In the end, he never did come up with one, but he called Brian anyway, knowing he had to.
Brian answered with a frazzled, “Hello?” and Nick could hear Baylee screaming in the background.
“Uh, hey, Bri, it’s me, Nick. Is this a bad time?”
“Nick! No, no, it’s fine!” Brian cried, his voice brightening. “Where have you been? Are you okay? The guys and I have all been trying to call you, and-“
“Yeah, I know,” Nick cut him off. “I’m really sorry, man.”
“Well, where were you? What’s been going on?” Brian persisted, disregarding the apology.
“Um...” Nick struggled for words, feeling like a cartoon character with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, the angel whispering, “Tell him the truth!” while the devil hissed, “Lie! Make something up!” Ignoring them both, Nick finally said, “I can’t really tell you.”
There was a long silence, and then Brian said, “Why not? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Uh... well... it’s not like you think... you’ll find out soon enough, but... it’s not important now.”
“Well, it sounds important to me.”
“Bri, lay off it, please?” Nick begged.
“Nick, what’s wrong? Why can’t you tell me?” Brian pleaded. “You’re my best friend; I thought we could tell each other anything.”
“We... we can...” Nick said helplessly. “It’s just... you don’t understand... but you will later... I can’t explain it, but I just... I can’t tell you right now.”
There was another pause. Then, “Nick, are you trying to pull something over on me? Like when we all decided to leave Jive, and you informed us out of the blue that you were staying with them and putting out a solo album? What are you trying to hide from me?”
“Brian, don’t start with the damn solo album thing again! Jesus, I didn’t realize you guys were all gonna act so pissy about that! It’s not like I was ever planning on leaving the group; we were on hiatus, and I just wanted to do it while I could! It’s always been one of my goals, and I decided to go for it while I had the chance. I was living out one of my dreams with that album!” Might be one of the last dreams I’ll ever get to live out, he added bitterly in his head.
“Nick, this isn’t about your album! Stop acting so self-centered! Can’t you see that we care about you and that we were worried about you while you weren’t answering your phone for two weeks?”
“Self-centered... so that’s what you think I am,” Nick said quietly. “Okay then. Well, you can call the other guys and tell them I’m still alive. Talk to you later, Brian.”
And he hung up on his best friend.
***
A good hour later, still affronted over his argument with Brian, Nick decided it was time for a shower. After two weeks in the hospital, he was sure he reeked of medicine and craved a nice, long, hot shower in his own bathroom to rid him of the stench.
Of course, that was not as easy as it sounded. Leaning his crutches up against the bathroom counter, Nick carefully pulled his t-shirt over his head, his left shoulder aching with the effort. Then he took the bulky brace off his leg, tossed it to the floor, and struggled to remove his boxers, trying to put as little weight possible on his bad leg.
When he was finally undressed, he reached for the roll of Saran wrap sitting on the countertop. Feeling quite odd, he tore off a square of it and stretched it across the large gauze bandage hiding his newly-implanted catheter.
He couldn’t help but laugh as he secured it with duct tape; people across the country had been stocking up on duct tape and plastic sheeting to seal off their houses in case of a terrorist attack. He was doing the same thing with his own body, trying to protect himself from water, from bacteria, from infection, which could wreak havoc on him with his immune system beginning to weaken from the chemo. The chemo... that was his ally, going in to fight the enemy, cancer. Cancer, the terrorist.
Amused with himself, for he had never been much of a metaphorical thinker, Nick limped over to the shower and turned on the spray.
***
When Nick was cleaned up and dressed, the phone rang again. Cussing under his breath in annoyance, Nick reluctantly picked up the cordless in his bedroom and checked the caller ID, expecting it to be either Brian calling back to apologize or his mother calling back to bitch at him some more. He really didn’t want to hear from either of them, not now anyway. To his surprise – but not necessarily relief – the call came not from Littrell, Brian or Carter, Robert, but Richardson, Kevin. Big Daddy Kevin, calling to check in on him, he supposed. He wondered if Brian had already called his cousin and told him about their argument. Nick rolled his eyes, but, knowing he really had no choice but to answer, he turned on the phone and put it up to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Nick,” came Kevin’s drawling voice. “I haven’t talked to you in months, bud, how ya doing?”
He sounded friendly enough, and Nick relaxed, deciding he wasn’t in for a lecture after all. “Yeah... I know. I’m doing okay,” Nick lied. “Just been busy, ya know.”
“Busy with what?”
None of your business, Kevin, Nick wanted to snip at him, but he held back and replied casually, “Oh, nothing much... just the usual kind of stuff.”
“Uh-huh. The guys and I have been trying to get in touch with you for awhile... you haven’t been answering the phone. We were a little worried about you, you know. Is there anything going on?”
Yes, Kevin, I have bone cancer, and I’ve been in the hospital for two weeks, Nick wanted to tell him, but he only said, with as much apology as he could muster, “Yeah, I know, I’m real sorry, Kev. I’ve just been gone a lot, and... uh... I think one of those teenyboppers got a hold of my phone number again because I’ve been getting all kind of crazy fan calls and shit, so that’s why I’ve been avoiding phone calls.” The lie came so quickly to him he was surprised he hadn’t thought of it before, when he had talked to Brian. He shook his head, half-pleased with himself, half-disgusted.
“I thought you had caller ID,” Kevin said wryly.
“I do. I mean, I... did. But, it, uh, hasn’t been working right lately...”
“I see.” Kevin sounded skeptical, and Nick hurried to change the subject.
“So, enough about me. What have you been up to, Train?”
“Train? Haven’t heard that one in awhile,” Kevin said with a chuckle. “Well, ‘Chicago’ wrapped about a month ago, and I haven’t really been up to much since I got back from New York. Just enjoying my time with Kristin, you know.”
“Yeah,” said Nick, trying to hide his bitterness. Dutifully, he added, “How’s Kris doing?”
“She’s great,” answered Kevin, and though Nick could not see him, he was sure his friend was smiling on the other end. Kevin was just like Brian, obsessed with his wife, the total family man. Not that that was a bad thing... it just tended to annoy Nick at times. He couldn’t imagine settling down like that. He used to think he would get married eventually, but now, marriage was just out of the picture. As far as he was concerned, women sucked. Backstabbing, cheating, using, abusive bitches, they were.
Besides, he might not have enough of a future left for marriage. He was no longer the fun-loving, carefree kid he had been just months ago. Now that he had cancer, he had more to think about than girls, parties, and booze. More to think about than even music and his career. His life was turning into a whirlwind of hospitals, doctors, needles, medications. A collage of sickness.
“You there, kid?” came Kevin’s voice.
“Oh, yeah. Um... so Kris is doing good? That’s... that’s great.”
“Uh, yeah... Nick, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Nick replied adamantly. “I’m sorry, I’m just spazzing out here, dude. You know me.” He laughed airily, but Kevin wasn’t buying the spacey dumb blonde routine.
“I talked to Brian,” he said flatly. “You guys had a fight?”
“Not a fight really,” Nick replied carefully. “We just had a little argument. Friends argue, you know, it’s no big deal. We’re fine.”
“He said you were acting weird, and I’m beginning to see what he was talking about. I feel like there’s something wrong, Nick, like there’s something you’re not telling me.” His tone softening, he added, “You know you can talk to us about anything, right? Nick?”
God, why did he have to put this guilt trip on him? “I... I know, Kev,” Nick said softly. He knew this was his way out of lying; Kevin was giving him his chance to spill the truth right now. Why didn’t he take it? “But really, Kev, there’s nothing wrong. I just... haven’t been feeling that great the past couple days...” Well that wasn’t a lie at least. “... and I think I’m getting a cold or something.”
“Oh... is that it?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Nick said quickly. Please drop it, please drop it.
“Well, okay. I won’t keep you much longer if you’re getting sick. But the real reason I called you is to confirm our plans for next week.”
“Next week?” Nick asked blankly, his mind racing. What’s next week, what’s next week?
“Yeah, you know, we’re all meeting in Orlando next week still, aren’t we? To work on the album?”
“Oh... yeah, yeah!” Next week? He hadn’t realized it was that soon! They had made these plans months ago, way before the start of Nick’s tour, but being cooped up in the hospital for two weeks had thrown him off. Time had seemed to stand still for him... but life had kept going on around him.
“You didn’t forget, did you?” Kevin asked sternly, almost sounding hurt.
“No!” Nick quickly assured him. “I would never forget that! I just... lost track of what day it was, I guess. But I’m excited! Can’t wait to get started on this album!” He hoped Kevin wouldn’t be able to make out the falseness of his enthusiasm. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to work on the album. He did. It was just that with all this shit going on in his life, the last thing he could think about was music.
Then again, maybe it would make for a nice distraction. And it came at the perfect time too, he supposed. The chemotherapy regime Dr. Kingsbury had set up for him called for one week of chemo by way of the pump he would receive at his next doctor’s appointment and then two weeks off, then another week of chemo, then two more weeks off. It would continue that way for several months, she said. She counted his chemo sessions in the hospital as his first week of chemo, meaning he had the next two weeks free before he would get the pump that would attach to his catheter. So if the guys came next week, it would give him at least a week where he could act normally and stall.
Once he was back on chemo, there could be problems, but he figured he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He knew there was no way they would make any progress on the album with the burden of cancer hanging over all of them, and the guys really cared about getting this album done. It would be unfair to tell them as soon as they got there. Better to wait awhile...
Even in his head, the reasoning didn’t really sound good. He knew he had to tell them. But he wanted to put it off as long as possible. And this newfound logic only gave him one more excuse to do just that.
***
