Categories > Celebrities > Simple Plan > No News Is Good News
The car pulled up in front of the hospital and David put a hand on Pierre’s shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked, brown eyes searching over his friend’s face.
“Yup.” Pierre sighed. “You do what you have to, right?”
“Right.” David smiled weakly. “We’re here, too, okay?”
“Yeah, I know,” Pierre said, looking in the rearview mirror at his four best friends.
“So you want us to come in with you?” Sebastien asked.
“Would you? If it’s not too much to ask....” Pierre looked hesitant.
“‘Course not. We’ll come,” Seb reassured him.
Pierre stopped the car and got out of the front seat slowly, dreading what he was about to see. When he had gotten the call about his father, he had been half-asleep. The realization still hadn’t hit him.
“Let’s go, Pie. I bet your dad wants to see you,” David said, giving Pierre a quick one-armed hug.
“Yeah. That explains why we haven’t spoken in four years,” Pierre said, snorting a little.
“Oh, come on. I know things got bad between you two....your fighting got way out of hand....but I bet he regrets it just as much as you do. Especially now,” Seb said.
“Sure,” Pierre said. “Sure.”
The five of them walked through the front doors of the hospital, attracting a few stares. Pierre glanced around then walked up to the reception desk.
“Can you tell me where my father is? His name’s Charles Bouvier.”
“Bouvier? Room 305. Down that hall,” the nurse said, looking up at Pierre and pointing down a hallway to her left.
Pierre looked down the hall. “Thanks.” He tapped the counter top a few times then backed away, still looking down the hall.
“Guys....can you give me a couple seconds?” Pierre asked.
“Sure, Pie. We’ll wait,” Chuck said.
“Thanks.” Pierre managed a weak grin, and started down the hall, looking for room 305.
As he neared the room, his footsteps got slower and more hesitant. He wouldn’t even be here right now if his mother hadn’t asked. Regrettably, when he had lost touch with his father, he had stopped talking to his mother as well. He didn’t even know how she had his cell phone number, seeing as it had changed three times in the last four years. David had probably given it to her, in case she really needed to get hold of him like she had last night.
Pierre stopped, directly across the hall from room 305.
Through the rush of doctors, nurses, and people moving through the hall, he happened to see into his father’s room.
It was then, as Pierre caught a glimpse of his father lying pale and helpless on a hospital bed, that it hit him.
His father was dying of cancer.
***
David watched Pierre go, tilting his head to the side. He felt so sorry for him. Pierre and his dad hadn’t spoken since their huge falling-out four years ago, and now that his dad was dying, he knew how hard it must be for Pierre.
Pierre was such a proud person. David knew it must be extremely hard for him to swallow his pride after all the fighting and go to see his dad, but it just proved how much Pierre really loved his dad, no matter how much he protested that he didn’t.
“Right....well....I’m just gonna sit,” Jeff said uncomfortably.
David gave him a small smile. He knew how hard it was for Jeff, too. Jeff’s father had died when they were touring, and he knew Jeff regretted not being able to see his dad one last time or being able to go to his funeral.
“Yeah, me too,” Chuck said, following Jeff over to the row of chairs by the door and sitting down next to him. The two of them started talking quietly.
David turned to Seb. “I’m kinda hungry....I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Seb said. “I think the cafeteria’s down that way.” He pointed down the hall opposite the one Pierre had gone down.
“Really? Why?” David asked.
Seb shrugged. “People are coming from that way carrying trays.”
“Okay.” David decided to give Seb the benefit of the doubt, and the two of them started down the hall.
They walked for a little while, past rooms with lots of visitors, rooms with none, and rooms with no one in them any more. The two of them stayed quiet. They knew they didn’t have to, but it felt like they shouldn’t be talking. It felt like they shouldn’t even be here.
A little ways down the hall, the walls changed from grayish-brown to bright yellow, and David realized that they were in the children’s wing.
“Oh, this is depressing,” Seb said. “You feel so sorry for these kids....”
“Shh.” David held up a hand.
“Sorry,” Seb said, confused.
“No, listen,” David said. He stopped walking. Seb stopped too, watching David with a confused look on his face.
David started walking again, slower this time. Seb followed, still unsure of what they were doing.
“Hear that?” David asked Seb quietly. Seb listened as hard as he could. Over the sounds of the hospital, he heard a girl’s high, clear voice singing “Perfect World.”
“You mean the chick singing ‘Perfect World?’” Seb asked.
“Yeah.” David grinned. Seb smiled too. He thought it was funny how David still thought it was special every time they heard one of their songs on the radio, or a music video on TV, or someone came up to them in the street and asked for an autograph. Seb still felt that way too, sometimes, but not as strongly as David did. He was almost like a kid, the way he found happiness in the simplest things, something Sebastien had missed since David and his last girlfriend had broken up. He was happy that part of David’s disposition was coming back.
“Well?” David asked.
“What?”
“Don’t you wanna go find out who’s singing?”
“Well....”
“Come on,” David pleaded.
Seb sighed. “Fine.”
David started off down the hall, peeking in the doorway of every room.
Seb ran after him. “David.”
“What?” David stopped and looked at him.
“Don’t do that.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause people here might not want you randomly looking in your rooms.”
“Then how are we supposed to know who’s singing?” David folded his arms.
“It’s called ‘listen.’”
“What?”
“If you listen closely, you’ll be able to figure out where this singing is coming from.”
“Oh....right.”
The two of them started off again, going slower this time. The farther down the hall they went, the louder the singing got. They reached the last door of the hall. The singing was loudest here.
“Is that it?” David asked, pointing at the door.
“I dunno....” Seb looked in the window. There, on the bed, was a blonde girl in a hospital gown, arms crossed and an extremely pissed look on her face, singing “Perfect World” at the top of her lungs.
***
Pierre stared at the door of his father’s hospital room for nearly a minute, trying to process what he had just seen. His father might never get better. His father might die.
Pierre took a deep breath, steeling himself up, and pushed open the door of Room 305.
He stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Charles Bouvier looked up from the book he was reading and saw his son standing there.
“Pierre?” he asked, not believing his eyes at first. “You’re....you’re here?”
“Ye–” Pierre stopped, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I am.”
His father closed his book and opened his arms.
Pierre stood there, staring, then started and bent down slowly to hug his father.
“I didn’t think you would come....” Charles Bouvier said, holding on to his son.
“Mom asked me to.” Pierre knew he sounded like an asshole, but he couldn’t shut up. “I did it for her. She’s in really bad shape.”
“I see.” Mr. Bouvier let go of Pierre and leaned back on his pillows.
“Yeah, otherwise I’d be getting ready for our show tomorrow.” Pierre could tell that he was hurting his father, but the both of them were too proud to acknowledge it.
“Yes....you have a show tomorrow?”
Pierre could see how hard his father was trying to move on from the past and make small talk, but that was precisely what annoyed him so much. Pierre wanted nothing more than to have another argument with his father, just let everything he had been holding inside for the past four years out, once and for all, and see how he liked it then. He wanted to move on, too, but his evil half wanted to rip open the slowly healing wound that was the fight between him and his father.
“I do, actually,” Pierre said, walking over to the window and looking out across the tops of the buildings and houses some-odd feet below the floor of the hospital he was standing on. “It’s a benefit thing....and to keep the fans happy while we’re recording our next CD.”
“Keep the fans happy, eh?” Pierre didn’t have to turn around to know that his dad was smiling at him. “How many fans you guys got these days?”
Pierre remembered, with a slight sting of longing, how his father used to ask him that, back when his band was first starting out and they could count the number of fans they had on one hand. Now they were globally known and mostly adored, and his father still asked him the same thing. But instead of bringing back happy memories, all it did was push Pierre a little closer to his breaking point.
“A lot,” he said shortly. “Listen, Dad, I don’t have much time to sit here and visit with you today. Got a lot of things to do, you know.”
A part of Pierre wanted so badly for his father to ask him to stay. But another, not quite bigger, but much stronger part of him wanted his father to ask him to stay so he could blow him off.
“All right, well, then....I’ll see you again soon, son.”
Try as he might, Mr. Bouvier could not hide the hope that made his voice lift at the end of his sentence.
“Yeah, soon,” Pierre said, pushing open the door and power-walking out into the hall.
The door swung shut behind him and Pierre leaned up against it, his breathing slightly heavier than normal. Was this natural, to react this way? he wondered. Is it normal to not want to be around a family member who’s sick?
Or, he thought, as a new realization hit, am I just the worst son in the world?
“You okay?” he asked, brown eyes searching over his friend’s face.
“Yup.” Pierre sighed. “You do what you have to, right?”
“Right.” David smiled weakly. “We’re here, too, okay?”
“Yeah, I know,” Pierre said, looking in the rearview mirror at his four best friends.
“So you want us to come in with you?” Sebastien asked.
“Would you? If it’s not too much to ask....” Pierre looked hesitant.
“‘Course not. We’ll come,” Seb reassured him.
Pierre stopped the car and got out of the front seat slowly, dreading what he was about to see. When he had gotten the call about his father, he had been half-asleep. The realization still hadn’t hit him.
“Let’s go, Pie. I bet your dad wants to see you,” David said, giving Pierre a quick one-armed hug.
“Yeah. That explains why we haven’t spoken in four years,” Pierre said, snorting a little.
“Oh, come on. I know things got bad between you two....your fighting got way out of hand....but I bet he regrets it just as much as you do. Especially now,” Seb said.
“Sure,” Pierre said. “Sure.”
The five of them walked through the front doors of the hospital, attracting a few stares. Pierre glanced around then walked up to the reception desk.
“Can you tell me where my father is? His name’s Charles Bouvier.”
“Bouvier? Room 305. Down that hall,” the nurse said, looking up at Pierre and pointing down a hallway to her left.
Pierre looked down the hall. “Thanks.” He tapped the counter top a few times then backed away, still looking down the hall.
“Guys....can you give me a couple seconds?” Pierre asked.
“Sure, Pie. We’ll wait,” Chuck said.
“Thanks.” Pierre managed a weak grin, and started down the hall, looking for room 305.
As he neared the room, his footsteps got slower and more hesitant. He wouldn’t even be here right now if his mother hadn’t asked. Regrettably, when he had lost touch with his father, he had stopped talking to his mother as well. He didn’t even know how she had his cell phone number, seeing as it had changed three times in the last four years. David had probably given it to her, in case she really needed to get hold of him like she had last night.
Pierre stopped, directly across the hall from room 305.
Through the rush of doctors, nurses, and people moving through the hall, he happened to see into his father’s room.
It was then, as Pierre caught a glimpse of his father lying pale and helpless on a hospital bed, that it hit him.
His father was dying of cancer.
***
David watched Pierre go, tilting his head to the side. He felt so sorry for him. Pierre and his dad hadn’t spoken since their huge falling-out four years ago, and now that his dad was dying, he knew how hard it must be for Pierre.
Pierre was such a proud person. David knew it must be extremely hard for him to swallow his pride after all the fighting and go to see his dad, but it just proved how much Pierre really loved his dad, no matter how much he protested that he didn’t.
“Right....well....I’m just gonna sit,” Jeff said uncomfortably.
David gave him a small smile. He knew how hard it was for Jeff, too. Jeff’s father had died when they were touring, and he knew Jeff regretted not being able to see his dad one last time or being able to go to his funeral.
“Yeah, me too,” Chuck said, following Jeff over to the row of chairs by the door and sitting down next to him. The two of them started talking quietly.
David turned to Seb. “I’m kinda hungry....I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Seb said. “I think the cafeteria’s down that way.” He pointed down the hall opposite the one Pierre had gone down.
“Really? Why?” David asked.
Seb shrugged. “People are coming from that way carrying trays.”
“Okay.” David decided to give Seb the benefit of the doubt, and the two of them started down the hall.
They walked for a little while, past rooms with lots of visitors, rooms with none, and rooms with no one in them any more. The two of them stayed quiet. They knew they didn’t have to, but it felt like they shouldn’t be talking. It felt like they shouldn’t even be here.
A little ways down the hall, the walls changed from grayish-brown to bright yellow, and David realized that they were in the children’s wing.
“Oh, this is depressing,” Seb said. “You feel so sorry for these kids....”
“Shh.” David held up a hand.
“Sorry,” Seb said, confused.
“No, listen,” David said. He stopped walking. Seb stopped too, watching David with a confused look on his face.
David started walking again, slower this time. Seb followed, still unsure of what they were doing.
“Hear that?” David asked Seb quietly. Seb listened as hard as he could. Over the sounds of the hospital, he heard a girl’s high, clear voice singing “Perfect World.”
“You mean the chick singing ‘Perfect World?’” Seb asked.
“Yeah.” David grinned. Seb smiled too. He thought it was funny how David still thought it was special every time they heard one of their songs on the radio, or a music video on TV, or someone came up to them in the street and asked for an autograph. Seb still felt that way too, sometimes, but not as strongly as David did. He was almost like a kid, the way he found happiness in the simplest things, something Sebastien had missed since David and his last girlfriend had broken up. He was happy that part of David’s disposition was coming back.
“Well?” David asked.
“What?”
“Don’t you wanna go find out who’s singing?”
“Well....”
“Come on,” David pleaded.
Seb sighed. “Fine.”
David started off down the hall, peeking in the doorway of every room.
Seb ran after him. “David.”
“What?” David stopped and looked at him.
“Don’t do that.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause people here might not want you randomly looking in your rooms.”
“Then how are we supposed to know who’s singing?” David folded his arms.
“It’s called ‘listen.’”
“What?”
“If you listen closely, you’ll be able to figure out where this singing is coming from.”
“Oh....right.”
The two of them started off again, going slower this time. The farther down the hall they went, the louder the singing got. They reached the last door of the hall. The singing was loudest here.
“Is that it?” David asked, pointing at the door.
“I dunno....” Seb looked in the window. There, on the bed, was a blonde girl in a hospital gown, arms crossed and an extremely pissed look on her face, singing “Perfect World” at the top of her lungs.
***
Pierre stared at the door of his father’s hospital room for nearly a minute, trying to process what he had just seen. His father might never get better. His father might die.
Pierre took a deep breath, steeling himself up, and pushed open the door of Room 305.
He stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Charles Bouvier looked up from the book he was reading and saw his son standing there.
“Pierre?” he asked, not believing his eyes at first. “You’re....you’re here?”
“Ye–” Pierre stopped, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I am.”
His father closed his book and opened his arms.
Pierre stood there, staring, then started and bent down slowly to hug his father.
“I didn’t think you would come....” Charles Bouvier said, holding on to his son.
“Mom asked me to.” Pierre knew he sounded like an asshole, but he couldn’t shut up. “I did it for her. She’s in really bad shape.”
“I see.” Mr. Bouvier let go of Pierre and leaned back on his pillows.
“Yeah, otherwise I’d be getting ready for our show tomorrow.” Pierre could tell that he was hurting his father, but the both of them were too proud to acknowledge it.
“Yes....you have a show tomorrow?”
Pierre could see how hard his father was trying to move on from the past and make small talk, but that was precisely what annoyed him so much. Pierre wanted nothing more than to have another argument with his father, just let everything he had been holding inside for the past four years out, once and for all, and see how he liked it then. He wanted to move on, too, but his evil half wanted to rip open the slowly healing wound that was the fight between him and his father.
“I do, actually,” Pierre said, walking over to the window and looking out across the tops of the buildings and houses some-odd feet below the floor of the hospital he was standing on. “It’s a benefit thing....and to keep the fans happy while we’re recording our next CD.”
“Keep the fans happy, eh?” Pierre didn’t have to turn around to know that his dad was smiling at him. “How many fans you guys got these days?”
Pierre remembered, with a slight sting of longing, how his father used to ask him that, back when his band was first starting out and they could count the number of fans they had on one hand. Now they were globally known and mostly adored, and his father still asked him the same thing. But instead of bringing back happy memories, all it did was push Pierre a little closer to his breaking point.
“A lot,” he said shortly. “Listen, Dad, I don’t have much time to sit here and visit with you today. Got a lot of things to do, you know.”
A part of Pierre wanted so badly for his father to ask him to stay. But another, not quite bigger, but much stronger part of him wanted his father to ask him to stay so he could blow him off.
“All right, well, then....I’ll see you again soon, son.”
Try as he might, Mr. Bouvier could not hide the hope that made his voice lift at the end of his sentence.
“Yeah, soon,” Pierre said, pushing open the door and power-walking out into the hall.
The door swung shut behind him and Pierre leaned up against it, his breathing slightly heavier than normal. Was this natural, to react this way? he wondered. Is it normal to not want to be around a family member who’s sick?
Or, he thought, as a new realization hit, am I just the worst son in the world?
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