Good morning! It’s a chilly 50 degrees here in Chicago. Time to get out the heavy sweaters! Btw, Chicago is not called the Windy City because of the weather. It was given the nickname in the nineteenth century because of some long-winded politicians who prompted a newspaper reporter from St. Louis to remark that Chicago was indeed a ‘windy city’. Now, there’s some truly useless information for you. LOL!
It’s not surprising that people think it’s called that because of the weather. The wind off the lake in February can slice through you like a knife.
As for Toronto, we’re staying at the Royal York, the big hotel down by the train station. I’ll be there for a week.
Btw, my mother was wondering. You don’t happen to have any ancestors who came over on the Mayflower, do you? LOL!!!
Take care,
Abby
And so they got back into the routine. Abby wrote Nick in the morning. He got the email when he got up, but he was always too rushed to reply right then. He had to get to his workout and four days out of five, he ran late. His afternoons were full of meetings and personal appearances. Radio stations were all vying for interviews with the Boys, trying to get inside info on the upcoming album. The Boys had all agreed back in Atlanta what they were going to say and do about that, dangling the bait out there in little bits and hoping to rev up the interest among the fans. In the evenings, he hung out with friends or went to movie premieres. But he always found time before he went to bed to answer Abby’s email. And he was always careful to include a question in his response.
They never connected over Instant Messenger. Nick was still asleep when Abby wrote him in the morning. At night, when she was writing, she turned it off. She didn’t want to be disturbed. Nick turned it on occasionally, but rarely used it. And one day, he got beeped by a fan, so he knew he had to change the name again. Until he could get around to that, he just left it turned off.
Everything went fine until just before Abby was to leave for Toronto. She wrote Nick and told him that this would probably be her last email to him for a week unless she found an Internet café or something. In passing, she made a comment about one of her mother’s friends who had told her that her daughter had seen something about Nick on a website and that he was looking really hot. Abby complimented him on that and said that Luke must really be working some magic.
Nick was in a crabby mood and took offense at the implied suggestion that Luke alone was responsible for the transformation in him, and he answered back that he had had something to do with it as well, that he had been watching what he ate and had lost weight. And that it was him, after all, who had to do the workout. You have to take responsibility for your own life, he told her, not just sit and wait for things to fall into your lap. You have to make your own changes.
He wasn’t speaking directly about her. He meant that one had to take responsibility for one’s own life, not that Abby had to.
Abby was totally fed up with her mother’s nagging about what clothes to take to Toronto. She was not in a good mood when she opened the email and she decided that it was now her turn to be offended. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt that he was casting aspersions, wondering why she had not affected some great transformation in herself. She emailed him a curt reply saying that she was sorry she didn’t come up to his exacting standards and perhaps she’d find a good plastic surgeon when she was in Canada.
And then she left for Toronto.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Nick spent the next week missing her emails and wondering if she was as upset as she had sounded in the last message. He was in a bad mood for most of the week and snapped at everyone he ran across. Mrs. Marchesa hid out in the kitchen and Mary went about her business and waited for Nick to contact her. He went out to lunch with Troy and was so testy that Troy finally told him to get the burr out of his ass and if he was missing Abby so much, why didn’t he just go see her. “She’s in Canada,” snapped Nick as if she were on the moon. “And I’m too busy just to pack up and go. I’ve got business to take care of.”
The next day on the Internet it was reported that Nick had a girlfriend in Canada. Nick didn’t see it and neither did Abby. The Mature Fan Club Board of Directors excoriated the poster for starting rumors and threatened to revoke her membership if she did it again. The girl’s protests that she had heard it from Nick’s own lips prompted a flurry of informed responses detailing Nick’s whereabouts for the past year, none of which included Canada, and more than a few comments about Nick’s lips.
Nick moped around all week, alternating between anger at Abby for taking things the wrong way and regret that he hadn’t chosen his words more carefully. That was the trouble with email. Once you hit Send, it was gone. He had emailed her immediately on getting her message and had apologized, saying he hadn’t been speaking about her personally. He fell back on the excuse that he was poor with words. And that annoyed him even further, that he had to admit to some fault in himself just because she was being thin-skinned. He waited impatiently for her to come home so they could straighten it out.
It said much about the relationship that he never thought to phone her, even though he knew what hotel she was staying in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~He knew she was getting home on Sunday. Without realizing it, he paced the floor in anticipation. He moved the computer down to the living room, telling himself that he had some business to do and he might have to type a letter. He set it up and turned it on. He spent the day pretending to ignore it, but he didn’t leave the house and he passed through the living room at least once every fifteen minutes.
He was on the phone to Kevin, wishing him a Happy Birthday, when he wandered into the living room the last time. Nick flopped down on the couch and listened as Kevin brought him up to date on things and talked about what he knew of the others and what he had said in his interviews. Their carefully planned schedule of ‘candid’ remarks was working out perfectly. Oh, and by the way, what did Nick think of ‘Ribbons of Light’ as the first single? Kevin had talked it over with the others and they were all in agreement.
Nick was halfway through gushing his thanks and appreciation when something caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw the mailbox on his computer blinking. He leapt to his feet.
“Uh, Kev, I gotta go. I got someone on the other line.”
“No problem, L’il Bro. Sorry. I didn’t hear a beep.”
“Um…yeah, well, there was one. I’ll talk to you later. And uh…Happy Birthday, old man!”
Kevin laughed and said goodbye. Nick had already disconnected. He stood before the computer. ‘I’m back’ said the subject line. Nick clicked the message open. His eyes got wider and wider as he read it.
Dear Nick,
Well, I’m back from Toronto and the transformation is complete. I managed to find that plastic surgeon and, I must say, he’s a miracle worker. I’ve had collagen injected into my lips and silicone implanted in my chest. I’ve had my back teeth removed to give me that hollow-cheeked model look. I’ve had my hair dyed blonde and thickened with extensions. I’ve had permanent makeup tattooed onto my eyelids so I’ll never be without it. I was going to get a tattoo on my upper arm that said ‘Nick 4evr’ but thought I’d better check with you first. I’ve enclosed a picture of the new me.
Abby
Nick stared at the message for a long time. He moved the cursor to the attachment, but he was afraid to open it. What had she done? And why? And had she mutilated herself on his behalf? Because she thought he wanted her to?
Finally, he clicked on the attachment. He stared at it, not comprehending. And then he threw his head back and laughed. It was a picture of Pamela Anderson.
Ping!
The subject line said ‘Me again’. He opened it quickly.
Dear Nick,
Actually, I just got my hair done. What do you think?
Abby
Nick quickly opened the picture. There was Abby, whom he hadn’t seen since June, and she was the same, except that she was completely different. The eyes were the same and so was the smile, but the face was different. It was the hair, alright. It had been cut in layers and styled so that it was back off her face. She was wearing makeup. It looked like a professional job. She was leaning with her chin on her hand and was wearing a wry, mocking smile. She looked great. Nick sagged with relief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In Chicago, Abby waited with bated breath. How would he take it? What had seemed amusing a few minutes ago didn’t seem that way any more. What if he took it seriously? What if he expected her to have changed like that? What if he didn’t think it was funny?
Suddenly, her Instant Messenger screen popped up. It was from someone named Cheesy Wax.
You made me cry.
Nick?
Yes. You made me cry.
I’m sorry.
You scared me, Abby. I thought you’d done something to yourself.
I did. I got a haircut.
Very funny. You know what I mean.
They chatted for over an hour. Both said they were sorry for their earlier remarks. Both told the other not to worry about it, they shouldn’t have been so sensitive. Nick asked about Toronto and Abby told him. The hotel was nice, the food was good, the sights were great, she loved Toronto, her life had been overturned completely... Actually, she left that last bit out. But that is what had happened. Abby had come home from Toronto a completely different person than the one who had left…at least in her own eyes.
And the haircut was the tip of the iceberg.
