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Chapter Eighteen


We drove from New York to Indiana overnight and despite having spent most of that journey asleep, I still felt cooped up. I found myself staring out the window by the breakfast booth, watching the world pass by the bus as it moved down the interstate. Nick and I played Battleship and Kevin joined us in a couple rounds of Clue, but there wasn't much else to do on board the bus, and by the time we reached Indianapolis, I felt frustrated and Cabin Fever had begun to sink in.

The dull ache in my chest that had replaced the pain I'd felt in California still hadn't gone away.

When we arrived to the hotel, I thought I was going to explode with pent up energy and nerves from my aching chest and I burned off the energy the way I typically did - by goofing off. Nick and I were pushing each other and laughing on the sidewalk outside the hotel while AJ smoked a cigarette several feet away and Lou finished checking us in. Johnny stood a few feet away on his cell phone, and the busboys were helping to unload the bus' compartments.

I threw myself into a handstand, balancing myself and walking on my hands. Nick laughed, "You look funny when you do that," he jested.

"But I can do it, I'd like to see you do it," I said. Nick attempted it, but just fell right back down to the cement, laughing as he belly flopped onto the sidewalk.

"No killing yourselves," Lou snapped as he waddled back out of the hotel, "We don't have time for you knuckleheads to kill yourselves." He boarded the bus and disappeared.

AJ coughed as he walked by us, on his way into the hotel, but I'm pretty sure he only coughed to cover the words fat bastard, which made Nick laugh in a hyperactive Muppet sort of way. I dropped to my feet again and stood up right. Nick pointed at my hair, "Dude you look electricuted," he laughed.

"But again, I can do it, which is more than you can say," I answered.

"You can only do it for a second," Nick answered, "You ain't that good."

I snorted, "Of course I am."

"Nope," Nick shook his head, "Flat terrain and only for a second. That's kinda lame actually."

"Okay fine, what would be impressive to you then?" I asked.

Nick looked around. "Walk on that," he said, pointing to Kevin's footlocker trunk.

I looked at it, "It's also flat, dumbass," I laughed.

"No no start where you are, walk over to it, then climb up on it, walk across it, and then you can flip off it or whatever," Nick replied, nodding, "That would be cool."

"That's easy."

"Maybe but you can't do it."

"How much you wanna bet?" I demanded.

Nick fished in his pocket. "Ten bucks," he answered.

"Okay." I flipped forward onto my hands and twisted my head to watch where I was going.

"Look at you, a stunt man," Nick laughed.

I moved across the sidewalk on my hands, got to Kevin's trunk without any problems, and went to climb up on it... but my weight was bigger than that of Kevin's trunk, and it flipped forward and I went down. Hard. I smacked my head on the cement with a crunch and fell onto my stomach.

I'm not positive, but I might've been knocked out for a second, and I say that only because the next thing I knew Nick was leaning over me, worried, and Lou was off the bus yelling about what had he just told us, and how fucking around never paid off and Johnny was off his cell phone and hovering over Nick's shoulder, looking down at me. "Ouch," I muttered.

"You didn't die!" Nick shouted, relief obvious in his voice.

"I didn't die," I answered. I sat up and my head gave a sharp, shooting pain. "Ouch," I repeated.

"What in the hell were you thinking?" Lou demanded, his voice laced with anger.

"He just fell," Nick answered quickly.

"I'm fine," I said. But even as I said it, I brought my hand up to the back of my head and felt a little blood and knew I probably was a little less than fine.

"You're bleeding," Johnny said.

"Fucking perfect," Lou sighed in exasperation. "Why the fuck is it always drama with you kids? Why can't y'all act your age and manage to not fucking kill yourselves hours before you need to be on stage?"

I actually felt guilty for being hurt. I looked down, "I didn't mean to--"

"That's the thing," Lou snapped, "You never fucking mean to. Christ." He spat the name and I winced because the words were sharp, like swords coming out of his mouth and attacking every pore of my skin. He looked at Johnny, "I suppose one of us will have to take his ass to the hospital," he said.

"I'm fine," I said.

"I'll take him," Johnny said.

"I was just playin' around, I'm fine," I said again.

"Maybe," Johnny said, "But Lou's right, you at least need to get checked out at the hopsital."

"I wanna go with Brian," Nick whined.

"No," Lou's voice was firm, "Having one of you miss a day's work is bad enough." He glowered at me. "Get up," he snapped at Nick, "Get inside, get changed. Tell your lil buddies to get their asses downstairs." He stormed away, following Nick into the hotel, "And no more shenanigans, either, Carter..."

Johnny called a cab and we went to the hospital, then he called ahead and let them know that I was coming so that they would have an exam room ready for me. Last time one of us went to the ER - it was AJ - we were nearly mobbed in the waiting room before they got an exam room prepped. When we arrived, a nurse quickly escorted me to the room and told me to wait on the weird leather table/bed, where I sat on the very edge, nervously wringing my own shirt hem and rocking myself. Johnny stood with me a couple minutes until his phone rang and he said he had to take it and he went back outside, promising to meet me in the waiting room when I got out.

And there I sat, alone.

When the nurse finally came back, she took my blood pressure and temperature and all that fun stuff and made notes. "Your pressure's really high," she commented.

"Stress probably," I replied.

She looked at me with concern, "Are you on any BP medications?" she asked.

"No," I replied.

She took a few more meds, then disappeared out of the exam room. Another thirty minutes passed before a kind-faced doctor came in. He smiled and leaned close to examine my head. "That looks like it hurts," he commented. I felt like saying duh but I just nodded. "We're gonna get a quick look and make sure there's no internal damages, then we'll let you go, how's that?"

"Perfect," I replied.

He looked at me for a long moment. "Do you have pain in your chest?" he asked. Until he asked, I hadn't realized I'd been rubbing my chest.

I shook my head, "I'm okay."

"I can send cardiology in to --"

"I'm fine," I insisted.

I was sent off to get checked and my scans came back clear, so the doctor came back and told me that m head looked okay. He looked at my chart, "I do however want to do a consult with cardiology because your blood pressure is really abnormal for your weight --"

"I'm fine," I replied. Which was more than I'd be able to say if Johnny didn't get me back to the venue before the show -- which gave us less than an hour.

"I understand you just want to get out of here, but it's really important that if something is going on with your heart that you catch it early because --"

I interrupted him, "Trust me I know all about heart issues and how important they are."

"Then you understand why I've paged cardiology to--"

"No," I said. I cleared my throat, "I don't have time right now to do a consult with cardiology. I have an appointment with my cardiologist at home next week when I get done with this leg of the tour."

He was still looking down at my chart. "I see here that you had a murmur as a child..."

"I seriously don't have time for this," I said, "Can you just get me out of here?"

He looked up at me. "Brian, it will only take a couple of --"

"I said NO, God damn it," I shouted.

In the stunned silence that followed, the doctor nodded. "Okay then. I'll have the nurses get your release papers. You'll have to sign an form stating that you left against medical advice," he said.

"Fine, fine, whatever, just get me out of here." All I could picture was how pissed off Lou would be if I wasn't at the show.

The doctor spun and left the room.

The exam room seemed so much bigger than it had moments before. I sat on the edge of the bed, and stared down at my toes. My heart thumped in my chest and for a moment oxygen seemed to forget its path to my lungs as I choked back tears. I could feel my heart doing it crazy irregular dance in my chest and I closed my eyes.

"Please," I mumbled under my breath. Though who I was speaking to - myself? my tears? my heart? God? - "I can't cry," I added. "I can't. Not here. Not now. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts..." I thought about the comic book that Nick had given me for Christmas, and the fans that I'd met so far on the tour, and seeing Boyz II Men, and the light in Nick's eyes when he'd successfully shaved himself. I thought about Leighanne and the ring and the improvement to my golf swing that her father had taught me.

But whatever I did, I did not cry.

My signature was dark and violent on the AMA form the doctor returned with a few moments later, as though I wanted to really drive home my point that I meant it when I said no. It was oddly freeing feeling to say no and have someone listen to you, to be able to opt out of a plan someone had made for you, to do what you wanted to do.

"Promise me that you'll see someone about your heart soon, Brian," the doctor said, his voice low and full of emphasis.

"I will, I have an appointment," I replied.

"Okay." He nodded.

A nurse brought in my discharge papers and I left the exam room with nothing more than a bandage and the faint worry that I'd develop a bald spot thanks to the small amount of stitches they'd had to do to seal up my wound. I wandered out of the ER to find Johnny standing out on the sidewalk, still on his phone. He called another cab and we rode to the venue top-speed, Johnny never once asking how I was.

When we got to the venue, I was rushed though the steps to prep for the concert, and the next thing I knew I was waiting to go on stage. Nick nudged me in the dark, "How's ya head?" he asked.

"Stitches," I replied.

"That's rough," Nick replied.

There was a time in my life that stitches would've been akin to bed rest and my mom would've brought me breakfast in bed. But there was no time for things like that these days, and that's how I found myself on stage with my hair carefully arrange to cover the stitches.

That night, I had another dream. In it, I was on the stage once again, and my heart stopped, and I could see all of the fans watching and they started to panic as I lost my ability to breathe. I fell onto the stage floor and Lou was there and once again he reached down and pulled my heart right out of my chest, his eyes stone-cold and feirce. But this time, the other fellas gathered around and they all started reaching hungrily for my heart as it dangled there from Lou's blood soaked hands. It was like they were all fighting over it. Even Nick.

I sat up in bed, coated in sweat, goosebumps up my arm, and my throat seemed to close as I gasped into the dark. I hugged my knees to my chest and buried my face into them, rocking myself as quietly as I could on the bed.

The light went on beside me. "Brian?"

"I'm fine," I said.

Nick stared at me from his own bed, "You sure don't look it," he said.

"But I am," I answered, shaking my head, "I am. I have to be."

Nick was quiet for a moment. "Is it your head?" he asked, "Does it hurt?"

"No," I replied, "It's not my head."

"Your heart?" he asked.

"You have no idea," I answered quietly.

"Can I do anything?" he asked.

"No," I replied, "You can't do a thing."

The next two days consisted of Kansas City and Dallas, and the time seemed to drag by, too slow. My chest ached constantly the whole time, and I finished yet another bottle of aspirin. The words the doctor had said about getting checked echoed in my head, and I thought about how worried my mother would be if she knew what I was going through.

On February 1st, after the show in Dallas came to a close, we arrived at the airport tired and disheveled. Lou, Kevin, Howie, AJ and I were all taking one flight to Orlando, Johnny was going to New York to meet up with NSYNC on their promo run for their first single release, and Nick was flying to Tampa. It felt weird when we passed security in the airport for Nick to be going the opposite direction than I was going. I gave him a hug. "Be good buddy," I said.

Nick squeezed me. "You too," he said. "I hope your head feels better and stuff."

"Thanks," I replied.

Nick looked back twice as he walked down the airport toward his terminal and the rest of us headed towards ours. He waved before he turned a corner, and I waved back.

"It's quiet without him," Howie complained within five minutes' time.

Kevin laughed, "You spent the whole tour ready to kill the guy and he's gone and you complain about it?"

Howie shrugged, "It's our thing."