Chapter 103
“One of us should call the other guys, you know.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Tearing their absent gazes away from the TV screen, Brian and Nick
exchanged glances. Offering Nick a
shrug, Brian added, “I was gonna call them after you called me… but then I
thought it would be better get here first and talk to you, then fill them in.”
Nick nodded. “So you didn’t
call anyone then?”
“Well, I… uh, no. Didn’t
call anyone.”
Nick nodded again, sliding his eyes back to the television
screen. Brian had been there for several
hours now, and after their initial conversation and tears, they had fallen into
an awkward silence, finally turning on the TV to relieve it. They had been sitting there all afternoon,
watching countless reruns of early 90’s sitcoms and lame game shows. It was now after six, and Nick’s attention
was drawn away from “The Simpsons” when he heard Brian’s stomach growl.
“I got plenty of food; help yourself,” he muttered, waving his
hand in the general direction of the kitchen.
“Okay.” Brian stood
up. “You hungry?”
Nick looked at him pointedly and replied, “What do you think?”
Brian offered him a small, sympathetic smile. “Sorry.
But you should probably eat something… you haven’t eaten all day, have
you?”
Nick shook his head slightly.
“Come on. I’ll make you
something to eat. Whatever you want,”
Brian offered, as if he expected Nick to jump for joy at this prospect.
“Ha… you? Cook?” Nick
snorted derisively.
“Hey, I can cook!” Brian insisted, crossing his arms over his
chest, a smug grin on his face. “Who do
you think makes dinner when Leighanne’s busy with the baby?”
“Kraft Easy Mac doesn’t count as dinner, Bri.”
“And why not? It’s food,
isn’t it? And it’s good stuff! You want me to make you macaroni?”
“I told you, I’m not hungry,” muttered Nick, his voice flattening,
the sarcasm quickly replaced with just plain sullenness.
“Okay, how about some toast then?
Just toast. Or some
crackers?” He waited for Nick to say
something, which he didn’t. “Come on,
Nick,” Brian pleaded after a moment.
“You need to eat. Don’t make this
any worse by starving yourself. What can
I fix you?”
It was obvious that Brian wasn’t about to back down, so Nick surrendered. “Fine.
Toast.”
“Toast it is then,” Brian said cheerfully. “You want butter on that?”
“Sure.”
“Alrighty. You coming to
keep me company, or are you going to just wait here?”
“Here.” He never tore his
gaze from the TV.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a
few.” Brian disappeared into the
kitchen, and Nick let out a soft sigh.
Brian was so good to him, such a great friend. He had been there for Nick through thick and
thin, seen him through everything in the past eleven years, from homesickness
on the road to fights with his dysfunctional family, from teenage crushes to
painful breakups, from infinite colds and flu bugs to the devastation of
cancer…
Out of nowhere, Nick felt the familiar prickling sensation in the
corners of his eyes and quickly swallowed back tears. What was wrong with him? He was acting worse than a pregnant woman
with all the mood swings and crying outbursts.
Maybe soon he’d start craving pickle-flavored ice cream or something
equally screwed up and disgusting. That
is, if he ever worked up an appetite again.
Vaguely, he wondered when he had last eaten anything. Nothing yet today… the morning had been spent
crying. Lunchtime? Crying.
Now it was time for dinner, and he had just been struggling not to break
down into tears yet again. And as far as
the day before went… he’d been too nervous about the doctor’s appointment to
eat breakfast, and after that, he’d been too upset for lunch or dinner. So that would put the last time he’d eaten at
about… nine o’clock on Friday night? If
he remembered correctly, he’d had a bowl of ice cream then. Okay, two bowls. Pig.
It didn’t matter though… who cared if he got fat from his bad
eating habits? If he lost his leg, it
wouldn’t matter whether he was trim and toned or morbidly obese. Either way, he’d still be a freak.
Freak…
The word bounced around in his mind like a voice echoing off
canyon walls, interrupted finally by the ring of the doorbell. Startled, Nick sat up straighter, his brow
furrowing. Who would be at his door now?
He considered going to look out the
peephole and see for himself, but the walk to the door looked much too far, and
he was more content to just sit there until whoever it was gave up and went
away.
But that person was more stubborn than Nick gave him or her credit
for. The bell sounded again and again,
and when he still made no move to get up, he heard a muffled, yet familiar
voice calling his name from outside the house.
“Nick! Nick! Nickolas, open up this door right now!”
Nick froze. Oh God… he knew
that voice… all too well.
“Mom.” His lips formed the
dreaded word, yet no sound escaped them.
“Nickolas! I know you’re
there; now let me in!”
She was still bellowing at him, probably making a big scene
outside. Sooner or later, he was going to
have to open up and let her in because if there was one thing Jane Carter was
not lacking in, it was determination. He
had inherited his stubborn streak from her and knew full well she wouldn’t back
down without a fight. He had no choice
but to invite her in before the whole spread-out neighborhood knew that she was
back in town.
With a shuddering sigh, he rose unsteadily and limped to the
door. Taking a deep breath, he opened it
and found him face to face with his estranged mother. Having no urge to speak, he simply stared,
his eyes boring into hers. She shied
away from his gaze, her eyes flickering downward, traveling the length of his
left leg. When she finally met his eyes
again, he saw that hers were covered by a sheen of tears, and he drew back,
shaken.
She knows.
But how could she have known?
Unless…
“BRIAN!”
Slamming the door shut, not caring that his mother stood just
outside it, Nick stomped across the foyer, through the spacious living room,
and into the kitchen, his sudden burst of rage deadening the pain that coursed
through his left shin with each pounding step.
Brian turned away from the counter, a piece of slightly-burnt
toast in one hand, his face a mask of innocence. “Nick?
What? What’s wrong?”
“You called her! You fucking
called her, didn’t you?!” Nick demanded angrily.
The mask instantly melted, revealing a face of guilt. “Jane’s here?” Brian queried, shifting his
weight uncomfortably.
“Damn right she’s here!
Didn’t you hear the doorbell? I
can’t believe you called my fucking mother!”
“I’m sorry, Nick,” Brian apologized sincerely. “I just thought you needed your mom… I mean,
if it were me, I would want my m-“
“That’s because your mom is what a mother should be!” Nick
countered, feeling a drop of envy blend with the fury that pumped through his
veins. “Why didn’t you just call her to
come comfort me? That would have been
better!”
“Do you want me to?” Brian asked seriously. “She’d be down here in a heartbeat if she
knew; I just didn’t think-“
“No! All I wanted was for you
to come; I called you and you only for a reason, Brian. Why did you have to go fuck things up?”
Brian opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Nick saw his
gaze flicker to something over his shoulder.
He spun around to find Jane Carter tentatively creeping across the
living room. She froze as soon as he
caught sight of her and hung back uncertainly, waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t. What was there to say?
“Nicky?” Realizing he had
forfeited his turn, Jane took hers instead.
“Baby, please,” she sniveled.
“Don’t push me away.”
“You made me push you away,” Nick muttered under his breath
as he turned his back, refusing to look at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Nick…” He sensed her
coming closer and instinctively stepped forward, away from her. “Nicky, let me help you.”
“You can’t help me. No one
can help me, unless by ‘helping me,’ they mean cutting off my fucking leg!” he
spat bitterly, turning back just in time to see her recoil at his words.
“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “I’m not going to let them do that. They are not amputating your leg, no
way in hell!”
“It’s my choice to make, not yours,” he muttered.
“Well, you shouldn’t have to make a choice like that at all.” Jane’s voice was filled with contempt. “You’re still seeing the same doctor you were
before, right? That woman… King
something, wasn’t it?”
“Kingsbury,” he corrected automatically.
“Kingsbury, right. Well,
Nick, that’s just one doctor working in a public hospital. There are plenty more specialists out there
who know what they’re talking about, and we need to get a second opinion. Maybe a third. Or a fourth, if that’s what it takes.” Nick rolled his eyes, and she continued
ardently, “The point is, if I’d known what was going on right after you were
diagnosed, I would have made sure you went to the finest cancer specialists out
there. You deserve the best medical care
and the best treatments, and now I know that’s not what you’re getting. There is no way I’m going to let some lowlife
quack cut off my son’s leg and ruin his life when there are other doctors and
other treatments available!”
Nick bit his lip, feeling torn.
Part of him hated her and wanted to ignore everything she told him… yet
he longed for what she said to be the truth, that there really were other
options, other treatments that would get rid of his cancer once and for all
without taking his leg in the process.
“Nick, maybe she’s right,” Brian advised quietly. “Maybe you should consider going to
another specialist for a second opinion.”
Nick turned angry eyes upon his friend once again. “And what do you know? A few hours ago, you were telling me to go
through with it! To let them chop off my
leg!”
“I-I know. And maybe that’s
still the case. But… but I think you
need to check with some other people first, just to be sure. Isn’t that what you want?”
It was what he wanted.
More than anything, he wanted to be told that Dr. Kingsbury was
wrong. And yet, he trusted Dr.
Kingsbury. She was a good doctor. She couldn’t be wrong, could she? He simply did not want to believe that all he
had been put through was for nothing, that the whole time, he could have sought
out a better doctor who would have cured his cancer on the first try, not put
him through countless rounds of chemo and radiation, only to tell him that he
would need his leg amputated to have a decent shot at survival.
But he had to find out.
Because if he went through with the amputation and later found out it
was for nothing, he would never forgive himself for being so naïve and stupid.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I
guess I’ll go see someone else.”
“Wonderful,” Jane beamed.
“I’ll do some research and make all the arrangements. Don’t you worry, sweetheart, everything is
going to be okay.”
Everything is going to be okay…
He wanted to believe her so badly.
But then why did he have so many doubts?
***