Chapter 120
“You’ve
sure been spending a lot of time with Nick lately.”
Claire’s
head snapped up from tying her shoes to look at her fiancée, who had made the
comment. “What??”
Jamie
smirked. “I said, you’ve sure-“
“I heard
what you said,” Claire cut him off curtly.
“I said ‘what?’ like that because I couldn’t believe how insensitive you
sounded.” That’s right, give him the
guilt trip, she coached herself, smiling inwardly. “I told you, Nick’s been going through a ton
of shit lately, so yes, I’ve been hanging out with him a lot.”
It had been
two weeks since she had brought ice cream over to Nick’s house and found him as
down and depressed as he had been. It
had worried her; she hadn’t seen Nick like that in a long time. The steroids were really getting to him. She knew what that was like, to an extent,
but it was different – she’d taken them as part of her chemo regimen, so the
added side effects didn’t seem so bad.
The way she’d looked at it, she was already going to be bald and sick
from the chemo, so why not add bloated and moody to the list? But Nick had been in remission for over two
years; he’d been through all of that.
It wasn’t fair that he was this sick again, with something different and
completely unrelated. She hated the way
life worked sometimes.
In any
case, Nick was depressed, and she’d been going over to his house often in the
last two weeks in a vain attempt to cheer him up or at least take his mind off
his misery. The whole situation gave her
déjà vu, for it reminded her of the weeks she’d spent hanging around Nick’s
house while he’d been cooped up there after his amputation. His mental state now was not a whole lot
better than it had been then, which made her sad. Nick had come so far since then, and now it
was almost like he was back at square one, with his self-esteem at zero.
It’ll get better. Once he gets off the steroids and the side
effects go away, he’ll be fine, she reminded herself. She knew
a lot of it was that Nick just couldn’t stand looking the way he did right
now. Some might think him vain for getting
as upset as he did about his looks, but Claire thought she understood why he
was like that. It was simple: Nick was used to being judged for his looks. As a Backstreet Boy, he’d been a heartthrob
since before he could drive, and his fans had always admired him for the way he
looked as much as for the way he sang.
In the world of pop music, appearance was probably almost as important
to one’s career as Claire’s hands were to hers, or at least that’s the way it
seemed sometimes. So whenever his looks
were compromised, Nick started to freak out.
“Well, why
do you have to take him to the doctor?
Why can’t one of his Backdoor buddies go with him?” Jamie asked
scornfully.
Claire knew
he was only being pissy because it was a Saturday, and he’d wanted them to
spend the whole day together. Still, her
patience was wearing thin. “Backdoor
buddies?” she repeated. “Oh, very
original, James. Not like I haven’t
heard that one before.”
“Oh,
whatever, Claire; you’ve probably used that one before. You’re only defending them now because you
dated one of them.”
“Yeah,
so? Nick showed me the light,” she said,
smiling sweetly up at Jamie. “Look, I
gotta go now. I told him I’d pick him up
at 9:30.”
Jamie
rolled his eyes. “Fine. Are you coming back here when you’re done or
going back to your place, or his, or what?”
“I dunno
yet. How about I just call you later?”
“Fine,” he
said again, his voice short.
Now it was
her turn to roll her eyes. She grabbed
her purse and left his apartment without kissing him goodbye. And I’m marrying this guy? she
couldn’t help but think as she walked down the stairs of his apartment
building. She loved Jamie, but he could
be a real jerk sometimes. Immature…
possessive… jealous...
She tried
not to think about it as she climbed into her car and started driving towards
Nick’s. He had his regular six-month
check-up with his oncologist that morning, and when she’d found out Howie was
going to be in Orlando doing something for his Dorough Lupus Foundation, Claire
had volunteered to go with Nick. It’ll
be just like old times, she thought ruefully, remembering the many times
she and Nick had sat together in the waiting room of the cancer clinic. It was a strange place for a friendship to
develop, but somehow, it had. And their friendship
had proven strong enough to last through sickness, health, and even dating, and
emerge mostly intact.
Claire
shook her head. It was definitely
strange, but that was what made it so special.
***
Nick was
running late. He’d accidentally
overslept and was now scrambling to get ready before Claire came. There was no time for a shower, so he did his
best to make his shaggy hair lie flat, brushed his teeth, and slathered on some
deodorant before getting dressed. He put
on baggy track pants and a t-shirt, frowning at the way the bulge of his
stomach was still visible beneath the loose material. He was starting to feel like the Pillsbury
Doughboy, and so help him, if one of the guys (probably AJ) thought they’d be
funny and poke him in the belly and go “Hoo-hoo!,” he’d probably lose it.
Thankfully,
except for Howie, the guys were scattered across the country and hadn’t seen
him in awhile. They were all using the
usual post-tour break to spend time with their families and work on their
individual projects. Nick got to spend
it sick, out of breath, and ballooning from the steroids he was stuck
taking. Life just sucked sometimes.
But he
didn’t have much time to dwell on it that morning. Claire was due to arrive any minute to pick
him up and drive him to Tampa General for his oncology appointment. As usual, he was not looking forward to it,
but he found that he wasn’t as nervous as usual either. He hadn’t felt great lately, but any symptom
he had could be blamed on the BOOP or the prednisone, so cancer was the
furthest thing from his mind.
Unsnapping
the seam of his left pant leg, he balanced on his good leg and reached for his
new prosthesis. He’d gotten the brand
new leg just over a week ago, after a visit to his prosthetist to be fitted for
one. It the same style as his last leg,
so it had been easy to get used to. He
was just relieved to be able to walk again, even if it did sap him of energy
and breath. Now if he could only lose
the oxygen tank…
Through the
open bedroom window, he heard Claire’s little Beetle putting up the drive and
scrambled for his shoes. Perching on the
side of his bed, he leaned over to tie the laces and snap up his pants and then
straightened, pausing to adjust to adjust the oxygen canula in his nose. Then he hauled himself up and grabbed the
handle of his rolling oxygen tank, loathing it every step of the way out of his
house.
He met
Claire at the front door. “Good
morning,” she said with a smile, as he came out.
“Morning,”
he greeted her, offering a half-smile back.
“Thanks for getting up early to go with me to this thing.”
“Oh, no
problem,” she shrugged. “You know I
don’t mind.”
He
chuckled. “Oh yeah, that’s right. I thought you got over hanging around at the
hospital for fun when Casey died.”
As soon as
he’d said that, Nick regretted it.
Claire gave him a hard look, and, swallowing, he mumbled, “Sorry, that
was insensitive. I didn’t mean it the
way it came out.”
“It’s
okay.”
Anxious to
change the subject, Nick asked, “Hey, you wanna drive the Jag? It’s got a little more leg room in the front
than your Bug here.” He glanced at her
tiny, round yellow car and smiled in amusement; it was cute, but not
particularly spacious-looking. Not that
his sporty Jaguar was much bigger, but it did have leg room.
Claire
brightened. “Sure! You know I’d never turn down a chance to take
that baby for a spin.”
Nick
laughed. “I’m never gonna be able to
sell it, you’re so attached to that thing.”
“You can
sell it, as long as you sell it to me – with a discount, mind you,” Claire
joked, beaming at him.
He chuckled
again, secretly wondering if he’d be able to use the car as barter to persuade
her to dump that prick Jamie before it was too late. But as they climbed into the silver Jaguar
again, Nick’s thoughts turned unexpectedly from Jamie back to Casey and what he
had said a few minutes ago.
“Do you
ever think about him?” he asked Claire, as she pulled on her seatbelt. “Casey?”
“Yeah, I
do.” She paused, a faraway look in her
eyes as she gazed out the windshield.
“He was a good kid.”
Nick
nodded, a lump rising in his throat.
“Yeah, he was.” It had been a
year-and-a-half since Casey’s death, but it still made Nick sad whenever he
thought about him. Casey was just
another example of how much life could suck.
He couldn’t explain why an eleven-year-old with a whole life ahead of
him had died after a long fight with cancer any more than he could figure out
why he had to spend his summer breathing oxygen through a tube because his
lungs had crapped out from a disease called BOOP. Casey should have still been alive, and Nick
should have been stretched out on a beach somewhere, enjoying his summer off. Instead, he was on his way to the hospital for
yet another check-up. Between visits to
Dr. Kingsbury and follow-up appointments with Dr. Mahmood, he’d seen more than
his share of doctors these last few months.
Nonetheless,
Claire whipped the Jag out of his gated neighborhood and set a course for Tampa
General Hospital.
***
Sitting in
the exam room with Nick, Claire looked up at the series of X-rays his doctor
had hung on the light board. They were
of Nick’s lungs, though she couldn’t identify much more than that. They always looked like a big blur of black
and white to her; she couldn’t tell what was “normal” and what wasn’t.
“Your chest
films look pretty good, Nick,” said Dr. Kingsbury, making a wide gesture across
the light board. “As you can see here,
there’s still some infiltrates from the BOOP-“
Her finger pointed out several hazy white patches on the slide. “-but it looks like it’s clearing up
nicely.” She turned to smile at
Nick. “Hopefully you’ll be off that
oxygen in the next few weeks.”
Nick made a
face. “I hope so too,” he said
emphatically.
Dr.
Kingsbury nodded, her smile understanding.
“Well, as usual, I won’t have the results of your labwork back until
tomorrow or Monday. I’m not expecting
any unpleasant surprises, but if anything comes up, I’ll give you a call.”
That part
always made Claire nervous. Glancing
over at Nick, she could tell by the way he kept swinging his leg from his high
perch on the examining table that he felt the same way. Tightening his jaw, he nodded. “Sounds good, Dr. K.”
The
oncologist was pulling his x-rays off the light board. Sliding them into a large manila envelope,
she said, “You can go ahead and get dressed.
Stop by reception on your way out to schedule your next
appointment. I’ll tell them six months
again...” She paused and gave Nick a
smile that reminded Claire of a mother’s.
“And I don’t want to see you back in here anytime before that, so take
it easy, young man.”
Nick smiled
in amusement. “No offense, Dr. K, but I
don’t wanna see you anytime before that either, so I will.”
The
middle-aged doctor laughed good-naturedly before she left the room. As Nick started to reach for his clothes,
Claire jumped up from her chair. “I’m
gonna run to the restroom real quick, while you’re getting dressed,” she
announced and hurried out of the room before he could reply. She wasn’t sure he would buy her restroom
excuse or not, but at least he might think she was just leaving to give him
some privacy while he changed. Sure,
she’d seen him in a lot less than boxers before, but now that they weren’t
together anymore, it didn’t seem appropriate to see him half-naked.
But that
wasn’t the real reason she had left. She
wanted to talk to Dr. Kingsbury, out of Nick’s earshot. He would kill her if he knew what she was
doing, but she didn’t care. It was for
his well-being.
“Dr. K!”
she called, seeing the doctor walking up the hall ahead of her. The oncologist stopped and turned, waiting as
Claire jogged towards her.
“Claire? Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, it’s
fine. I just wanted to talk to you about
something, if you have a minute,” Claire said, looking at her hopefully.
Dr.
Kingsbury nodded. “Of course. Why don’t we get out of the hall and go to my
office.” She put her hand on Claire’s
shoulder and steered her around. As they
walked towards her office, Dr. Kingsbury looked over at Claire and commented,
“I know it’s none of my business, but I just have to say, I’m happy to see you
and Nick back together.”
Claire’s
stomach did a flip, rolling in the wave of guilt that washed over her. “Oh… actually, we’re not… together… again,”
she faltered. “We’re just finally past
that awkward period where we can be friends again.”
“Oh!” The older woman looked visibly
embarrassed. “I’m sorry! My mistake.
I just assumed…”
Claire
smiled tightly. “It’s okay.”
“Well, even
so, it’s nice that you came with him today.
Support figures are important, and I’m sure your support means a lot to
Nick.” She gave Claire a polite smile as
she escorted her into her office. “Have
a seat,” she added, motioning to the set of chairs in front of her desk.
Claire sank
down into one. “Actually, speaking of
support,” she said, “I’m worried about Nick.
This whole BOOP thing is really getting to him. He hates being confined to an oxygen tank,
and he hates what the steroids are doing to him even more. He’s been really depressed the last few
weeks. I know part of that could just be
the prednisone talking, but still… I haven’t seen him this down on himself
since he lost his leg. It scares
me. I don’t think he’d admit it to you,
and he’d kill me if he knew I was talking to you about him behind his back,
but… I’m just worried. I was wondering
if there was anything you could suggest to help him…” She trailed off, looking hopefully at Nick’s
doctor. She knew Dr. Kingsbury had come
to care about Nick in the years she’d been treating him and figured if anyone
would want to help, she would.
The
oncologist nodded, deep lines appearing in her forehead as she frowned in
concern. “I see this sort of thing a lot
in my patients, as I’m sure you can understand,” she said. “The side effects of cancer treatments can
cause a lot of self-image problems.
Usually I start by recommending a support group. Sometimes all people need is a place to share
their feelings, vent a bit, and meet people who are going through the same
things they are. Lets them see they’re
not alone. I know you’ve been through
some of the things Nick has, so I’m sure you’re valuable resource to him for
support, but has he ever been to any kind of group therapy for this?”
Claire
shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
Dr.
Kingsbury nodded again, lips pursed.
“Well, the hospital offers several different support groups for cancer
patients. I know what Nick is going
through now isn’t directly cancer-related, but since I don’t know of any BOOP
support groups, one of the cancer groups might still help him cope with the
side effects of his treatment. They
aren’t that different from what some cancer patients go through.”
Claire
nodded knowingly. “That might help,” she
said, though she was wondering how she could possibly convince Nick to go to a
support group meeting. He wasn’t one who
liked to talk about his feelings, especially to strangers, and he didn’t seem
like he wanted to attract any attention to himself right now either. But it was worth a shot.
“I’ll tell
you what. I’ll stop back in and give him
this pamphlet,” Dr. Kingsbury went on, pulling a colorful brochure from her
desk drawer, “so that he’ll think the support group idea was all mine. Why don’t you take my card-“ She fumbled in her desk drawer for another
few seconds and then slid a white business card across the desk to Claire, “-
and if this falls through, give me a call.
If he’s still having problems, there’s always one-on-one counseling, or
I can refer him to a psychiatrist who could prescribe a mild
antidepressant. That would be only if
nothing else helps though,” Dr. Kingsbury added, shaking her head. “With as much medication as my patients are
already on, I don’t like to use drugs to treat emotional symptoms except in
extreme cases. Just talking about what
they’re going through can work wonders in most people.”
Claire
nodded, glad she had decided to talk to Nick’s doctor. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I’ll try and get him to try out one of the
support groups.”
“Great,”
smiled Dr. Kingsbury. Rising from her
desk chair, she said, “I know I don’t know Nick as well as you do, but I
wouldn’t worry too much. I know he’s
strong, for having come through as much as he has. This is just one more little road bump he’s
got to get over, and I know he will.”
Claire
smiled back and nodded. “I know he will
too.”
***
As Claire
winded the Jaguar out of the hospital parking deck, Nick kept staring down at
the pamphlet in his hands. Just as she
had promised, Dr. Kingsbury had given it to him before he and Claire could
leave, telling him basically the same thing she’d told Claire, without
mentioning she’d discussed it with Claire first. He’d seemed receptive to the idea of joining
a support group inside the clinic, but at soon as they were out of earshot,
he’d started complaining.
“This is
stupid,” he said, for at least the third time, flipping through the pamphlet
again. “I don’t need some cheesy support
group. After four years of dealing with
this shit, I think I can handle things on my own.”
Claire had
suspected he would react this way, but she felt it was her duty to try to
convince him otherwise. “I know, but why
do you feel like you have to handle it all on your own? It’s a lot to handle, everything you’ve been
through. Don’t you think it would be
kind of rejuvenating to go and rant about it to a bunch of people who know just
what you’re feeling?”
Nick looked
over at her. “You mean, like you? Why would I want to go rant to a bunch of
strangers when I can just talk to you?”
Claire felt
herself starting to smile, inwardly touched.
But she knew she couldn’t let the issue drop that easily. “Well, I’m not the all-knowing authority on
everything, Nick. Besides, I’m only one
person. It might be interesting to hear
from other people with other experiences,” she pointed out, turning onto the
highway.
“Oh
yeah? And why do you want me to go to
one of these things so bad? Do you think
I’m that messed up?”
“Nick -
no! These aren’t for ‘messed up’ people;
they’re just for people who want to share what they’re going through and get
some support from others who are going through the same thing.”
“Then
where’s the BOOP group?” asked Nick derisively, and Claire giggled because of
the way it rhymed.
“Dr.
Kingsbury said there wasn’t one, so one of the cancer groups would be the next
best thing,” she replied. Too late did
she realize her mistake.
“You talked
to Dr. Kingsbury about this?” Nick asked slowly, the realization dawning. Then, like a volcano, he erupted, his voice
turning heated and angry. “Did you go
behind my back and put her up to this??
What the fuck did you tell her?!”
Claire
winced and gripped the steering wheel tightly.
She couldn’t drive with him screaming at her like that. “Nick, calm down! I was just trying to help!” she cried.
“Well,
you’re not! I don’t need some gay
therapy group to ‘help’ me,” Nick spat.
Staring out at the highway in front of her, Claire rolled her eyes. He was so damn stubborn.
“Fine,
Nick,” she snapped. “You’re right; you
don’t need any help. Everything in your
life is just dandy, and you couldn’t be happier. Why waste your time talking to a bunch of
miserable people with cancer in some ‘gay’ support group? You don’t need their support – you don’t have
any issues! Life is good! Am I right?”
Having run out of sarcastic things to say, she glanced over at him. He was slumped against the door, sulking.
“Life
fucking sucks,” he muttered bitterly, pausing to take in some
oxygen. “But a support group isn’t gonna
change that.”
“How do you
know? They must help somehow, or people
wouldn’t be in them. Don’t knock it till
you try it.”
He glowered
over at her. “Have you ever been
to one of these things?”
She
hesitated. He had her there. She remembered her own doctor handing her a
similar pamphlet along with her discharge papers when she’d left the hospital
after her initial diagnosis. Dr. Rodrigo
had recommended she join a group for young adults with cancer so she could meet
other people close to her age who were going through treatment. Her reaction hadn’t been much different than
Nick’s. Her parents had urged her to
look into it, but she’d shoved the pamphlet in a drawer and hadn’t looked at it
again until sometime months later, when she was in remission. Then she’d pitched it. I don’t want to sit around in a room
filled with cancer patients. How
depressing, she’d thought. I just
want to get past this, not dwell on it.
She’d been
proud, stubborn… just like Nick. And
sure, she’d gotten through her first bout with leukemia without any lasting
psychological problems; in fact, she was emotionally stronger for having done
it. But looking back, maybe she’d been
silly to dismiss the idea of a support group so quickly. The reason she thought this way now was that
shortly after she’d started up treatment again for her relapse, she’d met Nick,
and he’d become her support group.
She wasn’t
sure he realized it or not, but she’d leaned on him as much as he had leaned on
her. She’d been put into the role of the
strong one, the mentor, the one who’d been through it all already, while he was
the newbie, scared and alone as he started treatment. But as they’d gotten closer, having him to
talk to had helped her as much as talking to her seemed to help him. With her family hovering over her, Dianna
supportive but ignorant, and Jamie content to stay away, Nick had been a
welcome source of comfort in her life.
He’d stuck by her without smothering her, and understood what she was
going through without interfering. He’d
made her laugh when she felt like crying, sang to her to distract her from the
pain, and held her hand when she could barely hold her eyes open. He’d been there when she’d needed him, and he
had been wonderful.
Had she
ever thanked him properly for all of that?
She wasn’t sure. After her bone
marrow transplant, he’d gotten into that mess with Leah, and they’d barely
spoken for the next six months. Then his
leg had been amputated, and the roles had reversed again, with her as the
leaning post, and he the one who needed some hand-holding. She supposed that was her thank-you, but it
hadn’t been like that at all. She hadn’t
stuck by him out of sheer gratitude; she’d stuck by him because she cared about
him. Deeply.
This was
still true, but after everything he had been put through, she wasn’t sure a
shoulder to lean on was enough for him anymore.
She wasn’t sure her shoulder was strong enough to bear the full
weight of his anguish. Please, Nick,
she begged inwardly. Please, give it
a try.
She chose
her words carefully. “No… I
haven’t. But I was offered the same
options, and sometimes I wonder if I would have had an easier time of things if
I had given one a try. Might have helped
my attitude.”
“Your
attitude?” Nick scoffed. “You had the
best attitude of anyone I could imagine in your situation. You were so cool and casual about everything…
like it didn’t even bother you. I could
have never been like that.”
She smiled
wryly. “You didn’t know me the first
time I went through it. You didn’t see
me when I first found out I’d relapsed either.
It took me a long time to get to that place, Nick, where I could just go
with the flow, pretend nothing bothered me.
I was bitter, too. My friends
were all wrapped up in their lives, getting their college degrees, and I was
losing my hair and puking my guts out.
You think I was cool about that?
Hell no! I thought life fucking
sucked back then too – to put it in your words. And I didn’t really have anyone to tell that
to, so I just kept it inside. And
eventually I just learned to put on a happy face and act like I was okay so I
wouldn’t drive all of my friends away.
Maybe a support group would have helped me channel all of my feelings a
little better.”
Nick didn’t
reply for a few seconds. Then he said,
“But you were young. And just
diagnosed. That’s a lot for a
twenty-year-old kid to handle. I’m
twenty-seven. I’ve been through three
rounds with cancer. I think I know how
to deal with my feelings by now. If I
didn’t, I’d have probably killed myself years ago.”
Claire
pressed her lips together. She knew by
his voice that he was kidding, but it wasn’t funny. “You’ve been through three rounds of cancer,
and now you’re sick again with something else.
Maybe this isn’t on the same level as bone cancer, but it still sucks. I’ve seen how depressed it’s been making you,
and it’s made me worried about you, Nick.
That’s why I talked to Dr. Kingsbury.
I didn’t want to do it in front of you because I knew you’d get mad, but
can’t you see I’m just trying to help? I
don’t want you to hurt… physically or emotionally. And since I can’t do much about the physical
part, maybe I can help with the emotional part.
Maybe one of these groups could help.”
Nick shook
his head and mumbled, “I’m not suicidal.
I just… don’t like living this way.
Once I’m better, I’ll be fine.”
She glanced
over at him briefly before returning her eyes to the road. They were almost to his neighborhood. “I know that,” she said softly. “But why suffer now? Why not give one of these groups a try, and
see if it helps make living this way a little easier for you? I mean, who knows how long this BOOP thing is
going to last? Your doctor said it could
take months to completely get over.”
Nick sighed
heavily. “Don’t remind me,” he groaned.
As she
slowed the Jaguar to a stop in front of his house, Claire said, “Listen, I’m
gonna stop preaching to you about support groups now, cause I told you I’d never
been to one – what do I know? Maybe they
are stupid. But maybe they’re not. Will you at least give this some thought?” She turned off the ignition and turned to
look at him, waiting for his answer.
He pressed
his lips into a pout and studied her for a few seconds. Then he asked, “Would you go with me?”
Claire
blinked, caught off-guard by the request.
Then again… why not? she thought.
She couldn’t let him think she was all talk, and if it would get him to
give one a try…
“Okay,” she
answered with a nod, smiling. “I’ll go
with you.”
***