knows Josh tried to eat, of course, but the way the side effects of chemotherapy had hit him, it wasn't easy. He complained that food tasted different, not how it was supposed to, sometimes even bad. He said chocolate tasted like metal and fruit was acidic, that the meat hurt his mouth (he was also suffering from a bunch of canker sores), and that whatever he ate he ended up throwing up, anyway. Besides the fact, of course, that many days his eating schedule was messed up because the doctors wanted to do some kind of test.
His hair was not quite gone, but it had definitely gotten thinner since the 7th of September, so I could see just a bit of the long blond hair, not quite to the shoulders, and whenever he shifted in bed I could see long, blond hairs on his pillow.
His eyes had also suffered the changes of his illness. Though he could still see all right, the twinkle was gone. He no longer seemed like he was about to laugh, more like he was about to lash out in anger. Still piercing and blue, but now cold.
He now bored the scar of an operation he had undergone to put in a port right under his collarbone, so that he wouldn't have to be stuck with a needle on his arm every time some kind of medicine had to be administered or blood taken out, which was useful, but also made it all seem more final, harder to understand and sadder, if that was even possible.
However, his arms still had several bruises from the places he'd been stuck in the first few days. I could still remember how he quietly bore the pain, merely asking to hold my hand.
"Is Joshie really dying?" Michael's question, which he had asked the day before, echoed in my mind. His innocent voice asking an innocent question, bothered me. I may have given Mike an answer, but... had I been lying? Who really knew if Josh was going to be okay?
"Dad?" Said a quiet, weak voice, which I recognised immediately as Joshua's, though it also bore the scar of the three months that had passed. I turned around to face my son, and looking into his ocean blue eyes, tried my best to smile.
"Josh, honey, you're looking better."
"Aw, c'mon!" Josh smiled. "You always taught me that lying was wrong!"
"Joshie, can I sit with you?" Mike asked, jumping up and down.
"I'm not sure..." I frowned. After all, Mike is little and jumpy, which would probably be bothersome to Josh.
"Yeah, let him!" Josh said. "I don't mind, c'mon up." He stuck his hands under Mike's arms, lifting him up.
He grunted, managing to put him down next to him.. "Getting fatter, eh, Mikey?" He teased, easing him onto his side, then he sat up himself.
"Am not!" Mike shouted.
I loved the way that Mike put us all at ease, assuring us, without words, that it was okay to be happy and to laugh even if such a terrible thing was going on inside Joshua's body.

Mike himself fell asleep after a while, so the bed must have been comfortable.
That's when the conversation turned to more serious subjects.
"I saw the Overview." Josh said. The look said it all, though I would have known what he was talking about, anyway, because the incident had been in my mind all morning.
I didn't know what to say.
"I know you DO care, dad." Josh assured me. "I bet Ryan had a fit, though." He smiled.
"Yeah, he did."
"You looked really happy in the pictures."
"I know." I actually felt kind of guilty for it.
"You don't have to feel bad about that, dad." Josh told me, as if he had read my mind. "I'm glad you were happy that day, and you had so much fun. God knows you need it. All this family needs it. What I'm trying to say is..." I watched as Josh struggled for the right words. "That you can still be happy, dad. I'm sick, I know, but it's not the end of the world, okay? I'm hopefully going to be fine, and life will go on as ever. So you gotta be strong, for me. And that means being cheerful even when you're feeling really depressed over the whole thing..."
"I promise to try, son." I solemnly agreed. Inside I was wondering, how am I going to be able to do that? How can a heartbroken father help his deep sadness when one of his children's lives is in stake?
"Okay, and changing the subject, dad... I was thinking a lot this morning while I had the blood test, and I realized why I'm feeling so sad."
"Isn't it obvious?" I asked, confused.
"Actually, no." Josh said. "The leukemia doesn't make me sad, it's the music, it's gone."
"Gone?" I echoed.
"Yeah, I've been in this hospital for what, three months? And I have not once had the opportunity to play the piano, which, as you know, is what I like to do best."
"So that's what you want? To play the piano?" I asked, trying to figure it out.
"Yeah, well, and apart from that, I'd really like to talk to my friends. They normally don't let them in, you know, and I'm not allowed to use a cell phone or anything, so I feel really bad about that." Josh confessed.
"I could arrange that." I absentmindedly stated. "Give me a few minutes and I'll arrange all that for you, anything for you to be happy, 'kay Josh?"
"Yeah, thanks, dad. I knew you would do it."


* * *

Two hours, a quick lunch and four arguments later, I sat watching my son play the piano. He may have not had practice, but he definitely had not lost the passion nor the skill.
His arms may have been not as strong, his fingers more clumsy, his back not in as good a position as he normally played before, and he may have still been wearing the hospital pyjamas. But in truth when Josh was placed in front of a piano he quit being a boy, leukemia or not, and became an excellent pianist. Josh had talent, that was for sure.
I clapped enthusiastically.
"Da-aaad!" Josh said, embarrassed. He turned around and smiled. "Quit it!"
The spell was broken. But it occurred to me that this hour he'd been playing the piano was probably more helpful to him that some medicine he'd taken, as it had made him feel better, more happy. Music heals.
I know that for a fact because whenever I was feeling sad, I used to grab my guitar and play, and after a while I'd be feeling much more encouraged about things. Maybe that was part of the reason I was feeling so depressed, because my music, too, had died. Any true musician can tell you, that their music becomes part of themselves. Sometimes you just NEED to play.
It's as simple as that.

After listening to Joshua play the piano for over an hour, he began to grow tired and it was time for me to pick up Jamie, anyway.
Jamie, my little Jamie, what can I say about her? She definitely has some of her namesake's qualities. Jamie Alexandra Carter is her full name, so if you haven't guessed it before, well, that's right, I named her after AJ. Curious and outgoing, she's probably the kid of mine who stands out the most, being, besides, the only girl of the family. That is, in a way, not that good. She's become somewhat of a tomboy, as in she likes sports, doesn't mind getting dirty and loves bugs and animals. In other aspects she is like any other girl, liking Hilary Duff and the like and enjoying singing, for example.
I guess all my children have some of their namesake's qualities, some of mine, and some of Julia's.
Take Mike. His full name is Michael Howard Carter, named after Howie but also taking the name of angel. Even before he was born the name was set, but after Julia died during birth, it took on a new meaning to me. Like he was the angel that God sent to help me cope with my wife's death.
Apart from all that, his nicest quality is that he is sweet. Just like Howie.
Ryan was named after Kevin. Ryan Kevin Carter, a short but strong name. At least Julia always thought so. Ryan is the oldest, like Kevin, and the most responsible, most emotionally stable, so I could trust him to take care of the rest of kids, just like Kevin used to do for the rest of us Backstreet Boys.
And finally, Joshua. His full name is Joshua Brian Carter, and he definitely takes after Brian. The name Joshua comes from the Bible, which was some sort of tribute to Brian, since he is a Christian. Josh, like Brian, is (though I love them all, of course) the one I like the best, a good musician, empathetic. And they even look kind of similar.
So, as I was saying, I picked up my little princess (that would be Jamie) and drove home.
"How was school today, Jamie?"
This is actually a dangerous question to ask to a girl like Jamie, because she could just talk your ear out, but surprisingly, she just said: "Fine."
"Did you have fun?"
"Yeah."
By the looks of it, something wrong had happened. It is not like Jamie to not talk when invited to do so.
"Something wrong, honey?"
"No." she said, but she pulled her legs up and hugged them close, as if she was angry at me for something.
"Then what's the matter?"
"Nothing."
"You sound upset." I stated, careful not to make accusations or get angry.
"I... I guess I am."
"You're not going to tell me about it? Maybe I can help." I suggested.
"No, because it's about you." I looked back at Jamie and raised my eyebrow.
"Did I do something that bothered you, Princess?"
"Don't call me princess..." said Jamie, obviously dawdling.
Mike, oblivious to everything, snored loudly.
Jamie giggled, then returned to the upset face. "I'm afraid that you don't love me anymore." she confessed, wiping a tear from her cheek.
"Why is that?" I asked, concerned.
"Because you always look so upset and sad and you want to go see Josh, and you never stay home very long anymore and we don't have anymore of our trips together anymore because you're always too busy or sad..." she said, now crying harder.
"Oh, honey." I sighed. "Things are hard right now, you know? With Joshua so sick and everything... but I still love you. I've always loved you, even before you were born, and I used to hug Mommy's belly and give you a kiss even when I hadn't ever seen you."
"Did you really do that?" Jamie stopped crying.
"Yeah!" I sheepishly grinned. "I've always loved you and I will always love you. But thanks for reminding me of what I do wrong so I can try and change it."
Kids have so much to teach us, if only we'd let them.

When we arrived home, I put Michael in bed carefully, then went to my studio, just to be stopped by Jamie in the hall.
"Can I invite Delilah over?" Jamie asked hopefully. Delilah is one of our neighbors, a seven-year-old who talks even more than Jamie herself, and hates to sit still, so a rather tiring little girl to have around.
"I'm afraid I'm a little tired to have guests over right now." I tactfully answered.
"But Daddy, you promised that you were going to change! And that means that I can invite Delilah over." She smiled triumphantly.
There she had me in a tight spot, how could I refuse?
"All right." I conceded. "But just a couple of hours, you play in your room and you don't bother me unless it's an emergency."
"Thanks, daddy!" exclaimed Jamie happily. She truly is an adorable girl, her hair being her best feature, red, silky and beautiful even after I've messed it up trying to make braids or something like that. Her eyes, though, remind me of her mother. Most everything in my children reminds me of her.
"I'll go with you to her house." I told Jamie. "Just give me a moment to put my shoes on again."
I checked on Mike to make sure he was still sleeping, then
Jamie bounced around as I tied my shoes, then grabbed my hand as we crossed the street to the Johnsons' house.
Mrs. Johnson was just about two years younger than me. She was a divorced woman, talkative as her daughter, but never saying much about herself, and much less about her ex-husband. A mysterious woman, but good company- she was never silent long enough to let my mind wander to other matters, basically Julia and the kids. She only had two children, Katie and Delilah. Katie was thirteen and a very silly girl, so I was, in a way, relieved that Josh hadn't become much friends with her. She had always been shallow and rather dumb. Delilah, seven, was a different matter, as I've already said. She was sharp, talkative and never still for a second. I liked her much more than her sister, if you can't tell.
Jamie rang the bell excitedly. Mrs. Johnson answered. Her face looked worn out, but instantly brightened when she saw us two.
"Hello, Mrs. Johnson!" Jamie exclaimed. "Can Delilah come over and play for a while?"
A thoughtful look passed on Mrs. Johnson's face. "Why, yes, I could use some peace. You come just in the right moment."
Mrs. Johnson stuck her face back in the house. "Delilah, come, Jamie's here."
There was the sound of running, unmistakably Delilah. She stepped out a moment later.
"Mrs. Johnson, I was wondering if you and your family would join us for supper?" I invited.
Mrs. Johnson smiled. "Thanks so much, at what time shall I go?"
"Is eight o' clock good for you?"
"Yes, I think so. Katie is at a sleepover, but Delilah and I would be delighted to go, of course." She tapped Delilah's shoulder.
"Yes, Mr. Carter." Delilah answered automatically.
"In the meantime, Delilah can come to our house and play with Jamie."
"That would be fine. I'll go over at eight." said Mrs. Johnson.
"See you later then. Goodbye." I gave a friendly wave, then crossed the street with the two little girls.

* * *

I left the girls by themeselves in Jamie's room while I went to my studio, as I'd originally planned to do.
I took my guitar and began playing but could not really get myself caught up in the music, so I uncovered the grand piano, which was used mainly by Josh, and began playing that. The piano music did the trick. Within minutes I was caught up in the music, the sweet melodies I was playing by ear, even some invented in the spot.
I lost no time in taking a music notebook and writing some of them down. Some of the pieces were melancholic, some peaceful, some hopeful. All about my family and about Julia.
No matter how much I try, I cannot bring myself to think about anything other than them. Even the music is somehow related to them.

The phone rang, and I wondered who it could possibly be.
I sometimes speak to my brothers (the Backstreet Boys) on the phone, sometimes even to Aaron, but nobody else of my family. Many years ago, a big argument caused me to lose contact with them, and I haven't regained it- other than a very occasional call from my sisters, but even those are brief and cold. My parents and my sisters probably have no idea about what is going on with Josh, maybe not even that I am now a widower. How I despise the word.
Aaron knows, of course, but even he is distant. He didn't offer to come over and visit, although he does make a point out of calling every two weeks or so to check on his condition.
So, even when I talk to people on the phone, my main topic of conversation is my children, the weather and the news. Amazing how that has come to rule my life.
The only other people I sometimes talk to are Julia's closest friends, people I don't know from the bank or something, and my childrens' friends' parents.
Who would call me at seven o' clock on a cold December afternoon?
"Hello, the Carters." I answered the phone.
"Hi, Nick, it's me, Aaron."
"Oh, hi, kid."
"Kid?!" Aaron sounded really offended.
"Just kidding." I laughed. "So what's up?"
"Nothing really."
"How's it going with Judith?" Judith was Aaron's girlfriend, and had been for about four years.
"Oh, my!" Aaron laughed. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you!"
"What?"
"We're getting married!"
"Married?! When?" I was really happy for my brother, of course, but kind of offended that he could forget to tell me something like that.
"May 10th."
I fell silent. "May 10th?"
"Yes, and I know it's not a very nice day for you, with what happened with Julia and all-" May 10th happened to be the day that Michael was born. "But Judith insists on a spring wedding, and anything until April sounds too soon, so we've revised all the dates and May 10th seems to be perfect. Judith and I figured you wouldn't mind."
"No, I don't." I forced myself to say, though I did. It felt rather funny inside. May 10th is not a day that comes without memories. The day Mike was born, the day Julia died... and now it's going to be the day that Aaron marries? It's just too weird. It was going to be a bittersweet day, that's for sure.
"So, am I invited?" I asked, forcing myself to sound cheerful.
"Yeah, of course." Aaron said. "Mom and Dad aren't coming anyway."
"What, you didn't invite them?" I asked.
"Well, yeah, but you know Mom. And Dad's too busy with his new wife to come, so at least that way it'll be less awkward."
"Guess so. My kids invited too?"
"Yeah, of course. But... I'm wondering, how's Josh going to be? 'Cause it wouldn't be very pleasant if he had to get up in the middle of the service to go throw up. I would understand, of course, but I want you all to have good memories of the day."
I did my calculations. "I'm pretty sure Josh will be on maintenance by then."
"Maintenance?" he echoed, as if he was asking for an explanation.
"Meaning he doesn't get as much chemo anymore, it's the last phase of the chemo protocol, so it's much more likely he'll be fine. We're taking things one day at a time, anyway." I tried to sound calm.
"I see. Well, it would be really nice to see you all there. I'll send you the invitations sometime in the next week."
"Okay."
"Well, the real reason I called was Josh, as you might have guessed. How is he?"
"Doing good, finished the first phase of chemo, now on to consolidation. Dr. Wilson, Josh's ped./onc. [A.N. this means pediatrician/oncologist] said that kids tolerate this phase better, which is lucky, because you know Josh hasn't been having the easiest of times."
"Yeah, you said."
"So it'll be 10 weeks of that. I'll update you once in a while, 'kay? I've got guests and should really get supper moving."
Aaron laughed. "Okay. Talk to you another day. 'Bye."

I made a fairly simple supper, spaghetti bolognese, knowing that the kids would love it, Ryan liked it (he couldn't be included with the kids, he wasn't one anymore, really), and hoped that Mrs. Johnson would like it, too.
I was only trying to comfort her, of course. I had only loved Julia and I was convinced I would never love another woman.
But Mrs. Johnson was divorced. She'd been divorced for about a year, which can't be easy, especially when she's got two kids to take care of.
In a way it's similar to my case, but the main difference is that I loved Julia and was sorry to see her go. Mrs. Johnson was probably glad to see the guy (whose name, I think, was Thomas) go.
I imagine that it's not easy, anyway. Especially when they'd been married for nearly 15 years. And Thomas had had an affair.
No woman deserves that. It's like a slap in the face, it's like being told: "You're not good enough for me anymore."
I wasn't really sure why I'd invited her over. I certainly did not want to have a romantic relationship with this woman. But I figured that we had a few things in common, so maybe if we became friends it would be comforting. For both of us.
Life's not easy for a widower who's the father of four, that's for sure. I mean, life's not easy for anyone. But I always feel like it's been made especially difficult for me, at least lately, in the last three years in a half, and even more so in the last three months.
Things didn't go as I expected, though...
"Hello." Mrs. Johnson said shyly.
"C'mon in." I invited her, taking her coat and hanging it carefully. "Jamie, Delilah, Ryan!" I called. "Supper's ready!"
Jamie and Delilah came just a moment later, then Ryan.
"If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll go wake up Michael."
I was surprised he'd been sleeping for this long. What had it been, nine hours? It didn't seem natural.
I was becoming paranoid, as usual, but then, infection was very dangerous for Josh at the moment, and if Mike was sick, then Josh would probably get it, given that they'd been laying down side by side for a while that very morning.
I felt Mike's forehead softly. Definitely warm. Uh-oh.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, willing myself to grab a thermometer and make sure it wasn't my mind playing tricks on me.
It wasn't. 102 ºF, read the thermometer.
I covered Mike in his comforter and went back downstairs, grabbed the phone in the kitchen and called Dr. Wilson at his office.
"Hello." he seemed tired. I look at the watch, exactly 8 p.m., so he was probably just getting out of his shift.
"Hello, this is Joshua Carter's father?"
"Ah, yes, Mr. Carter, is there a problem?" he asked.
"I think so. I was visiting Joshua this morning with my youngest son, Michael, and now it seems that Mike has a fever. I'm very concerned that Joshua will get sick."
"Is that so?" Dr. Wilson sounded thoughtful. "Well, thanks for informing me, Mr. Carter. I'll keep a closer eye on Joshua these following days, but hopefully there won't be any trouble."
"Hopefully?" I echoed.
"Just because there's been close contact doesn't mean that Josh will automatically get sick, the fever could be anything. Young kids get fevers very easily, Mr. Carter."
"Yes, I know."
"So, you keep an eye on Mike and I'll keep one on Joshua. If you have any idea what is the problem with Mike, please inform me as fast as possible. Then it'll be easier to see what we're dealing with."
"Thanks, Dr. Wilson."
"You're welcome, Mr. Carter. Take care."
"You too, bye."
"Goodbye."
I went back to the supper and announced that Mike was a bit under the weather, sat down next to Ryan and Mrs. Johnson, and enjoyed (well, considering the circumstances and that it was, after all, MY cooking) the supper. However, I did not have very much conversation with Mrs. Johnson, who seemed unusually quiet (for being her) and ended up listening to Jamie and Delilah's "fascinating" conversation over barbies.

Chemotherapy cannot be administered if the amount of white blood cells in the blood isn't high enough, it's too risky.
Which is why Josh had to wait until Thursday, December 6th, to start the next course of chemotherapy, a.k.a. Consolidation. His ANC [A.N. this means absolute neutrophil count, which is the specific type of white blood cell that needs to be high, on a normal person it's above 1500] was 810, meaning he was still quite susceptible to infection. So the chemotherapy was scheduled for the 13th of December and for the 27th of December.
However, the greatest news was that... Josh was home!
I actually tried to bake a cake for the occasion, and made it only slightly lopsided, and only a little sunken in the middle.
I was rather disappointed, though, that Josh tried a bite of the cake, then spit it out. "It tastes like metal!" he complained. And I thought that I'd made such a good cake.
Of course, then I had a bite and it tasted fine, so I thought it was probably the chemotherapy drugs messing up his taste buds.
I'd looked up leukemia a lot in the last few months, and I'd read it was normal... still, it was so easy to forget these little things, at least for me. I'm sure it wasn't for Josh.
The biggest disappointment was that he'd only been home for about half an hour, when he announced that he was getting a little tired and he'd like to take a nap.
Of course, I accepted this, but Mike and Jamie were especially mad. "Daddy said when you were home you'd play with us!" Jamie pouted.
"Sorry, Princess. Maybe later?" Josh shrugged, then turned to me. "Wake me up in a couple hours, 'kay? I don't want to sleep the day away."
I agreed.
"Jamie, Mikey... how about we take a trip to the park? To make up for it. When we come back, we can wake Josh and then you can play with him."
Jamie and Mike eyed me doubtfully for a moment, then Jamie started bouncing up and down. "Yeah! Let's go to the park!"
Mike seemed confused, but then he started imitating his sister, though I don't think he knew exactly what was happening.
"Okay, let's go." I said, then helped Mike put on his shoes and coat to leave. I felt like going to the park, anyway. It was a nice day, cold, but what do you expect from December?
I grabbed their hands and headed to the park. I could go there in my sleep, I'd been there so many times with the kids over the years. It was only four blocks away from our house and a very pleasant place, with many benches and fountains and swings.
I sat on a bench, watching Jamie and Michael swing, looking like they were having the time of their lives.
"Hey." I heard. It was a light, musical voice of a woman. She sat down next to me.
"Hello." I reluctantly answered.
The woman held a little pink bundle in her hands, which I recognised as a newborn baby. I could not help looking at the little girl yawn.
"Isn't she cute?" I exclaimed. "You know, most newborns aren't really that nice looking, but this little girl is adorable."
She was, with the little pink cheeks, deep blue eyes and ever so slight stubble of brown hair.
"Thanks." said the woman. "I think she's beautiful too, but I'm her mother."
"What's her name?" I asked.
The woman softly answered my question, the love evident in her voice: "Her name is Julia."

I took a deep breath. "That was my wife's name."
"Was?" the woman asked.
"Yes, she died three years and a half ago, while having Michael." I pointed out Michael to the woman, wondering just why I was doing this. After all, I'd just met her, and I didn't even know her name.
"That's too bad." the woman sympathetically said. "I don't know what I'd do without my Jonathan. By the way, what's your name?"
"Nick." I laughed. "What's your name?"
"Sophia."
She rearranged the leash of her dog, a golden retriever, and tied it to her baby carriage.
I finally had the courage to look at the woman's face, and not her baby.
Her brown hair was cut short, and it suited her face... tiny and cute. She had brown eyes, not very much makeup, and was dressed in a very sophisticated way, seeming very put together.
"So, you're a father. Is Mike your only son?"
"No, I've got three other kids." I answered, wondering why this woman had come up to talk to me. Had I looked lonely? Or had I looked inviting? Or was this a fan undercover? Because if she was, then she was a very good actress.
"But Mike's my youngest. My oldest is sixteen, his name is Ryan. He thinks he could rule the world." I rolled my eyes. "Now Joshua is a different story."
"What do you mean? Is he mean to you?"
"No, not at all. He's fourteen years old, probably the sweetest teenager in the state. He's got leukemia." I sighed.
"Oh, that's got to be hard."
"It is." I admitted. "No one seems to understand it that well, but for a father, it's... it's heartbreaking, really."
"Yeah, I bet... I can't even begin to imagine how I'd feel if anything happened to Julia or to any of my children, for that matter..."
"My only daughter's called Jamie. She's six. She looks just like her mother, and sometimes I can't even look at her because of it."
Had I just said that out loud?
Sophia seemed to understand, though. "And Mike?"
"Mike is, in a way, like Joshua. Sweet but shy. Just three years old."
"You seem to have a very nice set of kids."
"Yes, they are, I wouldn't trade them for anything." I sighed happily. "What about Julia here? Is she your first?"
"Oh, no, not at all." she smiled. "She's my fifth."
"Fifth!" I raised my eyebrows. "So, tell me about them."
"Okay, well, my first is called Paul. He's fifteen years old, thinks I'm just about the worst person in the world, cannot stay in a good mood for more than fifteen minutes straight..." Sophia rolled her eyes. "You know how it goes. But I really do love him, even if he thinks I'm some kind of awful curse."
I smiled sympathetically. I was lucky my sons were not like that, at least not most of the time. Ryan sometimes got in moods, but not too bad.
"Leah is twelve, she's in that age... you know, that age where she's still a child but in some ways an adult, and it's difficult. She's really artistic. Spends most of the time in classes, then when she gets home she locks herself up, puts on classical music and paints."
"Seems like a nice girl."
"She is. She's very bright, too."
"And Hope and Grace are my nine year old twins. Nice but, wrapped up in each other, you know?"
"Yeah."
"It's like having strangers in the house. And on top of all this, my husband's decided I'm not good enough for him... I'm sorry, here I am telling you my life story."
"I don't mind." I quickly assured her. "I've pretty much told you the basics of my life, too."
"I guess so." she smiled, her face lighting up. She was cute. The sort of woman I'd go for, if it wasn't for the fact that every time I start to fall in love with any woman, I feel like I'm betraying Julia and I step back.
"But you haven't told me what you go for, like for fun."
"I'm a musician." I explained. "I like to sing. I also like to draw. The ocean is one of my passions. So how about you?"
"I write. I'm about to have my first novel out, I'm really excited about that... but nervous."
"I know the feeling."
I know how it feels to be a father. I know how it feels to have a child who may very easily die. I know how it feels like to be a widower. I know how it feels like to be famous. I know how if feels to travel the world.
I know the feeling.

We talked for a long time, about an hour and a half. I found myself explaining to Sophia some things that most of my close friends haven't heard from me, about how I met Julia, and how I felt when Julia died, and how that's affected my relationship to Michael.
For some reason, we'd connected. It was as if God had sent us then and there for us to meet and talk.
Finally Julia began to cry.
"Oh, it's time to eat." Sophia said.
"Go right ahead." I encouraged, but then Sophia looked at me strangely.
"I breast-feed her." Sophia said with a grin.
I made a face. "Okay, so I guess that's my queue to leave. It was nice talking to you."
"Yeah, maybe we should meet and talk again..."
"Okay, here's my phone number." I said, grabbing a kleenex from my pocket and scribbling the number. "Hope you can read it."
Sophia laughed. "I hope so, too."
Then we parted ways, I went towards the swings were the kids were entertaining themselves, and Sophia walked down a street. She looked so put together, calmly pushing the carriage and holding the golden retriever firmly in her hand. She was so confident, so sophisticated. Those, to me, seemed very attractive traits. And she seemed like a good mother.
Stop it! I told myself. What about Julia?
I stopped thinking about Sophia as an attractive woman and returned to thinking of her as a new friend.
"Jamie, Mike, it's time to go home."
"Oh, Daddy, just when we were having the most fun!" Jamie complained, but she got off at once. Mike followed suit.
"C'mon, once you get home you can play with Joshua."
Jamie smiled at the prospect. Her face was beautiful. My children are all beautiful.
We half skipped home, holding hands. It probably looked ridiculous, but it was fun.
Then we entered the house noisily, though I was trying to shush Jamie and Mike.
"You stay down here, Josh will be down in a minute." I instructed Jamie and Michael.
They sat down by the couch and picked up a few toy cars as I made my way upstairs.
I knocked softly on Josh's door, but no response. I entered, making as little noise as I could. Then I figured out that it was ridiculous, because I was about to wake him up, anyway.
The sight that greeted my eyes was this: curled up in a ball, Josh was only wearing boxers and socks. The blankets was covering roughly half his body, the right half. He was looking pale but he was sweating. His thin hair was messed up.
To sum up, he did not look that good. I debated whether to wake him. After all, he needed his sleep.
But I decided that I would wake him up. He'd specifically asked for me to do it, and if he wasn't feeling that well, he could just return to sleep.
"Josh, wake up." I said.
It didn't work.
"Josh!" I said, about one decibel higher than before.
Joshua stirred. "What..." he mumbled. He looked cute, in a vulnerable sort of way.
"It's time to get up, two hours have gone by."
"It feels like I just fell asleep." Josh said, still not opening his eyes.
"That happens." I agreed. "Get up." I softly said.
"Okay." He opened his eyes. They looked unusually sharp but they were still beautiful, as always.
He got up, groaning as he did so, and stretched. "You can go now, you know." Josh said. "I'll be out in a minute."
I left, as he asked, but the lingering sadness was there that my fourteen year old son needs naps to get through the day. I'd known this for months, but I still couldn't get used to it. Parents can't really get used to these things.

That day went smoothly, and so did the ones that followed, until Thursday the 13th of December, which, to refresh your memory, is the day that Josh had to undergo chemotherapy for consolidation, the second course of chemotherapy. The course in itself was supposed to take ten weeks, but so did Induction, and we went about 15 days overdue on that one, due to infections or complications, as doctors like to refer to these things. However, Dr. Wilson assured us that it's not at all unusual for that to happen.
The 13th began rather like they used to begin. I awoke shaking from a very intense nightmare, also with a very intense migraine. Did this happen to other parents? I made a mental note to find out about some sort of support group for parents. I knew I couldn't get through this by myself, and it would probably be easier that way, anyway.
Josh had a visit with a psychologist and then one for the chemotherapy itself, which was going to take more or less two days, including an overnight stay and stuff.
I took a tylenol hoping to ease the migraine, then had a cup of coffee in the front porch, watching the sunrise and lightly swinging on the porch swing. I watched as the small pink spot in the east grew to be a spot of light, then I finally saw the whole sun, bright and shining. It was quite pleasant, actually.
That's when things started to get better.
I went back inside at about seven thirty, to awake Ryan and Jamie. Later I would awake Michael and Joshua, since Mike doesn't go to school and Joshua's appointment wasn't until later.
Breakfast was uneventful, then Ryan and Jamie left (Ryan usually takes Jamie to school, then goes to high school), I was left, alone again. It was to early to wake the kids. Although the fever last week ended up being nothing, Michael needed his rest. And Josh needed it even more, given his physical condition.
At around nine I woke them both up, and at quarter to ten we were heading out the door.
"Boom!" I heard, it was a storm. Just the right moment, huh? We rushed back inside to shelter ourselves from the rain, which was beginning to fall down fast.
It was raining cats and dogs.
I helped Mike put on his raincoat, then Josh asked me to go up to his room and get his, as well. He may have been taking advantage of me, but well... I did so, after all, I'm his father.
The radio happened to be on, and I wasn't really paying attention to it, but to searching for Joshua's navy blue raincoat, which due to the drought he hadn't used for a while, so I'd told him months ago to just put it away.
"... do not leave your houses unless absolutely necessary..." was the last thing I heard from the radio before the light went out. Oh great, just what we needed.
I heard Mike cry out from the bottom floor. It was the middle of the morning, but the sky was really dark and now, the house was, too, so it was scary for him. What do you expect from a three-year-old?
Anyway, the way that Josh was, it was likely that Josh would hold Mike in a tight embrace and whisper some comforting words in his ear.
I finally found the raincoat, though it seemed smaller than I remembered it... hopefully it would fit, though, after all, he'd lost many pounds.
It did fit, and then I was left with the question... should we leave anyway? The storm was heavy, but Josh had an appointment and it already looked like we were going to be late, so... what was I supposed to do?
As I reflected I realized that the storm on the outside was just reflecting my inner storm, the storm that had began on September 7th, threatening to rip my soul in a thousand pieces and tearing me as I constantly fought to regain control of my feelings.

___________

Oh you can't tell me
it's not worth tryin' for.
I can't help it
there's nothing I want more
I would fight for you - I'd lie for you
Walk the wire for you - Yeah, I'd die for you

- Everything I do, Bryan Adams.

The storm, though it was right above us, was very local.
I ended up staying home with the boys, but in twenty minutes it had subsided and we were able to leave. Mike was understandably shaken up, and Josh was happy... he'd gotten out of chemotherapy, at least for a while. He was going to get it, anyway, of course, but he was happy about the delay.
Dr. Hudson, Joshua's psychologist, said that he understood, and that he had to talk to me... which I hadn't been counting on, but I nervously went in, hoping that Josh wasn't depressed or on suicide watch or some awful thing of the sort.
Josh and Mike were led to a waiting room while I entered Dr. Hudson's office.
"Hello, Mr. Carter." he calmly said.
"Hi, Dr. Hudson." I responded.
"Before you get too nervous-" Was he reading my mind? "-let me tell you that Joshua is fine. I've found him a fine young man, quite talented, and very cheerful and optimistic. That's always important in treatment."
Okay, so he was all right. That's something. But then, what did he want to talk to me about?
"However-" Ah-ha, knew there was a but somewhere. "- I believe he would benefit from music therapy as a means to ease the pain a little bit and help him deal with his feelings better."
"Music therapy, what's that all about?" I asked. It sounded good but, how was I supposed to know if this was some weird holistic method?
"Well, music has been proved to help heal people. Not without medicine, of course, that will continue as originally planned. Many people benefit from the effects of music classes, music games, etc., especially to help them overcome emotional difficulties. A lot of these people have Down's syndrome, or cancer, or learning difficulties such as dyslexia."
"I see, it seems just made for Joshua."
"Yes, that's what I thought, too." said Dr. Hudson with a chuckle. "I take that as a yes, then?"
"Absolutely, when do you begin?"
"Well, I have to talk to several people but probably some time next week, I want Joshua to begin the program as soon as possible. There's a new class for teenagers that begins next week, we could probably fit Josh right in."
"Is he okay with this?"
"He was all for it when I told him about it." Dr. Hudson smiled. "So I guess it's on."
I had to sign some forms, of course. It seems like every single detail in the hospital has to be with my consent. If I was tired of writing my name before, well, it's nothing compared to now.
So, that was a short meeting. At least it wasn't bad news.
I returned to pick up Joshua and Michael and then went down to the fourth floor, namely "Oncology". We happened to be just on time, because we'd been late to the first meeting with the psychologist and that meeting had been short, which was fortunate.
Dr. Wilson greeted us with a smile as usual. "Mr. Carter, hello." he shook my hand.
"Joshua." Dr. Wilson solemnly shook his hand.
Then Dr. Wilson turned to Michael, knelt down next to him. "Why, hello, Michael."
Mike hid behind my leg. He's very shy.
"'Ello..." Michael whispered.
"Okay, so this is the plan for today." said Dr. Wilson. "First off, I'm going to be doing a spinal tap on Joshua, and I'll inject some methotrexate in its place. We're going to test the fluid I take out to see if there's any leukemia cells in there, hopefully not."
Ouch, that sounded painful. Josh didn't look too eager, either.
"Later, I'm going to start Joshua on an IV and he's going to be getting a very high dose of methotrexate, which should take 24 hours. Then he'll get the antidote for the methotrexate before it becomes toxic-"
"Wait a minute, you're going to pump toxic stuff into my son?!" I was shocked.
"Mr. Carter, methotrexate affects rapidly dividing cells, such as hair follicles, mucosa lining of the stomach, intestines, mouth... and with very high doses, also the most stubborn cancer cells. Joshua will most likely become immune-supressed, as it also impacts the bone marrow and depress the production of blood cells. The question is finding the balance between administering enough to kill the cancer cells but not so much that he will be intoxicated."
Okay, so is he talking in Spanish, or what? Wait a minute... I understand Spanish, thanks to Julia, so... Russian? Japanese? Well, it's not the point.
"In all, it would be about three days."
"You promised two!" Joshua accused.
"Sorry, Joshua, it can't be helped."

Despite the disappointment about having to stay longer than he had thought, Josh maintained his good spirits throughout the day, though it wasn't easy.
He had to go through a spinal tap, a very painful procedure, or at least that's what it seemed like to me. Surprisingly, Josh refused to be "put under", saying that it was just too much of a hassle to do. He doesn't like waiting for several hours before and after the procedure, and that he doesn't like the operating room, anyway. Which I could understand.
But I still felt bad. I know I wouldn't be able to do such a thing. I wouldn't be able to get through leukemia treatments, nor the emotional pain that it causes to a person, nor all those shots and tests, nor going through spinal taps, much less without anesthesia.
Josh did it all, and still he remained firm and brave. So brave.
It's kind of embarrassing to admit that I admire my son. But I do. I love him so much and I feel so proud of him, for being my little hero and fighting so courageously.
The best thing about the day was the news that came after the spinal tap.
Yeah, you guessed it. All clear!
Josh was really happy, but understandably, he was also tired and slept most of the afternoon, while Michael and I returned home and watched Finding Nemo.
It couldn't all revolve around Josh. He was important, granted, and I couldn't love him more. But I had three other kids to take care of and it would be so horrible if I stopped taking care of them and spending quality time with them.
That's why I had decided not to spend every last minute of the day at the hospital. I would normally go there for several hours in the morning, then return home. If I was feeling uneasy about him, I would call in the afternoon. Always to be reassured that he was fine and sleeping. But a father can't help these things. And I know that if Julia was alive she would feel exactly the same way, or worse. She was such a sweet woman, and I was lucky to have her those fourteen years. But it doesn't seem fair. I feel like if, of the two of us, I should have been the one to die that day. Julia would have been a good mother to Mike, and Jamie, and Josh and Ryan. I'm sure she would have loved Mike so much, they were so similar.
Fate had it another way. I was the one who survived. Survivor's guilt, I think it's called. And I sure have it.
Why did I have to live? Why do I have to deal with these things? Why can't I be the one who has leukemia, instead of a child, a fourteen-year-old! He doesn't deserve this. No one deserves this. But I deserve it more than he does. After all, I've been married, I've had kids, I've had a wonderful career and lots of money, but Josh? Fourteen precious years so far, that's all. He still has to do all those things.
It just doesn't seem fair.
And I couldn't really understand it that night. While I was trying to concentrate on the fish and the sharks while Mike stared in awe, being cute as usual, I laid back thinking.
'Josh has leukemia. Right now he's probably getting the methotrexate. And he's still happy. You really don't have it so hard, Carter. If Josh can have cancer and still smile, surely you can make an effort to hold the family together, Carter.'
The question is...
'... can you, Carter?'

After Josh got the methotrexate, he had to wait until it was out of his system, and then we could take him home.
However, it took forever, or that's what it felt like to me. To add the cherry to the cake, Josh had a stomachache due to the chemotherapy- not fun. And he had to stay for four days, after all, twice as much as he had thought he would at first, which, naturally, he didn't like. However, as always, Josh put up a good face and made the best out of the situation, teasing nurses and visiting other kids in the Oncology Ward. Still, he couldn't help being bored most of the time. A hospital is no place for a child.
Meanwhile, at home things were getting rather out of hand. Mike had begun to enjoy yelling on the top of his lungs and running around the house with his hands full of wet, fresh paint. Jamie had gotten into the habit of trying to add to the noise by imitating Hilary Duff as loudly as possible- and experimenting with different sounds and off-tune melodies. And Ryan, probably the most quiet of them three, was being a typical moody teenager, and would grumble all the time and mostly stay in his room and do nothing. Or sleep.
I needed a bit of Joshua around here, someone calm to pull us together and calm us down a bit. Because I admit, I was a bit off the walls, as well, and more paranoid than usual.
So when I was about to go crazy, at about 7:30 p.m., Josh was finally out of the hospital and back home.
And tired. Sound familiar?
Well, hopefully we would settle back into a routine. Hopefully the kids would calm down, Ryan would get out of his foul mood, Josh would feel well and it would be an uneventful week. It wasn't much to ask to have a nice Christmas, was it?
It was not quite a week until Christmas, and it was probably the year that it seemed the least like the Christmas season around my house. No fresh cookies, no tree, no ornaments except some paper snowflakes that Michael had cut out and pasted on the windows, no CD's of carols at any time, no gifts appearing magically under the tree (there's wasn't a tree, to begin with). Anything that remotely reminded anyone of Christmas arriving was the calendar that was hung in the kitchen. Otherwise, you couldn't have known. And even that had writing all over it: Josh- chemo, Josh- psychologist, Jamie- Parent's meeting, Ryan- basketball game, Ryan- birthday, etc.
And I would have totally forgotten Ryan's birthday, otherwise. My little Christmas present, I fondly called him, for he arrived late on Christmas Eve. I could remember his tiny little body, and rosy cheeks, his head still a little cucumber shaped from the birth, his hair non-existant... And yet so perfect. A perfect Christmas present. Nearly seventeen years back my first son was born.
Life was perfect then. Julia was by my side, we'd been married for about a year and a half, we had our first son, a perfect house, the perfect job.
Things started going down hill a long time ago. I've matured, I now know that life's isn't perfect. Mine was at some point, but not any more. There's no sense in lingering in the things of the past. Now, we must look at the future, and try to build it and make it better, and to smile and be content with what we have. I have so much still. I've got four awesome children. I'm still rich, and I've got a great house. And I've still got music.

Even if Josh was back home, there were many things to do still. He had chemo during the night, was scheduled to stay another "three" days starting the 27th, blood counts on Monday, and a big Christmas party I wanted to plan. Hopefully I could pull it off in ten days.
"I'm a little tired, Dad." had become one of the most heard sentences around the house.
"Have a nap." I said, feeling his forehead for fever. Nothing, what a relief.
"And my leg hurts." he added. I was not surprised. Dr. Wilson had informed me that it was a common side effect of the chemo, as well as mouth sores, bruising, vomiting, nausea, and a long et cetera.
Josh went to bed after a light supper, and then I faced the "Nut house", also called my home. It was living up to the nickname. The cleaning lady had done her best, but we weren't co-operating. Everything was messy and strange objects were strewn all around: a box of melted ice-cream in the living room, a half eaten slice of pizza, a cassette, a clean spoon, a broken photograph of... me?
Who would have done this?
I let it go, trying to focus on something else. I noticed two small red and blue hands printed on the white wall, most likely Mike's fault.
Upstairs, Hilary Duff's music sounded loudly.
"Jamie, please lower the music, Josh is sleeping!" I called, half-expecting her not to take any notice.
"I don't care!"
"Would you like him to wake up, honey?"
"YES!" Jamie yelled. "Everything's changed and it's all HIS fault!"
I ran upstairs and grabbed the yelling girl by the shoulders, firmly lifting her up as she kicked and screamed and into her room. Then I let her go as I was closing the door.
"Jamie, I want something to be clear to you."
Jamie started weeping in rage. "What?!"
"I know everything's changed, and I didn't want it to change either. But it's not his fault."
"Then whose is it, I wanna kill him!"
"I don't know, Princess, I don't know..." I was crying, too.
I pulled her into a hug.
"But it's not Joshua's. I assure you that. Now we've got to be quiet and let him sleep and get better, and then everything will start going back to normal." I quietly assured Jamie.
"I want to go to the park with you again." Jamie said. "I wanna do it every day. And now that Josh is home you don't have to go see him anymore."
"All right, the park it is." I smiled. "Do you want to go only with me, or can Michael come too?"
"He can come, and Ryan too, and Josh!" Jamie exclaimed, the tears drying in her cheeks as she started looking forward to the trip.
"Oh, honey, I don't know if Josh is going to want to come. He's very tired and sleeping." I said, opening the door to Jamie's room, with her already much more peaceful, and happier.
"I'm not sleeping." Josh came out of his room, rubbing his eyes, and trying to fix his hair, rather thin but unruly from his sleep.
"Can't sleep, Hero?"
Josh smiled sheepishly. "Nope. And I'm looking forward to the park, too."
Jamie bounced up and down. "Yay! Joshie's coming to the park, Joshie's coming to the park!" She chanted happily.
"WhaT?" Ryan exclaimed, coming out of his room. "You're leaving me here by myself?"
"Yeah, sorry, Ryan." I apologised.
"Are you kidding? That's the best news I've heard in months!"
"It'll only be for an hour or so." I frowned, wondering why Ryan wanted to be by himself and hoping it wasn't anything too weird or harmful. I didn't really want to come home to find Ryan passed out or worse.
And I was disappointed that Ryan didn't want us around- though, to some extent, I could understand why.

We all bundled up, especially Josh, I didn't want him sick. I mean, I didn't want Jamie or Michael sick, either, but it was especially important for Josh not to get sick.
"Remember, Josh, you're supposed to not get very close to crowds and to breathe lots of fresh air. And don't forget to take drinks often."
Josh rolled his eyes. "Dad, I know!"
"Yeah, just making sure. Have your water bottle?"
"Right here." Josh held up a red water bottle full of water.
"Okay, then we're all set." I said as I zipped Michael's coat. "Let's go!"
I grabbed Jamie's and Mike's hands and grabbed the keys. I, myself was awaiting the park eagerly, though for different reasons. I was hoping to meet Sophia and her little baby Julia there. The last time we had talked had been so soothing and unforced that it would have been nice to repeat it.
I was in luck, Sophia, Julia and of course their golden retriever were there, peacefully sitting on a bench.
"Nick!" Sophia stood up with a smile and pulled me close into a hug, which surprised me.
"Hi, Sophia. These are Jamie and Mike, and that's Josh. Jamie, Mike, Josh, this is Sophia and that's Julia."
"Mama was called Julia, was she, Daddy?" Mike asked.
"Yes, that was her name. Now go play!"
Agreeably, the swings were unoccupied. In fact, the park was mostly empty. So Jamie and Mike started swinging and laughing loudly as Josh pushed them and told them funny jokes and stories.
"Josh is the one who's got leukemia, isn't he?" Sophia softly asked, as if she wasn't sure whether to ask.
"Yes."
"He doesn't really look that bad."
I took a look at him, and was surprised to realize that he didn't. A green knit cap covered most of his hair, except for the blond tips, his big blue eyes were contagious with laughter, he had miraculously gained a couple of pounds during this month, and most of his bruises had faded. Actually, he looked cute. Anyone who hadn't known about his disease would have thought that he was a really thin, handsome boy. For he was. It was hard not to think of him as "Joshua Carter, boy who has leukemia" as opposed to simply "Joshua Carter".
"No, he doesn't." I agreed. "It's hard not to think of it all the time."
"You seem to handle it pretty well, though."
"Well, I'm a pretty good actor to say the truth. It really bothers me and overwhelms me to think of all this, and to think that Joshua can handle it... as a father it's hard, but for him it's got to be harder. There's so many things he can't do anymore, either the blood counts of white blood cells are too low, or he's got to go to a doctor visit, or he's just too tired or weak to do something."
Sophia nodded sympathetically.
"I've got a very hard time dealing with all these emotions. I've got a tendency to look at everything on the bad side, and that's not good. There's so many bad things to the cancer, but also it has its good side. I'm pleased at how it's helping Josh mature- too fast, but he's becoming so much more thoughtful and thankful for his life. He's learning to be optimistic, something I still have to learn, myself."
"Sounds like a very nice guy, Nick. You do, too."
"Thanks, Sophia. I'm very proud of the guy I've raised. If one of my children can deal with it, it's Josh. But it's still hard." I confided.
"I bet it is."

We had another nice talk, though not quite as long... Julia was crying quite a bit and couldn't be comforted, so I took her in my arms as Sophia started searching for the pacifier.
"Shh..." I gently tried to calm the baby down. She really was adorable. I wrapped her more tightly and held her closer to me so that she could get warmer and hear my heartbeat, which used to help with my kids.
She did stop crying within just a minute, and that's when Sophia stopped searching and looked up with a perplexed look. "Wow, Nick... you must have a magical touch, she never stops so quickly for me."
I just smiled and kept holding Julia close. "It's been a long time since I held a baby in my hands, not since Mike was one."
Sophia smiled, as well. "Seems like you haven't forgotten how to do it, though."
"It's not something you forget easily." I explained. "When I had my first son... I'll never forget that day, nearly seventeen years back but it's still alive in my head. I can remember every detail, and the overwhelming joy, and thinking: 'I'm a father, wow'."
"I remember when Paul was born, fifteen and a half years ago. I can remember quite vividly having the nurse hand me Paul and holding him in my hands and thinking it was just wonderful and it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. It happened all the other times, too, but the first was the most fresh and beautiful, to me, of them all."
I looked down at Julia. She was sticking out her small little hand with the beautiful tiny fingers, and I gently held out my own finger. She grabbed it, as I'd expected her to, and held it tightly, smiling and looking cute.
"Say, you should all come over to my house one day. I bet Paul would become friends with either Ryan or Josh. Leah, Hope and Grace, those were their names, weren't they?"
Sophia nodded. "You remembered!"
"Yeah, well, they could play with Jamie. Jamie's quite a bit younger, but who knows? She's pretty bright for her age, acts seven or eight, so they might be okay. Mike can maybe join in, after all, you said Leah likes painting, doesn't she?"
Sophia nodded again.
"Well, Mike likes painting too, so, who knows? They might get along, too."
"I don't know. Jonathan, my husband, might not be too happy about that. He doesn't really like it when I talk to anyone other than him, or the kids."
I frowned. "Sorry, but... your husband sounds kind of possesive, are you guys getting along okay?"
Sophia looked sad. "It looks like we're going to be facing a divorce soon, that's why I like to come to the park... it helps me concentrate on something other than that."
"Oh, Sophia, I'm sorry... and here I am telling you my life story while you're going through that!"
"No, no, I really like it. Like I said, it helps me concentrate on something different, and it's really nice to talk to you. It reminds me that other people have problems, too. Your wife, and Josh, and having to raise four kids on your own..."
"Well, yeah, but I still feel bad." I said. And I did, really. What business did I have explaining all my troubles to a poor woman, mother of five and facing a divorce?
"Tell you what, let's meet here tomorrow at one o' clock and I'll make it up to you."
Sophia's eyes widened. "Make it up to me? There's really no need..."
"No, really, I want to."
"If you insist..."
"Okay, then, tomorrow at one o'clock. Bring Julia, too, if you want."
"I will. I'm always scared of leaving her home, with Jonathan how he's acting..."
"You mean he would actually hurt her?"
"I don't know, he's acting really strange... one minute like we've always had the best marriage, the next like he hates my guts." Sophia sighed.
To this I didn't know what to say. Nothing remotely like that had ever happened with Julia. We'd had our moments, but never to such extremes.
I was doing my best to comfort Sophia, when I suddenly heard a very loud scream, coming from a voice which I knew quite well.

"Josh?!" I stood up, still holding Julia in my arms.
My son was lying on the floor next to the swings, blood coming out of his nose and with his eyes closed.
I handed Julia over to Sophia as fast as I could and ran towards Josh. Jamie and Mike were standing next to him looking guilty.
"What happened?" I asked as I knelt next to Josh.
"Michael hit him." said Jamie.
"I did not!"
"You did, too!"
"I didn't, it wasn't on purpose." Mike started crying. "Is he dead?"
I took Joshua's pulse.
"He's fine." I said, with a sigh of relief.
Josh opened his eyes.
"Sorry, dad, I just got distracted, watching you and the baby and stopped pushing Mike, then he bumped into me." he explained. He sat up, and I let him- it didn't look like he'd broken anything. He ran his hand under his nose and took a look at the red fluid in his hand.
He gasped. "I'm bleeding."
I took a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to him. "Here, Josh. I think it would be best if we have a doctor take a look at you." I said.
"No, dad, not again!" Josh groaned. "I just got out of the hospital, there's no way I'm going back in so soon. I bet the nosebleed has nothing to do with the leukemia, anyway. Look, it's almost gone." He looked at me hopefully, with an angelical smile.
He held out the handkerchief and, true to his word, it seemed to be stopping. It was stopping as fast as it had started.
Josh rubbed the side of his head, where a large bruise was already starting to appear.
"You've got to be more careful, okay? All of you." I scolded. "And Josh, for now I'm not taking you to the doctor, so I trust that you're telling me the truth when you say that you're fine and it's not necessary. And at any hint of you feeling bad, I'm taking you to the hospital, okay?"
Josh nodded.
"It's about time we head back home, anyway." I said, grabbing the two littlest ones' hands and pointing out a nearby fountain to Josh, who was staring at his blood-stained hands, looking confused and disgusted.
"Sorry, Sophia." I called out. "See you soon."
"See you soon. Hope he's okay."
"Sure, he's fine. Bye!" I shouted.
Sophia waved and I waved back, then we headed back home.

* * *

Back home, everything was under control. Ryan was still alive and the house seemed intact- or, to be more accurate, in the same messy state as before: no less, no more. The only thing that seemed different was Ryan. He greeted us with a smile and asked if we'd had a nice time.
Yes, he had got into a good mood. But why? What had made him change so dramatically in just about forty-five minutes?
If leaving for a while provoked such nice changes in sixteen year olds, I was going to have to leave more often. That way I could make sure he stayed in a sociable, agreeable mood.
AND it turned out he'd cooked supper. Talk about being nice!

It turned out that Ryan wanted a new car, go figure. He was being nice trying to make me want to buy him a car.
I definitely had enough money for that, but I didn't want to spoil the kids- though I figured they were already somewhat spoiled- so I wasn't sure what to do.
After some thought, I decided to buy the car. Ryan would be seventeen in just ten days. He was old enough to have his own car.
I was usually using the family car, anyway, especially since Joshua had gotten sick, and it wasn't fair to Ryan, either, for him to have his driver's license and not have the chance to use it.
It was nice to have Ryan in a good mood, though, it made me get in a good mood myself.
"How are you, Josh?" he politely asked, and Josh, looking amused- and a little annoyed, understandably- answered that he was just fine. He didn't want to explain what had happened in the park, and I wasn't going to either. It was Jamie who spilled the news.
"Yeah and then he was staring into space and boom! Mike hits him and then he fell on the floor and was bleeding..." Jamie seemed to be having a good time explaining, but Josh did not seem amused, nor did Ryan. Ryan looked at Josh looking startled and concerned.
"Bleeding?" he echoed. "Where?"
"His nose!" said Jamie.
"But did it start bleeding from the knock, or before?"
Josh looked guilty. "I think before..."
My eyes widened. He had not told me this little bit of information.
"Joshua, you should have told me. You know perfectly well that this is one of the signs of leukemia!"
"We all know that I've got it, Dad." Josh rolled his eyes.
"But this could mean a relapse. And you know the sooner they catch it, the easier the chances of a cure." I scolded.
"Dad, I'm sure you can't relapse THAT fast."
"Look, you've got blood counts on Monday, so we'll just tell Dr. Wilson then." I sternly replied, feeling nervous. A father can't help being nervous when his son's health is in stake.
We continued eating, but conversation just wasn't the same anymore. I was too scared of my son having leukemia again, Ryan was probably wishing that I would buy that car already, Josh was probably hoping we'd just stop talking about him. Jamie was probably wondering what she'd said that was so wrong, and Mike was probably just confused.
We finished supper, and everyone headed their own way: Ryan to his room, Josh to bed, Jamie to do her homework, and Mike to paint.
I just sat on the couch for a while before turning on the computer, looking for some information or some kind of encouragement that it didn't necessarily have to be a relapse.
I was more relieved when I found an article explaining the causes for nosebleeds, saying that mostly it's just because of dry air... so that made me feel better. Josh had been indoors for a long time, and the heated air was pretty dry... so it had to be that. It just had to.
I still called Brian.
"Hello?" said Leighanne.
"Hi, Leigh, it's Nick, can I talk to Bri?"
"Sure, hold on." said Leighanne. "Josh is okay?"
"Doing good." I said after a moment.
"Hello?" said Brian.
"Hi, Frick, it's me, Nick."
"Oh, hi. What's up? Josh is all right, isn't he?"
"Well, actually, that's why I was calling..."
"Oh, no... I think I'm not going to like whatever you're going to say."
I chuckled nervously. "No, it's just my brain being paranoic. It's that I went to the park today with the three youngest, and all of a sudden Josh fell and he was having a nosebleed."
"Yeah?" Obviously Brian was waiting for more.
"A nosebleed, Brian..."
"That's perfectly normal, Nick, many people get them."
"Well, yeah, but Josh could have a relapse, and nosebleeds are one of the signs..." I exclaimed, more nervous.
"Oh, Nick. Not again. He's gonna be okay, he's a strong guy."
"You think so?" I said, hoping for Brian to assure me this again.
"Yup, I have the feeling he's going to be just fine. You just tell the doctor about this, and let him decide if it's serious or not."
"Okay. Thanks, Brian."
"Anytime, Nick. Anytime, I don't care if it's three in the morning and you start feeling bad again, okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Thanks, buddy. I should make Mike go to bed now."
"He's still up?"
"Well, yeah."
"It's ten thirty!"
"It's been a hectic day, Brian. I usually make him go to bed earlier. Okay, I should go now. Thanks again. 'Bye."

The following day I met Sophia, like we'd agreed. Both Sophia and Julia looked stunning, or to be more exact Sophia looked stunning and Julia looked adorable.
'Stop thinking these things, Carter. She's married!' I scolded myself. But I couldn't help it. Sophia was both beautiful and very intelligent and kind, how could her husband treat her the way he did?
But I was not attracted to her as more than just a friend. After all, there was my Julia to think of. She'd been dead for over three years, but I could never forget her, or even love any other woman. I'd been faithful- so faithful that even after she was dead I could not bring myself to date any other woman, though the other guys tried to encourage me to, sometimes describing possible 'candidates' that they knew, but I always said no.
My plan was to have Sophia have the best possible time and keep her mind off her marriage problems, so first I took her to a restaurant and we had lunch together.
Let me tell you something. It worked. We had a really nice time, and were laughing for a long time. She had a really good sense of humor, and we both got in a good mood quickly and had a wonderful lunch.
I don't know exactly why, but Sophia and I never ran out of things to say. You know those awkward moments some people get when neither of them knows just what to say? We didn't get any.
It was as if we were soulmates. We couldn't stop talking, or making each other laugh.
In a matter of days I'd met a woman and she'd become one of my best friends. Second to Brian, of course. He'd always be my best friend. But even best friends can begin to be distant when they're living in totally different places of the country, like we were doing. He had his own life, apart from mine, his own family, and that made it all different.
Sophia had her own life and family, too, but we lived nearby and saw each other once in a while, so we actually had things in common to talk to. But with Brian? Our conversations lately had been either about Joshua or about Baylee, and we never seemed to talk about anything other than that.
Don't get me wrong, I still held him close to my heart, but it was just different.
After lunch we strolled around with Julia, and then I gave Sophia a present that I'd bought just for her. It was a delicate silver necklace and it said 'sophia' on the front. I'd even managed to spell it right- because, since my wife had been Spanish, she'd rubbed off a little of her culture and, as you might know, in Spain they spell it 'Sofía', but that's another matter altogether.
What mattered is that I'd somewhat comforted Sophia, or at least I hoped so and it seemed like it to me. And that had been my goal, anyway.

* * *

On Monday, when Josh had to go in for the blood counts, I mentioned the nosebleed to Dr. Wilson. He didn't seem terribly concerned.
"You feeling all right, Joshua?" he simply asked.
"Sure." Josh said. "I mean, apart from all the nausea and stuff. Just great."
He was being a little sarcastic.
"Have you been having trouble breathing?" Dr. Wilson asked.
"No." Josh said. "Nothing like that."
"More bruises, more headaches?"
Josh shook his head.
"Well, I don't think it's anything to be overly worried about, but if it makes you feel better, Mr. Carter, I'll let you know the results of the blood test as soon as I get them."
"Okay." I said.
See? Dr. Wilson was a really nice guy. He seemed to know what he was doing and was really nice to Josh, me and even Josh's brothers and sister, although he didn't have any obligation to do that. If my son had to be in the hands of a doctor, at least it was Dr. Wilson. I was glad that my son was in his hands.

At home things were calming down a bit. The kids were impatient for Christmas to arrive, of course, but as I said there wasn't as much of a Christmas spirit as other years.
Josh's mouth sores prevented him from enjoying much food, but other than that he was in pretty good spirits and up and about. He took a short nap every day, but apart from that he was just fine. You could hardly tell anything was wrong.
It was just barely a week until Christmas and I'd done absolutely no Christmas shopping, plus now I had a car in my list to buy.
On Wednesday, December 19th, I sent Ryan to a friend's, Jamie to Delilah's house, Josh to his best friend Shane's house and Michael to Luke's (a neighbor's kid, just around Mike's age), and was prepared to leave the house and go shopping for all those things we desperately needed.
Then, when I was literally going out the door, the phone rang.
"Aw." I moaned, I'd managed to get myself ready and the kids busy and then the phone rings.
I let the machine get it, then I'd see if I wanted to talk or not. But when I heard the voice on the phone, I knew it was urgent.
"Nick!" said Sophia. She was crying. "Jonathan told me just today. He's leaving. He's been having an affair for more than six months now and I just don't know what to do..."
I grabbed the phone. "Sophia!" I said.
"Oh, Nick, you're home! I feel so bad telling you all this, but..."
"Yes, I heard and I'm so sorry." I said. "I was just leaving the house right now, but maybe you'd like to come along and we can talk?" I suggested.
"Would you?" she asked.
"Sure, I'd love to talk to you. And you sound like you're in need of a friend."
"Sure am." she admitted.
"Okay, well, just tell me your address and I'll pick you up in a few minutes."
She told me her address, and it happened to be very nearby- within walking distance, even.
"I'll be right there." I promised. "Hang in there."
I rushed to Sophia's. She stood in the front step with the baby in the car seat, and she looked lost.
I gave her a long hug and helped her fasten the car seat to the backseat of my car, and for the longest time neither of us said anything. It wasn't uncomfortable though. Neither of us felt the need to say anything.
Sophia had thankfully stopped crying, but she still looked really upset.
"I'd known this was coming." Sophia said when we were five minutes into the trip.
"I think you had mentioned it once or twice, yes." I softly agreed.
"But it seemed more final when he actually said it. Before, I'd known things weren't going well, but the wishful part of me told me that maybe it was just my imagination. After all, we've been married for nearly sixteen years."
I listened carefully.
"And he's already packed most of his things, and he says he wants all the kids and already has a really good lawyer to defend his case... except Julia."
"He doesn't want Julia?"
I could see Sophia shake her head from the corner of my eye.
"That's the worst part. The only reason he doesn't want Julia is because he doesn't like to change diapers!" Sophia started crying again. "Can you believe that? I mean, I'm glad he doesn't want my girl but he could at least have a good reason for not wanting her. What am I going to tell her about her father when she grows up? 'Your father was disgusted when changing diapers so he decided I could keep you'?"
I could feel the anger brewing inside me. How could this guy treat Sophia so badly? And why was he so cruel to his own daughter?
"Sophia." I said. "It may not seem a very comforting thing to say right now, but I'd like to pay for your lawyer. I know a really good lawyer, I've got plenty of money and I want to do it, okay? So please don't say no. I want to help you."
Through her tears, Sophia smiled a small smile. "Thanks, Nick."
"Anything for a friend."

The whole incident wasn't just good enough for me to be there for her- but on top of it Sophia gave me really good ideas for Christmas presents, and I gave her several ideas for Christmas presents of her own.
When I returned home, the kids started returning. Mike had had the time of his life at Luke's, Jamie had had three fights with Delilah and of course made up three times, Josh had fun playing ping-pong with Shane, even if he later had to lie down on the couch for a few minutes (he rolled his eyes as he said this, so I was sure it had actually been Shane's mother who had made him do this), and Ryan had played basketball with one of his friends.
So we'd all had a nice time- yes, even me, despite the whole thing with Sophia. After all, I did feel really bad for her, and I'd bought her a box of Christmas cookies and actually bought her a present, as well. Or, to be more specific, for Julia. I had made an excuse of having a close friend who was going to be having a baby, and used the opportunity to find out which little dress Sophia liked best. Then I got a big size (after all, Julia's bigger every time I see her) and bought it, making believe it wasn't for her. So she wasn't going to be totally surprised, but I hoped it would be slightly unexpected.
Meanwhile, I stood by the phone most of the time, willing it to ring. And it did, off the hook. Sometimes it was old producers or old friends wishing us happy holidays, but most of the time it was either Brian or Aaron. Aaron wanted my advice on many of the wedding details. Brian was just being supportive. Or is that an understatement? He'd call me at least once a day to see how I was.
"You sure you're okay?"
"Sure, Brian."
"Maybe you should see a psychologist?"
"A psychologist? Why on earth would I need a psychologist?"
"Well, you've got a lot of problems, Nick, don't deny it..."
"Brian, I can deal with my own feelings. There's no way I'm telling a stranger my whole life."
"Fine." Brian would sigh resignedly, but then the next day we'd have the same conversation over again. To be honest, he was starting to be a bit overwhelming for me to deal with.
By Friday the 21st, the kids were out of school and I stirred up enough Christmas spirit to actually put up the tree with them. We had a very nice evening doing this, and I called for some pizza- with extra pepperoni in Joshua's honor, extra cheese in Ryan's honor, and no anchovies in Jamie and Michael's honor.
We all enjoyed all this quite a bit, and I decided something. I was no longer going to be too depressed all the time. Josh was sick, this couldn't be denied; but it didn't mean we couldn't have some fun. I was going to do my best to be cheerful and plan a lot of interesting and fun activities for us to do as a family. This was going to be an interesting change, I thought. Hopefully it would also bring us closer as family, like we were supposed to be. A lot of things had happened that had made us drift apart, but it was my job to bring us back together.

The following days I tried to do just that. I organized a couple field trips and a Christmas party- plus I snuck out to buy a car for Ryan, which was coming new sometime next week. I hoped it would be on time for his birthday, or for Christmas. It was kind of cutting it close to hope that they'd have it in three or four days, but with a little Christmas magic it might just happen.
The nicest day, however, was December 24th. We all awoke around ten and gathered in the living room, as we always do on Ryan's birthday, or anybody of the family's birthday, for that matter. I served some chocolate chip cookies that I'd managed to cook myself and we sipped hot chocolate, and then, we all brought our presents. Michael had drawn a card himself and had some kind of abstract finger painting in the cover. In the inside, it read: "Hapy berthdey Ryan, i lov you". I thought it was really cute. But then, I think most things Michael does and says are cute. Jamie gave Ryan a Ken barbie. She said: "Now you can play barbies with me!"
Ryan tried not to laugh. Joshua gave Ryan a new soccer ball, which was really thoughtful of him, as it was something that Ryan was sure to enjoy. And finally I handed Ryan the paper proclaiming him the owner of a new car, which would be arriving (hopefully) soon. We all had the rest of breakfast, and as soon as we were finished, the phone rang.
"Hello?" I asked, hoping it was Dr. Wilson.
It was.
"Hello, Mr. Carter, I thought I'd surprise you with a nice Christmas present."
"What is it?" I was surprised.
"Joshua's blood counts all look good and his absolute neutrophil is within good ranges, so you can spend Christmas fairly sure he's not going to get an infection one of these days."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks so much, Dr. Wilson. I suppose that means that there is no relapse?"
"No, he's not relapsing." Dr. Wilson chuckled.
A minute later, after I'd hung up, the phone rang again. It was a group of Ryan's friends, wishing him happy birthday. Later, the phone rang for a third time.
"I've got the greatest idea, Nick!" It was Brian.
"What is it?" I asked, trying to sound excited.
"I know we haven't done concerts in, like, seventeen years, but I thought that we could organize a few concerts as a tribute to Joshua, and all the profits go to cancer research!"
I was speechless. "Wow, Brian! I'd never thought of it, but that's a great idea!"
"AJ, Howie and Kevin thought so, too." Brian exclaimed.
"Wait, when is all this going to be?"
"I don't know..." I could just picture Brian shrugging. "Maybe around March or so. That would give us plenty of time to prepare and promote the concerts."
"Well, that's great, we'll discuss it soon, okay? Right now I've got to go, we're celebrating Ryan's birthday."
"Oh, yeah, and the guys and I say happy birthday, 'kay?"
"Okay."
"Our presents should arrive in the mail one of these days."
"I'm sure he'll be really excited about that."
"Yeah, I hope so. It took us forever to find the perfect gift."
"Okay, well, talk to you soon, okay?"
"Yeah. Oh, and by the way, is Joshua doing okay?"
"He's just great."
"Well, I'm glad. Goodbye."
"Bye, Brian."
Now I'd finally feel like I'd done something to help Joshua. I was really excited about getting onstage again, although it felt different somehow. It wasn't just entertaining a bunch of girls anymore. Now we'd be helping some kids like my son get better. It seemed more important, for some reason.

Christmas ended up being better than I thought it would. Since Joshua was feeling pretty well, most of the time I practically forgot anything was wrong at all. The kids all really liked their presents, especially Ryan, who hadn't been sure if he was going to get the car he wanted so desperately. What was most touching, however, was Joshua. Being as sweet as he is, he asked on Christmas evening if we could go to the hospital.
"The hospital?" I repeated. "Miss it already?"
I was trying to be funny, but Josh was serious.
"Yes, I want to go see the other kids who are stuck there this Christmas, and try to cheer them up." He explained. It seemed really important to him.
So we did it. Ryan and Jamie were very reluctant, and Mike, sweet as he is, thought the idea was good, but was too shy. But we still all went.
Josh went to see his best friend at the hospital, whose name, I learned, was Micah. I didn't know that before, and I was glad to see this side of him, who would do something so thoughtful for his friends. I met Micah myself, and he touched me in a special way.
The guy was really far gone- he had a terrible infection, had already relapsed twice, and was going to face a bone marrow transplant very soon. That is, if he survived the infection.
I had to gown up to go see him, but I didn't mind- I'd done this kind of thing before, not only to see Josh, but also back in my Backstreet days. The children had always been excited to see me, and I'd tried hard to be cheerful and not to stare and cry at the way that the kids were suffering.
But nothing could have prepared me to meet Micah. He was awake for about fifteen minutes, talking to me about himself. He was probably going to die, he thought, but he didn't care. He was a Christian, he explained, and he couldn't wait to see God, and his relatives, and his baby sister, who had died several years earlier, victim of a brain tumor.
What touched me so much was his hope. He knew that his prognosis wasn't good, and yet he filled his mind with nice thoughts about heaven. His faith was so strong, so pure and beautiful.
He wasn't depressed over his bad luck, nor over his family being so poor they could not pay for the treatment without going in debt, nor over the fact that he had to spend Christmas day by himself at a hospital.
He smiled and cracked jokes, and I got to see his sense of humor. That was also beautiful.
It's sad that these things have to happen to children, but that evening made me see that something good could come out of this. Josh would probably be very sensitive to children, and he'd always been sweet. I had no trouble imagining him as the manager of a very large foundation against cancer, or something of the sort.
It was a very short meeting, as I said, fifteen minutes or so. Then he drifted off to sleep again, and I sat watching the boy for a few minutes before finally leaving.
Micah had made me see how little time we've got to live, and that we shouldn't waste it feeling sorry for ourselves and being depressed- which is, in fact, what I'd been doing.
That's when I decided to see the counsellor that Brian had recommended. And see if he or she could help me get my feelings under control once again. And, most importantly, be happy.
Later that night I was tossing and turning, trying hard to fall asleep, but the image of Micah stuck in my head. The boy was something special, that was for sure.

Joshua said that this Christmas was the best ever, the most special Christmas we've ever had.
Of course, he does say that every year!
But I agree with him this time. It was not only more meaningful, but also very emotional. We all realize that it could very well be Joshua's last Christmas. I mean, except for Mike and probably Jamie, as well, who, thankfully, still have not much of an idea about what is going to happen to Josh. Of course, who does? In the end, we just have to wait and see what happens. As Dr. Wilson says when I ask him a question he doesn't really want to answer, 'every patient is different'.
A lot of things have happened in the last few months. I've met Sophia, Josh has been diagnosed, Jamie's started first grade, Ryan's turned eighteen years old- he's an adult now! (who would have said?)... I've changed, as well. I think I'm being more mature now. The situation with Josh has helped me realize many things that I hadn't before, and has helped me see that I'm not the only person who has problem. I admit that I sometimes fall into self pity, can you tell? Oh, I've got four children. Oh, my wife's dead. Oh, I've been used by many people.
That's true.
But other people have problems, too. Look at Micah. He's probably dying. He's only twelve years old, almost thirteen, but still a child. And yet he finds the strength to smile.
By the 27th of December the spirit of Christmas was starting to wind down a bit. The little ones were not playing with their new toys any more, Ryan was staying at home for once (he'd been out with his new car more often than in), Josh had to go back for more chemotherapy (fun, fun, fun!)...
To sum up, we were going back to normal. And I've realized normal isn't really all that bad.
So Josh had his lumbar puncture and all the usual things, and then they started the drip of methrotrexate and of fluids. More fluids this time, hopefully to avoid mouth sores.
It wasn't really that bad. Josh had two of his friends over, Shane and Philip. They didn't seem to be that uncomfortable around the IV's and other "stuff", but then, they'd been there before.
Between them three, and Ben and Luke (two other patients), they were driving the nurses crazy.
I sat on the chair and pretended to read a newspaper, but in fact I was watching the five boys play pranks on the nurses, and pretending I had no idea what was going on. There's one thing I'm not, and that's spoilsport.
Josh looked quite well, actually. His hair, though thin, was there. He'd regained some of the pounds that he'd lost the first month, and his eyes were shining, blue as ever.
The five teased the nurses like you wouldn't believe, and I remembered having some fun like that a long time ago, when Brian was in the hospital, himself.
Seems like, without me knowing it, Josh has turned somewhat into a junior me. I wouldn't dream of telling him that, though, because he would be horrified.

Meanwhile, at home, things weren't going so smoothly.
Jamie seemed to be more noisy than ever and would continually break into my room or into my studio and interrupting me during phone conversations and, usually, when I wanted to be by myself.
Michael seemed to be more shy than ever, and usually wanted to be by himself in the playroom, painting pictures that no longer featured anything real. Mostly, there were black lines and dots and were actually quite expressive. They transmitted a lot of raw emotion, especially for being such a young artist.
And Ryan continued to be Ryan, only worse. He retreated to his room and hardly talked anymore, except to tell me that he was going for a ride. He spent huge amounts of time in the bathroom and his room, and usually emerged looking gloomy and depressed.
And I have to admit that I was very concerned. I somehow understood that this was their way of grieving. Not that Josh was dying, nor close. But it somehow felt as if we were losing him.
Speaking of Josh, he was having fun at the hospital. No, seriously. I'm not being sarcastic. The methrotrexate took its toll on Josh's body (nausea and headache), but other than that, he was feeling great. He and his new buddies at the hospital (yes, Ben and Luke) were doing all kinds of things together. Visiting the newborn babies, racing wheelchairs down the hall, and making music together... you name it. Turns out this Ben is a guitarrist. And Luke is an Irish guy who can hold his own singing.
So the three of them liked to go down the auditorium (which is huge and rarely in use) and improvise on some songs, plus I took them tons of sheet music that they really enjoyed.
Meanwhile, I made an appointment with a psychologist named Dr. Hudson, who Brian assured me was really good, and I was going to be going on the 30th. He said he normally doesn't work between Christmas and New year, but that he was going to make an exception. I must have sounded pretty depressed on the phone.
On the 29th it looked like Josh would be home by the next day, and I was actually able to sleep for once.
But then, as luck would have it, I had a really terrible nightmare in which it was snowing. Then I entered our home, and it was on fire. My kids were there, screaming and terrified, and I could do nothing to save them and it seemed like everywhere I looked something was burning.
Then I awoke with a start. It did, in fact, feel like something was burning. The house was sweltering hot, I was sweating buckets, and I was sure the kids were, too. Did I really leave the heat so high?
As it turns out, I did not. When I went down to the living room to see what was wrong, I found Ryan sleepwalking around the living room, and it didn't take much of a guess to see that he had turned the heat up in his sleep. I awoke him gently (as you're supposed to do with sleepwalkers). He seemed really out of it, and was sweating, if that was possible, more than me.
"Take off your shirt." I suggested.
He didn't do that. Instead, he walked into Mike's room, took him in his arms, and announced that they were going to the yard until the house cooled down a bit. Jamie, in her room, was crying, and I also told her to go down to the yard as I figured out the thermostat.
I turned it down to the minimum, but I knew it would be a long time before the house was at a bearable temperature again.
I went out to the yard as well, but it occurred to me that Ryan had taken more charge of the situation than I had, myself. This made me feel weird, to put it lightly. I'm the parent, I'm supposed to be in control!
When did all this happen? When did things get so out of control?
This time I couldn't figure it out.

Josh returned home and everything was going quite well with him, but meanwhile I was noticing more and more signs of something going on with Ryan, and yet I couldn't pinpoint what it was.
When I asked him about it, he'd get angry and yell at me.
"It's all your fault! I know that Josh has cancer but you act like he's the most important kid in the world! And I don't care what you think, the minute I've got enough money I'm leaving this house! I can't stand to live with you!"
The words hurt.
The 30th of December was the day of my first appointment with a psychologist that Brian had recommended, called Dr. Hudson. When Ryan had calmed down I asked if he could watch Jamie and Michael, and, to ensure that he wouldn't then yell that he wasn't my slave, I offered him a few dollars. Unenthusiastically he agreed, calling the little ones to the playroom where he could watch them.
He was acting so unlike himself. Now I was almost sure that he was depressed.
When I was talking to Dr. Hudson a while later, he said that Ryan was probably depressed and should also see a psychologist, himself. When I mentioned that Jamie and Michael were also acting a little strange, he didn't seem too worried.
"Just make sure you spend a lot of time with them and reassure them that you love them often. Hug them, make them feel loved. Spend quality time with them." he advised.
"Will do." I said. I really wanted to. And Ryan was right, I did spend too much time stressing over Josh, who, as it seems, was doing all right. Taking a nap, probably, which is okay.
The first day I talked to Dr. Hudson, nothing happened. He mostly let me talk, sometimes interrupting to ask more questions, sometimes offering immediate advice. But mostly just listening.
It doesn't seem like much. But it made me feel better. I'd been keeping my feelings mostly too myself for too long, and now Dr. Hudson was helping me release some of this anger and sadness, just by being there. Brian and Aaron sometimes talk to me about this, but never for long. They get slightly uncomfortable when I get to the medical details. Dr. Wilson answers my questions, but our relationship is purely professional. We talk about my son, not me, nor my feelings, nor anything else.
But with Dr. Hudson I could let it all out.
When I left an hour and a half later, after having filled a test with all kinds of personal questions, I felt refreshed, a little more alive. Slightly happier, too.
Brian was right, this guy was good.
When I arrived home, Ryan seemed to be in a better mood.
"I'm going for a ride." he announced. "Oh, and you owe me fifteen dollars."
I chuckled, paid him and (as usual), told him to drive safely and to put on his seatbelt.
Then I was left with my other three kids, two of which were sleeping (Michael and Josh) and one who was jumping up and down and talking non-stop.
I began supper and was half-way through when I noticed that Josh was sitting at the table.
"Hi, Josh. Didn't notice you were here."
"That's ok, I was just thinking."
"What's your mind, Hero?"
"Da-ad!" he seemed embarrassed. "Well, I was just thinking that... you know, the day that it all started? When I was diagnosed?"
I nodded.
"Well, I remember thinking that I was sure I was going to die. I didn't know much about cancer, but mostly I thought that it couldn't really be cured."
"Oh..."
"But now I think that maybe I will live. There's a pretty good chance I will. And remember when I asked that, if I had 60 to 70 % chances of living, did that mean that I had 30 to 40 % chances of dying?"
"I remember." I did remember, very clearly. Every single hair on my body stood up and for a moment I couldn't think. I got a lump in my throat and it was hard to swallow and hard to sleep.
"Well, I'm going to concentrate on the 70 % from now on." He smiled his warm, infectious smile, and I couldn't help but reach over and give him a big hug.

The last day of the year dawned cool and sunny. We all slept in, then had churros all together. A churro is a Spanish fried pastry which you dip in sugar or chocolate, and it's one of those things that Julia established as a tradition when we got married. We always have churros on the last day of the year. We then played hide and seek around the house. Michael would always hide wherever the last person hid, which was pretty funny. Jamie could be heard giggling everywhere, too, which made me glad- I don't want the kids to grow up mean and hateful and stuff, which they will if they feel left out, and which is one of the reasons I was playing with the kids. I know that I have to pay attention to all of them.
Actually, the game was very entertaining. I had not played hide and seek in ages.
Then we all sat down in the living room with some milkshakes I made out of bananas and chocolate ice-cream, and we discussed what had been the best and worst things of the year. Some where funny, some sad, some touching. Especially Josh's reflections:
"The worst thing was when we found out that I had leukemia, and that's when I thought I would not make it to the end of the year." he admit it. "And the best thing has been finding out how to make the best out of it. I've been to parties, a concert, I've met tons of really cool people and I've found out who are my real friends and who aren't."
Michael was cute, as usual: "The best thing was when I had a dream of mommy and I thought she was alive and we were all happy and having a party, and the worst was when daddy was sad and cried all the time..." Of course, he said this in his own 'dialect', which means he can't really pronounce the "r" and sometimes mixes up the verb forms, which only made the whole thing cuter... although I must admit I am sad that Mike remembers me crying so much. It's not the sort of after-taste I'd like him to have of the year.
Jamie, as always, talked a lot and really fast (quite well, I might add- she's very smart and perfectionist): "I liked it when I started first grade- well, not the part of Josh being in the hospital, but the part of learning how to read and all these things. Now I can read anything I want to, which is fun, but a lot of hard work, too... And the worst thing was the first day of school when all the kids had left but daddy had forgotten that, since it was the first day, we only had half a day of classes, so I was alone. I felt as if I'd been forgotten and abandoned."
And Ryan, as was becoming more usual for him, said only a few short sentences: "The worst when I had to babysit Jamie and Mike-"
"I'm not a baby!" Jamie explained, looking offended.
"Me either!" said Mike, as if it was the worst thing that could be said of him.
"Ok, I had to take care of-"
"I don't need to be taken care of, either!" Jamie exploded.
"Yeah!" Mike cut in. "I'm big now. Daddy said so just the other day."
"Er, whatever." Ryan said, frowning. "And being a whole day without knowing what was happening and having this horrible feeling that Josh was dying or dead. And the best thing was when I got my car. Except gas is really expensive."
If you can't guess, I was making Ryan pay for the gas.
Just as I was about to explain my best and worst things, there was a phone call.
"I'll be back soon, kids." I said, as I grabbed the phone and stepped into the kitchen.
"Hello, this is Micah's mother."
Something about her voice made me freeze. The image of Micah, lying on a hospital bed in Christmas day, when I met her, ran through my head.
"I regret to say that Micah passed away early this morning."

"Josh, Micah died this morning." I swear, those are some of the hardest words I've ever had to say. And I've been through a lot of hard stuff.
Josh just stared, and I stared right back, trying to read his face. Was he sad, angry, was he going to get into one of those moods? (I hope not, we've got enough with Ryan's moods around here for two families)
I was trying to figure it out when he let out a sob, and ran upstairs to his room.
Ryan, also making strange faces, said nothing. "Another day ruined by that awful disease." the way he said that last part made me realise that he'd wanted to use some pretty strong language (something I do not admit in this family, under any circumstance). I didn't blame him. I wanted to use some pretty strong language myself.
Micah had the same type of leukemia that Josh had. He'd been getting the same chemotherapy, even the same study drugs. And he'd died.
The overwhelming fear, which I tried hard to push away every day, was back.
The two smaller children, Jamie and Mike, were watching me intently, lower lips quivering slightly.
"What's wrong?" Jamie asked softly, almost a whisper. "Is Joshie sick again?"
"No, Jamie." I shook my head, then took her hand and Mike's, too, leading them to the couch, where I was about to explain the strange, dark concept of death to my two smallest children.

* * *
The next few days were strange, to put it lightly. Ryan was- again- in one of his moods, and the rest of kids were mostly acting strange.
I met up with Sophia and my lawyer and figured out some of the stuff... the sad part is that the lawyer didn't think Sophia had a particularly strong case, as she didn't work, didn't have most of the money, and basically had more things against her.
On the good side, he was sure Sophia would get at least Julia's custody. Maybe the rest of the children would have to decide who they preferred to live with.
Another semi-good thing that happened was that Josh had the privilege of writing a speech in honor of Micah, and he had to read it at the funeral. The fact that he had to read at a friend's funeral was not nice, but his speech was beautiful and made me realize, even more, what great kids I've got. He stood up in front of the 100 or so people there were, and on a day he's had a spinal tap, too. That takes a lot of courage. He had a headache and still went on.
A very strange thing that happened on Friday the 10th, which happened to also be the day of the funeral. Ryan and I were the only ones in the house, as Jamie was in school, Mike at the neighbor's, and Josh at the hospital (he had only managed to leave for two hours, just for the funeral, because we begged- but he had heavy chemo) and I was hearing strange sounds, as if things were falling down. It took me several minutes for it to register that Ryan was not only throwing just about everything in his room, but he was yelling as if he was possessed.
Kind of scared (not that I would have admitted it to anyone), I went up to his room and without knocking, opened the door.
"What is the meaning of this?" I asked, exactly how I once swore I would never talk to my kids.
Ryan glared at me and stopped throwing books onto the floor, then he sat down on his bed and said: "I don't want to talk about it." If I hadn't noticed before, I would have noticed by the way he was talking that he was crying.
"Besides, you're supposed to knock." he accused.
"I'm sorry, Ryan. I'm just worried. You haven't been acting like yourself lately, or rather not since October, I'd say."
Ryan just glared at me. If looks could kill, I'd have been murdered that instant.
"I- I'm having a hard time dealing with this." he admitted.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I think I need some help, Dad." he ignored my question, and getting up, turned to the closet. He took off his shirt and turned around again, and I realized, just glancing at his arms, just what was going on.
Thin red marks etched strange, horrifying lines all over his arms.

For one moment I was speechless, the next I was reaching for his arms, tracing the unknown lines as if that would make them disappear.
"How long?" I asked. "How long have you been doing this?"
"Two months and a half now." he sadly admitted. "The first time I did it was when it seemed like Josh was going to die from that infection. I was hurting so bad... when I cut myself I felt a lot better, the pain seemed to release itself in the form of a more real, physical pain."
Ryan started crying. "And then I did it again, and again, and before I knew it I couldn't stop. If it had been my choice you wouldn't have ever found out, but I've reached a dead end, Dad. I want out of this, and I want it soon. I can't live with all this. At first it seemed to help, but now it's trapped me. I'm addicted to cutting."
"Ryan..." I cried as well, and could not stop staring at his arms. Some of the cuts were lined with puss, and I knew they were infected. "You realize you've got an infection going here, don't you?"
"That's another reason I had to tell you. I thought it would go away, but I just feel under the weather all the time and I want to get rid of the infection, too. Also, I didn't, and don't, want Josh to get any infection. I do care about him, even if it doesn't always show."
We talked for a while, and he assured me he felt better, and also promised that we would go to the emergency room in a while. We also didn't want to tell Josh for the time being, lest he blame himself for this happening, or the kids, because they are just too young to face something like this if it can be helped.
I helped Ryan pick up his things in his room, and then we went to pick up Michael together, and also Jamie. Both of the little ones seemed to be in a good mood and talking a lot (especially Jamie), which was nice, because it made Ryan smile. When I saw Ryan smile I realize just how seldom we'd seen him do that lately. He'd always been in some mood, and I had blamed it on grief, or just his being a teenager. I had not once realized just how much this was affecting him. A lot of the time he seemed indifferent, other times he acted slightly annoyed by the whole thing.
I managed to get one of my neighbor's teenage girls to stay with Jamie and Michael, as I drove Ryan to the emergency room.
"Can't stay away, Mr. Carter?" One of the doctors, who knew me, joked.
I smiled, but showed him Ryan's arms, at which he gave a grave look, then led us in right away.
He talked about the dangers of cutting and prescribed some medicine as he bandaged the arms carefully.
"You have to promise never to cut again, Ryan. In fact, let me give you the information for a support group, some tips about what you can do when you feel like cutting, the number of a great psychologist..." the doctor piled the papers on the desk.
When we left Ryan smiled and asked for a hug.
"I needed that."
"I did too." I grinned. "Now, Ryan, every time you feel sad and overwhelmed, you know you can turn to me, okay?"
"Sure, Dad."
It sure felt good for Ryan to be in a good mood for once, even calling me Dad and not squirming away when I gave him a hug.
I was sure that Ryan was in the fast track to a cure, and I wanted to call my psychologist the moment I arrived home, but he said not to call unless it was an emergency. I'd be seeing him in a few days, anyway.
At home I had the kids play soccer, and even joined in myself for a while, before going back inside. Apparently I am not in as good a shape as I thought. But it didn't matter, my kids were well, safe, and happy. At that moment, anyway.
Whoever would have known that things would get this crazy? Who's to say nothing else will happen?

On New Year's eve Dad left for a little while. When he returned, grinning, he was holding a golden retriever puppy in his hand.
"He's for you, Josh." He gave him to me. I took to the pup immediately. I had always loved dogs, especially golden retrievers.
Mike and Jamie came running. "Joshie has a dog! Joshie has a dog!" Michael bounced around the room excitedly.
"So what are you going to name him?" Ryan asked, petting my dog, too. He grinned. "I helped pick him out."
I thought for a moment. "Cometa. I'll name him Cometa."
"Cometa?"
Dad seemed surprised. Then he smiled. "Cometa." he echoed, testing the name. "That's just right."
I liked the name, myself, and all that it signified. Cometa is Spanish for "kite", so to me the name meant freedom, childhood, playfullness, air, and colorful energy. It also reminded me of Spain, and particularly, Barcelona. I was proud to be half Spanish.
Mom always promised that once we were all old enough (especially Michael), she would take us all there.
But then she died.
I remembered the confusion when she died. I had expected to be told any minute that I had a healthy baby brother. Instead, Ryan came to me in a daze. "Josh, Mom is... dead." His tone of voice implied he was confused, himself.
"But she can't be. She was alive just a moment ago." I cried, in despair.
I still want to take that trip. I always have. I used to daydream for hours at a time of the beach, of Sagrada Familia, of finally meeting those cousins I'd never seen, of Plaza Catalunya, of las Ramblas, of all those beautiful things that Mom told us about. I never mentioned it to Dad, though. I always thought that, since he never even spoke of Mom, he didn't want to be reminded of her. Taking a trip to her country would, naturally, be a big reminder. I kind of didn't want to be reminded, either. On the other hand, I loved the feeling I got when I remembered her. I liked to remember her red hair shining in the sun, her beautiful paintings, her awards wall (where she proudly displayed all our awards, trophies and medals, next to her own art awards), the pleasant smell of the shampoo she used, and her daily hugs. I missed her. I also missed the way she made it all right whenever I scraped my knees, kissed me every day before I left for school, and the radiant look she had when she was pregnant.
And the time she took Ryan, Jamie and me to a field to fly a kite.
Yes, Cometa to me may have meant freedom, childhood, air, playfulness, energy, and Spain. And it also meant my mother.

In any case, my trip would have to wait. Isn't most of my life on hold because of this stupid disease, anyway?

A few days later I was actually allowed to go to school for the first time in a very long time. Before all this, I would never have dreamed I would be excited to go to school, but I was, even if I did have to be very careful and not take P.E. and stuff.
"Josh is here!" was the greeting I got.
"Joshua, I'm glad you've made it." My teacher, Mr. Barnes, smiled and shook my hand. "How are you?"
"Great." I answered, looking around. There were all my friends.
They took turns hugging me and asking tons of questions, which I tried to answer as well as I could.
"Are you okay, now, Josh?" "Are you coming back for good?" "When do you finish treatment, Josh?"
"I'm just glad to be here." I answered. "I still have to have chemo for almost two years more."
I finally got to talk to my best friend Shane.
"I got a dog!" I excitedly told him.
He was immediately interested. "What sort of dog?"
"A golden retriever."
"What's it called?"
"Cometa."
Shane frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means kite in Spanish." I explained.
"Do you still want to go to Spain?" he asked. He was one of the only people I had told this wish to.
"Yeah…" I said. "But I guess it'll have to wait."
"Why?"
"Well, my mom's from there, so it would be too sad for my dad. It's only been three and a half years since she died, you know."
"Oh…" he sounded disappointed, but then he brightened up again. "I'm glad you're here, Josh. The other guys are nice, but not quite like having your best friend around."
We sat together and passed notes during the whole first class. Mr. Barnes totally saw us, but I guess he said nothing because I've been gone for so long. I guess everyone was being so nice to me for that reason. That's another of the things I don't like about having cancer. Why should everyone be so nice? I am exactly the same person than I was before this all began. All right, maybe not quite the same person. But certainly if someone didn't like me before, he has no reason to like me now. So why do I have to put up with people putting on this face of sympathetic pity? I don't want pity. I want people to be honest with me.
Like Joey. Why should he be nice to me? We never liked each other before (due to a very mean thing I did to him, but that's beside the point), and I understand and respect that we aren't friends and probably never will be. So why ever did he ask if I wanted him to bring me water or something?
It may sound a little crazy, but I'd really prefer if he was mean to me. That way, things would be at least slightly more the way they were before.
I've accepted life as it is. I know I've got cancer and can't really ignore that fact, anyway, since I have to do something related to it every day (take pills, go to an appointment…).
But is it so wrong for me to just want to go back to the way things used to be?

The next few days were nice. Dad was busy with this weird concert he's going to do in March, which he's really secretive about. It's like he doesn't want me to know. I wouldn't want my kid to know if I was going to do a concert when I was forty-something years old, either. So that's okay with me.
On the other hand, my Dad also told me that he actually talked with Shane a few days ago and that he told him that I wanted to go to Spain. I was kind of annoyed at Shane for telling my dad, but since that may mean we actually get to go, then I was fine with it. In fact, Dad was pretty excited to know and said we could try to do something like that. More excited than me, even, and that's saying a lot.
I went to the doctor's to have my labs done on Wednesday, and since my white blood cell counts were pretty high, then my risk on infection wasn't too high, so I got to go to school the rest of the week. That was exciting for me at first, but by Thursday I had begun to realize again what a bore school can be. Especially when you're in high school. I had a lot of catching up to do though, so it wasn't as much boring as it was challenging. However, my teachers are confident that if I work hard enough, I'll pass. I missed most of my first term, you know.
My little brother and sister are as cute as ever. The other day we took Cometa to the vet for his shots and I sat in the front while Michael and Jamie held Cometa in the back. Ever so often I asked how my dog was doing.
"Fine." Jamie would usually say.
"Yeah, he's good!" Michael would add.
One of the times, though, I asked: "How's Cometa?"
"Oh, he's turned into a cell phone." Michael commented.
I actually turned around to see what he meant.
"A cell phone?"
"You know, when you make your phone move 'stead of making noise?" Michael tried to explain. Actually I can't always understand what he's saying that well. He has trouble pronouncing his r's and his s's, but he has a wide range of vocabulary for being three and a half.
"Vibrate, you mean?" I said, trying to make sense out of that comment.
"Yeah! Cometa is virating." Michael said with a big grin, happy he had learnt a new word.
"Vibrating." I corrected with a laugh. This Michael, you gotta love him.