As Sana slept, I watched the sky go by outside of the plane's window. The blue was fading into dark blue, the orange over the horizon dying the clouds pink and innumerable colors without names. It would have been endlessly pretty, but my mind was a darker cloud. A fog without words, a grey without colors. As my headphones played Francoise Hardy, I wasn't really paying attention. The words bled into the music, non-understanding.

I thought listening to music would make me feel better, but it was as if it wasn't even there. There was no deadening my thoughts, too many to make sense of. A rising panic that is so chaotic it blends together and makes no more sense. No reason to pay attention anymore. It only left me with a feeling of dread, one I didn't want. So, avoidance was all I could do. Watch the clouds, pretend.

Last night, when we got home, I'd comforted Sana in bed as he tried to comfort me. He was blaming himself, and I told him there was nothing to blame. I told him I understood, tried to beg gently, but knowing the outcome anyway. Telling him that even if our child had his illness, I'd love that child just the same. That it wouldn't matter to me, because I loved him and he had the same illness. But, he resisted, as I knew he would. However, he told me this sad thing, and I had to let it go. Torn from me in finality, with his words.

"We can't watch our child die. They'll die, if they have this disease."

I can't watch my child die. I can't watch him die, either. It was like a slap to the face, so hard and severe, that the face goes to the side and there's just shock. An explosion all your own. A reminder to me, of what our fate is.

We stayed there a while, sat in bed together facing one another. He was looking down, fiddling with the delicate white fabric of one of my shirts that he was wearing as a nightgown. I sat, staring at his fingers, unable to think of anything else.

Eventually, in my shock, I began to kiss him, a slowness to it. A dear thing. He kissed me back, and I played with his hair as we kissed. We loved each other, despite this news. Nothing would change that, but it felt like a new chapter. A page turned, can't go back. An innocence lost, a new part.

I pressed him to the bed, and there was sadness in his eyes. I kissed down his body, loving him just the same. We made love, so slow, but animal. My mouth remained next to his ear as my body glided up and down, really feeling it this time. Unable to hide my noises, telling him I loved him all the time. He answered me in breathy sounds, enjoying and letting me know as his back arched and he stretched over and over.

Afterwards, I held him from behind, kissing his ear in tiny bursts. He was much more relaxed, breathing well. I was exhausted, but I stayed awake until he fell asleep. I held him and thought privately, about the day.

I loved him, and nothing would change that. But, there was something lost. This hope that was lost left an empty feeling. Don't know what to do, can't change it. This dream ripped away. All those images of us together with a small child. A child who looks like him, wearing a coat that's too big, puffy cheeks and holding a stuffed animal. A child who sucks their thumb and looks about the world with big, curious eyes. This child could have his disease, and be dying slowly in front of our eyes. Known to us, because so many foods make them sick from such an early age.

How early did his parents know he was sick? What was the first sign? He can't tolerate milk. Was that the first? Was he dying in front of their eyes, and they had no idea what to do? Did they feel helpless?

Thinking about his parents this way, with unknown faces. No image to go with my new respect. But, how could I have respect when they abandoned him? Their sick child, cast him out because he wouldn't be what they wanted him to be.

There was no understanding there. Couldn't be any.

But still, thinking about them in that context, of trying to take care of him as a baby when he couldn't eat anything without getting sick. That terror they must have felt. If we had a child like him, would we feel terror with each passing day?

Even if I felt terror, I'd hold that child and love them. I'd dance around the room slowly to calm their cries, sing to them to soothe those tears away. I'd be devastated, but that wouldn't remove my love. I'd do anything for them. I'd sacrifice myself and then again.

But, maybe not giving them the gift of life is a sacrifice in itself. Maybe, it is a gift in itself, to not give that child suffering. Does Sana think that way? He'd know better than anyone else what that suffering is. To not want to have a child so that they don't suffer, too. The suffering must be severe, if he can't even bear to give a child life if they have the same pain.

I looked over to Sana, his sleeping face as he napped on my shoulder. He wasn't suffering now as he slept. Dreaming about something that I hoped was kind. I only knew the surface of his pain. I only knew the things I could see. There was so much under the surface, like how an iceberg is so large under the waves and you wouldn't ever know. Floating in a vast, freezing ocean. Lonely, vulnerable. He was like an iceberg, and there was so much I couldn't know. I couldn't dive deep enough to see.

All day, he hadn't been feeling well. Fading, really. He was trying to put on a brave face, smiling for everyone. I'd seen that fake smile yesterday and over the past few days. Those tired eyes. His band members were genuinely excited, running around like children. Only Nobu noticed that something was wrong and stayed nearer to us. He personally helped us with Sana's wheelchair, and I was forever grateful again. Hikaru wanted to stay close by, but Shizue was taking his attention, wanting to take him around the airport to shop. I understood that and told him to enjoy himself.

They were all so excited about Yellow Lizard, the idea of finally going to a show. It was true that it was always hard to get tickets. They sold out all the time, and tickets were often taken by scalpers and sold at exorbitant prices. It made sense that they'd never been. Only Nobu was disinterested, shrugging off the idea. He even showed us his new ear plugs, telling us that metal shows were too loud and he'd hear what could hear behind these. It was a good idea. I asked if he'd be doing that throughout the tour as well, and he just nodded. He was happy to play Lyra's music, but he'd be ignoring Yellow Lizard for the most part.

As we talked to him, waiting for the announcement to board within the boarding area, Sana seemed to be interested, but he was obviously fading. He was eating a Happy Meal and looking at the toy that came with it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Trying too hard. By the time Nobu helped him into his airplane seat, Sana was completely spent. I immediately tilted his head onto my shoulder, and he fell asleep in seconds.

My hand went to his hair now, needing the comfort that was in it. His scalp was warm, this soft hair surrounding my fingers. I didn't move them or play with his hair, just kept it there. Needing that touch.

It was roughly two hours to Sapporo, and despite thinking for so long, as I checked my cellphone it said we'd only been in the air for twenty minutes. Not even enough time for drink service to have started.

What could I do to fill this emptiness inside? There was a need there, to do something. The emptiness was ebbing away at me, becoming bigger all the time. Trying to avoid those familiar thoughts, that happiness that I'd had as a constant. Realizing it now, that coping mechanism I'd created. Too much put in there, too much hope there that would never come. It seemed too big, so big that I could never replace it. How could I even think about replacing it?

Devastated. That's all it was. Imploded now, a giant crater. No more thoughts of us at the beach together, no more idea of us at the aquarium, our child on my shoulders and pointing at the ceiling. We wouldn't be leaned over, watching the jellyfish together.

I wanted to beg him again. That even if our child was sick, it was still worth it. Wasn't their life worth it? But, that idea. "Wasn't their life worth it?" They'd die long before I died. How many times would I die in this life? Watching Sana die. Watching our child die. How long would I survive after that?

There were tears running down my face. Thinking of what our child could look like, wrapped in their puffy winter coat, a scarf on that was too big, cute gloves that had kitten faces on them. Snowflakes all around, Christmas lights in the background smudged and blown out, making that child the most beautiful being on earth, like a little angel all lit up with a halo of rainbow colored lights.

We'd never have that child, or any child. Because...that child would only know suffering no matter how much we tried to make them smile. So much pain, behind those happy eyes.

Didn't our love matter? Didn't anything matter? How much love we could give that child. How much love we had to give.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter what I wanted. It was bigger than me. This idea.

Watching that same child, dying in a hospital bed, tubes everywhere. Machines making their noises. Having to say good-bye, or not getting a chance at all.

I can't do that to an innocent little baby. Sana had said that. I understood what those words meant. But, at the same time, I couldn't conceive of anything like that. I couldn't understand that concept, how big it was. Too big to understand.

In the window, I could see my face. Tears rolled down as the colors bounced off the clouds and into my image. No telling what was in my head from my mirrored picture. But, if you looked at my eyes. The devastation in my eyes. The only clue to this horror in my mind.