let's light up the sky ☆

Chapter 22

Los Angeles, California

June, 2007

"Hi, Nousha," Giannis called out quietly as he stepped into the small hospital room.

The baby pink room at UCLA's Neonatal ICU was decorated with cards, balloons, and well wishes for Anoush's health. She moved to a room of her own after the hospital cleared her from the incubator. She had a long way to go before she could go home, but this little bit of progress was worth the effort.

Giannis loved to make solo trips to visit Anoush. He came with Sofia on weekends and brought Armen on a couple occasions. He saved these solo trips for days after studio recording sessions. He asked the rest of the band to put the new album on hold so he could focus on his family. Anoush was finally in better health. He struck his perfect balance between studio time and bonding time with his daughter.

"Perfect timing," the attending nurse chipperly said. "She just finished a bottle."

"How much?"

"4 whole ounces!"

Giannis clapped his hands. "Great job, Nousha! Look at you go." Giannis emptied his arms of the new bundles of flowers that the guys sent to her. He got comfortable – as comfortable as he could, that is – in the corner chair that he's become all too familiar with lately. The vinyl chair seat popped under his weight. He took a short moment to settle in before the nurse handed him his bundled infant daughter. Anoush whimpered quietly at being disrupted from her sleep in the bassinet. But her little cry was music to Giannis's ears.

"She's finally finding her voice," the nurse said with a smile.

Giannis chuckled. "I knew she would."

"Need anything else?"

He hummed. "There's a videotape in my bag by the door. Would you mind popping it in for me?"

"Sure thing."

Giannis had been waiting for Anoush to have her own room so he could share this special moment. The nurse put the tape in the VCR and left them to spend some time alone together.

"You're gonna love this," Giannis whispered to her. He pulled the blanket out of her face with one finger, meeting her eye to eye when he realized she was awake again. He took a moment while static flickered on the TV to get a few thoughts off his chest. 

"Just a couple more weeks, baby. Your room at home's been waiting on you for a while now. It doesn't feel the same without you, though. There are a lot of people waiting for you to feel better so they can meet you."

The static ceased and the sound of a regal trumpet played through the speakers. The screen transitioned to a stadium packed full of cheering fans who gathered in Finland to root for their favorite songs. Giannis watched the show live, so he already knew who won in the end. But he didn't spoil anything for Anoush. It was her first Eurovision, after all, and it was something she needed to experience for herself.

"Next year," he said to her as the opening performance kicked into high gear. "You'll get to enjoy this at home with us. We'll watch it together next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. You can watch it with us until you get sick of it. See, I liked last year's winner. It was a hard rock song, like the music I make. Your mom likes the poppy songs. Armen likes what he thinks sounds good. What does that mean? Nobody knows yet. I can't wait to find out what kind of songs you're gonna like."

The rumble in his chest from the vibrations of his voice lulled her back to sleep. She was out like a light long before the first songs even came on stage. But Giannis didn't care. He knew she had plenty of years to enjoy this tradition as much as the rest of them do.