May 8, 1998
Berkeley, California
It is the longest day of my life. I stare at the phone in my room and then down at the calling card. I inhale deeply.
I barely exhale.
Today is a monumental day. Today is the day that Brian Littrell goes under the knife a thousand miles away to repair his heart. I know he survives, but there’s a small part of me wondering if somehow, this time it will go dreadfully wrong.
But it can’t go dreadfully wrong.
It can’t because today is another milestone.
Today is the first day of my second trimester.
I can’t button my jeans anymore. A quite handy concoction of paperclips keeps my pants from falling down. It is getting too warm to hide in sweatshirts, but I do anyhow. Gone, for the most part, is the morning sickness.
Gone, for the most part, is also my ability con concentrate. I know that my time at Berkeley is limited. Given the choice between listening to Bueller or watching the Price is Right, my choice is always Mr. Barker. Who else advocates so hard to get pets spayed or neutered?
The bad part is that if I get kicked out of Berkeley, I don’t have anywhere to go. The cost of living is too high. My only option is to go back to Missouri, but I can’t live with mom. I’ve only talked to her once in the past twelve weeks. Just as I was going to tell her I was pregnant, she decided to drop a bomb of her own.
“I just got married,” she announced. “He’s a great guy. He’s a couple years older than you...”
Other than the age thing, it was exactly what she had said about the other three. For those not keeping count, my dad included, this was marriage number five.
Finals are in two weeks and I know that I will not pass. The information they require isn’t anything that I will use later on in life. I am sure of that. As the days go by, more flashes of the future appear at the most random times. Yet, they don’t make sense. One moment, I am sure that I become a scientist. The next moment I am sure I become a country singer. Talk about two different ends of the spectrum.
I glance at the phone again. I just have to do it. I grab the phone and punch in my phone card information. I smooth out the wrinkled piece of paper I’ve slept with under my pillow nightly and listen to the first ring.
And the second.
And the th--
“Hello?”
I almost start crying. I grip the phone. For the last few weeks, I have started to think that maybe I’ve dreamt this whole thing. That theory doesn’t explain the baby, but it seems saner than the reality.
“Nick?”
There is a pause.
“COURT?”
I hold the phone away from my ear.
“--YOU? I’VE BEEN WAITING AND I CALLED AND YOUR ROOMMATE--”
I bring the phone back. “WHAT ABOUT MY ROOMMATE?”
Nick must realize he’s shouting by my shouted back answer. “I left a message for you three weeks ago!”
I groan. “My roommate isn’t exactly friendly.”
“How are you? I miss you. Like, really miss you. Like really, really---”
“I’m pregnant.”
“I need to see you.”
I don’t answer right away. “Have you heard anything about Brian?”
“They just started the surgery,” Nick says. “Kevin promised he’d call with updates. They said it should only be about a 90 minute surgery.”
“That’s not too bad.”
“Leighanne and his mom and dad are with him.”
“Good.”
“I need to see you.”
“I’m failing all my classes.”
“School is overrated.”
I laugh.
“Can I come kidnap you?”
I lay back on my bed and start picking a piece of string at the corner of my pillow. “Your might not have to.”
“Really?” I swear I hear a door open.
“I might go willingly.”
I hear a door close. “Oh. I thought you might have been here.”
“Where’s here?”
“My new apartment,” he sounds ridiculously excited. “I managed to live with mom and dad for three hours before they started fighting. I wanted to take Angel and Aaron, but they wouldn’t let me. I’ve got to figure out something to do for them. I have this distinct memory of Aaron becoming a giant douche.”
“So you got an apartment in three hours?”
“Yup. I spent almost all my money, but it’s mine. Mom’s got a death grip on the money I made before I turned eighteen.”
“I’m thinking your mom and my mom would get along really well.”
Nick laughs. “That scares me.” He pauses. “Have I mentioned I miss you?”
I smile. “A couple times.” Now it is my turn to pause. “I miss you too.”
“I can’t wait until September to see you. I know that’s when Brian found out before, but I’ll die.”
And I’ll be living under a bridge, I think. “I’m going to get kicked out of school.”
“So if a plane ticket is waiting for you…”
My heart skips a beat.
“Then I might just need someone to meet me on the other side.”
Orlando, Florida
He is not here. I have looked all around, but he is not here. I’ve traveled across the country for nothing. There’s only two old guys in suits, a young guy with floppy brown hair and a porn stache, and a little old lady leaning on a cane. There isn’t anyone here for me.
I take a step forward.
The porn stache guy rushes me.
“Court!”
I’m in his arms before I can shake him off. I’m lifted in the air and spun around. Only when I’m back on my feet and have slapped him across the face once do I take a look at his eyes.
“Nick?”
He rubs his face, wincing. “Shhh.”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I just---*”
“Fans are getting crazy,” he says. “We just finished a show at Frontierland. Geesh, you don’t hit like a girl. Ow.”
I hug him tightly. He wraps an arm around my shoulder.
“Let’s get your bags.”
“I only have my carry on.”
He takes it from me and I feel his eyes scan my body. He can’t see much. I am covered from head to toe.
I am already dying from the humidity.
“Brian’s surgery was almost four hours,” Nick says as he guides me through the airport. “They found another hole. Thank goodness they did. If they had sewed him back up, he would have been in a mess of trouble.”
“So he’s fine?”
“He’s in recovery. He’s had a rough go of it. I guess putting him under was a fight. He was ballistic.”
“Wouldn’t you if you thought you might die on the table?”
Nick shudders. “I hope I don’t ever have to find out.”
We make our way out of the airport and to a small black car. Nick holds open the door for me. As I slide in, his wig flies off.
“THAT’S NICK CARTER!!”
From out of nowhere, a group of girls comes from a cluster of cars across the parking lot. Nick’s mustache slips down, covering his lip. He looks like a Halloween costume gone horribly wrong.
“SHIT!”
I jump as I hear a loud thump on the hood. Instead of running around, Nick scrambles across the car. He yanks open the driver’s door just as the first crazy girl gets to the car. A fist pounds against the window. I yank the hoodie up over my head.
“NICK!”
“GET OFF THE CAR!”
Him speaking only makes it worse. The girls scramble on the car and I’m greeted to a flash of way more boobs and butts than I’ve ever wanted to see in my entire life.
“Close your eyes,” he commands. His fingers flex against the gear shift.
I hear the squealing of tires and imagine girls flying off the windshield like bugs. I’m relieved not to feel any human size bumps under the tires.
“Okay.”
I open my eyes. Nick is white knuckled around the steering wheel. He smiles at me.
“Have I mentioned that I missed you?”
