When Nick came home from the hospital, we quickly settled back into our old routine. I became the caretaker again, as I’d been when I had first come to stay at his condo. I cooked, cleaned, and kept him company while he recuperated. I didn’t complain.
“How’s Nick doing?” my dad would ask, when he called to check on me once a week, always on Tuesday. Tuesday nights used to be sacred for my dad and me; they were our chance to catch up each week, when I came over for dinner and American Idol or whatever else happened to be on. I could tell by his weekly phone calls that he missed that tradition as much as I did.
“Oh, you know… he’s getting better every day, but… it’s a slow process,” I would answer truthfully and then change the subject the first chance I got, asking him how Hambelina was or what the weather had been like. I missed all of it – him, Hammy, even the weather. The leaves had changed there, he told me; it was getting colder. Fall had definitely arrived in Illinois. But in California, the trees were still green, and it was as hot as ever – not that I spent much time outside.
The truth was, I barely left Nick’s place. He wasn’t supposed to be left alone or be around large crowds of people, so except for his weekly appointments at the oncology clinic, he stayed pretty well confined to the condo, and I stayed with him. The guys and Angel took turns coming over to visit a few times a week, which gave me the chance to go grocery shopping and run errands, but other than that, I didn’t get out much. Cabin fever was starting to affect both of us. Nick was moody, depressed. I was restless and homesick.
Around Nick, I hid these feelings behind a happy face. I didn’t want him to feel like a burden or think I resented him, for neither was true. I loved him, and I didn’t mind taking care of him and his gorgeous condo. I was still grateful for the opportunity he’d given me over the summer, and I was glad to know him and to be with him. Ever since his infection scare in the hospital, I’d tried to cherish every mundane moment I spent with him… and only in the moments in between, when I was by myself, did I let my guard down.
It was always worst after talking to my dad or one of my friends from back home. My dad told me funny stories about Hambelina that made me miss her so much, I even considered asking Nick if I could bring her to LA, before I came to my senses and realized that, with his suppressed immune system, a new pet – a pet pig, for that matter – was the last thing he should have around the house. My best friend, Jessica, kept me up to date on what was going on with her and our other friends. She announced that she was expecting her second child, due in May, and that her sister Kim had gotten engaged. “They don’t have a date set yet,” she said, “but they’re hoping for sometime in June of next year.”
“Wow, that’s soon.”
“Tell me about it! How am I supposed to squeeze into a stupid bridesmaid dress a month after having a baby?!” Jess screeched. “I wonder how celebrity moms lose their baby weight so quick – I mean, Heidi Klum pops out a kid, like, every other season of Project Runway, and you never see her looking fat after the fact. She just magically shrinks back to model skinny!”
“I’m sure she’s got a good personal trainer.”
“There has to be something more to it than that,” said Jess dismissively. “Hey, while you’re out there in LA, why don’t you make it your mission to find out the weight-loss secrets of the stars and then share them with me? Does Nick know Heidi Klum?”
I laughed. “I don’t think so. Sorry, Jess, I don’t know any celebrity moms, unless you count the Backstreet Boys’ wives.”
“Well, they’re some of the ‘beautiful people’ too, right? I bet they didn’t have any trouble taking off baby weight. Ask them what their secret is!”
“Okay, Jess,” I said, still laughing. “I’ll get right on that.”
I ended the call with a smile on my face, but once I’d put my phone down, it quickly faded away. I was happy for Jess and her family, but all the talk of marriage and babies just reminded me that I had neither. I felt strangely empty, hollow inside. Just two years ago, I’d thought I would be married at this point in my life. My own parents had married young; my mother was just twenty on her wedding day, twenty-one when she had me. I was already twenty-nine, only a year younger than she was when she died, and I could hear my biological clock ticking. I wanted to be a wife and mother, but instead, I was… what, exactly? A girlfriend? I liked to think so, but I wasn’t totally sure Nick thought of me that way. Sometimes he treated me like a girlfriend, but at other times, I might as well have been his hired help, the live-in nurse and housekeeper.
I couldn’t blame him; it wasn’t his fault. It was just that we’d never really defined our relationship. It had certainly evolved from the awkward, early days of fan and celebrity, nurse and patient, but were we really a couple now, or just friends with benefits? Not that the “benefits” were worth much these days: we hadn’t had sex since before Nick checked into the hospital. He claimed he was too tired; I didn’t question him. We made out occasionally, but even that never lasted long before Nick’s fatigue caught up to him. We still shared his bed, but in the same way that an old married couple who has long lost the passion still sleeps side by side out of habit. We were comfortable with each other, maybe too much so. It was like we had settled into this odd sort of arrangement, and now we were stuck.
I was still sure that I loved Nick unconditionally, but he’d never given me any indication that he felt the same about me. We’d never even come close to using the L-word around each other, and I knew better than to probe too much into his feelings or press him about commitment. How could I ask him if we had a future together, when his own future was so uncertain? I knew he wasn’t thinking about marriage or children; he wasn’t looking that far ahead. Nick was living one day at a time, still counting up from Day 0, just trying to make it to Day 100 and beyond, when he could put this whole stem cell transplant ordeal behind him.
“This sucks,” he said, out of the blue, on Day 50.
“That bad already? You could give it a chance, you know; we’re only twenty minutes in,” I replied, grinning over at him. I had known, when I added it to his Netflix queue, that he would probably hate Gone With the Wind, but I’d been desperate for a good, long, romantic movie to help fill the endless time we spent lazing around in his condo. “You might like it,” I’d told him anyway. “It’s not just a love story; it’s a Civil War epic, too.” I’d been wanting to watch it since Halloween, a week before, when, in the course of a conversation about favorite costumes, I’d told him about going as Scarlett O’Hara one year and how my grandma and I had sewn the dress together – modeled after her curtain dress, of course. He had mentioned he’d never seen the movie before, so, of course, I had to rent it. I knew he’d never make it through the whole thing, but I had hoped he would last till the end of the war, at least.
“No, it’s not the movie,” he said, to my surprise. “It’s just… this.” He gestured vaguely at himself, slumped on the couch. “I’ve only been up for a few hours, and I already can’t wait to go back to bed again. I hate this… I hate feeling this way. I just thought that… by now… I’d be feeling better.”
I paused the DVD, so I could give him my full attention. “You will, Nick. It’s just the fatigue getting to you.”
“It’s kicking my ass,” he sulked.
“I know,” I sympathized. “It’s normal, though. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. It’s just part of the recovery process. Eventually it’ll pass.”
“Not soon enough,” he grumbled. “I’m just sick and tired of… of feeling sick and tired.”
I felt so sorry for him, I didn’t even smile at his play on words. “I know,” I said again. “You’ll start to feel better as you get stronger. It’s happening already; it just takes time. Soon you’ll notice a difference.”
I said what I hoped were the right things, but really, I didn’t know. I’d never seen anyone through this many days post-transplant; I was only going on what I’d heard and read. I couldn’t know how bad he really felt, having never been there myself. I could only sympathize while he complained.
“Go lie down if you want to,” I added, smiling so he’d know I wouldn’t mind. “We can finish this another time. Maybe you’ll feel better after a nap.”
It was the same day after day; Nick moped around the condo for a few hours at a time, watching TV or movies, playing video games or messing around on his laptop, and spent the rest of his time lying in bed. He’d been out of the hospital a month, but I knew that post-transplant fatigue could last a long longer than that. Still, sometimes I worried it wasn’t just fatigue, but depression that was dragging him down.
“You can keep watching,” he muttered, waving a hand limply at the TV as he hauled himself up from the couch. “I don’t really care.”
He staggered off to his bedroom, and I heard the door close behind him, shutting me out. With a sigh, I turned back to the TV and pushed play, but it was hard to pay attention; my mind was back in the bedroom with Nick. What could I do for him? How could I help get him out of this funk?
I was still pondering these questions, still not paying one bit of attention to the movie, when a knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I jumped, startled, then scurried to the door to answer it before it woke up Nick. I had no idea how long it had been since he’d gone to lie down; I’d lost all sense of time.
I unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped back to see who was there. I figured it would be Angel or one of the guys or Nick’s other friends. Security in the high-rise was pretty good, so I wasn’t expecting a fan or paparazzi or anyone like that. I also wasn’t expecting her.
It took me a few seconds to recognize the brunette standing in the hall, having never met her in person before, but I’d seen enough pictures to figure out who she was. She looked equally surprised to see me, instead of Nick, but she recovered quickly and offered a tentative smile. “Hi,” she said, in a voice that was soft and girlish, not low and husky like I’d imagined. “You’re Cary, right? I’m-”
“I know who you are,” I replied quickly, smiling up at her in what I hoped was a friendly way. It was hard not to be intimidated by her; she was at least a head taller than me, as tall as Nick, statuesque and stylishly-dressed.
She flashed another brief smile that didn’t quite reach her blue eyes. “I was hoping I could see Nick,” she said, shifting her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. Her tan, shapely legs seemed to go on for miles between the tops of her flats and the hem of her shorts. “I mean, if he’s… if he’s not…”
“He actually just went to take a nap,” I said, honestly, “but let me check and see if he’s still awake.” I left her waiting just inside the door and crept back to Nick’s bedroom, hoping to find him sound asleep. My heart was pounding hard as I very slowly turned the knob and eased his door open. The blackout shades were drawn, making the room dim, but I could see the lump of his body lying still under the covers, and at first, I was relieved.
Then the lump stirred, and he lifted his head from his pillow. “What’s up?” he mumbled, squinting blearily at me.
I swallowed hard. “You have a visitor, if you’re up for it,” I said. “It’s Lauren.”
He sat up amazingly quickly and grabbed his beanie off the bedside table. “For real?” he asked, pulling it down over his bald head.
I nodded calmly, while my insides squirmed. “I can tell her you’re still asleep, if you want,” I offered hopefully. “Or I can just say you’re not up to having visitors, if you don’t want to see her.”
He seemed to consider these options for a moment, but then shook his head. “No, it’s okay. You can send her in.”
“Okay,” I said. There was no use trying to talk him out of it; I’d known from the second he grabbed the hat that he was going to see her. And why shouldn’t he? I scolded myself, as I trudged back out to get Lauren. He dated her for two years; they have a history. So what if they broke up; it doesn’t mean they can’t still be friends. He’s been sick, and she’s probably been worried about him, and she just wants to make sure he’s okay.
Lauren looked up hopefully when I came back into the entryway. I smiled at her. “He’s awake. You can go back if you want. First door on your-”
“I know which one it is. Thanks.” She offered a flicker of a smile back as she walked past me. I turned and watched her disappear around the corner.
Soon I could hear their low voices murmuring from Nick’s bedroom. I supposed it was a good sign that they’d left the door open. It was tempting to sneak around the corner and listen in on their conversation, but of course, I would never do that. I forced myself to go back into the living room and keep watching my movie, though it was even harder to pay attention than it had been before Lauren showed up.
I stared at the screen, watching Scarlett try to steal Ashley away from Melanie, but my mind was still back in Nick’s bedroom, wondering what he might be saying to his ex-girlfriend.
***
