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.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I hope you like it.
I've fixed several things throughout the story which were major plot holes (oops!), so now it makes a little more sense.
Please review!
I've fixed several things throughout the story which were major plot holes (oops!), so now it makes a little more sense.
Please review!
