Part 11:
In Search Of Kara
It was early on a Saturday morning that a
young couple traveling cross-country found Nick Carter lying face down by the
side of the road on a deserted stretch of open highway, less then a half mile
from his Mustang convertible, a red hooded sweatshirt clutched tightly in his
hand.
The couple took him to a nearby hospital,
alerting the staff that the young man had spent much of the ride in the
backseat of their car shivering and lethargic, whispering the name ‘Kara’ over
and over.
Everybody at the hospital had assumed he was
on drugs or even mentally ill, scouring his pockets for I.D. to tell them of
his identity, but he carried none. The
police were called and sent back to tow the Mustang into town, where they also
found no I.D., just a car full of items that were obviously meant for a long
and winding road trip across country.
There were postcards in a stack on the passenger seat from each stop
along his journey, a trunk full of clothing, and empty boxes of food. And between the seats in the console, there
were bottles of medication that spoke of ailments far greater then the
‘migraine headaches’ listed on one of the bottles.
Drifting in and out of consciousness, Nick
told the doctors that he was dying from a brain tumor, which in turn prompted
all sort of questions from the hospital staff that Nick either couldn’t answer
or wouldn’t.
They asked him if he had family, and his
answer was “no.”
They asked him if he had a wife or girlfriend
they could call, and his answer was “no.”
They asked him if he had friends that could be
reached. He said “no.”
Nick told them nothing of who he really was or
what his name meant to music fans all over the world because, in the end, what
did it really matter? He was just
Nickolas Gene Carter, a young man who was dying.
And being a star didn’t change that.
The doctors ran tests to confirm what they had
been told by Nick. After the tests, they
sat him down, explaining to him that he was dying. Considering he had already told them that he
was dying when they brought his ass into the hospital, he didn’t feel like they
should have gotten any kind of gold star for the diagnosis.
Afterwards, a consultation was set up for him
with a woman named Helen who worked in hospital administration. She was kind, with a gentle smile and a warm
demeanor, taking the time to set down her official clipboard and talk to him
like a person instead of a statistic.
“I have a son who is just your age,” she said,
looking into his pale blue eyes. “I
would hope that if he were dying, he would call me to let me know so that I
could be with him.”
Nick looked down, kneading his hands in his
lap, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Well, then you are a hell of a better mother then my mom is.”
“Do you want to die alone, Nick?”
“I’m not alone,” Nick said, shaking his head,
images of Kara dancing in his brain.
“I’m never going to be alone.”
***
After conferring with Nick’s doctors, Helen
made the decision that Nick should be transferred to the nearby Hospice House, where
he could spend his final days in comfort and peace.
He left the hospital that afternoon, the few
possessions he had from the Mustang sent ahead in a taxicab while he was set to
be transferred to the hospice in an ambulance.
He told Helen that he would be just fine riding in the cab with his
things, but the she insisted that he ride in the ambulance, and he didn’t feel
like arguing.
“So what do you think would happen to me if I
went in the cab? There might be a car
accident and I would get killed?” Nick
laughed, an ironic smile on his cherubic face that made Helen smile.
“Very funny smart guy,” she said, pushing him
upside of the head before pulling him into a warm embrace as the two of them
sat in the back of the ambulance that was idling at the emergency room doors.
“You call me if you need anything,” she said,
releasing him as the EMT climbed in the back of the ambulance, signaling that
they were ready to go.
“You know I will.”
Climbing out of the back of the ambulance,
Helen watched as they closed the doors, Nick’s smiling face etched in her brain
as the ambulance pulled slowly away from the hospital.
“I wish you peace, Nick Carter,” she whispered
into the warm, summer sky. “I wish you
peace.”
***
Nick settled into The Hospice House like it
was a second home. His room was
wonderful, with a large stone fireplace and mahogany furniture, reminding him
of his loft in New York. There was also
a wall of windows with a wonderful view of the lush green mountains and a patio
on which he could spend the days getting lost in the wonder of the nature and
beauty surrounding him. The staff was
all so friendly, taking to him immediately.
And the other residents of the house were so kind and welcoming. Everybody called him Nicky, and there were days
when he felt like a little kid again.
He
almost forgot that he was there to die.
Nick’s dreams of Kara and her world became
more vivid as the days went on. He could
see her working at The Market, every so often her eyes drifting to the
brilliant blue sky, and he knew she was thinking of him. He noticed that she wore his sweatshirt tied
around her waist even on the hottest of summer days, and it made him smile.
Occasionally, he would see Roy show up at The
Market, his jeans pulled too tight in all the wrong places as he flipped at his
hair, trying to entice Kara to take on The Mystery. One day, she tossed a rotten apple at him,
beaming him in the back of the head as he stood by the tent selling fresh
herbs, running a wide toothed comb through his freshly frosted hair. Turning around, he glared at Kara as she
pointed to Allie, shrugging her shoulders as if to say, “I don’t know why she
would throw an apple at you, hot stuff.”
At night, Nick would watch Kara walk along the
outer edge of her grandparents’ orchard, always stopping at the spot where Nick
had found her the day she wept over the loss of her parents. Looking up at the sky, she would say his
name… "Nick.”
***
“Kara,” Nick moaned.
“Nick, can I get you anything?”
Blinking, Nick opened his eyes slowly, the
comforting earth tones and warm crackling fire of his hospice room surrounding
him like a favorite comfy blanket
“Nick?” Laura, his nurse, sat beside him, a
glass of ice water in her hand, the pale green accordion straw tilted in his
direction.
“I was having the most wonderful dream.” He tried to prop himself up on his elbows but
was too weak. Setting down the glass of
water, Laura reached for another pillow, plumping it up before pulling Nick forward
just enough to slide the pillow in behind his head.
“Tell me about it,” she said with a smile,
brushing a hand through his wild hair.
Laura was fairly new to The Hospice
House. Fresh out of nursing school, she
had always been anxious to work in the maternity ward, surrounded by wrinkly,
new life and glowing, happy mothers. But
a trip to a hospice for one of her clinicals in her second semester changed her
mind. The incredible dignity that the
people in the hospice showed in the face of death brought tears to her eyes and
passion to her heart. And so she decided
that helping people at the end of their journey was what she was meant to do
with her life.
In her six months working at The Hospice
House, Laura had dealt mostly with elderly people. So it came as quite a surprise to her, five
days ago, when she walked into the room of her new patient and was greeted by
handsome young man in his early twenties with a mischievous twinkle in his
eyes.
Nick was a dream patient, filled with funny
stories and an awkwardness about him that was so endearing. She found herself going home each night with
him on her brain, feeling like she knew him from somewhere, like a long lost
brother or old friend.
There were some days, as the two sat playing
Checkers and sipping colas on the patio of Nick’s room, that Laura had a hard
time believing that he was really going to die.
His smile was too bold and his eyes too bright. But then there were days like today, when he
lay listlessly in his bed, his body trembling as he whispered the name “Kara”
over and over, sweat beading his brow.
Nick spoke the name Kara often when he
slept. Laura often wondered if she was
his ex girlfriend, or ex wife? Or maybe
she was his child? They hadn’t talked
too much about family or friends or the life that lead him to being found lying
by the side of the road. And she found
it strange and sad that nobody came to visit him or sent him letters when he
was so close to death.
“Nick, you were going to tell me about your
dream,” she said, holding the glass steady as Nick sipped water through the
straw, his eyes adjusting to the light from the curtain Laura pulled open when
she entered the room.
“You were dreaming about that girl again,
huh?” Laura poked him in the chest. “How many times have I told you to stop
having nasty dreams when I’m on duty.”
Nick laughed, coughing a little into his
hand. “Laura, did you ever have
something that you had always wanted right at your fingertips, but you could
never quite grab it?”
Laura nodded, thinking of all of the things in
her life she had had at her fingertips but could never quite grab. The hot guy she had wanted to ask to her
first prom that moved away before she could ask him. That blue Honda parked in the SuperMart
parking lot that she had begged her Dad to help her buy when she turned sixteen
– only to find out the day they called that someone else had given them money
for it an hour before. That incredible
suede chocolate brown jacket in the window of Ivy’s Boutique that matched her
eyes and when she went in to try it on, they didn’t have her size. Sure, she knew about having things right at
her fingertips that she could never quite grab.
“Yeah, I know what you mean for sure.” She pulled the straw away when he signaled
that he was finished.
“Well… I think I’m getting closer. Closer to grabbing it.” He smiled such a sweet smile that it broke
Laura’s heart.
She now knew what he was talking about. He wasn’t talking about dates, or cars or
some random piece of clothing… he was talking about death and what awaited him
on the other side.
“What can I do to help you, Nick? Can I call somebody? Can I call Kara?”
At the mention of Kara’s name Nick’s face lit
up.
“No, you don’t need to call her. She’ll know when it’s time.”
***
That night after her shift ended, Laura did
something she knew she shouldn’t have done.
Making her way back down the hall to Nick’s room, she knocked twice like
always and poked her head inside.
He was sleeping, his head lolled off to one
side of the pillow, hair spiking out in a million directions, a sports magazine
draped across his chest. Entering the
room, she closed the door behind her, making sure it clicked shut, and walked
to the bed. Smiling, she pulled his
covers up around him like he was a small child and, closing the magazine,
placed it on the nightstand near his water.
Then, looking around the room, she made her way to the bureau against
the far wall and slid open the top drawer.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw him twitch
a few times before settling back into a deep sleep. She knew that time was running out for
Nick. She had seen the signs more times
then she cared to count. The pale
features, the weight loss, endless hours of morphine-aided sleep.
Swiping her hand around in the drawer, she
came up with what she had been looking for, a worn, brown leather wallet.
Turning it over in her hand, she debated
whether to just put the wallet back and go home. But her heart won out over her ethics and
morals, and before she knew it, she had tucked the wallet in her back pocket
and was headed for the door.
Turning off his light, she whispered goodnight
into the darkness and closed Nick’s door.
***
Walking into her apartment, Laura felt like a
thief. Slamming her front door shut, she
stood on her tiptoes to peer out of the peephole, sure that there were going to
be policemen with battering rams ready to knock down her door and arrest her
for taking Nick’s wallet.
Turning and falling back against the door, she
ran a shaking hand across her forehead before pulling the wallet from her
purse, where she had stashed it before leaving work, and tossing it across the
room onto the couch.
“What are you doing?” she said aloud, smacking
her palm against her forehead. “You
can’t do this. This isn’t right.” Slinging her purse to the floor, she walked
to the couch and plopped down, dragging the wallet into her lap.
Nick was dying, and if there was someone out
there to be there for him in his final days, then Laura felt it was her
obligation to find him or her. Taking a
deep breath she opened the wallet and began to go through the contents in
search of Kara.
***
