Finding Jaime

Chapter 66

I was only gone for about half an hour. When I got back to Jaime's room, he was deeply asleep. Meagan, still holding his hand, was asleep, her head on Jaime's bed. I gently touched her back. She startled awake.

"Is Jaime okay?" She asked, before she looked around and saw him asleep. Then she looked at me.

"Pete!" She whisper yelled, not wanting to wake Jaime. "What did you do?"

"You don't like my haircut?" I asked.

"HairCUT?! That's not a hair cut Peter."

I smiled.

"I did it for Jaime. So he won't feel alone."

"Peter Wentz. You are, without a doubt, the most thoughtful father on the planet," she kissed me. "But this is going to take some getting used to."

She smiled though.

"Maybe. But hopefully Jaime will find it easier to deal with his own."

"I want to stay with him today, but I'm so tired. Am I a horrible person for wanting to go home and get some sleep?"

"Of course not! Joe's going to take the kids to his place. Go home, get some sleep, do what you need to do. Everyone's taken care of," I smiled at her.

"I feel so guilty wanting to take care of my needs when Jaime had such a rough night. Do you think maybe I should keep the kids away today?"

"Let me see how he's feeling when he wakes up, okay? I know Marvel is one way we can almost guarantee he'll smile. But I don't know how the day will play out.

And if he winds up sleeping all day, which he very well might after all... that, it might not make sense to bring the kids to visit when he won't even be awake."

Meagan nodded.

"I'll text you when I wake up."

"Don't set an alarm. Just get up when you get up," I said, hugging her. She kissed Jaime's head and then me, and left. I told her where I'd parked the car and handed her the keys.

I sent off some texts, showing my friends my new do. I also posted for our fans on social media. They knew what we were going through with Jaime.

PeteWentz: As many of you know, my oldest son, Jaime, the same one I only learned about this past spring, is battling cancer and undergoing chemotherapy. He's starting to lose his hair. So I decided, why should he be the only one to lose their hair? In solidarity with my son, to make him feel, hopefully, less alone, I changed up my hairstyle. I think it looks good. Thoughts?#cancersux @PatrickStump @JoeTrohman @AndyHurley

➿➿

I'd already told the guys I was posting it and tagging them. Not trying to get them to follow suit. But so people would know whether they did or not, that they also support Jaime in his battle.

I sat beside my son and watched him sleep. The cooling blanket seemed to have helped and he looked like he was getting restful sleep. I was glad. He needed it.

Hours passed. Breakfast came and went and Jaime still slept. I knew he needed to try to eat, but he had his feeding tube, and he'd been getting his liquid formula anyway.

I turned on the TV quietly and watched some mindless crap. Jaime's lunch was brought in and his nurse came in to check on him.

"He's still asleep?" She asked.

"He had a rough night," I said.

"I heard. I'm sorry," she said. I shrugged. 

She finished what she was doing and left. I looked at Jaime's lunch. Clear soup, mashed potatoes. Soft foods. Easier to tolerate. He wouldn't eat it, I was pretty sure. He hadn't been eating much solid food.

"Dad?" I heard my son's raspy voice some time later. I sat up and looked at him. He looked so tired and spent.

"Hey there. How're you feeling?"

"Cold, sore. What did you do to your hair?"

"Jaime," I said. "I didn't want you to be alone when you lose your hair. It's starting to fall out. I brought a razor if you want to shave it instead of waiting for it to fall out?"

Jaime ran his hand through his hair and came away with a clump in his hand. He stared at it, sighed and nodded at me. I helped him to the bathroom. He was so thin, it was heartbreaking. He sat on the shower chair, in the shower, and I shaved his head. I couldn't help but shed a tear as I washed the hair down the drain after helping Jaime back to bed.

"Dad?" He said as I sat back down beside him.

"Yeah?"

"This sucks. It's so hard."

"I know, Jaime. But we're gonna fight, right?"

"I don't know. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be. I'm so tired. I feel so sick all the time. Everything hurts."

"I know, Jaime. I see how hard it is on you. But you're young. You're strong. This is the worst part. Just a few more days and we can go home and you won't be getting the chemo as often. Promise me you're going to fight like hell, Jaime. I can't lose you," I'd started crying, and I didn't care.

Jaime looked at me, jaw set and nodded.

"I am. I'm gonna fight. But Dad, what if I lose anyway?"

I looked at my feet. It was a possibility didn't want to consider.

"Well, Jaime, we have good reason to think you'll be okay once this is all done. But if it comes back, or somehow we do lose you, I hope you'll know how much we all love you and how much you'd be missed. But we'd also be so proud of how hard you fought. How hard you're fighting. I know this is hard. I wish I could make it easier."

Jaime lay back and looked at the ceiling.

"Dad?" He said.

"I don't want to die. I'm gonna fight like hell. But I'm so tired."

"I know, son. I know you're tired. You rest, okay? I'll be right here."

"Dad?" Jaime asked again.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything," he said, as he closed his eyes.