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Nick


When I woke up on Saturday morning, I thought, One week down. I made it. I can do this.

It hadn’t been an easy week. Between all the chemo and all the shows, I was exhausted. Even on our one day off, Wednesday, I’d had to keep up my act. We were in Orlando, and the guys had wanted to go to Universal Studios, like old times. How could I say no to that? They knew how much I loved roller coasters; it would have been weird if I’d spent the day in bed, the way I wanted to. So, of course, I’d gone with them. At least I was done with chemo for the next couple of weeks. I thought that would make things a lot easier.

But I hadn’t counted on the fact that, just because the chemo wasn’t being pumped into my body anymore, didn’t mean it had worked its way out of my body, either. The puking had stopped, but I’d had diarrhea all week. I didn’t feel like eating, what with everything I did coming out of one end or the other, and as a result, I got even more tired and dehydrated. I tried to drink as much water and Gatorade as I could keep down, but Red Bull was the only thing that gave me energy, so I knocked back those when Cary wasn’t around to get on my case about it. Overall, I was still feeling pretty shitty - no pun intended.

It was the weekend now, but when you’re a touring musician, weekends don’t mean much. We had a show that night and another one on Sunday; our next day off wasn’t until Monday. As I pulled back the curtains and rolled out of my bunk, I tried to remember where we were. It came to me after a few seconds: Georgia. We were back in Georgia - Valdosta this time. We had driven there overnight from Biloxi, Mississippi, where we’d played last night’s show. Tonight’s concert was at an amusement park, so I figured I’d spend the better part of the day riding roller coasters again, whether I wanted to or not.

Then again, maybe not. The sky was overcast, I noticed, as I wandered up to the front of the bus. The shades were up, but there was no morning sun streaming through the windows. Maybe it would rain, and I’d get out of going to the park. Maybe there’d be a freak lightning storm so bad, they’d have to cancel the show, and then I could stay on the bus and sleep. Then again, maybe not.

“Good morning, Nick,” I heard Cary say. I looked around. She was sitting on one of the leather couches, her legs stretched out in front of her, a book in her lap. She closed it as I walked up.

“’Morning.” I frowned; it hurt to talk. It felt like there was something pinching the inside of my mouth.

Cary gave me a look of concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah... hang on.” I went back to the bathroom, turned on the light, and leaned in close to the mirror over the sink. I opened my mouth and tried to look inside, pulling my lips back so I could see my gums and the insides of my cheeks. The skin there was bright red, instead of its normal pink, and had broken out in big canker sores, with white in the middle. “Eww...” I groaned in disgust, making a face at my reflection. I got out my toothbrush and toothpaste and tried brushing my teeth, thinking it would help to clean out my mouth, but it stung like hell. Rinsing with lots of cold water helped take the edge off, but my mouth was still hurting when I slammed my toothbrush down on the edge of the sink and stomped back up to the front of the bus.

“Look at this,” I said to Cary. She moved her legs out of the way so I could sit down next to her. I pulled down my bottom lip and jutted out my lower jaw to show her. “What the fuck is this?”

I’m sure that’s exactly what she wanted to see first thing in the morning, but hey, at least I brushed my teeth first. Anyone else would have pushed me away, but I guess when you’re a nurse, you’re used to gross sights and smells, because Cary actually looked. “Ouch,” she said, frowning. “That looks like it hurts...”

“Yeah, no shit. It hurts just to talk,” I said, taking my hands out of my mouth. “How’d I get a bazillion canker sores all of a sudden? You didn’t, like, dump a Pixie Stick in my mouth while I slept last night, did you?” That was the sort of douchey thing I’d do to one of the other guys, but of course, I knew Cary wouldn’t.

She smiled, but shook her head. “No. It’s a side effect from the chemo. It’s called mucositis.”

“Ew,” I said again. That was the grossest name I’d ever heard.

She nodded, making a face. “The chemo kills the cells in your mucus membranes that line your digestive system, and the tissue breaks down and forms ulcers.”

I blinked at her. Well, this was why she was the nurse practitioner, and I was just the patient. She actually knew what she was talking about. “So how do I make it go away?”

“It should heal on its own in a week or two. But we’ll have to watch that the sores don’t get infected. You should start rinsing with warm salt water and baking soda; that’ll help with the pain, too. I’ll pick up some salt and baking soda when I go to the FedEx place to mail this off today.” She gestured at the table between the two couches, where I noticed, for the first time, she had set out a bunch of the same medical supplies she used for chemo.

“Uh, hold up,” I said, putting up my hands. “What is all that? I don’t start my next cycle for two more weeks.”

“I have to draw your blood. That was part of the deal with your doctor, remember? Weekly blood work while you’re on chemo. I wanted to get it out of the way first thing this morning so we don’t forget.”

Fuck, I had forgotten about that. The last blood work I’d had was in the hospital, before the start of the tour. But Cary wasn’t going to let me get by another week without it. “Take off your shirt,” she ordered, picking up the little spray bottle of stuff she used to numb the area around my port.

Grudgingly, I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, leaning back against the couch to let her work. This sucked so much, I wondered if it was even worth all the hassle. But if I wasn’t on the road, I’d probably be in the hospital having the same thing done, so I decided this was better. At least here, when I was done being stuck with needles, I could go out and pretend my life was normal. Not the case in a hospital.

Cary drew the blood from my port, which was good because it didn’t hurt or leave a mark that way, and squirted the blood sample from the syringe into a plastic test tube, which she sealed with a stopper. I watched her fill out my name and the date in neat, tiny letters on a label, which she stuck to the outside of the tube. Then she wrapped it in bubble wrap and sealed it in a plastic bag that had the orange biohazard label on it. Pretty intense for a little vial of blood, but I guess they don’t want mailmen accidentally getting AIDS or something. She packed everything in a clear, plastic FedEx envelope.

“I need to get dressed and take this to get mailed off,” she said, looking at me. “Are you still planning on checking out the theme park before the show?”

“Yeah, probably. I mean, I assume that’s what the guys will wanna do,” I replied.

I could tell she didn’t like the idea of that, but all she said was, “Just make sure you wash your hands a lot, until we hear back about your blood counts. The last thing you need is to get another infection, especially with open sores in your mouth.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring along my Purell. I’ll wash my hands till they bleed, like I’m OCD,” I said, grinning. Damn, it even hurt to smile too wide.

She shuddered. “Don’t wash your hands until they bleed,” she replied seriously. “Open sores, remember? Low platelets.”

I laughed. “Chill out; I’m just kidding. I’ll be fine.”

She sighed. “You always say that, Nick, but do you not realize how dangerous it is for you to be out in public, around crowds, when your blood counts are low? You’re more susceptible to infection. You could get sick.”

“I’m already sick.”

She glared at me, which I guess I deserved for being a smartass. “Sicker. You could get septic. You could die.” I saw her eyes fill with tears before she looked away.

I felt an eerie sense of déjà vu; we’d had almost this same conversation before, and she’d reacted the same way. I felt bad for making her cry, but what was I supposed to say? I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder, which went rigid. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m stupid. What do you want me to do?”

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do. It’s your life. If you wanna go to the theme park, go. I’m just reminding you to be careful.”

She’d make a good mom someday, I thought. “I will be careful,” I promised. I don’t think it meant much to her.

“I’ve got to get this to the FedEx place,” she mumbled, picking up her purse and the package with my blood sample inside. “I’ll be back.”

How the hell does she think she’s going to get there? I wondered, as she walked right off the bus. I watched out the window as she took out her cell phone and made a call, then sat down on a curb, hugging her knees to her chest. About ten minutes passed, and just when I was about to go out and get her, I saw a cab pull up. Cary got in, and the cab drove away.

I admired her for having it all figured out. She thought of everything. I tried to think of nothing, except what I absolutely had to. She was always looking ahead, and I was just trying to get through one day at a time.

I needed her, more than I wanted to admit, and it made me feel guilty to realize how much I was putting her through. And for what? An opening act gig? An open door into the music business? When was the last time I’d even tried to give her advice or help her with her music? I’d been so busy and felt so bad lately, I hadn’t even been thinking about that. Was she even having any fun on this tour? Was I?

I sighed and ran a hand over my short hair. I always did that when I was frustrated or upset, but this time, I was hit with a sudden wave of panic. I quickly looked down at my hand, to make sure there were no stray hairs. I was still paranoid about my hair falling out from the chemo; it was the reason I had cut it so short before the tour, so it would be less noticeable.

But there was nothing. I reached up and tugged gently on just a couple of hairs. They stayed put. I sighed again in relief. At least one thing was going right.

***


I love amusement parks. I always have. The guys know that about me, so there was no doubt in anyone’s mind we’d be hitting up the Wild Adventures theme park before our show there that night. We didn’t have a soundcheck party scheduled, so we had more time than usual. It was perfect... you know, except for the fact that my ass was dragging, and my mouth was full of canker sores, and Cary thought I was a moron for even doing the show, let alone the theme park beforehand.

Minor details.

Still, I was gonna go, and I was gonna make Cary go with me, and we were gonna have fun! We deserved to have a little fun. I made some coffee and drank a Red Bull while she was out, so that by the time she was back and the guys came knocking, I had the energy I needed to get through the day.

As soon as I walked under the big sign that said Wild Adventures, I got that jittery, excited feeling in my stomach, like a little kid at Christmas. Caffeine and carnival rides do that to a guy, I guess. “DUDE!” I cried, pointing past the ticket kiosks to a pirate ship ride - you know, the kind with the big boat that swings back and forth - just inside the park and to the right. This one had an Egyptian theme, with a big, golden King Tut head on the front of the boat, and I could swear I’d seen it before, even though I didn’t think I’d ever been to this particular theme park. “Have we been here before?” I asked the guys.

They were all looking at me like I was, you know, “special.” I get that look a lot. “I don’t think so,” Howie said, but what did Howie know? I wished Kevin were with us; Kevin remembered everything.

“Have you seen the movie Zombieland?” asked the girl at the ticket counter, overhearing our conversation.

“Yeah!” I cried, and it suddenly made sense why the place looked so familiar.

She nodded, with a knowing smile. She probably got that a lot. “Yeah, Zombieland was filmed here.”

“Awesome,” I said, suddenly that much more excited. “That movie was epic.”

“Hell yeah!” AJ chimed in. “The Bill Murray part...

“EPIC,” we agreed together. Everyone else just looked at us. “What?” I said. “You’ve never seen Zombieland?”

“I wanna see Zombieland,” said Baylee, his eyes lighting up.

Leighanne shook her head. “Not till you’re older.”

“Aww...”

We all walked into the park, Leighanne holding Baylee’s hand, Leigh pushing James in his stroller. AJ stuck close to Cary and me; I guess he would have felt like the third wheel no matter who he was with, without Rochelle on tour. I could relate to that feeling, especially since Cary and I weren’t even a couple, despite what they all seemed to think. Once Rochelle joined us, I’d be the odd man out.

After walking around together for a while, we split up; Brian and Howie took the wives and kids to the little kid section of the park, while AJ and Cary and I went to find some big kid rides. “You like roller coasters?” I asked her, as we stood in line for one called The Boomerang.

“Love them,” she replied, flashing me a little smile. “How about you? Is your tummy gonna be able to handle this?” She winked, and I realized she was just playing with me.

“Guess we’ll find out. I’m gonna sit right by you, okay?” I gave her a big, cheesy grin back, even though it hurt.

“Aww... listen to you two go back and forth,” said AJ, loudly and sarcastically. “You’re just too damn adorable.”

He looked annoyed. Cary blushed, and I smirked, but inside, I was surprised. He really thought we were an item? Was my acting that good?

We made our way slowly through the line. The sky was overcast; it looked and smelled like rain. I had lucked out both of the days we’d spent at theme parks that week; I didn’t think I would have made it standing under the blazing sun for too long. Luckily, with the sun behind the clouds, it wasn’t too hot.

It started raining while we were on the roller coaster. By the time the cars rolled back into the loading station, we were already soaked. Cary’s hair was a frizzy mess. AJ’s skull cap was plastered to his head. I kept tugging at my wet t-shirt, afraid it would show the bump of my port if it clung too much to my skin. Laughing, we ran to the nearest building, a food pavilion called Congo Wings.

“Damn, might as well get me some wings while we’re here,” said AJ, getting in line. The smell of buffalo wings and barbeque sauce normally would have made my mouth water, but it was so full of sores that, instead, it just stung. No way was I gonna add some hot wings to that burn. When he realized I wasn’t following him, AJ turned around and gave me a questioning look. “You’re passing on wings?”

I shrugged. “I had a big breakfast.”

He shook his head incredulously. “Cary?”

She glanced at me before answering, “Um, no thanks. Maybe later.”

“Alright. Well, go grab us a table or something then.”

I nodded, and Cary and I went to find an unoccupied table in the corner. The pavilion was filling up with other people trying to get out of the rain. All of a sudden, I heard my name: “Nick?!”

I turned around, and a large woman was barreling towards me. “Oh my God!” she squealed, throwing herself into my arms - really, I was yanked into hers. I spat out a mouthful of her long brown hair as she squeezed me like a python, her big boobs and gut squishing up against me. I don’t mind hugs from fans, but seriously? Personal space? “Long time no see!” she gushed, loosening her grip on me just long enough for me to get a breath in. “Do you remember me? You called me sexy once.” She giggled.

I was either really drunk, really high, or really lying, I thought, but I forced myself to smile and be polite. “Aw, nice to see you again.”

“Aww, you too! I’ve been a fan for twelve years, and you’ve always been my favorite.” She moved up alongside me like we were old friends, her arm hooked around my waist, still pressing her body up against mine. She was so close, I was ready for her to start humping my leg like a dog. She was practically drooling already.

“Well, thanks; that’s nice to hear,” I said blandly. “You comin’ to the show tonight?”

“Oh, I’ll be there! Front row center! Taking lots of photos!” She grinned, as if she expected me to be thrilled to hear this. “Will you give me your rose?”

“Aww, now wouldn’t all the other sexy ladies be disappointed if I promised you my rose this early?” As I winked at her and flashed my trademark smirk, a nauseous feeling that had nothing to do with chemo gurgled up inside me. Sometimes I even sickened myself, the way I played these fans. But it was all part of the gig; it kept them wanting more.

She looked up at me with what she must have thought was a seductive smile, fluttering her eyelashes. “Not if you tell them about us,” she whispered, drawing out the “s” so that she sounded like a python, too. “They’re just stupid, jealous whores.” Her arm snaked around mine, and she rose up on her toes. Before I could twist out of her grip, I felt her wet, slimy tongue slithering up my cheek. She was licking me!!

I quickly turned my head and pulled away, giving her a look, like, Are you fucking kidding me? Wiping her spit from my cheek, I choked out, “Hope you enjoy the show,” and started to walk away. Cary quickly fell in step next to me.

“Wait!” called the crazy dog-snake girl. “Can I ask you a question? I’ve always wanted to ask you about fan-”

“Sorry, I gotta go,” I blew her off, not turning around.

She chased me for a few steps, shouting, “See you tonight! Look for me in front! I’ll be making eye babies with you! I’m a journalist!”

“Oh my god!” hissed Cary, once we were a safe distance away, hiding out in the building that housed the bathrooms. She looked at me with wide eyes. “How do you put up with that??”

I shook my head. “Sometimes I don’t know. Wait there, will ya, while I go decontaminate my face?” I slammed into the men’s bathroom and washed my face and hands with soap and water, remembering Cary’s concern that I was going to pick up germs out in public. Well, being licked by some random girl would probably do it. If I got sick - well, sicker - I would know who to blame.

My phone rang. It was AJ. “Dude, where are you??” he demanded.

“Sorry - crazy fan; I had to bail. We’re hiding out in the bathrooms. Meet us outside. And watch out for...” I did my best to describe the psycho licker chick to him, as I walked back out of the bathroom.

Cary still looked sort of stunned. “Tell me again why you wanted to do this?”

I flashed her a big grin. “C’mon... roller coasters in the rain, rabid fans... aren’t you having fun?”

She just laughed. Well, at least, for a few minutes, neither of us were thinking about blood work or canker sores, chemo or cancer. And that, I realized, was the whole reason we were doing this.

***