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Chapter 120

“You’ve sure been spending a lot of time with Nick lately.”

Claire’s head snapped up from tying her shoes to look at her fiancée, who had made the comment. “What??”

Jamie smirked. “I said, you’ve sure-“

“I heard what you said,” Claire cut him off curtly. “I said ‘what?’ like that because I couldn’t believe how insensitive you sounded.” That’s right, give him the guilt trip, she coached herself, smiling inwardly. “I told you, Nick’s been going through a ton of shit lately, so yes, I’ve been hanging out with him a lot.”

It had been two weeks since she had brought ice cream over to Nick’s house and found him as down and depressed as he had been. It had worried her; she hadn’t seen Nick like that in a long time. The steroids were really getting to him. She knew what that was like, to an extent, but it was different – she’d taken them as part of her chemo regimen, so the added side effects didn’t seem so bad. The way she’d looked at it, she was already going to be bald and sick from the chemo, so why not add bloated and moody to the list? But Nick had been in remission for over two years; he’d been through all of that. It wasn’t fair that he was this sick again, with something different and completely unrelated. She hated the way life worked sometimes.

In any case, Nick was depressed, and she’d been going over to his house often in the last two weeks in a vain attempt to cheer him up or at least take his mind off his misery. The whole situation gave her déjà vu, for it reminded her of the weeks she’d spent hanging around Nick’s house while he’d been cooped up there after his amputation. His mental state now was not a whole lot better than it had been then, which made her sad. Nick had come so far since then, and now it was almost like he was back at square one, with his self-esteem at zero.

It’ll get better. Once he gets off the steroids and the side effects go away, he’ll be fine, she reminded herself. She knew a lot of it was that Nick just couldn’t stand looking the way he did right now. Some might think him vain for getting as upset as he did about his looks, but Claire thought she understood why he was like that. It was simple: Nick was used to being judged for his looks. As a Backstreet Boy, he’d been a heartthrob since before he could drive, and his fans had always admired him for the way he looked as much as for the way he sang. In the world of pop music, appearance was probably almost as important to one’s career as Claire’s hands were to hers, or at least that’s the way it seemed sometimes. So whenever his looks were compromised, Nick started to freak out.

“Well, why do you have to take him to the doctor? Why can’t one of his Backdoor buddies go with him?” Jamie asked scornfully.

Claire knew he was only being pissy because it was a Saturday, and he’d wanted them to spend the whole day together. Still, her patience was wearing thin. “Backdoor buddies?” she repeated. “Oh, very original, James. Not like I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Oh, whatever, Claire; you’ve probably used that one before. You’re only defending them now because you dated one of them.”

“Yeah, so? Nick showed me the light,” she said, smiling sweetly up at Jamie. “Look, I gotta go now. I told him I’d pick him up at 9:30.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Fine. Are you coming back here when you’re done or going back to your place, or his, or what?”

“I dunno yet. How about I just call you later?”

“Fine,” he said again, his voice short.

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. She grabbed her purse and left his apartment without kissing him goodbye. And I’m marrying this guy? she couldn’t help but think as she walked down the stairs of his apartment building. She loved Jamie, but he could be a real jerk sometimes. Immature… possessive… jealous...

She tried not to think about it as she climbed into her car and started driving towards Nick’s. He had his regular six-month check-up with his oncologist that morning, and when she’d found out Howie was going to be in Orlando doing something for his Dorough Lupus Foundation, Claire had volunteered to go with Nick. It’ll be just like old times, she thought ruefully, remembering the many times she and Nick had sat together in the waiting room of the cancer clinic. It was a strange place for a friendship to develop, but somehow, it had. And their friendship had proven strong enough to last through sickness, health, and even dating, and emerge mostly intact.

Claire shook her head. It was definitely strange, but that was what made it so special.

***

Nick was running late. He’d accidentally overslept and was now scrambling to get ready before Claire came. There was no time for a shower, so he did his best to make his shaggy hair lie flat, brushed his teeth, and slathered on some deodorant before getting dressed. He put on baggy track pants and a t-shirt, frowning at the way the bulge of his stomach was still visible beneath the loose material. He was starting to feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy, and so help him, if one of the guys (probably AJ) thought they’d be funny and poke him in the belly and go “Hoo-hoo!,” he’d probably lose it.

Thankfully, except for Howie, the guys were scattered across the country and hadn’t seen him in awhile. They were all using the usual post-tour break to spend time with their families and work on their individual projects. Nick got to spend it sick, out of breath, and ballooning from the steroids he was stuck taking. Life just sucked sometimes.

But he didn’t have much time to dwell on it that morning. Claire was due to arrive any minute to pick him up and drive him to Tampa General for his oncology appointment. As usual, he was not looking forward to it, but he found that he wasn’t as nervous as usual either. He hadn’t felt great lately, but any symptom he had could be blamed on the BOOP or the prednisone, so cancer was the furthest thing from his mind.

Unsnapping the seam of his left pant leg, he balanced on his good leg and reached for his new prosthesis. He’d gotten the brand new leg just over a week ago, after a visit to his prosthetist to be fitted for one. It the same style as his last leg, so it had been easy to get used to. He was just relieved to be able to walk again, even if it did sap him of energy and breath. Now if he could only lose the oxygen tank…

Through the open bedroom window, he heard Claire’s little Beetle putting up the drive and scrambled for his shoes. Perching on the side of his bed, he leaned over to tie the laces and snap up his pants and then straightened, pausing to adjust to adjust the oxygen canula in his nose. Then he hauled himself up and grabbed the handle of his rolling oxygen tank, loathing it every step of the way out of his house.

He met Claire at the front door. “Good morning,” she said with a smile, as he came out.

“Morning,” he greeted her, offering a half-smile back. “Thanks for getting up early to go with me to this thing.”

“Oh, no problem,” she shrugged. “You know I don’t mind.”

He chuckled. “Oh yeah, that’s right. I thought you got over hanging around at the hospital for fun when Casey died.”

As soon as he’d said that, Nick regretted it. Claire gave him a hard look, and, swallowing, he mumbled, “Sorry, that was insensitive. I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“It’s okay.”

Anxious to change the subject, Nick asked, “Hey, you wanna drive the Jag? It’s got a little more leg room in the front than your Bug here.” He glanced at her tiny, round yellow car and smiled in amusement; it was cute, but not particularly spacious-looking. Not that his sporty Jaguar was much bigger, but it did have leg room.

Claire brightened. “Sure! You know I’d never turn down a chance to take that baby for a spin.”

Nick laughed. “I’m never gonna be able to sell it, you’re so attached to that thing.”

“You can sell it, as long as you sell it to me – with a discount, mind you,” Claire joked, beaming at him.

He chuckled again, secretly wondering if he’d be able to use the car as barter to persuade her to dump that prick Jamie before it was too late. But as they climbed into the silver Jaguar again, Nick’s thoughts turned unexpectedly from Jamie back to Casey and what he had said a few minutes ago.

“Do you ever think about him?” he asked Claire, as she pulled on her seatbelt. “Casey?”

“Yeah, I do.” She paused, a faraway look in her eyes as she gazed out the windshield. “He was a good kid.”

Nick nodded, a lump rising in his throat. “Yeah, he was.” It had been a year-and-a-half since Casey’s death, but it still made Nick sad whenever he thought about him. Casey was just another example of how much life could suck. He couldn’t explain why an eleven-year-old with a whole life ahead of him had died after a long fight with cancer any more than he could figure out why he had to spend his summer breathing oxygen through a tube because his lungs had crapped out from a disease called BOOP. Casey should have still been alive, and Nick should have been stretched out on a beach somewhere, enjoying his summer off. Instead, he was on his way to the hospital for yet another check-up. Between visits to Dr. Kingsbury and follow-up appointments with Dr. Mahmood, he’d seen more than his share of doctors these last few months.

Nonetheless, Claire whipped the Jag out of his gated neighborhood and set a course for Tampa General Hospital.

***

Sitting in the exam room with Nick, Claire looked up at the series of X-rays his doctor had hung on the light board. They were of Nick’s lungs, though she couldn’t identify much more than that. They always looked like a big blur of black and white to her; she couldn’t tell what was “normal” and what wasn’t.

“Your chest films look pretty good, Nick,” said Dr. Kingsbury, making a wide gesture across the light board. “As you can see here, there’s still some infiltrates from the BOOP-“ Her finger pointed out several hazy white patches on the slide. “-but it looks like it’s clearing up nicely.” She turned to smile at Nick. “Hopefully you’ll be off that oxygen in the next few weeks.”

Nick made a face. “I hope so too,” he said emphatically.

Dr. Kingsbury nodded, her smile understanding. “Well, as usual, I won’t have the results of your labwork back until tomorrow or Monday. I’m not expecting any unpleasant surprises, but if anything comes up, I’ll give you a call.”

That part always made Claire nervous. Glancing over at Nick, she could tell by the way he kept swinging his leg from his high perch on the examining table that he felt the same way. Tightening his jaw, he nodded. “Sounds good, Dr. K.”

The oncologist was pulling his x-rays off the light board. Sliding them into a large manila envelope, she said, “You can go ahead and get dressed. Stop by reception on your way out to schedule your next appointment. I’ll tell them six months again...” She paused and gave Nick a smile that reminded Claire of a mother’s. “And I don’t want to see you back in here anytime before that, so take it easy, young man.”

Nick smiled in amusement. “No offense, Dr. K, but I don’t wanna see you anytime before that either, so I will.”

The middle-aged doctor laughed good-naturedly before she left the room. As Nick started to reach for his clothes, Claire jumped up from her chair. “I’m gonna run to the restroom real quick, while you’re getting dressed,” she announced and hurried out of the room before he could reply. She wasn’t sure he would buy her restroom excuse or not, but at least he might think she was just leaving to give him some privacy while he changed. Sure, she’d seen him in a lot less than boxers before, but now that they weren’t together anymore, it didn’t seem appropriate to see him half-naked.

But that wasn’t the real reason she had left. She wanted to talk to Dr. Kingsbury, out of Nick’s earshot. He would kill her if he knew what she was doing, but she didn’t care. It was for his well-being.

“Dr. K!” she called, seeing the doctor walking up the hall ahead of her. The oncologist stopped and turned, waiting as Claire jogged towards her.

“Claire? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something, if you have a minute,” Claire said, looking at her hopefully.

Dr. Kingsbury nodded. “Of course. Why don’t we get out of the hall and go to my office.” She put her hand on Claire’s shoulder and steered her around. As they walked towards her office, Dr. Kingsbury looked over at Claire and commented, “I know it’s none of my business, but I just have to say, I’m happy to see you and Nick back together.”

Claire’s stomach did a flip, rolling in the wave of guilt that washed over her. “Oh… actually, we’re not… together… again,” she faltered. “We’re just finally past that awkward period where we can be friends again.”

“Oh!” The older woman looked visibly embarrassed. “I’m sorry! My mistake. I just assumed…”

Claire smiled tightly. “It’s okay.”

“Well, even so, it’s nice that you came with him today. Support figures are important, and I’m sure your support means a lot to Nick.” She gave Claire a polite smile as she escorted her into her office. “Have a seat,” she added, motioning to the set of chairs in front of her desk.

Claire sank down into one. “Actually, speaking of support,” she said, “I’m worried about Nick. This whole BOOP thing is really getting to him. He hates being confined to an oxygen tank, and he hates what the steroids are doing to him even more. He’s been really depressed the last few weeks. I know part of that could just be the prednisone talking, but still… I haven’t seen him this down on himself since he lost his leg. It scares me. I don’t think he’d admit it to you, and he’d kill me if he knew I was talking to you about him behind his back, but… I’m just worried. I was wondering if there was anything you could suggest to help him…” She trailed off, looking hopefully at Nick’s doctor. She knew Dr. Kingsbury had come to care about Nick in the years she’d been treating him and figured if anyone would want to help, she would.

The oncologist nodded, deep lines appearing in her forehead as she frowned in concern. “I see this sort of thing a lot in my patients, as I’m sure you can understand,” she said. “The side effects of cancer treatments can cause a lot of self-image problems. Usually I start by recommending a support group. Sometimes all people need is a place to share their feelings, vent a bit, and meet people who are going through the same things they are. Lets them see they’re not alone. I know you’ve been through some of the things Nick has, so I’m sure you’re valuable resource to him for support, but has he ever been to any kind of group therapy for this?”

Claire shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

Dr. Kingsbury nodded again, lips pursed. “Well, the hospital offers several different support groups for cancer patients. I know what Nick is going through now isn’t directly cancer-related, but since I don’t know of any BOOP support groups, one of the cancer groups might still help him cope with the side effects of his treatment. They aren’t that different from what some cancer patients go through.”

Claire nodded knowingly. “That might help,” she said, though she was wondering how she could possibly convince Nick to go to a support group meeting. He wasn’t one who liked to talk about his feelings, especially to strangers, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to attract any attention to himself right now either. But it was worth a shot.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll stop back in and give him this pamphlet,” Dr. Kingsbury went on, pulling a colorful brochure from her desk drawer, “so that he’ll think the support group idea was all mine. Why don’t you take my card-“ She fumbled in her desk drawer for another few seconds and then slid a white business card across the desk to Claire, “- and if this falls through, give me a call. If he’s still having problems, there’s always one-on-one counseling, or I can refer him to a psychiatrist who could prescribe a mild antidepressant. That would be only if nothing else helps though,” Dr. Kingsbury added, shaking her head. “With as much medication as my patients are already on, I don’t like to use drugs to treat emotional symptoms except in extreme cases. Just talking about what they’re going through can work wonders in most people.”

Claire nodded, glad she had decided to talk to Nick’s doctor. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I’ll try and get him to try out one of the support groups.”

“Great,” smiled Dr. Kingsbury. Rising from her desk chair, she said, “I know I don’t know Nick as well as you do, but I wouldn’t worry too much. I know he’s strong, for having come through as much as he has. This is just one more little road bump he’s got to get over, and I know he will.”

Claire smiled back and nodded. “I know he will too.”

***

As Claire winded the Jaguar out of the hospital parking deck, Nick kept staring down at the pamphlet in his hands. Just as she had promised, Dr. Kingsbury had given it to him before he and Claire could leave, telling him basically the same thing she’d told Claire, without mentioning she’d discussed it with Claire first. He’d seemed receptive to the idea of joining a support group inside the clinic, but at soon as they were out of earshot, he’d started complaining.

“This is stupid,” he said, for at least the third time, flipping through the pamphlet again. “I don’t need some cheesy support group. After four years of dealing with this shit, I think I can handle things on my own.”

Claire had suspected he would react this way, but she felt it was her duty to try to convince him otherwise. “I know, but why do you feel like you have to handle it all on your own? It’s a lot to handle, everything you’ve been through. Don’t you think it would be kind of rejuvenating to go and rant about it to a bunch of people who know just what you’re feeling?”

Nick looked over at her. “You mean, like you? Why would I want to go rant to a bunch of strangers when I can just talk to you?”

Claire felt herself starting to smile, inwardly touched. But she knew she couldn’t let the issue drop that easily. “Well, I’m not the all-knowing authority on everything, Nick. Besides, I’m only one person. It might be interesting to hear from other people with other experiences,” she pointed out, turning onto the highway.

“Oh yeah? And why do you want me to go to one of these things so bad? Do you think I’m that messed up?”

“Nick - no! These aren’t for ‘messed up’ people; they’re just for people who want to share what they’re going through and get some support from others who are going through the same thing.”

“Then where’s the BOOP group?” asked Nick derisively, and Claire giggled because of the way it rhymed.

“Dr. Kingsbury said there wasn’t one, so one of the cancer groups would be the next best thing,” she replied. Too late did she realize her mistake.

“You talked to Dr. Kingsbury about this?” Nick asked slowly, the realization dawning. Then, like a volcano, he erupted, his voice turning heated and angry. “Did you go behind my back and put her up to this?? What the fuck did you tell her?!”

Claire winced and gripped the steering wheel tightly. She couldn’t drive with him screaming at her like that. “Nick, calm down! I was just trying to help!” she cried.

“Well, you’re not! I don’t need some gay therapy group to ‘help’ me,” Nick spat. Staring out at the highway in front of her, Claire rolled her eyes. He was so damn stubborn.

“Fine, Nick,” she snapped. “You’re right; you don’t need any help. Everything in your life is just dandy, and you couldn’t be happier. Why waste your time talking to a bunch of miserable people with cancer in some ‘gay’ support group? You don’t need their support – you don’t have any issues! Life is good! Am I right?” Having run out of sarcastic things to say, she glanced over at him. He was slumped against the door, sulking.

“Life fucking sucks,” he muttered bitterly, pausing to take in some oxygen. “But a support group isn’t gonna change that.”

“How do you know? They must help somehow, or people wouldn’t be in them. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

He glowered over at her. “Have you ever been to one of these things?”

She hesitated. He had her there. She remembered her own doctor handing her a similar pamphlet along with her discharge papers when she’d left the hospital after her initial diagnosis. Dr. Rodrigo had recommended she join a group for young adults with cancer so she could meet other people close to her age who were going through treatment. Her reaction hadn’t been much different than Nick’s. Her parents had urged her to look into it, but she’d shoved the pamphlet in a drawer and hadn’t looked at it again until sometime months later, when she was in remission. Then she’d pitched it. I don’t want to sit around in a room filled with cancer patients. How depressing, she’d thought. I just want to get past this, not dwell on it.

She’d been proud, stubborn… just like Nick. And sure, she’d gotten through her first bout with leukemia without any lasting psychological problems; in fact, she was emotionally stronger for having done it. But looking back, maybe she’d been silly to dismiss the idea of a support group so quickly. The reason she thought this way now was that shortly after she’d started up treatment again for her relapse, she’d met Nick, and he’d become her support group.

She wasn’t sure he realized it or not, but she’d leaned on him as much as he had leaned on her. She’d been put into the role of the strong one, the mentor, the one who’d been through it all already, while he was the newbie, scared and alone as he started treatment. But as they’d gotten closer, having him to talk to had helped her as much as talking to her seemed to help him. With her family hovering over her, Dianna supportive but ignorant, and Jamie content to stay away, Nick had been a welcome source of comfort in her life. He’d stuck by her without smothering her, and understood what she was going through without interfering. He’d made her laugh when she felt like crying, sang to her to distract her from the pain, and held her hand when she could barely hold her eyes open. He’d been there when she’d needed him, and he had been wonderful.

Had she ever thanked him properly for all of that? She wasn’t sure. After her bone marrow transplant, he’d gotten into that mess with Leah, and they’d barely spoken for the next six months. Then his leg had been amputated, and the roles had reversed again, with her as the leaning post, and he the one who needed some hand-holding. She supposed that was her thank-you, but it hadn’t been like that at all. She hadn’t stuck by him out of sheer gratitude; she’d stuck by him because she cared about him. Deeply.

This was still true, but after everything he had been put through, she wasn’t sure a shoulder to lean on was enough for him anymore. She wasn’t sure her shoulder was strong enough to bear the full weight of his anguish. Please, Nick, she begged inwardly. Please, give it a try.

She chose her words carefully. “No… I haven’t. But I was offered the same options, and sometimes I wonder if I would have had an easier time of things if I had given one a try. Might have helped my attitude.”

“Your attitude?” Nick scoffed. “You had the best attitude of anyone I could imagine in your situation. You were so cool and casual about everything… like it didn’t even bother you. I could have never been like that.”

She smiled wryly. “You didn’t know me the first time I went through it. You didn’t see me when I first found out I’d relapsed either. It took me a long time to get to that place, Nick, where I could just go with the flow, pretend nothing bothered me. I was bitter, too. My friends were all wrapped up in their lives, getting their college degrees, and I was losing my hair and puking my guts out. You think I was cool about that? Hell no! I thought life fucking sucked back then too – to put it in your words. And I didn’t really have anyone to tell that to, so I just kept it inside. And eventually I just learned to put on a happy face and act like I was okay so I wouldn’t drive all of my friends away. Maybe a support group would have helped me channel all of my feelings a little better.”

Nick didn’t reply for a few seconds. Then he said, “But you were young. And just diagnosed. That’s a lot for a twenty-year-old kid to handle. I’m twenty-seven. I’ve been through three rounds with cancer. I think I know how to deal with my feelings by now. If I didn’t, I’d have probably killed myself years ago.”

Claire pressed her lips together. She knew by his voice that he was kidding, but it wasn’t funny. “You’ve been through three rounds of cancer, and now you’re sick again with something else. Maybe this isn’t on the same level as bone cancer, but it still sucks. I’ve seen how depressed it’s been making you, and it’s made me worried about you, Nick. That’s why I talked to Dr. Kingsbury. I didn’t want to do it in front of you because I knew you’d get mad, but can’t you see I’m just trying to help? I don’t want you to hurt… physically or emotionally. And since I can’t do much about the physical part, maybe I can help with the emotional part. Maybe one of these groups could help.”

Nick shook his head and mumbled, “I’m not suicidal. I just… don’t like living this way. Once I’m better, I’ll be fine.”

She glanced over at him briefly before returning her eyes to the road. They were almost to his neighborhood. “I know that,” she said softly. “But why suffer now? Why not give one of these groups a try, and see if it helps make living this way a little easier for you? I mean, who knows how long this BOOP thing is going to last? Your doctor said it could take months to completely get over.”

Nick sighed heavily. “Don’t remind me,” he groaned.

As she slowed the Jaguar to a stop in front of his house, Claire said, “Listen, I’m gonna stop preaching to you about support groups now, cause I told you I’d never been to one – what do I know? Maybe they are stupid. But maybe they’re not. Will you at least give this some thought?” She turned off the ignition and turned to look at him, waiting for his answer.

He pressed his lips into a pout and studied her for a few seconds. Then he asked, “Would you go with me?”

Claire blinked, caught off-guard by the request. Then again… why not? she thought. She couldn’t let him think she was all talk, and if it would get him to give one a try…

“Okay,” she answered with a nod, smiling. “I’ll go with you.”

***