Chapter 32
In the empty
men’s room, Nick sank to his knees on the grubby, tiled floor and retched over
the toilet bowl, not really bringing anything up, for his stomach was empty and
had been for over a day. Through his
gagging, he heard the door swing open.
Unable to do anything, he continued throwing up until his stomach
finally settled. As he tore off a piece
of toilet paper to wipe his mouth, he heard the apprehensive voice of his best
friend ask, “Nick?”
“Bri?” he choked
out, his voice shaking.
“Buddy, are you
okay?”
“Fine.”
“No, you’re
not.” Then why did you ask if I was?
“I told you, I
have the flu.” Liar, liar, pants on
fire.
“Aww, I’m
sorry. You want me to run you back to
the hotel?” Yes, yes, please!
“What about the
rest of the guys?” Nick asked weakly.
“I can come back
and pick them up.”
“Okay…”
“Okay? Well, you come out when you’re ready. I’ll go wait back at our table, all right?”
“’Kay.”
He heard the door
open and bang shut as Brian left and sighed in relief. Weak and shaking, he got to his feet, flushed
the toilet, and came out of the stall.
As he washed his hands at the sink, he couldn’t help but glance up into
the mirror. His face was white and
covered in perspiration. Moaning, Nick
cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed cold water onto his face. It made him feel a little better. Then he retreated from the bathroom, wanting
to get back to the hotel as soon as possible.
No one spoke when
he made it back to the table. Brian just
stood up and said softly, “Come on, Frack.”
Putting one hand gently on Nick’s back, he walked him out of the
restaurant and to their rented Durango.
The ride home was
silent. When they made it back to the
Clandestine, Brian and Nick took the elevator to their floor and went to Nick’s
suite.
“What are you
doing, Bri?” Nick mumbled when Brian followed him into the room.
“Taking care of
you. Come on, get into bed,” Brian said,
nudging Nick into the bedroom.
“I’m not a baby;
I can take care of myself,” Nick protested, but Brian ignored him. Without a word, he turned down the covers of
the bed. Nick climbed in awkwardly, and
Brian pulled the covers up around him like a mother tucking in her small child.
“Go to sleep,”
Brian said gently. “You’ll feel
better.” Nick nodded, rolling over so
that his back was to Brian and closing his eyes. “Nick, I think I’m just gonna hang out here
until I go pick up the guys at the restaurant.
You know, in case you need me.”
“You don’t have
to do that,” Nick murmured weakly.
“No, I want to.”
Brian went into
the other room, closing the bedroom door behind him, and Nick snuggled up
beneath the covers, trying to fall asleep.
He was just dozing off when he heard Brian’s cell phone ring in the
adjacent room.
“Hello,” Brian
answered the phone. “Yeah, we’re
here. Nick’s sleeping. Mm-hm.”
It was one of the
guys. Nick lay awake, listening
attentively to the one-sided conversation.
“Yeah… I don’t
know… he swears it’s the flu, but… yeah, I… hang on a minute…” Suddenly, the door to Nick’s bedroom opened
again. Nick quickly clamped his eyes
shut and breathed slow and deep, feigning sleep. He heard Brian say, “okay, sorry, I just
wanted to make sure he was asleep.” The
voice faded as Brian stepped out of the room and closed the door again. Still, Nick could hear his muffled voice from
the other room. “Yeah, I’m in his room…
didn’t want to leave him alone… anyway, yeah, I’m really worried about him too…
he’s been so moody lately… and yeah, I know, he looks like he’s lost weight,
and now he’s throwing up. You know, I
hate to say it, but I’m beginning to wonder…”
He dropped his voice a notch, but it was just loud enough for Nick to make
out his next words. “… maybe he has some
kind of eating disorder.”
Nick’s eyes flew
open, and he had to stifle back a laugh.
Eating disorder? Yeah,
right. Rather amused, he listened to
Brian keep talking.
“Well, it fits,
doesn’t it? Nick’s always been
self-conscious of his weight, and now he’s lost a bunch… and have you seen the
clothes he’s been wearing lately?
They’re all about two sizes too big for him… to hide the weight loss, I
guess… and he doesn’t want to eat, and now he’s throwing up… what, does the
sight of food make him hurl now? Yeah…
yeah… I think we do need to confront him about it. If he’s like bulimic or something, we need to
get him help… psh, yeah, the press would have a hay day with that one…” Brian let out a sigh. “Well… I guess I’ll let you go then… just
call when you’re ready to leave, and I’ll come get you… ‘kay… bye.”
Nick heard the
cell phone click off and sighed. Now
they thought he was bulimic? What
a joke. Still, he could see now just how
worried about him Brian was, and he knew it was time to tell the truth. He would do it later, once all the guys were
back.
A feeling of
dread gnawing at his insides, Nick tossed and turned, unable to sleep with this
task looming before him. Of course, he
would not have been able to get much sleep anyway, for the gnawing sensation
quickly turned to the churning nausea to which he had grown so accustomed. With a moan of discomfort, he forced himself
to sit up and struggled to get out of bed.
Somehow, in all his tossing and turning, he had managed to entangle his
legs in the sheets. His left shin aching
and his stomach rippling dangerously, he struggled to free himself and finally
ended up tumbling out of bed.
“Fuck!” he
screamed, grabbing his swollen leg. Then
he quickly let go and clamped his hands over his mouth again, for his stomach
had not agreed with being jostled in the fall, and he could feel the burning
sensation of vomit alighting his throat.
Just as the door to the bedroom burst open and Brian ran in, Nick threw
up, the sour, liquid substance spilling all down his front.
“Oh, Nick!” cried
Brian, hurrying over to him. Nick looked
up to see an expression of disgust cross his friend’s face, but it vanished
quickly. “Come on, Nick, let’s get you
to the bathroom.” Brian held out his
hand, and Nick took it, letting Brian pull him to his feet. With Brian’s arm around his waist, he limped
weakly into the bathroom and sat down on the closed toilet seat.
“Are you done?”
Brian asked, wetting a washcloth and handing it to Nick.
Nick nodded,
wiping his mouth off with the cloth.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I
didn’t make it in time.”
“It happens,”
Brian said with a slight smile. “And
don’t worry about me – I’m used to puke by now.
I never realized how often babies spit up.”
Nick smiled
wanly. “Well, I’m not a baby. You don’t have to hang around and take care
of me like Baylee; I’m a big boy.”
“I know, Nick,
but…” Brian hesitated, looking
mournfully down at him. “I’m worried
about you.”
“I’m not bulimic,
if that’s what you think,” Nick said with an emotionless chuckle.
Brian paled. “You heard me talking on the phone?”
“Sorry.”
Brian
sighed. “It’s okay. Sorry for thinking you were bulimic. I just… well, you look like you’ve lost
weight lately, and your clothes are… speaking of clothes, you, uh, ralphed all
over your shirt.” Smiling, Brian pointed
at Nick’s soiled t-shirt. “Here, let’s
get that off of you.” Before Nick could
protest, he reached forward, grabbed the bottom of Nick’s t-shirt, and begin to
pull it up.
“No,” Nick cried,
quickly grabbing the t-shirt, but not before the damage was done. The material fell out of Brian’s hands, and
Nick looked up to see a bewildered expression on his face.
“Nick…” he
started, staring at the small black pouch that had now been revealed. “What is that?”
Sighing, Nick
carelessly pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, fully exposing not only the
pouch, but the catheter, out of which an IV line ran, feeding into the pouch
and connecting to the chemo pump. He
watched as Brian’s mouth dropped open in shock, and fear flickered in his blue
eyes.
“Nicky…” he breathed, and Nick’s heart ached, for
Brian almost never called him Nicky.
“Nicky… what… what’s wrong with you?”
Inside, Nick was
struggling to hold back tears, but his voice was quite calm when he opened his
mouth and spoke those horrible, fated words to his best friend.
“I have cancer.”
***