I nodded in understanding.
“He treated me to lunch at this little café and then he had me take him to a doctor’s appointment. He was fine up until then, but after…”
My insides knotted up tight. “He didn’t tell you what the appointment was for?”
Phoenix shook his head. “He didn’t seem worried about it. But afterwards, he asked me to take him home. He only went into the apartment for a few minutes and then he came back down and got in his car. I followed him down to this park by the campus and watched him sit on a bench for two hours. He didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t move, didn’t do anything. Just sat there.”
“Then what?” I asked impatiently since my one and only need was to get inside and talk to Tristan.
“Then he came here. Harry has worked security here for years. He knows Tristan – says he used to play recitals here all the time when he was younger. He let him in even though the place is closed for remodeling.”
I pushed past Phoenix and hurried towards the entrance.
“Center balcony,” I heard him call. I was glad when the security guy didn’t try to stop me and instead, actually opened the door for me.
I found Tristan exactly where Phoenix had said he’d be – sitting high above the huge stage in the center balcony in one of the many red seats. He didn’t look up when I sat down next to him, but I sawhim wipe at his face which was damp from what I could only assume were tears.
“Tristan,” I said gently as I pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “What’s going on?”
“I asked him not to call you,” Tristan said quietly after a long pause. I hated how dull and lifeless his voice sounded.
“Phoenix?” I asked. “He was worried about you. I think you’ve grown on him, which isn’t easy to do by the way.”
“He’s nice,” Tristan murmured. “He told me what happened to his little girl.”
That surprised me because Phoenix rarely talked about the events that had brought him to Ronan’s group.
We sat in silence for a couple of minutes while I surveyed the theater. The stage was covered in debris which had me thinking they were replacing the flooring. Many of the seats on the lower level had been removed and I saw a few new ones installed that were covered in plastic.
“This place is beautiful,” I said.
“This is where my dads sat when I gave my first performance here,” Tristan said as he fingered the armrest between us. His eyes shifted to the stage. “I remember looking up here after I was done and they were holding hands and crying. They were too overwhelmed to even clap.” Tristan began fingering the fine wood on the end of the armrest, but I doubted he realized what he was doing because his eyes were still on the stage. “I forget sometimes, you know?” he whispered. “I don’t even have to be on stage. Just sitting in front of a piano will do it. All I hear is the music.”
I watched as Tristan flipped his arm over and stared at the tattoo on the inside of his wrist. “Forgetting is a dangerous thing,” he said softly.
I couldn’t resist the need to touch him so I ran my thumb over the small plus sign.
“Why is it dangerous?” I asked. Tristan’s skin felt warm and soft beneath my finger.
“Because it makes you want more.”
I glanced up to see Tristan watching me. “More of what?”
“This,” he said as he looked down at where we were joined. “That,” he murmured as he looked at the stage. “Everything.”
I felt him emotionally withdrawing from me so I linked my fingers with his. The move got his attention, but he only looked at me for a moment before dropping his eyes to his lap.
“What happened today, Tristan?”
A tear slipped down Tristan’s cheek. “I thought it was a routine visit…I thought he wanted to talk to me about a new medication or something.”
“Your doctor?” I asked.
Tristan nodded. “I had my regular appointment a couple weeks ago when I got back from New York. My doctor called me this morning and asked me to come in for a follow-up.”
My gut was doing somersaults as I waited for Tristan to continue. I both wanted him to hurry up and to not say another word.
“He…he told me my viral load is no longer undetectable.”
