Howie and AJ were sitting out by the pool when he got home. He stepped out onto the patio just long enough to announce, “I’m back,” and then went back inside. He grabbed a Bud Light from the refrigerator and went into his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. Sinking down on his bed, he popped open his can of beer and took a long drink. Absently squeezing the can and letting the aluminum pop back into place, Nick gazed around the room with bleary eyes, feeling totally drained. Drained and sort of... empty.
“I blew it,” he murmured, shaking his head sorrowfully. “I’ve lost her.”
During his drive, it had all sunk in, the full realization that he had no one to blame for this but himself. He could not be mad at Claire, nor Tim the Dentist. He could only be angry with himself, and he was. He had been a fool. He’d had so many chances with Claire, and he’d blown them all.
Not quite a year ago, she had sat there with him and told him that she thought she loved him. If only he could have said the same. But at the time, he felt nothing more than friendship toward her. He’d then turned to Leah, not Claire, and let her use him and humiliate him once again. When he finally had come to his senses about Claire, he had let his impulses get in the way and had come off looking completely shallow. After she had run out on him, he had been too proud to call her and explain himself.
Then he had relapsed, and when she finally came back into his life, the last thing on his mind was a romance with her. But the feelings had slowly come back, and in that movie theater, alone in the dark with her, he’d been unable to hold back. But that was not his biggest mistake. His biggest mistake was pushing her away two weeks later. If he had been smart, he would have asked her out while the kiss was still fresh in her mind. But instead, he let his self-pity get in the way and convinced himself that he needed to “let her go.”
And that was exactly what he had done. He had let her go, and she had gone straight to someone else. And why would she ever want to come back to him if she had a guy like Tim? Not only was he good-looking, but he was a dentist... which meant two things: 1) he had to be pretty smart, and 2) he would eventually be pretty rich too. Nick knew he simply could not compete with someone like that. He, too, had money, but these days, that was about it. No woman in her right mind would trade Mr. Perfect Dentist (or would it be Dr. Perfect Dentist?) for him.
Sighing, he lay down and closed his eyes, prepared to fall asleep fully clothed. Sleep sounded like a good escape right about then. But he had no sooner closed his eyes than he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. He kept his eyes shut and did not reply, hoping Howie or AJ or both of them would just go away. No such luck. The knock sounded again, louder this time, and then the doorknob jiggled. Nick sighed. Go away, go away, he pleaded in his head.
“Nicky?” It was Howie.
Groaning, Nick sat up and got off of the bed. He stumbled across the room and grudgingly unlocked the door. “What?” he grunted rudely, opening the door just wide enough to peek out at Howie.
“Are you okay?” Howie asked, his forehead creased with worry.
“Not really,” answered Nick in a flat tone, figuring there was no point in denying it; Howie could see right through him.
Howie’s brow furrowed even further. “What’s wrong?” he pressed. “Are you feeling all right?”
Nick frowned. Of course that was the question that always came up first. “Yes,” he growled in annoyance. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Then what? Something happen with Claire?”
Nick’s first instinct was to lie, to say no, everything was fine with Claire. But he had a feeling Howie would see right through that too, so he found himself answering instead, “Maybe.”
“Maybe? Sounds like yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah? That’s what I kind of thought. Do you... do you wanna talk about it?”
Nick shrugged, not sure what he wanted. He fought the instinct to say no, but couldn’t bring himself to say yes right away either. He was not usually much of a “talk about it” kind of guy, choosing to keep his problems bottled up instead, but now he found himself almost wanting to spill his guts to Howie and get some advice or, at least, comfort from his older, wiser brother.
Howie must have noticed this, for he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Can I come in?”
Wordlessly, Nick backed up, letting Howie push the door open wider and enter the bedroom. Howie closed the door quietly behind him and walked with Nick over to his bed, where they both sat down on the edge. Silence filled the room and lasted almost a full moment.
Finally, Howie asked the big question. “So what happened?”
And, surprising even himself, Nick answered. “She has a boyfriend.” Even as the mumbled words left his mouth, he realized how juvenile he sounded. He started to blush; Howie probably thought he was acting like some pathetic teenage boy with a junior high crush. But when he looked at Howie’s face, he found that his friend didn’t look the slightest bit amused.
“Oh,” Howie said, his forehead wrinkling again. “So is that what she’s been up to for the past month or so? Did something happen between you two?”
“It’s my fault,” Nick muttered disgustedly. “I pushed her away. I-I lied to her. I hurt her feelings... on purpose.”
“Why?” Howie asked in confusion.
“Cause I knew she deserved better than me,” replied Nick with a shrug. “I wanted her to stop spending all her time with me and get her life back. And then she did, and I’m jealous. God, I suck.”
Howie was silent for a moment, as if digesting this information. Then he said, “So you do like her then?”
Nick smirked; well, the cat was finally out of the bag now, though he figured Howie and AJ had both known this for some time now. They had certainly hinted at it enough. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I like her.”
“I thought so. It was kind of obvious,” Howie smiled. “But I always thought she liked you too.”
Nick considered this. Had that been obvious to Howie too? “I don’t know...” he answered slowly. “I... I guess she might have. I mean... I know she did, at one time. But that was a long time ago. Lately, I don’t know. I guess maybe she did... before I pushed her away. But she doesn’t anymore.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“Well, no. But she’s seeing this guy, this dentist that she works for.”
“But are they serious?” Howie questioned. “They can’t have been going out for long...”
“I dunno,” said Nick. “But... I-I met the guy, and... well... I don’t know why she would ever want to go out with me after him.”
Howie frowned. “Nick, don’t say that. She liked you before for a reason, and she’s been a good friend to you these last few months. She’s obviously not bothered by... well, what you think she would be bothered by.”
Nick shook his head. “Look, being friends is one thing. But being together romantically... or sexually... well, that’s totally different. And let’s face it, no girl wants to get with a guy who only has one leg. Sucks for me, but that’s the truth, ain’t it?” he spat bitterly. His own words stung, and without warning, he felt the familiar prickling of tears in the corners of his eyes. He fought them furiously.
It just wasn’t fair. For years, he had been a teen idol worldwide. Unquestionably, though he had never understood exactly why, he had always been the most popular Backstreet Boy. He was the baby, the cute one, the heartthrob.
And just look at him now.
Did I do something to deserve this? he thought. It was something he had wondered time and time again, ever since his diagnosis and especially since the amputation. Was this all some kind of cruel and unusual punishment for something he had done in life? Maybe one big sick joke, spawned from God’s twisted sense of humor? Or perhaps His sense of irony?
Nick had been unpopular at school as a child, picked on and beat up by the other boys, teased and rejected by the girls. Then he had skyrocketed to fame as part of the Backstreet Boys, and the mobs of young girls had adored him. But his dream life of stardom, success, and happiness had been shattered with the diagnosis of cancer. And now here he was, broken, a fractured remnant of his former self, forever marred and imperfect in the eyes of society, the very same society in which he’d once been regarded as an idol.
And isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?
Blinking away unshed tears, Nick looked over at Howie with dry eyes, realizing that Howie had kept silent the whole time he’d been lost in his thoughts. Howie’s expression was stricken.
“Oh, Nick,” he said softly. “Listen... I don’t know how a girl’s mind works. But after everything you’ve been through together, do you really think Claire would stop caring for you because of... because of your leg? If she liked you before, when you were going through chemo the first time, then she obviously was able to see you for you. She liked your personality, Nick, not your looks or your body or whatever. So why would that be any different now? Your personality hasn’t changed. You’re still Nick.”
“And you’re still idealistic, Howie,” muttered Nick. “And yes, I know what ‘idealistic’ means.”
Howie smiled slightly, then quickly sobered. “Nicky,” he began again, “think of it this way. What if the tables were turned, and this had happened to Claire instead of you? Would you still like her, even if she wasn’t physically perfect?”
Nick frowned. The way Howie had worded that, it would make him look very shallow indeed if he answered no. Of course I wouldn’t answer no! his mind snapped. Of course I would still like her!
But maybe that was just because he had been through it himself. He knew what it was like to lose your leg and your self-esteem and consider yourself ugly and flawed, to feel that no one would ever find you even remotely attractive again. So of course he would still like Claire if she wasn’t “physically perfect,” as Howie had put it. But what about the old Nick? If he and Claire had truly switched positions, and she had lost her leg to bone cancer instead, would he have been able to get past it and still feel the same way about her? It made him feel like a horrible person to admit it, but he honestly wasn’t sure.
“Oh, I know, Nick,” Howie went on, his voice rising with a hint of almost desperation, “what about Paul McCartney’s new wife? That Heather Mills? She lost her leg in some kind of accident, right? And she models! And she married one of the Beatles! And he obviously didn’t care about her leg, did he?”
“One of the Bayt-uhls,” Nick parroted in a low voice, trying to avoid acknowledging the logic in Howie’s argument.
Howie let out a soft sigh and didn’t say anything. Silence reigned for a few minutes, and finally Howie spoke again. “Have you ever considered talking to a counselor?” he asked quietly.
Nick’s eyes narrowed at him. “You mean like a shrink?”
“I mean like a professional who could help you sort out your feelings and-“
“So basically a shrink,” Nick repeated.
Howie sighed again. “Whatever you want to call it. Look, Nick, this is a lot to deal with, and I think you’ve come through it very well, but... I just... I think it might be helpful to talk to someone, that’s all.”
“I’m talking to you right now.”
“I know, and that’s great, and you know I’m always glad to listen. But I mean a professional, someone who is trained to-“
“They tried that while I was still in the hospital... making me talk to some shrink lady that worked there... what a joke,” Nick scoffed
“You were all for bringing a counselor on the road with us for AJ during the Black and Blue tour,” said Howie with a frown.
“Yeah, and a lot of good that did! She didn’t help him at all!” Nick fumed. “Look, I don’t need to go lie on a couch and have my mind probed by some quack who will then hand me some magnormous bill and a scrip for Prozac!”
“Okay, okay,” Howie said, throwing up his hands in defense. “Forget I said anything. You just come talk to me or J or any of us when you need to, okay?”
“Sure,” said Nick.
Howie smiled and slung an arm across Nick’s shoulders. “Good. And as for Claire...”
“Yeah?”
“Give her some time. If you hurt her like you said you did, you can’t expect her to just forgive you instantly. Go back to just being her friend and win back her trust; show her you really care about her, as a friend if nothing else. What happens from there is up to her.”
“Go back to just being her friend,” Nick repeated. “I can do that.”
Howie nodded. “Well there ya go,” he said with a smile, standing up. “I think I’m gonna go see what J’s up to... do you want to come hang out on the patio with us?”
“Nah,” declined Nick. “I think I’m gonna go to bed. I’m kinda tired. I was driving around and just thinking... it wore me out.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Howie smirked. “Thinking will do that to you.”
“Yeah...” Nick started to murmur absently in response, but then he realized what Howie had meant by that. “Hey!” he cried in offense, but by the time he had processed his comment, Howie had darted out of the room.
Snorting, Nick lay back on the bed again. “Smartass,” he muttered under his breath, but for the first time in hours, a hint of a smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. He closed his eyes, still too exhausted to bother getting ready for bed. It was not long before the smile faded, leaving his face expressionless as he fell into a dreamless sleep.
***
