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Chapter Sixteen / 2013


Nick

That night, when we got home from Vanderbilt and the Thanksgiving feast with Matthew and Abbey, Lauren gave me a sly side-hug. "If you give me, like, five minutes and come upstairs, you can have your special dessert," she said in a husky voice, and she leaned in and gave me a deeply passionate kiss, lingering just enough to lead my mind exactly where she wanted it to go.

"Mmm, why five minutes?" I mumbled into her mouth as she started to pull away.

"That's how long it's gonna take me to get sexy...and for you to put away the leftovers," she answered reasonably, and she went upstairs with a wink back at me and disappeared.

I hauled ass to the kitchen, dragging the cooler behind me, the tupperware containers all clunkin' around in there. I started shoving them into the fridge two at a time in stacks on the bottom shelf. I was about a third of the way through when my phone vibed in my back pocket and, assuming it was Lauren, I didn't even look before I answered it. "Yes?" I asked.

"Nick? Hey it's me, Brian."

I almost dropped the turkey.

"Bri," I said, just catching the tinfoiled half-bird and shoving it into the fridge. "Hey."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Frack," he said thickly. His voice was heavy and smooth, like he'd been trying to get the guts up to say those words all day. Each syllable tugged on my heart strings because I knew there was a lot more to that Frack than just a Thanksgiving wish.

"Happy Thanksgivin', Frick," I replied.

He took a deep breath, "Look, Nick, I'm sorry I hung up the other day. I just was really freaked out by what you told me. It was big news. And I felt guilty for not being there for you when you needed me, when you first found out."

"Don't, Bri, because you're here and I've only known like a week," I said.

"A week's a long time to go without anyone to talk to about it," Brian replied.

"Yeah," I said.

There was a long pause. "Look, I know we've had a lot of issues over the past couple years, but I think that the friendship between you and I is ---"

"-- worth the work it takes?" I supplemented.

I could hear the smile in his voice, "Yeah," he replied. We were both silent for a moment, contemplating this, then Brian said, with a chuckle to his tone, "I guess this is that awkward moment where, if we were in the same room, we'd like give each other a hug that lasted just a little too long, then split apart and start talking about, like, football or something to make us feel manly again."

"I'd rather not talk about football right now, the Buccs are fucking embarrassing the hell out of me this year," I said, then I amended, "Well no, not the Buccs themselves... It's fucking Schiano. That guy needs to have a seat."

Brian laughed, "Some things never change, I guess." When his laughter tapered off he said, "You certainly have though, overall. I know I haven't told you this yet, but I'm damn proud of how far you've come, Nick. You've grown a lot and I don't think anyone gives you enough credit for the things you've been through to get here. I know I certainly haven't." I stared down at the tupperware in my hand, my throat knotting up. "I mean, ten years ago if you'd been told you had a kid, sick or not, you would've run to the hills and changed your name to Amos."

"No I wouldn't've," I argued. "Amos is a terrible name. I'm way too egotistical to give myself such a terrible name. I'd have been like Clark or Bruce or something."

"Would you have had a spandex-clad alterego who protects the good citizens, too?" Brian teased.

"Of course, but only you wouldda known about it, Alfred."

Brian laughed, "Anyways..." he said after a couple moments, "The reason I called. Nick, I called up Dr. Gordon Danielson, the cardiologist who repaired my VSD in 1998 up at the Mayo Clinic. He happens to be on his way to Vanderbilt to be a guest lecturer this week and he's going to stop by and look at Matthew's charts and see if there's anything he can do to help out."

"Are you serious?" I asked, excitement accelerating through me. "Brian, you're incredible. I'm so happy."

"I can't guarantee he'll be able to do much of anything, but he can look and we'll see what happens," Brian said.

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you so much, Brian, this means so much to me, man."

"No problem," Brian replied. "I'm going to drive up there, probably Monday, and I'll stop by with Dr. Danielson if that's okay with you?"

I shoved the last of the tupperware into the fridge, "Yes. Yes, that'd be awesome. You're welcome to stay at mine and Lauren's house. We'd love to have ya here."

"I may just take you up on that," Brian said. "Thank you."

"Anything, man," I answered.

Then from upstairs came Lauren's voice, drafting down the stairwell, "Nick... your dessert's getting cold and if you don't get your ass up here soon it's going to crawl under the blankets and fall asleep!"

"Coming!" I yelped. I turned back to the phone as I kicked the cooler out of the way and closed the fridge door. "Thank you again, Brian, this has been the most amazing Thanksgiving ever. What you've done means the world to me, Frick."

"You're absolutely welcome," Brian replied. "I'll talk to ya soon. Or see you Monday. Whatever comes first. Night. Tell Lauren Happy Thanksgiving for me."

"I will. Night Brian."

We hung up and I ran up the stairs, supercharged with energy, taking the steps two at a time. I plowed into the bedroom to find Lauren laying on the bed in a sexy-sexy pose, wearing a nearly sheer brown nighty thing that I couldn't wait to peel off her body with my teeth.

"Hey sexy," she cooed, "C'mere."

I crawled onto the bed, leaning over her and grinning down into her eyes eagerly.

We spent the rest of the night making love.

I had no idea it'd be the last time we'd have sex or else I would've made it even more special, lingered even longer, and allowed the cuddling to last the entire night... but how was I supposed to know?




Abbey

The morning following Thanksgiving, I'd walked down the hallway to take a shower, and I was on my way back when I ran into Phil by the nurse's station. I was carrying the bag of my shampoo and body wash and razors and all that when he stopped me, leaning on his walker with one hand to wave his other one in front of me to come over. "Morning, Phil," I said, smiling happily.

"I want you to thank your gentleman caller for me," Phil said.

"My gentleman caller?" I asked, laughing, "You mean Nick?"

Phil held his hand up over his head, "'Bout this high, blonde hair, blue eyes."

"That'd be Nick," I said, "What'd he do you want to thank him for, Phil?" I asked warily. Phil had a very sarcastic sense of humor I'd learned. He was a regular resident at Vandy - always had something wrong with him. He'd been in for several months at this point over his hip because every time they tried to send him home he found a reason to stay. He wandered around the hospital floors like a regular fixture or a mall walker now at this point, usually showing up at the least convenient times. I couldn't imagine what he could possibly have to say to Nick.

"He stopped by yesterday with a plate of Thanksgiving," Phil answered, "And I was mighty glad to have some company, even if it was just a little while he was there." He smiled, "I ain't had nobody been that nice before as to bring me a Thanksgiving plate. And that crap they tried to give me from the cafeteria downstairs does not count," he added.

"Nick did that?" I asked in surprise, and I wondered when he stopped by there, considering he'd been up in Matty's room most of the afternoon.

"Yes, yes he did. Mighty nice of him. He seems like a real gentleman. A real keeper."

"He does," I answered.

"So what the hell did you dump him for?" Phil demanded.

I laughed, "Dump him? I didn't dump him. We were never together."

"Well ain't he Matthew's father?" Phil asked.

The blood in my veins ran cold. I glanced at Matty's door, not all that far from us. I knew from experience it was easy to listen in on stuff being said out in the hallway, and I felt suddenly self-conscious. I wondered if Matty was listening. This was not how I wanted him to find out about Nick.

I laughed. "What - what makes you think that?" I stammered.

"Looks exactly like him, don't he?" Phil answered.

"Every little boy with blue eyes and blonde hair belong to Nick?" I teased, my voice shaking. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the door of Matty's room, like I expected to see his ears poking out if he was listening.

Phil raised his big, bushy eyebrows. "Ain't so much the hair and eye color," he replied, "S'much as it's the shape of the face, and them dimples." He drew the lines on his face around his mouth. "They got'em in just the same places, haven't they?"

I leaned close to him, "Matty doesn't know," I whispered, "Okay? And I'd rather he not find out in a session of eavesdropping in the hallway," I added. "So shut it, old man."

A twinkle danced in Phil's eyes. "Well just you tell him thank you... and I recommend if you ain't been a thing, that you think about becoming one. That's a keeper, he is, a keeper indeed..." and Phil waddled off down the hallway.

I stared after him, my eyes narrowed. Then I took a deep breath, prayed Matty heard none of it, and headed into the room. But it was silly of me to worry because Matty was fast asleep, hugging Gator, his crayons spread all over the rolling tray table. I put away my toiletries and slid the renegade crayons into a pencil case, snapping it shut and picking up the drawing Matty was working on. It was a picture of a giant turkey and a little turkey and he'd labelled them "Nick" and "Me" and wrote a little thank you note to Nick at the bottom.