by Lisa Gillis
Leaning and crouching to his level, she whispered her love and just crazy nonsense to keep talking. “Tiggy is looking out the window in your room, and guess what? He found a friend here. Wait till you see his new friend...”
For the last couple of minutes, she had completely forgotten Jack, but as she spoke of the new stuffed toy, Bandit, the image of him placing it beside Tiggy on the window ledge replayed in her mind.
Twisting her head, she found Jack frozen at the foot of the bed. Those dark eyes, that she could stare into forever, remained trained on Tristan, and the unguarded look took her breath away. So many vulnerable expressions played in their brown depths, creating a mixture that left her guessing as to what she was seeing.
Only one thing was certain. Recognition and acknowledgment of his own flesh and blood.
Feeling her assessment, his gaze skittered to hers, and his shields went up. For a second or two, there was nothing to see and then empathy lit the dark depths of his gaze as it roved her face.
A nurse appeared, checking vitals, and with a heartening lilt in her voice related that the numbers she recorded were all good. However, her next words were firm. “Why don’t you have a seat in the waiting area, and they will let you know as soon as he wakes.”
“Can I just stand here? I won’t get in the way...” Unwilling to take even a step away from the bed, Marissa pleaded the request.
“I’m sorry. You can’t hon. You will be right outside though. Any changes, anything at all, and we will update you right away.”
The rooms all circled a station where medical staff buzzed like bees around a hive. Tristan’s physician was among them, and upon seeing her, he handed off a chart to another professional and beelined her way.
Their way. Mentally, she corrected her singular thinking when after greeting her, the doctor’s speculative gaze shifted to Jack.
Putting his hand out, the surgeon made his introduction. “Hello, I’m Dr. Millosky. You must be Tristan’s father.”
Now, after seeing Tristan, Jack must know how obvious his relation was to everyone. Politely accepting the extended hand, Jack replied simply, without denial or confirmation, smoothly omitting his surname as he introduced himself, “Good to meet you. Jack.”
The surgery itself, as the nurse had said, and the surgeon now confirmed, went well. The surgeon explained that he accomplished what he set out to do. With therapy, Tristan would be walking crutch free within several weeks. The doctor also explained the circumstances that brought Tristan to critical care and that it was only a precaution because he was so young.
To her astonishment, Jack had his own input.
“They are saying it is policy that Marissa can’t stay in the room with him. If he were in a single room could she be with him?”
The doctor explained that there were no single rooms due to the sheer number of patients in ICU but reassured that barring any complications Tristan would move into his regular room the next morning. When Jack nodded his understanding, the doctor, who had been Tristan’s specialist for years, sent a wink her way before moving off.
As she forced her feet farther away from Tristan’s room and toward the waiting area, Jack asked, “What was that about?”
“What?”
Surprisingly, a scowl registered on his face. “He winked at you.”
Barely evaluating the tone that bordered on jealousy, she didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she pulled out her phone, her mind intent on updating her parents and Olivia, who after a half hour, would be crazy for information on Tristan.
“So don’t tell me. Whatever,” he grumbled. Standing until she sat, he took the chair next to her.
“What?”
The tone of his words, rather than his actual words, registered as she studied her phone. Fifteen missed calls and just as many texts. Tearing her eyes away from the tiny screen, she took in his face and felt a flutter in her stomach in finding his brown eyes all but green.
“Tristan’s doctor? The wink thing? He just does that. All the time. Not to me. To Tristan.” Her thumb moved in a quick text as she verbally continued, “Probably it happened just then because my insurance does not cover single rooms on the pediatric floor. But, Dr. Millosky knew I paid the difference up front for one. After, you know… after I got your check.”
Jack digested those words and then inquired quietly of the money, “Was it enough?”
Her hand buzzed, and yet again, her phone went ignored. The sudden concern in his question was startling, and she beheld his earnest eyes.
“I mean for now, anyway. To begin with,” he elaborated.
A warm sweet feeling infiltrated her heart– like the coffee Olivia had earlier forced into her cold, shocked hands. Holding his gaze was doing something funny to her insides, and she looked away while nodding. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“You know, I could probably raise hell until they let you stay in the room. Just a perk of the occupation.”
Jack was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. At this, her mind stopped processing anything but that thought as she seriously considered what he offered. He was right. Tristan was a rock star’s son. That came with such privileges. Although she often condemned this sort of spoiled celebrity behavior, she now completely related when it came to a situation such as this. Protectively, she would have done anything a few minutes ago to stay in that room.
Nodding, she replied, “I’ll think about it. But, it’s okay for now. If he– if he gets worse I would want to. Or if he wakes up and they don’t let me.”
“Tell me. Okay? Anything you need.”
“Okay.”
CHAPTER 12
SHE NEEDED TO make her phone calls, and Jack mentioned going down the hall to a vending area they had passed earlier. Olivia was her first call, and amazingly, didn’t ask any questions about Jack after hearing what had befallen Tristan. When calling her mother, she caught hell for calling Olivia first, but her parent calmed down enough to grill her about Jack.
“Marissa, do you understand how much you embarrassed your father and me? We are your parents, and you walked off without so much as a brief introduction? If that young man weren’t such a hoodlum, I would think you were ashamed of us!”
Despite the seriousness of the last couple of hours, and especially the last half hour, Marissa felt a giggle gurgling in her throat. How her mother’s actions would change when she learned that Jack was a celebrity of sorts. Studying the French manicure Olivia had treated her to while helping her with pre surgery errands, Marissa let her mother run out of steam. By that time, Jack returned, setting both a coffee and a soda on the little table beside her, as well as a package of crackers and one of mini donuts. Then, he reclaimed his seat sipping his own soft drink.
Nodding her thanks, she popped the top on the can and tilted the fizzy drink into her throat. “Mother, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. Anything that does not concern Tristan we can talk about at another time.”
“You act as if you don’t appreciate me being here,” her mother bemoaned.
“Mom, don’t do this right now.” Feeling Jack’s assessment, she stared hard at the pattern on the carpet.
“I really have no reason to be here if we cannot see Tristan or be with you today.”
“It means the world to me that you are here with me, but you are right. Why don’t you go home get some rest, and I will call you as soon as they put him in his room.” As much of a comfort as her mother’s presence could be, at other times, like now, it was the opposite.
“Excuse me for saying so, but you haven’t exactly been good with keeping us updated.”
In the background, her father could be heard muttering something reproving, and Marissa knew within minutes her parents would be in an argument. As a child, she was the peacemaker, running interference between the two of them. In her early adult years, she distanced herself from them, but lately, these last few years, she found herself playing the diplomatic role again.
“Mom, I’m coming d
own to walk you to the car, okay?”
Hitting ‘End Call,’ she spun to Jack. “I’ve got to...well, you heard. Will you be here in case...?”
Nodding, he assured with warm eyes, as much as warm words, “I’ll be here. Do what you need to do. I’m not going anywhere.” Still, she hesitated, wanting to be sure that he had her cell number, but she knew that he did. Maybe she was looking at her phone, or maybe he read her mind, because he reassured her yet again, “I will call you if anything changes. Don’t worry. You will be back in what, fifteen?”
Nodding, she turned, and her feet moved in the closest action to a sprint that was acceptable in a hospital.
Her father squeezed her in a hug, coddling with words of reassurance, and related that he would return the following day. Her maternal parent harangued her every step to the parking garage, and demanded information on whom she clearly knew was Tristan’s father. Marissa refused to divulge any information about Jack, insisting that he was a friend.
Liv, as the true friend that she was, waited patiently in the lobby and passed over Marissa’s purse while accompanying her back to Tristan’s empty room. While gathering the few things she had brought for an all-day hospital camp, Olivia let Marissa know that Jack was not ‘Russ.’
For the fortieth time, Marissa felt the guilt of carrying this secret. “I know. Liv, I will tell you everything.”
“You KNEW you slept with JACK STORM?!” Olivia’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, like the guppies she had surprised Tristan with when he was three. “Rissa, Tristan is Jack Storm’s SON!”
Marissa wanted only to run three floors up and be as near Tristan as she could but waited this out. Olivia was her best friend, and should have been told long ago. However, the problem had been her friend’s inability to keep a secret. Never could Marissa have been sure that Olivia wouldn’t tell someone.
Ramming her phone into her clutch as she rattled off the observations, Olivia froze when her godson’s name made sense. “Ooh. Tristan JACK!” Turning her head to Marissa, so rapidly that her hair flipped, she declared, “You get a reprieve today. But Rissa, I swear, I will tie you to a chair or something until you tell me everything!”
“Okay. Okay!”
“Did he leave?”
“No. He’s upstairs. I should get back up there.”
“Yes you should!” Olivia curved a gentle simper. Then, she leaned against Marissa in a brief hug. “I’m so relieved the surgery part went well, and don’t worry, he’s going to get through this fine. Text me or call me, whatever, as soon as our little guy wakes up. Okay?”
They walked together to the elevator lobby where Marissa pressed both the up and down buttons. Her doors parted first and, before stepping through them, she hugged Olivia again.
Jack’s attention was on the face of his phone, a forefinger tapping on the screen, but as if feeling her presence, he looked up even though a television broadcasting in the upper corner of the room muffled her approach. Automatically, he stood. Momentarily confused, thinking he was leaving, she remained standing until she realized that he was mannerly waiting for her to sit down.
Dropping to her earlier vacated chair, she picked up her half-finished Coke, and while sipping, took in the other occupants of the room. The number of families waiting for news of loved ones, or waiting to visit, was testament of the number of patients that Tristan’s doctor had mentioned.
“You get your mom calmed down?” His smile was small, but it was joking, and she took a moment to enjoy the break in the stress of the day before answering affirmative. One of his thumbs traced the edge of his phone case as he curiously queried, “Is she always like that?”
“Like what?” Marissa disparagingly drawled, “Flipping everything around to how it affects her? Yeah.”
Viewing the large clock on the wall, she saw that there was twenty minutes to go until next visit time. Delving into her pocket produced her own phone, and she brought up the missed text messages. Although she and Olivia had spoken since, reading her friend’s earlier texts would occupy ten minutes or so.
The fact that Jack could make her heart pound by just sitting there, and draw her gaze with his every move, while her child lay ill down the hall, was discomfiting.
After her talk with Olivia the other night, Marissa had put a lock code on her phone, and now as she punched the number in, she noticed in her side vision that Jack had returned his attention to his phone.
Since she was reading the texts backwards, the ones asking about Tristan came up first, and she skimmed and then stopped when she saw Jack’s name.
LIV
ALERT He is not Russ. That is Jack Storm or whatever name he goes by these days
9:22 AM
Her internal amusement may have been verbal, because Jack twisted his head to her, and a strangely familiar instinct had her turning the screen to his viewing angle. “My friend, Olivia. The one that was with me when you got here.”
An answering sound, as stressed and tired as her own laugh, expelled from his lips and then he asked, “Who is Russ?”
CHAPTER 13
DROPPING HER HAND and phone to her lap, she began the amusing admission. “You.”
“Me?”
“Your code name. I couldn’t put –” Stopping short, she looked around certain that none of the room’s significantly older inhabitants would recognize her blurt of his name but amended anyway, “Couldn’t put your real name in, could I?”
Instead of asking her why she chose the name Russ, his next question was unpredicted. “You never told your best friend? About us?”
Pathetic, but her heart lurched at that one word.
Us.
A few weeks ago, over the phone, he had voiced the declaration that she was nothing more than a bang. Earlier today, he had referred to her as a stranger. Now, she was part of an ’us.’
“I love Liv, but she’s kind of a blabbermouth.”
“But after you found you were preg– After you had– ” Stuttering around any baby word, he broke off. Although he was here, in some type of semi-acceptance, he still couldn’t say it. “After all this time, you never told?”
“What would be the point?”
He seemed to respect the fact that she had not blabbed to even her closest friend and family of their liaison, before his face clouded.
“You should have told. Me.” The words were stony and spoke of the lack of an entirely different revelation. It must have marinated all day, and now he took issue with not having been informed of the pregnancy years ago. Her response formulated, then slipped away, then almost came together again, but her brain seemed incapable of any thought except Tristan in that room. Maybe it was the same for him too because he said, “Never mind. Let’s just get through today for now.”
There it was again. Us. Even if it was in contraction form.
“Mr. and Mrs. Duplei?” A medical assistant clipped bracelets around each of their wrists after informing them that visiting was about to begin. Printed on the laminated bracelet was Tristan’s name, birthday, doctor, and other information. The visiting system was organized by room and space, so that only one patient’s family at a time crowded each room.
Tristan was still asleep, and again she fussed maternally over him while Jack stood around the foot of the bed seemingly infatuated by his tiny look-alike. Once they adjourned back to their chairs, Jack offered to find something to eat, but she declined.
“Go ahead if you want.” She knew he must be hungry, but he shook his head and leaned it back against the wall. Taking in the shadows beginning to form beneath his eyes, she wondered if they stemmed from the stress or fatigue. “When did you get here? To Biloxi?”
“This morning.” Even his voice seemed wearier than earlier.
“You flew in this morning?”
“Had meetings all day yesterday. New album stuff. So I left LA last night at 11:37.” He spoke in exact flight time then grimaced. “Then, of course, two hours is lost to the time zone differe
nce. So it was around four when I checked into the hotel.”
Biting her tongue before it could ask where he was staying, she slouched more comfortably, leaning her head back also. The silence stretched, and he looked to be dozing. Although she was too keyed up to do the same, it felt good to close her eyes.
“Marissa?” He said her name quietly, possibly in case she was asleep.
“Mmh?” Without moving anything except her eyes, she glanced and found him doing the same.
“Tell me about him...”
Caught off guard, she stared at the repeating wallpaper print. There was nothing she loved more than to talk about Tristan. She always tried not to be one of ‘those’ mothers at work, or wherever, boring others with every detail of their child.
Her parents liked listening to every little story of his latest escapades. Olivia generally lived each adventure, and the two of them would laugh together. But, nothing had ever been as pleasing as the idea of telling her son’s personality traits and glories to his father.
“He’s the best kid in the world. So sweet and smart. And funny. He says the funniest stuff on purpose. Anything good, he is.” Letting her mind drift, she tried to come up with specifics.
“What are his favorite things to do?”
A smile curved easily on her lips as she briefed Jack of the shows he watched, the books he liked, and the games he played. Of Hot Wheels cars and helicopters. Of Tiggy his fake pet and Bally his real pet. Of drums and karaoke.
“He likes to sing?” Jack’s head popped up from its rest on the wall.
A proud maternal smile twitched her lips. “He’s actually really good. You would be surprised.”
“Why surprised?” Jack taunted, and a teasing glint lit his dark gaze. “You listened to the CD I gave you, right?”
That one sentence had so many hidden implications whether he meant it to or not. An inference that any child of his would be born with music pumping through their veins. An internal acceptance of Tristan as his son.