Cary
It happened just the way I told Nick it would. First he started sleeping more, then drifting
in and out of consciousness. Finally, he
slipped into a coma. I stayed by his side,
taking care of him the best I knew how.
I kept him clean and comfortable.
I made sure he wasn’t in pain. I
watched for signs that death was approaching.
When his breathing became labored, I called all four of the guys
and his sister, Angel. They’d been
coming to see him in shifts almost every day anyway, but this time, they
arrived all at once and gathered around his bed.
“He sounds awful,” Brian said, frowning as he looked down at
Nick. “Is he supposed to be breathing
like that?”
“There’s fluid accumulating in his lungs, from lying in bed so
long.”
“Can’t you do something for him?” Angel pleaded, her eyes already
filling with tears.
As torturous as it was listening to Nick wheeze, I had to shake my
head. “All I can do at this point is
keep him comfortable. He doesn’t want
his life prolonged.”
“So you’re saying he wants to die?” AJ snapped, glaring at
me. “What a bunch of bullshit.”
“He has a living will, AJ.”
Kevin spoke calmly, his voice a low monotone. “He gave me power of attorney. Cary’s right; he wouldn’t want to be put on a
ventilator or anything like that. If
it’s his time, we have to let him go.”
AJ flopped down into a chair, looking mutinous. Slowly, the others sat down around him.
“We’re here, Nicky,” murmured Howie, reaching out to take Nick’s
hand and squeeze it. “We’re all here.”
There was no response from Nick, but I hoped he could still hear
Howie. I’d like to think he knew we were
all there, that he left this world surrounded by love.
He was a fighter until the end, lingering longer than I’d expected
him to. We sat with him, waiting, as the
sun sank into the sea outside his bedroom window. The sky was heartbreakingly gorgeous that evening,
shades of vivid orange and pink streaked with purple clouds. We left the balcony doors open to let in the
fresh ocean breeze and watched as the sky darkened to indigo. And still, Nick held on.
His breathing was raspy and shallow, and every now and then, it
would stop for a few seconds. We’d all
hold our breath and watch his chest, wondering if that was it, and then, just
when I’d get up to check, Nick would suddenly gasp and start breathing
again. This happened several times
before it stopped for good, and each time, I felt the same mixture of dread and
relief.
After awhile, Kevin leaned forward, bringing his face down close
to Nick’s, and quietly said, “If you’re ready, Nick… if it’s time… you can go.”
“What are you doing?!” Angel cried, her voice rising as fresh
tears spurted into her eyes. “Why are
you saying that to him?”
I looked between them, seeing the contrast between her youth and
his wisdom as he answered, “Because… he may need permission to let go.”
“We don’t want him to suffer anymore,” Howie added, putting a hand
on Angel’s knee. “He’s suffered enough. It’s time for him to be at peace.”
“It’s okay, Nick,” Kevin went on.
“You can let go now.”
It wasn’t long before Nick’s breathing slowed down. I checked his pulse; it was weak and
fluttering. His hand was cold and pale,
the result of decreased circulation. I
squeezed it in mine, wanting not only to warm it, but to let him know I was
there.
Brian led us in a prayer. I
closed my eyes and bowed my head, but kept my hand clenched around Nick’s, my
fingertips pressed against the radial artery in his wrist, feeling the pulse
there. When the prayer was over, I
leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “I love you.”
It may have just been an involuntary spasm, but I swear I felt his
hand contract around mine. Then he made
a hoarse, gurgling sound as he drew in a breath, and I knew instinctively that
it would be his last. We all watched his
chest rise and then fall, as the air rattled out of his lungs. It did not rise again. His pulse fluttered feebly under my
fingertips for a few more seconds before I lost it.
I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I silently stood up and
slipped my stethoscope into my ears, sliding the bell under his covers to
confirm what I already knew: Nick was
gone. I nodded in answer to the unsaid
question that hung in the air, then turned away, so they wouldn’t see the tears
spill from my eyes.
Once everyone had processed what had just happened, they went
their separate ways. Kevin volunteered
to call the authorities and wandered off to find the right number. Howie said he’d take care of calling the
Boys’ manager, Jenn, who could handle things on the professional end. Angel went into another room to call her
family, and Brian went to call his. AJ
walked straight out onto the balcony and lit a cigarette. And somehow, I was left alone in the bedroom
with Nick. It felt surreal, like I was
in the middle of a bad dream. It was
hard to think clearly.
I knew there were two phone calls I would have to make myself, one
to Dr. Subramanien and one to my dad. But I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone
yet. I busied myself tending to Nick’s
body, disconnecting the tubes that had delivered oxygen and pain medication and
pushing the medical equipment aside, until it looked like he could just be sleeping. But no… something wasn’t right. Realizing what it was, I arranged his arms so
that they were resting on his chest, crossed over each other, like he was
hugging himself. Now it looked like he
was asleep.
Looking down at him, I smiled… and then started to sob. I couldn’t keep up a professional charade
with a loss so personal. Nick’s pain was
gone, but mine was unbearable.
***
I couldn’t stand to sleep in Nick’s room that night, so I slept in
the guest room instead. When I woke in
the morning, I was struck with déjà vu.
I remembered waking up in this same room the morning after meeting Nick
for the first time… and finding out he was sick. I felt the same sense of dread I had then, as
the events of the previous evening came back to me, only this time, it was a
thousand percent worse.
Nick was dead. There was
nothing I could do to help him now. The
guys and his family were handling all the arrangements, so I kept myself busy
by cleaning the condo until my dad called to say he’d caught an early flight to
California.
I appreciated him coming out.
It was a comfort to have him there for the memorial service. Afterwards, he helped me pack up all of my
stuff in Nick’s condo, and we flew home together. I had no intention of going back to LA, back
to my job. There were too many memories
there. I just wanted my old life back.
But of course, it wasn’t that simple. I’d lost my apartment and my position at the
nursing home. In a way, I’d lost
myself. My life felt directionless and
empty now. I had no choice but to move back
in with my dad, until I got back on my feet.
I think he was secretly thrilled to have me home, but I felt like I’d
never be happy again.
For awhile, I was actually angry at Nick. How dare he call me up and lure me out to LA
under false pretenses? How dare he
promise me fame and then saddle me with his sick secret? How dare he let me fall in love with him and
leave me in such pain? He’d completely
turned my life upside down and left it in ruins, and it was up to me to pick up
the pieces. I didn’t even know where to
start.
Then, a few weeks after Nick’s death, I got a phone call from
Howie. It was the first I’d heard from
one of the guys since I left LA, and although it was nice to hear Howie’s
voice, it hurt, too.
“How’ve you been?” he asked.
I answered honestly. “Not
so good.”
“Me neither,” he admitted.
“It’s been hard for all of us.
AJ’s a mess; Rochelle caught him drinking, and now they’re thinking
about postponing the wedding again, until he can get his act together. Brian’s back in Georgia, and Kevin’s been
keeping his distance; I don’t think he wants to see us. Too many memories, you know?”
I knew. I couldn’t
understand why he was telling me all of this; didn’t he realize he was making
it even harder for me? But I just let
him ramble on, until I heard him say, “I talked to Nick’s lawyer the other
day.” I remembered Jordan Keller, whom
I’d met in Nashville, the day Nick signed his advance directive. “He said he’s been trying to call you, but
hasn’t been able to reach you.”
I frowned, remembering several random phone calls from Tennessee
I’d ignored. I had assumed they were
telemarketers. I didn’t know anyone in
Tennessee anymore. “Why would he want to
reach me?” I asked.
“To discuss Nick’s will.
You’re named in it.”
I felt my eyebrows shoot way up on my forehead. Nick had included me in his will? I’d always been under the impression that I
loved Nick more than he had loved me, and regardless of that love, we’d only
known each other for about a year. All I
could say was, “Really?”
“He left you the house in Tennessee.”
My mouth dropped open. “Are
you kidding me? He willed me his house?
Why would he do that??”
“He said it’s up to you what to do with it. You can sell it if you want, but I think he wanted
you to keep it – so you’ll have a place to stay while you’re working at the
camp.”
The camp. His last
wish. His legacy. It hadn’t even crossed my mind since he’d
died; I’d been too consumed with grief to give it a second thought. But now I remembered that first conversation
we’d had about it, how passionate Nick had sounded as he’d laid out his plans,
how determined he’d been that I was the perfect person to bring them to life.
“Is that… is that really happening, then?”
“I hope so. Nick left me
the land for it. I just need to get
Kevin back on board so we can start developing it. Can we count on you to help us?”
“I can always
count on you, Cary,” I remembered Nick saying to me once. I closed my eyes, savoring the sound of his
voice in my mind, and when I opened them, they were full of tears. My voice shook as I said, “Sure, Howie. You can count on me.”
I had a good cry when I got off the phone, but afterwards, I felt
better. For the first time since Nick
died, I felt a sense of purpose. My life
had meaning and direction again. I had a
place to live and a plan. I knew where I
was going and what I was going to do: I
would go to Tennessee, live in Nick’s house, and help start the camp, as he’d
asked me to do.
Despite my grief and anger, I still loved Nick Carter, and I would
honor his memory by making his dream a reality.
***