Chapter 23
The next item on Nick’s agenda was calling Brian, and this he was
dreading even more than calling his mother.
He knew there would be no fighting with Brian… but what would he tell
him? He wanted to tell the truth, wanted
to get the weight off his shoulders, but he couldn’t. Especially not over the phone. He would need an excuse, a reason why he
hadn’t answered his phone in two weeks.
In the end, he never did come up with one, but he called Brian
anyway, knowing he had to.
Brian answered with a frazzled, “Hello?” and Nick could hear
Baylee screaming in the background.
“Uh, hey, Bri, it’s me, Nick.
Is this a bad time?”
“Nick! No, no, it’s fine!”
Brian cried, his voice brightening.
“Where have you been? Are you
okay? The guys and I have all been
trying to call you, and-“
“Yeah, I know,” Nick cut him off.
“I’m really sorry, man.”
“Well, where were you?
What’s been going on?” Brian persisted, disregarding the apology.
“Um…” Nick struggled for
words, feeling like a cartoon character with an angel on one shoulder and a
devil on the other, the angel whispering, “Tell him the truth!” while the devil
hissed, “Lie! Make something up!” Ignoring them both, Nick finally said, “I
can’t really tell you.”
There was a long silence, and then Brian said, “Why not? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Uh… well… it’s not like you think… you’ll find out soon enough,
but… it’s not important now.”
“Well, it sounds important to me.”
“Bri, lay off it, please?” Nick begged.
“Nick, what’s wrong? Why
can’t you tell me?” Brian pleaded.
“You’re my best friend; I thought we could tell each other anything.”
“We… we can…” Nick said helplessly. “It’s just… you don’t understand… but you
will later… I can’t explain it, but I just… I can’t tell you right now.”
There was another pause.
Then, “Nick, are you trying to pull something over on me? Like when we all decided to leave Jive, and
you informed us out of the blue that you were staying with them and putting out
a solo album? What are you trying to
hide from me?”
“Brian, don’t start with the damn solo album thing again! Jesus, I didn’t realize you guys were all
gonna act so pissy about that! It’s not
like I was ever planning on leaving the group; we were on hiatus, and I just
wanted to do it while I could! It’s
always been one of my goals, and I decided to go for it while I had the
chance. I was living out one of my
dreams with that album!” Might be one
of the last dreams I’ll ever get to live out, he added bitterly in his
head.
“Nick, this isn’t about your album! Stop acting so self-centered! Can’t you see that we care about you and that
we were worried about you while you weren’t answering your phone for two
weeks?”
“Self-centered… so that’s what you think I am,” Nick said
quietly. “Okay then. Well, you can call the other guys and tell
them I’m still alive. Talk to you later,
Brian.”
And he hung up on his best friend.
***
A good hour later, still affronted over his argument with Brian,
Nick decided it was time for a shower.
After two weeks in the hospital, he was sure he reeked of medicine and
craved a nice, long, hot shower in his own bathroom to rid him of the stench.
Of course, that was not as easy as it sounded. Leaning his crutches up against the bathroom
counter, Nick carefully pulled his t-shirt over his head, his left shoulder
aching with the effort. Then he took the
bulky brace off his leg, tossed it to the floor, and struggled to remove his
boxers, trying to put as little weight possible on his bad leg.
When he was finally undressed, he reached for the roll of Saran
wrap sitting on the countertop. Feeling
quite odd, he tore off a square of it and stretched it across the large gauze
bandage hiding his newly-implanted catheter.
He couldn’t help but laugh as he secured it with duct tape; people
across the country had been stocking up on duct tape and plastic sheeting to
seal off their houses in case of a terrorist attack. He was doing the same thing with his own
body, trying to protect himself from water, from bacteria, from infection, which
could wreak havoc on him with his immune system beginning to weaken from the
chemo. The chemo… that was his ally,
going in to fight the enemy, cancer.
Cancer, the terrorist.
Amused with himself, for he had never been much of a metaphorical
thinker, Nick limped over to the shower and turned on the spray.
***
When Nick was cleaned up and dressed, the phone rang again. Cussing under his breath in annoyance, Nick
reluctantly picked up the cordless in his bedroom and checked the caller ID,
expecting it to be either Brian calling back to apologize or his mother calling
back to bitch at him some more. He
really didn’t want to hear from either of them, not now anyway. To his surprise – but not necessarily relief
– the call came not from Littrell, Brian or Carter, Robert, but Richardson,
Kevin. Big Daddy Kevin, calling to
check in on him, he supposed. He
wondered if Brian had already called his cousin and told him about their
argument. Nick rolled his eyes, but,
knowing he really had no choice but to answer, he turned on the phone and put
it up to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Nick,” came Kevin’s drawling voice. “I haven’t talked to you in months, bud, how
ya doing?”
He sounded friendly enough, and Nick relaxed, deciding he wasn’t
in for a lecture after all. “Yeah… I
know. I’m doing okay,” Nick lied. “Just been busy, ya know.”
“Busy with what?”
None of your business, Kevin, Nick wanted to snip at him, but he held back and replied
casually, “Oh, nothing much… just the usual kind of stuff.”
“Uh-huh. The guys and I
have been trying to get in touch with you for awhile… you haven’t been
answering the phone. We were a little
worried about you, you know. Is there
anything going on?”
Yes, Kevin, I have bone cancer, and I’ve been in the hospital for
two weeks, Nick wanted to
tell him, but he only said, with as much apology as he could muster, “Yeah, I
know, I’m real sorry, Kev. I’ve just
been gone a lot, and… uh… I think one of those teenyboppers got a hold of my
phone number again because I’ve been getting all kind of crazy fan calls and
shit, so that’s why I’ve been avoiding phone calls.” The lie came so quickly to him he was
surprised he hadn’t thought of it before, when he had talked to Brian. He shook his head, half-pleased with himself,
half-disgusted.
“I thought you had caller ID,” Kevin said wryly.
“I do. I mean, I… did. But, it, uh, hasn’t been working right
lately…”
“I see.” Kevin sounded
skeptical, and Nick hurried to change the subject.
“So, enough about me. What
have you been up to, Train?”
“Train? Haven’t heard that
one in awhile,” Kevin said with a chuckle.
“Well, ‘Chicago’ wrapped about a month ago, and I haven’t really been up
to much since I got back from New York.
Just enjoying my time with Kristin, you know.”
“Yeah,” said Nick, trying to hide his bitterness. Dutifully, he added, “How’s Kris doing?”
“She’s great,” answered Kevin, and though Nick could not see him,
he was sure his friend was smiling on the other end. Kevin was just like Brian, obsessed with his
wife, the total family man. Not that
that was a bad thing… it just tended to annoy Nick at times. He couldn’t imagine settling down like
that. He used to think he would get
married eventually, but now, marriage was just out of the picture. As far as he was concerned, women
sucked. Backstabbing, cheating, using,
abusive bitches, they were.
Besides, he might not have enough of a future left for
marriage. He was no longer the
fun-loving, carefree kid he had been just months ago. Now that he had cancer, he had more to think
about than girls, parties, and booze.
More to think about than even music and his career. His life was turning into a whirlwind of
hospitals, doctors, needles, medications.
A collage of sickness.
“You there, kid?” came Kevin’s voice.
“Oh, yeah. Um… so Kris is
doing good? That’s… that’s great.”
“Uh, yeah… Nick, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Nick replied adamantly. “I’m sorry, I’m just spazzing out here,
dude. You know me.” He laughed airily, but Kevin wasn’t buying
the spacey dumb blonde routine.
“I talked to Brian,” he said flatly. “You guys had a fight?”
“Not a fight really,” Nick replied carefully. “We just had a little argument. Friends argue, you know, it’s no big
deal. We’re fine.”
“He said you were acting weird, and I’m beginning to see what he
was talking about. I feel like there’s
something wrong, Nick, like there’s something you’re not telling me.” His tone softening, he added, “You know you
can talk to us about anything, right?
Nick?”
God, why did he have to put this guilt trip on him? “I… I know, Kev,” Nick said softly. He knew this was his way out of lying; Kevin
was giving him his chance to spill the truth right now. Why didn’t he take it? “But really, Kev, there’s nothing wrong. I just… haven’t been feeling that great the
past couple days…” Well that
wasn’t a lie at least. “… and I think
I’m getting a cold or something.”
“Oh… is that it?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Nick said quickly. Please drop it, please drop it.
“Well, okay. I won’t keep
you much longer if you’re getting sick.
But the real reason I called you is to confirm our plans for next week.”
“Next week?” Nick asked blankly, his mind racing. What’s next week, what’s next week?
“Yeah, you know, we’re all meeting in Orlando next week still,
aren’t we? To work on the album?”
“Oh… yeah, yeah!” Next
week? He hadn’t realized it was that
soon! They had made these plans months
ago, way before the start of Nick’s tour, but being cooped up in the hospital
for two weeks had thrown him off. Time
had seemed to stand still for him… but life had kept going on around him.
“You didn’t forget, did you?” Kevin asked sternly, almost sounding
hurt.
“No!” Nick quickly assured him.
“I would never forget that! I
just… lost track of what day it was, I guess.
But I’m excited! Can’t wait to
get started on this album!” He hoped Kevin
wouldn’t be able to make out the falseness of his enthusiasm. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to work on the
album. He did. It was just that with all this shit going on
in his life, the last thing he could think about was music.
Then again, maybe it would make for a nice distraction. And it came at the perfect time too, he
supposed. The chemotherapy regime Dr.
Kingsbury had set up for him called for one week of chemo by way of the pump he
would receive at his next doctor’s appointment and then two weeks off, then
another week of chemo, then two more weeks off.
It would continue that way for several months, she said. She counted his chemo sessions in the
hospital as his first week of chemo, meaning he had the next two weeks free
before he would get the pump that would attach to his catheter. So if the guys came next week, it would give
him at least a week where he could act normally and stall. Once he was back on chemo, there could be
problems, but he figured he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He knew there was no way they would make any
progress on the album with the burden of cancer hanging over all of them, and
the guys really cared about getting this album done. It would be unfair to tell them as soon as
they got there. Better to wait awhile…
Even in his head, the reasoning didn’t really sound good. He knew he had to tell them. But he wanted to put it off as long as
possible. And this newfound logic only gave
him one more excuse to do just that.
***