Monday morning found him sitting at his computer, eyes scanning the Google search he’d done intently. His concentration was broken by the shrill ring of the phone. Startled, he groaned audibly and reached for the cordless, checking the caller ID before he decided whether or not to answer the call. Claire’s cell phone number was displayed in the window on the phone, and he answered immediately, his annoyance vanishing. “Hello?”
“Nick, hey!”
He frowned; even in those two words, she sounded strange. Worked up about something, though he could not tell if that something was good or bad. “Hey, what’s up?” he questioned.
“Well... I’m, uh, kind of frazzled at the moment, so I’ll try to keep this short. You remember my friend Jamie that I told you about? The one that lives in Iowa? Well, his dad had a heart attack this morning...”
Nick drew in a breath, his stomach clenching.
“... and it’s... well, it’s pretty bad. He’s not doing well at all, and... Jamie’s not sure if he’s going to make it. He’s a wreck, and he called me at work, and... well, I’m on the way back to my apartment to pack, and then I’m going up there,” she finished in a rush.
Nick blinked. “Wait, up there? You mean to Iowa? You’re going to Iowa?!”
“I have to, Nick. Jamie really needs me right now, and he and his dad both mean a lot to me... I want to be there for their family. You understand, right?”
“S-sure,” he answered – as if he was going to say anything else. But then, he just couldn’t stop himself... “But Claire... it’s Monday. The concert’s on Saturday. A-are you going to be ba-“
“Oh, Nick, of course I will! I promised you I’d be there, and I’ll be there!” she exclaimed earnestly. “I’m just going up for a couple days or so... maybe a little longer if I need to, but I promise, I’ll be back by Saturday.”
“Okay,” he said uncertainly. “Um... so are you driving or flying or what?”
“Flying. I already started calling airlines from work and got a seat for a flight that leaves later this afternoon.”
“That was lucky.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Thank God for small miracles, huh?” She laughed shrilly.
He forced a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, for sure.”
“So... so, um, what are you up to?”
He made a face – was she just making conversation now? What did it matter what he was up to? “Just surfing the net,” he replied vaguely, eyes returning to the website that had come up on his monitor.
“Cool... okay, well, I’m almost home, so I’m gonna let you go now, okay? I just wanted to let you know...”
“Thanks for calling,” he said. “Have a safe flight, ‘kay? And um... I hope his dad will be okay... I’ll be thinking about him.” More likely he would be thinking about her and how she was with the guy in Iowa, instead of here with him.
“Thanks, Nick. I’ll call you from Iowa, alright? Bye.” She ended the phone call quickly, before he could get a goodbye in, leaving him to listen to nothing but silence on the other end of the line. He sighed and then punched the end button, slowly returning the phone to its cradle. He sat staring at it for a minute.
So in a matter of hours, Claire would be several states and many miles away. He was not sure why that bothered him so much, but it did. Maybe it was because she was going to see her old boyfriend. Maybe it was because the concert was in five days, and he was afraid she would not be back in time to attend it like she had promised.
He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He was being selfish.
He looked back at his computer, at the site he’d clicked on. “No,” he said aloud, shaking his head, “I’m not selfish. I’m being anything but selfish right now...” He skimmed over the contents of the page, entitled “Cough Remedies.” It contained a whole variety of different ways to relieve a cough, and he read through them hopefully. Maybe something on this page would make him better, if only temporary, if only long enough to get through the rest of the week and, most importantly, the concert.
The truth was, he was sick. How sick, he did not know, but he had a feeling it went beyond a simple cold. The cold he’d had back in October had gone away, but the cough that had accompanied it had not, and now, over a month later, it still lingered. If anything, it was worse. And despite all his assurances of “I’m fine!” to the other guys whenever one of them noticed and questioned him about it, he was beginning to get worried. A cough shouldn’t last a month... a month and a half... two months... however long it had been. He was no rocket scientist, but even he knew that much.
And on top of that, he’d been experiencing other symptoms... a tight feeling in his chest, which sometimes turned to pain when he took deep breaths... and breathlessness at times when he should not feel winded. This was more than the common cold, and he feared that the cold had developed into something worse. Bronchitis, maybe. Or even worse, pneumonia.
That possibility really scared him. The last time he’d had pneumonia, he’d ended up in ICU with a tube down his throat. That wasn’t exactly a good time and definitely not something he wanted to repeat anytime soon. But the symptoms he was experiencing now – the cough, the pain in his chest, the shortness of breath – all reminded him of how he had felt when he was in the hospital that time.
He had a feeling that’s where he should be right now – at the hospital, so that someone could tell him what was wrong and make it go away. But with the concert in five days, he was not about to schedule an appointment now. If he did have pneumonia, they would probably want to admit him for at least a few days, and then the concert would have to be postponed. And that would screw everything up. So he decided he would just have to tough it out till after the concert. He could go to the doctor next week, when his schedule was cleared again.
In his mind, he could hear Kevin getting after him. “Your health is more important than anything; it has to come first.”
Luckily, Kevin did not know how he had been feeling. None of the guys did.
It reminded Nick of when they’d been working on the album, shortly after he had first been diagnosed. The excuses... the cover-ups... the lies. He’d hidden his symptoms from them then, and he was doing the same thing now. And with their attention focused solely on the concert on Saturday, no one seemed to notice, not even Kevin.
In the meantime, Nick was trying to find more ways to mask the signs, the coughing in particular. It was the one that gave him away most often, the one that made them question him about how he was feeling. “I’m fine; just got something in my throat,” he would say, or, “I’m fine; it’s just leftover from that cold. Looks like cold season’s gonna be bad this year.” But the more he coughed, the more they would see that he was not fine. And then they would begin to notice other things, like how singing just a few songs in a row would leave him out of breath. So he had to at least keep the coughing at bay. He kept a bottle of cough syrup in the medicine cabinet at home and a bag of cough drops in his bag at rehearsal, constantly relying on both when no one was looking.
The website he was looking at now suggested other remedies – everything from drinking grape juice and honey to sucking on sugar cubes. He jotted down a few of the least disgusting-sounding antidotes on a scrap of paper and shoved it into his pocket for future use, hastily clicking off of the site just as Howie poked his head into the office.
“Was that Claire on the phone?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Nick said flatly. “She’s going to Iowa.”
“Iowa?” Howie repeated. “When?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“Her ex-boyfriend’s dad had a heart attack, and she’s going up there to be with them.”
“For how long?”
“Don’t know. She said she’d be back by Saturday.”
“Well, that’s good.”
Nick nodded absently. She had just better keep her promise. He knew she was doing a good thing by going to comfort her friend, but here he was doing everything to assure that the show would go on, and if she wasn’t back in time for it, it would ruin everything. Okay, maybe not everything, but it would sure ruin his solo. Singing “Open Arms” would just not be the same without her standing in the front row, where he could smile down at her from the stage.
“Hey, Nick, don’t worry,” said Howie, seeming to notice Nick’s mannerisms. “If she said she’ll be here, she’ll be here.”
Nick nodded again, more confidently this time. Howie was right. Claire had never let him down before. She was always there for him when he needed her, and if she said she’d be back by Saturday, she would be. Simple as that.
***
Nick heard from Claire twice more that week, once when she got to Iowa on Monday and again the next day.
“Jamie’s dad passed away last night,” she’d told him tearfully on Tuesday.
“Oh... I’m so sorry,” he’d replied, wishing the tone of his voice could match the pain in hers. But how could it – he hadn’t even known this guy.
“Thanks,” said Claire. “Um, so anyway, the visitation is going to be Thursday evening, and the funeral’s Friday afternoon. I’m going to stick around for that. I’ve already booked a flight back to Tampa for Saturday morning, so don’t worry, I’ll still be back in time for your concert.”
“Oh... okay. Um, sounds good.”
So, with the promise of Claire’s return on Saturday, Nick went through the rest of the week, throwing himself into the last rehearsals with the guys before the concert, while chugging lemon juice and honey in an effort to keep his cough suppressed and his voice intact.
On Saturday, he woke up at the crack of dawn and could not fall back to sleep, his nerves getting the better of him. He got up and found AJ and Kevin already sitting around his kitchen table, eating breakfast.
“Mornin’, Nick,” Kevin greeted him.
“Hey,” Nick said. “So you guys couldn’t sleep anymore either?”
“Nah, I’m too wired,” AJ admitted, grinning. “You too?”
Nick smiled. “Yeah,” he replied. “I’m excited.” He grabbed a bagel and smeared a liberal amount of cream cheese on it, but by the time he joined the others at the table, he realized he really was not hungry. He nibbled at the bagel anyway, figuring if he didn’t, he’d get some spiel from Kevin about how breakfast was the most important meal of the day.
By eight o’clock, Howie and Brian were up as well, and the five of them sat around the table together for a long time, talking and drinking coffee. They didn’t have to be at the theater till that afternoon, so they had lots of time to kill before they had to leave.
Nick was on his third cup of coffee when the phone rang. Howie was closest to the phone, so he grabbed it and answered. “Hello?” A slight smile appeared on his lips, and he looked at Nick as he said, “Oh hey, Claire.” Nick thrust out his hand, silently demanding the phone, but Howie didn’t give it to him right away. Instead, he pressed the phone even closer to his ear, his forehead creasing as he listened intently. The smile on his face quickly morphed into a frown. “Oh no,” he said, “Well, that really sucks.”
“What is it?” Nick demanded, but Howie just glanced at him and shook his head.
“Oh, I know,” Howie went on to Claire. “He’ll understand. It’s not like there’s anything you can do about it anyway. ... Well, good luck with that. Call Nicky or one of us later to fill us in, would you? Yeah, he’ll want to know. Okay. Okay, bye, Claire.”
“What was that all about?” Nick cried, as Howie hung up the phone. But he already knew. “She’s not coming, is she?” he asked dully.
“She’s trying, Nick,” said Howie, “but apparently it’s snowing pretty bad up there. Her flight was delayed.”
Nick sighed loudly. “Can she get another flight?” He was trying not to sound whiny, but it was hard to hold back his disappointment.
“She’s trying, but everything’s delayed. I told her to call later to let us know if she has a flight or is still waiting or what.”
Nick nodded silently. Meanwhile, AJ got up and turned on the small TV in the kitchen, tuning in to the Weather Channel.
“... Meanwhile, the Midwest is being hit with snowstorms. Across Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana, residents are expecting anywhere from eight inches to over a foot of snow. Air travel has been restricted as most flights departing from or arriving in these areas have been delayed or cancelled. Those traveling by automobile should be cautious, as the roads could be icy.” The picture cut from the weatherman standing in front of a map of the United States to footage of cars traveling along one of the interstates, practically lost in the thick blizzard of snow that was falling up north.
Nick shook his head. “Snow,” he muttered in disgust, “I hate it.”
“You would, Florida Boy,” Brian smirked. “It’ll suck if Claire can’t make it back in time, but it’s not the end of the world. They’re showing the concert on TV in a couple of weeks anyway; she can see it then.”
It’s not the same though, Nick thought, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah, true,” he mumbled. Sighing, he picked up his coffee mug and took a sip. He almost ended up spitting out the hot liquid as he was hit with a sudden coughing fit, but managed to swallow just in time.
“You alright, Nick?” Kevin asked worriedly, as Nick covered his mouth and coughed loudly.
“Yeah,” Nick choked, panting. “Just, uh... just swallowed wrong.” He coughed once more for measure, and then, satisfied that the fit was over, went back to his coffee.
***
“Lookin’ back on the things I’ve done
I was trying to be someone
Played my part and kept you in the dark
Now let me show you the shape of my heart...”
“I’m here with my confession
Got nothing to hide no more
I don’t know where to start
But to show you the shape of my heart...”
“Okay, that’s enough, fellas!” Kevin announced, as the group launched back into the chorus of “Shape of My Heart.” “AJ – stop!”
AJ finally cut off, grinning at the annoyed expression on Kevin’s face. When Kevin got stressed out, Kevin got irritable, and Kevin was definitely stressed out at the moment. The meet and greet prior to the concert started in an hour, and they were in the midst of a sound check and last-minute rehearsal, running through snippets of the songs they planned to perform later that night, while their crew made sure that all the equipment was working properly.
“Nick! Hey, Nick!”
Nick, who had quickly gone from singing to spacing out, jumped. “What??”
“Why are you singing all breathy like that? Please tell me you’re just trying to save your voice,” Kevin said, his forehead creased with frown lines.
Nick scowled. “Yeah, Kev, I’m saving my voice,” he muttered and coughed a little for good measure, which backfired on him by leading into a whole fit of real coughs. Brian reached out and slapped him on the back until he finally stopped, red-faced and gasping for breath.
Kevin’s frown lines deepened. “Are you all right, Nick?” he asked, his tone softening. “Are you getting another cold already? You’re like a cold magnet all of a sudden. Should you even be singing tonight?”
“I’m fine,” Nick croaked, swallowing hard. “Not like I haven’t sang with a cold before.” He pasted on a smile that felt more like a grimace.
Kevin didn’t return the smile. “But a cold isn’t just ‘a cold’ anymore for you, Nick. If your blood counts are still out of whack from the chemo, your immune system could still be off, and you know what that means. It could develop into something more serious than just a cold.”
Nick knew he was probably right, but he scowled even more and retorted, “Kev, the last dose of chemo I had was in June! That was six months ago! Everything should be fine by now.”
“But it’s not fine,” Kevin argued. “You’re not fine, Nick. How long have you been coughing like this? It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”
“Since October,” Brian spoke up. “You had a cold in October too, remember? When you came to visit?”
Nick suddenly felt like a caged animal. Damn Brian for siding with his cousin. When it came to serious issues, he always did. Damn them both. “Yeah, so?” he said defensively. “This is a different cold. You know me, I’ve always had a knack for attracting colds, even before I got freaking cancer. This is nothing new, okay, so you don’t have to worry. I feel fine.” And really, he didn’t feel that bad. A little light-headed, maybe, and his chest sort of hurt whenever he took in a deep breath to sing. But other than that, he was okay. And if need be, he’d go to the doctor next week and get some antibiotics to clear up whatever this was.
Kevin sighed. “Fine, Nick,” he muttered, looking thoroughly unsatisfied, but apparently deciding not to push the issue. What were they going to do anyway – postpone the concert? Yeah, and end up having to pay out the ass to fly home all the disappointed families that had flown in for the concert, not to mention deal with the people at CBS who were all set to tape the show that night. Just not have Nick sing? Riiiiight – he was the whole reason they were doing this!
There was really no way out; the show had to go on. Nick would sing, and Kevin would deal with it. There was no other choice.
“Just please say something if you start to feel worse, okay?” Brian requested quietly, touching Nick’s shoulder.
“I will,” promised Nick, but he knew it would take a lot for that to happen.
“Okay,” Kevin sighed. “Let’s just go on, okay? Let’s hit the chorus of ‘More Than That’. Nick, you feel like going into your solo?”
“Sure,” Nick said quickly.
“Okay. First chorus and into Nick’s verse then, guys.”
They sang the chorus, and when Nick’s solo came up, he sucked in a deep breath, wincing, and gave it his all, trying not to sound ‘breathy,’ like he had apparently sounded earlier.
“Baby, you deserve much better
What’s the use in holding on?
Don’t you see it’s now or never?
Cause I just can’t be friends
Baby, knowing in-“
Nick immediately trailed off when he heard the familiar ring of his cell phone chirping at him from across the stage. “Hold up,” he said, sliding off of his stool and taking off across the stage as fast he could. He squatted down in front of his sports bag, almost toppling over in the process, and quickly dug through it in search of the ringing phone, only hoping he could get to it in time. “Gotcha!” he exclaimed triumphantly, his hand sliding around the tiny silver phone. He hardly glanced at the caller ID before quickly punching the phone on and answering breathlessly, “Hello?”
“Hey! Bad time?” Her voice crackled over a bad connection, but he would still recognize it anywhere.
“Hey, Claire,” he said with a relieved smile, stretching out on the stage floor. “No, it’s not a bad time at all. Where are you??” Please, he thought desperately, please be on your way home.
She sighed loudly. “Still at this damn airport in the middle of this damn snowstorm,” she ranted. “Nick... I’m not gonna make it.”
His heart sank. “There’s... there’s no way, is there?”
“No. Even if I hopped on a plane right now, it’s still like a four-hour flight. I’m not gonna get in till later tonight at the earliest.” Now it was his turn to sigh, unable to conceal his disappointment. “I’m sorry, Nick,” she went on. “You know how much I wanted to be there. I feel terrible.”
Yeah, well so did he. But he knew there was nothing she could do about it, so he muttered, “It’s okay, Claire. You can watch it on TV.”
“We’ll watch it together, okay? I promise,” she vowed.
“Whatever.” You promised you’d be here, and you’re not.
“Nick... I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Ugh, you’re breaking up... I think this connection is gonna go. Listen, I’ll let you go finish getting ready, okay? Good luck tonight! I’d tell you to break a leg, but...”
He snickered despite himself. “Only got one to break. That wouldn’t be good.” The connection cut in and out, but he could still hear her giggling on the other end. The sound made him smile. If only she could be here giggling with him now. If only she could stand down in the front row and giggle like that while he poured his heart into the “boyband” songs she despised.
But she couldn’t, and there wasn’t a damn thing either of them could do about it. Sighing again, Nick said, “Well, I better go now.”
“Yeah... you go and sing pretty, ‘kay? I’ll be thinking about you tonight.”
Nick smiled. “Thanks. Bye, Claire.” She hung up, but he stayed on the line, listening to dead air, not wanting to close the connection quite yet. He swallowed hard and, knowing she couldn’t hear him, whispered, “I’ll be thinking about you too.”
***
