It was far too early to be up; the sun had not even risen to chase away the fading darkness of the spring night. But there was no falling back to sleep now. Though he had apparently cried himself to sleep after hours of thrashing beneath the covers, overwrought, Nick Carter felt in no way refreshed. He was still exhausted, and now that he had returned from his brief retreat into dreamland, he immediately sank into the depths of depression, where the reality of his situation lurked like one of those creepy fish in the documentaries about the bottom of the ocean, just waiting to strike, to snap at him and swallow him whole.
He might as well be trapped inside Monstro’s belly already, for the previous day’s nightmare had already seeped across midnight’s boundary, assaulting the new day, purging the morning of its innocence.
Sleep had briefly lifted the weight from his shoulders, but now it came crashing roughly down upon them again, as the decision he must make harassed his dazed brain.
Let them amputate his leg? Or continue to fight, with both legs but half the chance of survival?
Fatigued and numb as he was, the morning provided him with enough insight to realize this was not a decision he could or should make alone. He needed support. He needed his friends, his brothers.
He reached for the phone, then realized it was too early to call Brian and certainly not Kevin, who was a full three hours behind out in California. He opted for a shower instead, hoping it would refresh him and clear his mind. Instead, he stood under the spray for at least half an hour, numb to the scalding water that burned his skin, aware only of the worry that burned his mind.
By the time he had finally stepped out of the shower, his skin red, the bathroom thick with steam, and absently toweled himself off, it was 7:30, and he knew the phone call could wait no longer. The worry was eating away at him, and he had to share it with someone before it killed him. If the cancer did not kill him first. Or Brian, who would surely not be too happy about being awoken at 7:30.
Then again, Brian wouldn’t be too happy once he heard the news anyway, so what did it matter?
Nick sucked in a deep breath, his whole body trembling, and dialed the phone number of his older brother and truest friend.
***
“Hello?” Brian Littrell sounded harassed, and Nick swallowed hard.
“B-Bri?” he croaked, feeling as if a cotton ball had somehow lodged itself into his mouth.
“Yeah? Speaking?”
“Nick. This a bad time?” Nick could faintly hear Baylee screaming in the background and knew that it was.
“Oh, hey, Nick. Good going there, buddy, you woke up my son. What are you doing calling so early? It’s like... 7:30! Why are you even awake?” Brian sounded perplexed, and for good reason. Nick always slept in late on days they weren’t working.
“Brian... I gotta talk to you.” He didn’t even beat around the bush; he just said it, his deadpan voice contrasting sharply to Brian’s, which was a colorful blend of amusement, confusion, annoyance, and grogginess.
“Okay... what’s wrong?” Immediately, Brian was alert and serious, all traces of aggravation washed out of his tone.
Nick swallowed hard, but the nonexistent wad of cotton only seemed to wedge itself further back in his throat. “Um... Bri...” he managed to squeak, his throat growing even tighter as tears threatened. “Th-there’s some stuff I haven’t told you.”
Brian drew in a sharp breath. “Like what?”
Nick shut his eyes and divulged, “I relapsed.”
“Relapsed?” Brian repeated. “You mean... th-the cancer’s... the cancer’s back?” His voice wavered with emotion on the last word, and Nick hated himself for having to upset his best friend.
“Yeah... I found out about six weeks ago.”
“Six weeks?!” Brian cried. “You’ve known for over a month, Nick? Why... why didn’t you tell me? I thought you weren’t going to pull that keeping secrets shit on us anymore! What’s the deal?”
“God, Bri, don’t be mad, that’s the last thing I need,” Nick pleaded, yanking at his short crop of hair, struggling to keep his emotions in check long enough to get the bad news out. “The truth is, I’ve been having radiation treatments for six weeks, and when I first found out, I was led to believe they would work. The radiation didn’t have any real bad side effects, and I just figured that after six weeks, I’d be perfectly fine again, and no one would ever have to know. I... I just didn’t want to upset you guys again by telling you if I didn’t have to.”
There was a long pause. Then Brian said carefully, “Nick, sure we would have been upset, but not at you. At what’s happening to you. I can’t believe you went six weeks worrying about this by yourself and not telling anyone. Didn’t you learn anything the first time around?” He sounded concerned, yet exasperated and maybe even a little offended. Nick suddenly regretted not telling anyone in the first place... at least it might have prepared them all more for the bombshell he was about to drop on Brian.
Nick didn’t reply; he didn’t know what to say. He sat clutching the phone tightly and listening to Brian breathing on the other end. Finally, as if he had just had a revelation, Brian asked, “So... so why are you calling me now, after six weeks? I mean, I’m glad you did, but... but what made you decide to tell me now? Has something happened?” His voice leapt with worry again.
Nick squeezed his eyes shut, a single teardrop escaping from between closed lids. As it inched down one blotchy cheek, he answered in a whisper, “Yes.”
“What? What happened?” Brian quickly demanded. “Are you all right? Where are you calling from?”
“I’m home,” whimpered Nick. “But... but I had an appointment yesterday, with Dr. Kingsbury. And she said... and she said...” He stammered like a broken record, unable to finish his sentence.
“Oh no... Nick, what did she say?” Brian prompted in gentle tones, his voice deathly quiet.
“That the radiation didn’t work,” Nick blurted, hiccupping as he broke down, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. “That... that... that she wants to cut off my leg!”
“Oh my God,” Brian inhaled. “She wants to amputate?”
“Yes,” sobbed Nick. “I... I don’t know what to do, I can’t let them take my leg, but I don’t want to die, I’m not ready, oh God, Bri, help me!” He had lost all dignity, clutching to the phone as if it were his lifeline and weeping as if his very soul were broken.
“Oh, Nick,” Brian moaned. “Oh God... I’m so sorry, Nick... don’t you worry... I’m going to call the airport as soon as we get off the phone, and I’m going to book a flight, and... and I’m going to come down there. It’ll be all right, Nick. I’m gonna get you through this, okay? You just hang on; I can be there in a few hours.”
“O-okay,” Nick whimpered, hiccupping again as his tears slowed. He had been right in calling Brian; just the sound of his voice was reassuring.
“You gonna be all right till I get there? Can I hang up soon to call the airport, or do you need me to stay on longer?” Suddenly, Brian was talking to Nick almost like he talked to his own son, and Nick felt foolish, realizing what a pathetic baby he must seem like, sobbing and carrying on that way.
“N-no, I’ll be fine,” Nick assured him tearfully, trying to steady his voice. “Just... just get down here... when you can... okay?” he choked out between dying sobs.
“I will, Nicky, I’ll be there,” Brian promised. “I’m going to let you go now. Okay? I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay,” sniffled Nick. “Bye.” He hung up and collapsed onto his bed in a fit of exhaustion, his nose running and his temples aching as a headache crept up on him. Caused by the crying outburst, no doubt. It had been a long time since he had sobbed like this... well, unless you counted the day before. He had cried, sure, many times since his diagnosis. But it was not often that Nick Carter lost it like this, sobbing like a frightened child, all thoughts of pride and masculinity out the window.
Then again, it was not often that a famous popstar was more or less told that in order to live, his leg would have to be amputated.
Yes, Nick thought, blowing his nose, I think I’ve definitely got a good reason to cry.
With that, he lay down, burying his face in the cool comfort of his pillow and placing the cordless phone on the bed beside him in case Brian called back, wishing to go back to his dreamland, where he could relax and enjoy a world without worry and fear, sickness and pain. He shut his red-rimmed eyes tightly and turned his head to breathe, letting the pillow cushion his cheek, which was red and tearstained once again.
***
