The x-ray was short and painless, and
before long, Nick had been escorted back into the examining room. He sat impatiently on the table, waiting for
the doctor to return and listening to the paper beneath him crinkle every time
he fidgeted.
It seemed to take forever for the
doctor to come back, but finally he did, carrying a shiny black x-ray film with
him. Wordlessly, he slid the x-ray onto
a white board mounted on one of the walls and hit a switch, illuminating the
board. Nick squinted at the x-ray, trying
to figure out if he could see a crack in one of his bones or not. He couldn’t tell; it was all a black and
white blur to him.
“So, do I have a fracture?” he asked
the doctor.
“Yes,” replied the doctor,
frowning. “You have a hairline fracture
here on your tibia; that’s the larger bone in your shin. See this line here?” He ran his finger across the x-ray, and Nick
nodded, just able to make out the tiny, dark line running across the white of
the bone. In the center of the white
part, right on the crack, there was a small, dark circle.
“What’s that black spot there?” he
asked. “Is that my kneecap or
something?”
“No, your kneecap is up here,” said the
doctor, pointing up near the top of the film.
“This black part here is actually a hole in your bone.”
Nick cocked his head in confusion. “A hole?” he repeated. “How did that happen? Did I chip the bone or something?”
The doctor pursed his lips. “Well… it’s, uh, hard to tell exactly what it
is by the x-ray. But I’d like to have
some more tests run.”
“More tests? Why?
Is there something really wrong with me?” Nick’s heart had begun to pound, and his
hands felt clammy. God, he hated
doctors.
“No, no, I didn’t say that,” the doctor
assured him, giving him a small smile.
“Don’t worry. It’s just a
precaution. The hole could be nothing,
or the x-ray could even be wrong. But I
want to be sure that it is just nothing.
Would you be willing to check into the hospital to have the tests run?”
“You mean I have a choice? I don’t have to do this?” Nick asked
hopefully. The doctor was making it
sound optional.
“Well, technically, no, but in my
expert opinion, I think you should,” replied the doctor, giving him a serious
look. “You have the right to refuse
treatment, of course, but better safe than sorry, right?”
“How long will these tests take? Like will I have to stay in the hospital?”
Nick asked warily.
“I’m not sure, but I imagine you would
have to stay overnight. Probably no
longer than that though.”
“Aww, man,” Nick groaned. “I… I really can’t do that now… I’m supposed
to go to Atlanta in two days. Can it
wait till I get back? I’m only gonna be
gone a few days.”
“Yes,” said the doctor. “But you need to stay off that leg. I’m going to rent you out a pair of crutches,
and I want you to use them. When you go
to the hospital, you’ll probably be fitted with some kind of leg brace, but
until then, be careful and take it easy.
What day will you be back from your trip?”
“Next Friday,” Nick replied.
“Okay.
I’ll call Tampa General and book a room for you for next Saturday. Will you be able to check into the hospital
then?”
“Yeah,” Nick reluctantly answered.
“Okay.
Sit tight, and I’ll make the arrangements. Be right back.” The doctor disappeared from the room, and
Nick sat alone, trying to keep his mind from jumping to the worst case
scenario, that when he went into the hospital the next week, the doctors would
find something terribly wrong with him.
Stop it, he told
himself. It’s probably nothing. This guy just wants me to go through these
tests so he won’t get sued if there is something wrong that he didn’t
catch. He tried to relax, tried to
take his mind off of the situation and focus on pleasant, happy things instead.
It didn’t work.
***
When Nick came off the plane at the
Atlanta airport two days later, he was on crutches. Hobbling through the cluster of people in the
terminal, Nick looked around for Brian.
Just when he was beginning to wonder if his friend had forgotten him, he
heard that familiar Kentucky-accented voice call out, “Nick!”
His head turning in the direction of
the voice, he spotted Brian pushing through the crowds to get to him. He grinned and opened his mouth to say hi to
his best friend, but Brian got out his words first. “What happened?” he cried, eyeing the
crutches.
“Stress fracture,” replied Nick. This was not the exact truth – after all, the
clinic doctor had technically never said it was a stress fracture. But that term made Nick think of an athlete,
and it sounded more valiant than admitting he had fractured his leg on his
bathtub.
“Stress fracture?” echoed Brian. “How did that happen?”
“I dunno, too much jumping around on
stage, I guess,” Nick replied with a shrug.
“Oh, that sucks, man. So how long do you have to use those
things?” He motioned to the crutches.
“I dunno, a few weeks, I guess. I’ll find out more next week; I’m going to a
specialist to get a brace put on it and stuff.”
Again, he was hiding information from Brian, but now was not the time to
worry his friend. He was worried enough
himself. Smiling casually, he asked,
“So, how’s Leigh and Baylee?”
Brian’s entire face brightened with
this question. “They’re just great,” he
said. “Excited to see you.”
“Baylee too?” Nick teased.
Brian laughed. “He will be.
Come on, let’s go get your bags.”
They stopped at the baggage claim to
pick up Nick’s suitcases, which Brian gallantly carried himself as he led the
way out to his car. Brian’s sporty blue
BMW looked the same as always, but when Nick got in, he observed an infant’s
car seat strapped into the backseat, just another reminder of how things had
changed over the past year.
The two men made small talk on the
drive from the airport to Brian’s house, and Nick couldn’t help but notice that
they seemed to have less to talk about than usual, despite the fact that they
hadn’t seen each other in several months.
The conversation was strained, with long pauses in between pointless
topics. Brian must have realized this as
well, for he flipped on the radio to ease the uncomfortable silence.
Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me a River”
droned through the speakers, and Nick wrinkled his nose in disgust, quickly
changing the station.
“Sorry,” he muttered, giving Brian a
sidelong glance.
“That’s okay,” Brian replied. “I hate that song too.”
Brian wasn’t much into hard rock the
way Nick was, so Nick found another pop station, a nice compromise. “Good song,” he commented, as Michelle
Branch’s “Goodbye to You” played.
“Yeah, much better,” Brian agreed.
“So… did you watch the Grammys?” The ceremony had been shown on TV several
weeks earlier.
“Yeah,” Brian answered tonelessly. “Maybe we’ll be there next year.”
“Yeah.
Maybe we’ll win next year.”
Brian snorted and grinned over at
Nick. “Yeah. Right.”
It had become something of a joke between the group members now; they
had been nominated for Grammys several years, but had never won. It was an honor just to be nominated, and
they were grateful, but they had come to the consensus that despite the quality
of their music, they would probably never win.
“Boybands” just never got very far when it came to that sort of
thing. Dismissed by critics, scoffed at
by other artists, they felt they would never be accepted as serious,
professional musicians. It was
disheartening, but that was just one of the downfalls of being a five-member
pop group. They would forever be compared
to New Kids on the Block and, though they had proven they could sing a cappella
and write their own music, they would always be thought of as nothing but a
talentless, lip-syncing boyband.
“So, have you talked to the guys
lately?” Brian asked in his Kentucky drawl.
“Nope,” replied Nick. “Have you?”
“Yeah, I talked to Kevin the other
day.”
“Let me guess – he called you, right?”
“Yeah.”
Nick chuckled. “Figured.
Daddy Kevin, always watching out for his baby cousin.”
“Always,” Brian repeated with a grin,
adding in an exaggerated drawl, “He’s mah cousin, ya know. I’ve known him all mah life.”
Nick snickered; it was fun to tease
Kevin about his more-than-obvious comments.
That particular interview, done on the set of the “As Long As You Love
Me” video, had become infamous.
Brian started laughing now as well, and
as the two sat side by side, cracking jokes about their older bandmate, it
seemed once again like old times, like nothing had changed. As Brian eased the car into his driveway and
pulled up to the house, Nick smiled, hoping that this visit would rekindle his
and Brian’s friendship. After all, they
were Frick and Frack, friends forever.
Nothing could come between them, nothing could separate them, right?
As the two climbed out of the car,
talking and laughing together, neither one knew of the trials they would soon
have to face.
***