Cary
I didn’t
want to get up the next morning. Lying
in bed next to Nick, listening to the slow, steady sound of his breathing, I
felt totally content.
I had
gotten over the awkwardness of sharing a hotel room and sleeping in the same
bed; it was worth it to wake up, roll over, and see his face first thing in the
morning. I usually woke up before him,
so I could do damage control before he got a good look at me in the morning. But that day, I was in no hurry to get out of
bed. Doing so would only remind me that
I had to pack up my things and get ready to go to the airport, that in a few
hours, I’d be on a plane, flying home.
As eager as I was to see my dad and Hambelina
again and sleep in my own bed, alone, I didn’t want to leave.
The past
two months had been like a dream come true.
Sure, sometimes the dream had been more of a nightmare, but for me,
there had been far more highs than lows.
I had toured with the Backstreet Boys, a group I had admired for over
ten years, and developed a friendship with Nick. I had performed on a real stage, in front of
a real audience, opening their show each night, singing my own songs. No voting, no risk of elimination, just a
Backstreet Boys concert to look forward to when I finished my set. When I thought of leaving all that and going
back to work at the nursing home, I felt almost sick. I liked the work I did and the people I
worked with, but I was going to miss touring and being around Nick and the Boys
so much.
I was lying
on my back, staring up at the ceiling of our hotel room and thinking these
thoughts, when I heard the mattress creak and the covers rustle, felt
everything shift around me as Nick rolled over.
I turned my head towards him and found him looking back at me. “Morning,” he croaked, his voice thick with
sleep.
“Morning,”
I said back, hoping he wouldn’t catch a whiff of my breath. I knew I should really get up and brush my
teeth and my hair, but I still didn’t want to.
It wasn’t fair that he could look so cute first thing in the morning,
with his hair sticking up in tufts and his sleepy blue eyes at half-mast, while
I looked more like Medusa.
“What time
is it?” he asked.
“Almost
nine.” Checkout wasn’t until eleven, but
since my flight left at one, I wanted to be on my way to the airport before
then. The Boys and their crew had
flights at similar times, so we were leaving from the hotel together. “I guess we should get up, huh?”
Nick
groaned. “Yeah…”
I forced
myself to get up first, making a beeline for the bathroom to freshen up before
I faced him again. When I came out, he
had only gotten as far as sitting up on the side of the bed, his long legs
dangling over the edge of the mattress.
He had the TV on and was staring at it blankly, a glazed look in his
eyes. He didn’t even look at me when I
said, “We should get some breakfast.”
When he didn’t respond, I added, “Want me to run down and grab something
to bring back up?”
Finally, he
acknowledged me with a grunt. “Eh… let’s
just order room service.”
“Okay…” I picked up the menu from the desk and handed
it to him. “Whatever you feel like.”
I watched
him scan the menu by the light of the TV.
He looked exhausted, completely drained.
For his sake, I was glad the tour was ending; he clearly needed the time
off to rest and recuperate from the chemo and the crazy schedule.
We ordered
a big breakfast of bacon and eggs, lots of protein, and had it sent up to the
room. When it was delivered, we sat
around eating and watching Saturday morning cartoons, until Nick’s phone
started vibrating. He picked it up off
the bedside table and checked it, smirking.
“Howie… making sure we’re up.”
I glanced
at the clock; “almost nine” had turned into “almost ten.” We really needed to start packing. “Tell him we are,” I said, scrambling off the
bed. Nick stayed put, texting Howie
back, while I dug a clean outfit out of my suitcase and went into the bathroom
to change. I could hear Nick fumbling
around in the room while I tried to make myself look presentable. When I came back out, he had gotten dressed
and was repacking what was left of his chemo supplies in between layers of
dirty clothes in one of his suitcases.
“You know
what the worst part of the end of a tour is?” he muttered, using both arms to
try to squash the heap flat enough to get his bag zipped. “I’ll tell ya – all the dirty laundry. I mean, damn, look at all this. I hate doing laundry. Usually I just leave it all in the suitcase,
right inside my front door, ‘til I run out of clean clothes, and then I finally
unpack, like, weeks later… right before I gotta get ready to go on tour
again. It’s like a neverending
cycle.”
I
laughed. “Typical guy.”
He
grinned. “Yeah… that’s why I need a
woman – to wash my clothes. And dry ‘em
and fold ‘em and put ‘em away for me…”
I smiled
and shook my head at his male chauvinism, but inside, I was thinking, I’d do your laundry. I’d use fabric softener, too, so it would
come out soft and smelling good. I bet
you don’t even know about fabric softener…
“Clearly, you need help with the folding part,” I said, eyeing the
overflowing suitcase. He managed to get
it zipped, even though the sides were bulging, and gathered up the rest of his
stuff.
We lugged
everything out into the hall and down to the lobby, the last of the group to
arrive. The ride to the airport was long
and quiet. I spent most of it looking
out the windows, taking in the sights of Vegas before I left it behind. I wished I’d gotten the chance to do more
sightseeing in the other cities we’d visited, but I would never say so out
loud. Nick had already apologized for
the tour being less than I’d expected, and I didn’t want him to think I was
ungrateful. It was true that it hadn’t
been exactly what I’d expected when I had first flown out to LA, but that
didn’t mean I hadn’t had an amazing time.
Checking in
and getting through airport security was an equally long process, but finally,
we were all past the security checkpoints and ready to disband and head to our
separate gates. Brian and his family
were flying home to Atlanta, while most everyone else was going back to LA.
I hung back
while Brian said his goodbyes to everyone, wanting to delay my own for as long
as possible. A lump rose in my throat as
I watched the way he hugged Nick, so tightly, patting his back and whispering
something in his ear. It swelled even
bigger when Nick squatted down to hug Baylee.
I wondered if Brian and Leighanne had told him yet that his “Uncle Nick”
was sick. Even Leighanne gave Nick a
hug, and while she finished saying goodbye, Brian came over to me.
“It was
great to meet you, Cary,” he said, offering a friendly grin. “Thanks for opening the show for us, and
thanks for everything you did for Nick.”
He hesitated, then added sheepishly, “And I’m sorry, for making
assumptions about the kind of relationship you had with him. You know what they say about people who
assume…”
I grinned
back, astonished. Brian Littrell was
actually blushing in front of me, instead of the other way around. “It’s okay.
I don’t think you’re an ass, Brian.
You’ve always been my favorite Backstreet Boy, you know.” I winked, blushing, too, by that point, and
when he opened his arms to offer a hug, I accepted it eagerly. My hurt feelings had healed; I was just glad
the guys knew the true story now.
“Take
care,” he said, as he pulled away. “Who
knows what’s in store for the rest of the summer, but I hope we see you again
soon.”
I
nodded. “Me too,” I whispered, as I
watched him turn and walk away with his wife and son.
Then it was
my turn to say goodbye. I started with
Howie and AJ and everyone else I’d met on the tour, saving Nick for last. I hate goodbyes, and I was dreading saying it
to him. When it was time, he took my
elbow and walked me a few steps toward my gate, away from what was left of the
group, and then turned me toward him. “I
just wanna say thank you, again, for everything,” he started in a low
voice. “I know I’m not the easiest
person to live with, and I’m sure I created a really awkward situation for you,
but…”
I quickly
shook my head. “I had an amazing time,”
I interrupted. “Really. I… I wish you weren’t sick, and I’d do
anything to make this go away, but I really appreciate the opportunity it gave
me, to get to know you and go on tour with you.
Thank you for that.”
He nodded,
pressing his lips into a tight smile.
“We’ll do it again sometime,” he said lightly. “Hopefully in August.”
I smiled
and nodded back, and neither of us acknowledged the fact that there might never
be another tour. It may not be healthy,
but sometimes, it’s just better to be in denial. “I’d love that,” I replied.
“We’d love
to have you. You’re an awesome
performer, you know. And an even better
nurse… nurse practitioner… whatever the hell you are.” He made a face, his tongue poking through his
teeth. “You’re a good friend, too. Thanks for keeping me company and… you know…
keeping my secret, even though you didn’t want to. Here… this is to make up for all my
bullshit.” He held out a strip of
paper. I realized what it was and tried
to refuse, but he thrust it into my hand, and before I knew it, I was staring
down at a check. A check for twenty
thousand dollars.
“Are you
kidding me?” I said before I could help myself, my eyes bugging as I stared
down at the check. “I can’t take this!”
“I told you
I’d pay you,” he replied, shrugging, like it was no big deal. “You never said what you make at your day
job, but hopefully this is enough to cover two months’ salary.”
It was way
more than I made in two months. Hell, I
could buy myself a new car with this!
But I wasn’t going to accept it.
There was no way I could. I shook
my head rapidly, trying to force the check back into his hand, wrinkling it in
the process. “Nick, really, I appreciate
the thought, but you don’t have to do this.
We had a deal; it was an even trade.
You don’t owe me anything.”
“Take the
check,” he persisted, and then, as if he could see the idea forming in my head,
he added, “And if you rip it up, I’ll just send you another one. I’ve got your address, remember?” He grinned.
I sighed in
exasperation and reluctantly tucked the check into my purse, deciding I could
keep it, but not cash it. He had so much
money, he’d probably never know if I had or hadn’t. “Thanks,” I whispered, feeling myself blush.
With a wave
of his hand, he said, “No, seriously, thank you.”
I swallowed
hard, red-faced and trying to keep my emotions in check. “You’re welcome. Just do me a favor, okay?”
“What?”
“Take care
of yourself. And now that they know, let
the guys in. Let them help you.”
He
nodded. “Okay, Nurse Cary,” he
sing-songed.
“I’m
serious,” I said, but I was smiling, even though I sort of felt like
crying. “Be a good little patient, and
listen to your doctor’s orders.”
Thinking of the days of testing and treatment ahead of him, I added,
“Will you call me, after you meet with her?
I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but if you don’t mind,
I’d like to keep in touch and hear how things are going…” I trailed off uncertainly, hoping he wouldn’t
mind this request. I thought we were
friends, and he’d used the word just now, but sometimes, I wasn’t sure how to
read him and his feelings toward me. He
could be so unpredictable and moody, playing hot and cold – warm and friendly,
even flirty, one minute, cool and casual the next. I didn’t always know how to react to him.
Luckily, he
smiled and nodded again. “Sure.”
I smiled
back, feeling relieved. “Thanks.”
He spread
his arms wide then, and I stepped eagerly into his hug, wrapping my arms around
his lanky body. Even though he
occasionally looked puffy from the steroids he’d been taking with his chemo
regimen, he felt so skinny and bony, like he was wasting away. Again, I wished I could go home with him and
fatten him up with some of my home cooking and do his laundry and keep house
for him, the way I had before the tour… but I knew that part of our
relationship had passed. He didn’t need
me anymore. And if he did, he’d never
admit it, just as I would never impose on him.
So I patted his back and forced myself to pull away, saying, “’Bye,
Nick.”
“’Bye,
Cary. Text me when you make it home,
alright?”
“Sure. I will.”
He gave me
another nod and a grin, and I hiked my carry-on bag up onto my shoulder and
gave him a little wave as I turned and made myself start walking.
I had a lot
to look forward to when I got home. The
next day was the Fourth of July, and there would be fireworks and a
neighborhood barbecue in my dad’s backyard.
I was turning twenty-nine the day after that, and it would be nice to
spend my birthday at home, with family and friends. I’d have dinner with my dad, then go out for
drinks with Jess and the girls, telling them all about the tour.
But as I
trudged off toward my gate, I couldn’t help but glance back.
***