I’ve gotta make sure I remember to bring all these next week, he thought to himself, making a mental note not to forget the medications that week, when he would meet up with the other Backstreet Boys in New York.
After talking back and forth the day before, the five of them had agreed that another live TRL appearance was completely out of the question. Nick was just not ready to put himself on display like that and face the screaming fans, not looking the way he did. Nor did any of them want to sit through some press conference. So they had made arrangements with MTV to have a private, sit-down interview with MTV News anchor John Norris. It would be just him, the five Backstreet Boys, and a small camera crew. It would take place on Wednesday and air on Thursday’s TRL.
Meanwhile, the Boys would remain in the city for the rest of the week, not to make appearances, but to make plans. Plans for the future. They had already decided on a group meeting with just the five of them on Tuesday, the day they were scheduled to arrive, and throughout the rest of the week, there were meetings scheduled with their managers and record company to discuss the album, appearances, a possible tour, and so on.
Nick was excited about the trip. Traveling... New York... meetings... the group... that was his life. Not hospitals and medications and pain. And he was more than happy to get back to the real world and escape the nightmare one in which he had been trapped for the past few months. If only he didn’t have these stupid prescription bottles to tote around with him as a constant reminder of that nightmare...
***
The next day, Monday, Nick called the hospital, anxious to talk to Claire, for he hadn’t heard from her since Friday, unless mouthing things to her through a window counted. But when he reached her room, her mother once again answered for her.
“Hi, Mrs. Ryan, this is Nick,” Nick said. “Uh, can I talk to Claire?”
“Oh... well, she’s sleeping right now, Nick,” answered Carrie.
“Oh. Well, how’s she doing?” Nick wondered.
“She’s having a tough time of it right now,” Carrie replied honestly. “The new medications they have her on have been making her sick, and she’s been sleeping a lot.”
“Aw... well, I just called to tell her... I’m going to be in New York for the week, so I won’t be around. Tell her I’ll try to call her though,” said Nick.
“I will. Do you want me to have her call you later if she’s feeling up to it?” Carrie offered.
“Yeah, sure. Here, I’ll give you my cell phone number; that way you can call me in New York just in case any... Well, just in case.” He recited his phone number to Claire’s mother and only hoped that she herself would not have to use it.
***
He lay on his back in the meadow, cushioned by tall green grass, which rippled daintily in the cool breeze. The azure sky stretching high above him was smeared with clouds, and he squinted up at them, his artistic mind sculpting them into hazy images. A pair of larks rose out of the grass just yards away from him, their wings flapping as they gained altitude, then stretching out gracefully as they soared overhead. His eyes followed their path, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.
The world around him darkened momentarily, as the sun passed under a large cloud. He continued to watch the birds fly away, their small bodies diminishing as they headed for the horizon. Distantly, he heard their sweet song.
But the smile was wiped from his face when, quite suddenly, one of the two birds dropped, plummeting straight down from the sky. He sat bolt upright in shock and quickly got to his feet. Then he was running, the soft grass tickling his bare feet as they crushed the fragile blades. Ahead, the second lark was calling mournfully, and as he followed its lament, he came across the fallen bird. Its wings were spread at awkward angles, the feathers ruffled, its feet in the air. Its tiny head was crushed.
He swallowed hard at the sight of the poor bird and frowned; what had done this so suddenly to the innocent creature?
The answer was given to him when he heard a childish laugh a ways away from him. Turning in its direction, he made out the silhouette of a small boy, his hands raising what was undeniably a slingshot in aim at the sky.
“Hey!” he cried angrily to the boy. He noticed the child’s head turn in his direction, and almost immediately, the youth was on the go, running away from him. Enraged, he broke into a run himself, chasing after the perpetrator. But suddenly, he was weak; his legs were tired. After only a few feet, his left leg gave out on him, sending him sprawling face first into the grass, where he lay panting. He raised his head to spot the little boy continuing to run, his small form eventually fading from view.
Too tired to get up, he put his head back down and closed his eyes. All he could hear at first was the sound of the wind rustling the grass. At first, it sounded like whispering.
And then, he realized it was whispering. A human voice... telling him to get up... to wake up...
He opened his eyes...
And found himself not lying face-down in a green pasture after all, but sitting upright in a seat in the first class section of an airplane. And a flight attendant was standing next to him, trying to get his attention, Nick quickly realized as his momentary disorientation faded.
“Sorry,” he mumbled groggily to her. “What is it?”
“Can I offer you something to drink, sir?” the perky stewardess inquired, flashing Nick a toothy, white smile as she motioned to the cart stopped in the aisle next to his seat. By habit, Nick opened his mouth to request a beer, then stopped.
“Uh... a Coke, please,” he finally responded dully and watched as she scooped ice into a glass and poured half a can of Coca Cola into it for him.
“There you go, sir,” she said brightly with another big smile, and he nodded his thanks. As she pushed the cart on to serve the people in front of him, Nick took an absent sip of his soda, the fizzing bubbles tickling his tongue. The Coke tasted good, a refreshment to his dry mouth, probably parched from hanging open as he napped, but he would have rather had a beer.
But alcohol, it seemed, was a no-no once again. Friday night’s escapades had been a nice escape from the dry months he had endured during his chemo treatments, but now it was back to staying sober, for after skimming the information sheet he had received along with his new medications, he had discovered that alcohol was forbidden with these drugs, just as it had been with the intravenous chemotherapy.
That would definitely cramp his style when he was with Brent and the guys back home. But for now, he didn’t really mind. He was on his way to meet the Boys in New York, and drinking was not something they did much of together anymore anyway, not since AJ had gotten out of rehab.
Wondering how much longer it would be before he arrived in The Big Apple, he called out to the flight attendant, who had just poured drinks for the older couple in front of him. “Excuse me, miss? How long till we land?”
“Should be in about half an hour,” she replied cheerfully.
Half an hour? Wow, he had slept through almost the entire flight; the last thing he remembered was closing his eyes as the plane took off, trying to ward off the nausea that often accompanied flying, for he was notorious for getting motion sickness, especially on airplanes. Luckily, his stomach had stayed fairly calm thus far, but maybe that was just because he had evidently fallen asleep not too long after that.
The medications he was now taking would do that; “fatigue” was listed as a symptom on pretty much all of them, as he remembered from his brief look at the information packet. So were a lot of other symptoms, all of them sounding much worse than a lack of energy. But so far, he had been lucky. In the three days he’d been sticking to the schedule, he’d felt pretty decent, and he was relieved. Even if he could not look his best, he wanted to at least feel up to par for the dreaded interview the following day.
After awhile, a voice came over the intercom on the plane.
“This is your captain speaking. We are about to begin our descent into New York City, the Big Apple. Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts.” The seatbelt light overhead flashed on, and Nick dutifully buckled his belt. A few minutes later, he felt the plane begin to dip, his stomach dropping along with it in anticipation. He was suddenly a bundle of nerves, both anxious and excited to meet with his four brothers, whom he hadn’t seen all together in over two months. Ironically, the last time they had all been together was also in New York, when they had gone on TRL together and broken the news of Nick’s cancer.
Nick smiled slightly, glad that this time, they’d be meeting under better circumstances. It was a brand new day for the group, a step in the right direction. Nick’s cancer had been a detour on the journey they had been on for over ten years, but, convinced that his health problems were behind him, Nick was sure they were back on the right road again.
***
