Chapter 40

Nick

My first night home from the hospital didn’t go the way I wanted it to. As good as it felt to be back in my comfortable bed at Kevin’s house, free of the tubes and wires I’d been hooked up to in the hospital, I had a hard time falling asleep. Tired as I was, I couldn’t seem to turn off my mind.

I lay awake for hours, just like I had the last two nights. There weren’t as many annoying sounds to listen to as there had been in the hospital, but the silence was deafening. Without the symphony of monitors blipping, IVs dripping, and Kevin snoring, all I could hear were the thoughts bouncing around inside my brain – and those were way more distracting.

I kept worrying about what Dr. Richards had told me, her warnings playing out in my head. Every time I binged on drugs and alcohol, it weakened my heart. The doctor said if I kept it up, my energy level would keep dropping until one day my heart would just stop. Despite my exhaustion, I was afraid to fall asleep… afraid I wouldn’t wake up.

After our conversation that morning, I had googled Andy Gibb. I found out he was also admitted to the hospital with chest pains after a night of partying. He died three days later, less than a week after his thirtieth birthday.

It had been exactly three days since my trip to the ER. I was twenty-eight. The thought that I might not live to see thirty terrified me.

I appreciated what Kevin had done for me by forcing me to pour out all the alcohol in the house. It took away the temptation to drink. Yet I still found myself craving vodka and wishing I had a Valium to calm the anxious thoughts in my head. I hadn’t admitted to taking Kevin’s pills. I told myself he didn’t need to know that part; I would never do it again. But it was hard knowing the drugs were still in his medicine cabinet right down the hall. I could have easily snuck some without getting caught when I went into his room to turn him. But I didn’t.

I also didn’t sleep.

Around two a.m., I finally decided to get up and go downstairs in search of something to help me fall asleep. Something that wasn’t drugs or alcohol.

Remembering what Kevin had said about drinking warm milk or chamomile tea, I made my way into the kitchen. I searched the cabinets but couldn’t find any chamomile tea. Opening the fridge, I saw that we were also out of milk. I closed it with a sigh. I was so desperate for sleep, I would have been willing to try the warm milk trick. Disgusting as it sounded, it seemed to work for Mason. Hand that boy a heated bottle of formula right before bedtime, and he would start to relax almost instantly. With that thought in mind, my eyes fell on the can of baby formula sitting out on the counter. I wondered what it tasted like. Maybe it was better than cow’s milk – or less gross when warmed up, anyway.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, I filled a mug with water, then added a few scoops of powdered formula. I gave it a stir, then stuck it in the microwave for a minute to warm it up. When the microwave beeped, I removed the mug, raised it to my lips, and took a tentative sip.

“Nick?”

I spat out the formula as I whirled around to find AJ standing in the doorway, staring at me. “Jesus, AJ!” I gasped, resting my hand on my bare chest as my heart galloped against my ribs.

His eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

Realizing he was probably worried I was going to drop dead right there on the kitchen floor, I quickly lowered my hand. “Yeah,” I replied, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to calm my racing heart. “You just scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “I just heard the microwave go off and wondered who was up.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Considering the other two occupants of this house can’t get out of bed by themselves, who else did you think it could be? A ghost?”

He cracked a smile. “Maybe. This house is like seventy years old, you know. It could totally be haunted.”

I made a face, more disturbed by the taste of the formula still haunting my tongue than the possibility of ghosts haunting Kevin’s house. It tasted terrible! Like pulverized vitamins, powdered milk, and dirt mixed with fishy aquarium water. How does Mason drink this stuff? I wondered.

“So, what are you doing down here?” AJ asked, lowering his eyes to the milky white droplets of formula splattered across the floor.

I held up the mug in my hand. “Drinking warm milk.”

He flashed me a look of confusion. “We’re out of milk.”

I nodded. “Yeah… I noticed.”

“So, what…?” His eyes dropped to the floor again. “Are… are you drinking Mason’s formula?”

“Nope,” I said, dumping the rest of it down the drain. Then I grabbed a dishrag and hastily wiped up the floor.

When I straightened up, AJ was still staring at me. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” he said, offering me a sympathetic smile.

“Nope.”

AJ plopped down at the kitchen table, pulling out a second chair for me to sit, too. “How come?” he asked.

I sighed as I slumped down across from him. “I dunno. Too much on my mind. Not enough vodka in my bloodstream.”

He snickered. “I know the feeling, bro. I had a hard time sleeping when I first quit drinking, too. But it gets easier with time. Trust me – after a few weeks of being totally clean and sober, you’ll feel better than you ever did when you were drunk or high.”

Somehow, I doubted that, but I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. “I hope you’re right, AJ,” I said, resting my head in my hands. ‘Cause right now, I feel like shit.”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” he said, shaking his head. “I knew you were still using, but I had no idea how bad it had gotten. You hid it well, even from me.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say to that.

“Are you worried about what the doctor said?”

I nodded again wordlessly.

“Me, too,” he admitted. “But Kevin made it sound like she was pretty optimistic that you can recover from this if you stay on the wagon. So we’re in this together. You and I. Ride or die.”

I smiled, grateful for his support. He had given me so much tough love in the last year, I wasn’t sure how he would handle hearing the news about my heart condition. I had been so worried about his reaction, I’d made Kevin tell him what my cardiologist had said when he came to pick us up from the hospital. I had braced myself for a lecture or, at the very least, an “I told you so.” But AJ had only offered words of encouragement, telling me everything would be okay. Maybe he had just been waiting for me to hit rock bottom so he could help me back up.

“Thanks, AJ.”

“You’re welcome. I love you, you little prick.” He reached across the table, playfully punching me in the shoulder. “Never forget that.”

I nodded. “I know. Love you too, bro.” I cleared my throat to get rid of the hard lump that had risen in it. “So, what are you doing up so late?”

“Dude, I’m always up this late,” AJ said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Gotta go roll Kevin’s crippled ass over at three, remember?”

“Oh… right.” I felt my face redden. I had been so wrapped up in my own problems, I’d almost forgotten I wasn’t the only one whose life now revolved around other people’s routines. AJ had taken on plenty of extra responsibilities, too, especially in the past few days. On top of visiting Kevin and me in the hospital, he had been taking care of Mason by himself, which couldn’t have been easy for him. As he stifled a yawn, I realized how exhausted he looked. He had probably been up since the crack of dawn. “I can turn Kevin this time if you wanna go to bed now,” I offered. “I’ve pretty much given up on getting any sleep tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that. You just got out of the hospital; you should try to get some rest.”

“I tried,” I said, shrugging. “I told you, I got too much on my mind. I can’t turn it off.”

“Well, all right… if you’re sure.” AJ rose slowly from his seat. “Go watch a movie or something – give your mind something else to focus on.”

“Got any recommendations for me?”

He thought for a second. “Lord of the Rings. Kev’s got the whole trilogy. Those movies are so freaking long, they’ll put you right to sleep… or at least last you until morning.”

I laughed. “Hey, I like Lord of the Rings!”

“Well, there you go, Gandalf. Enjoy your elves and hobbits,” he said, patting me on the shoulder as he walked past. “Goodnight, Nick.”

“‘Night.”

I waited until I heard him go upstairs, then washed out the inside of my mug and refilled it with orange juice to get the bad taste out of my mouth. Then I went into the family room and turned on the TV, watching old episodes of The Surreal Life on VH1 until my eyes glazed over. It was no Lord of the Rings, but at least it helped me feel better about my own life.

***

Despite my restless night, I went about my usual routine in the morning, grateful for the monotony of making breakfast and taking care of Mason. It beat being in the hospital.

I was on my second cup of coffee when Sam came in. “Hi!” she exclaimed when she poked her head into the kitchen and saw me sitting at the table with Mason, who was eating scrambled eggs with his fingers. “How are you?”

I shrugged. “Alive?” I wondered if Kevin had told her about my diagnosis.

“Alive is good,” she said, nodding, but her forehead was furrowed with concern. “Did you ever find out why you felt so bad Friday night?”

So Kevin hadn’t told her. I almost wished he had; it would have saved me the awkwardness of answering her question. Sucking in a deep breath, I said, “I mean, basically it was because I drank too much and did some other dumb shit…” I hesitated, debating over how many details I felt comfortable sharing. I finally decided to tell the whole truth. I knew from the twelve-step programs I’d tried in the past that the first step toward recovery is admitting you have a problem. “Also, I have something called cardiomyopathy.” The word felt foreign on my tongue. It was the first time I’d said it out loud.

Sam’s eyebrows shot way up on her forehead as her eyes widened behind her glasses. “Really? Wow… I’m sorry to hear that.”

Her reaction worried me, bringing back the anxiety that had kept me awake the night before. As a med student, she must have known more about this than I did. Maybe it was a death sentence after all.

“Yeah… the doctor said it was caused by alcohol and… well, substance abuse.” I felt my face redden. “But she said I can reverse the damage if I quit drinking and stuff.”

“Well, that’s good!” Sam said, her face relaxing into a smile. “I hope you’ll follow her advice.”

“I’m trying.” I forced myself to smile back. “Kevin made me dump his whole liquor cabinet down the drain yesterday. I’ve been clean and sober for three whole days now.”

“Hey, that’s a start! Keep up the hard work.” She patted my shoulder. “I should probably head upstairs now. I’m glad you’re alive.”

I chuckled. “Me too.”

While she went up to help Kevin get ready for the day, I finished my coffee and cleaned up the kitchen. Mason crawled around on the floor at my feet, happily banging on the bottom of a saucepan with a wooden spoon as I unloaded the dishwasher from the night before. The noise gave me a headache, but at least it kept him busy – and me awake.

“Sounds like somebody wants to be a drummer like his Uncle Nick,” said Kevin, smiling as he and Sam came into the kitchen.

“Yeah… good thing he’s got his dad’s sense of rhythm,” I replied, smiling back. I watched Mason drop what he was doing and scramble over to Kevin, using the wheelchair’s footplates to pull himself into a standing position. “He’s sure glad to have you home.”

“You, too,” said Kevin. “You’ve been like a second father to him since you moved in.”

But at the moment, Mason didn’t care about me. He clung to Kevin’s legs like a little koala, trying to climb up onto his lap. Knowing Kevin couldn’t pick him up by himself, I scooped Mason up from behind and set him on Kevin’s knee. “There you go, buddy.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

As Kevin held Mason, I hurriedly picked up the saucepan and spoon and put them away.

“So, what’s on your agenda for today?” asked Sam as she poured Kevin a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter.

“I think Nick and I are gonna go grocery shopping and get some healthy food,” he answered, glancing over at me. “It’ll feel good to get out of the house for a while.”

This was not something I had agreed to, but I nodded anyway, knowing it was something I needed to do – for myself as much as for Kevin. “Sounds good, bro,” I said. But in the back of my mind, I wondered if the real reason he wanted to go with me was because he didn’t trust me not to buy more booze.

After Sam left and AJ finally got out of bed, I buckled Kevin into the back of his van and climbed behind the wheel. I drove us to a nearby Whole Foods Market and pulled into one of the handicapped parking spots up front. “You know, if there’s one perk to being in a wheelchair, it’s that at least you can get good parking spots without paying for valet,” I remarked, pressing the button that opened the back door. The ramp rolled out automatically as I went around to unbuckle Kevin.

“You’re right. Reserved parking – totally worth all the pain and suffering,” he replied sarcastically, smirking at me as he turned his chair to roll down the ramp.

“I’m just sayin’… it’s not all bad! Look on the bright side, dawg.” I playfully punched his shoulder, walking next to him as we crossed the parking lot and went into the store. I grabbed a shopping cart on the way in. “So, what all do you wanna get?”

“Let’s go to the produce section first,” Kevin suggested. “Stock up on fruit and veggies.”

“Sounds like a plan. You lead the way.” I followed him, pushing the cart as he drove his power chair over to the produce department. He parked next to a display of strawberries and carefully picked up one of the cartons between his hands.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to me.

“Those look good. Let’s get two.” I took the first carton from him and put it in the cart while he grabbed another one. “We can buy some yogurt, too, and make smoothies. That’s healthy, right?”

“Good idea,” Kevin agreed. We added three other types of berries to the cart – raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries – then picked out some apples and bananas as well.

Next, we went over to the wall of vegetables and worked our way down the colorful display, bagging up various items. Kevin couldn’t reach the produce bag dispensers mounted at the top of the tall shelves, nor could he open the bags by himself, so I did that part while he picked out vegetables to put in them. It was a painstaking process. I tried to be patient as I watched him struggle to get a good grip on a head of lettuce. It must have been wet from the misters because it kept slipping out from between his hands when he tried to lift it off the shelf. I wanted to step in and grab it myself, but I fought the temptation, telling myself it was better to let him try first and wait for him to ask for help. He would never figure out how to do this stuff on his own if I took away his opportunities to practice. So I stood back and waited while he fumbled with the lettuce. He finally managed to wedge one hand underneath it and awkwardly picked it up that way, his other hand securing it from the top. I held the bag open wide as he dropped it in with a sigh of relief.

We repeated the same process with a bunch of other veggies before moving on to the meat department, where we picked up some fresh fish and poultry. I eyed a package of T-bone steaks longingly, but Kevin insisted on only getting boring white meat, like chicken breasts and ground turkey. “Too much red meat isn’t good for you,” he told me. “We’re trying to go for heart-healthy options here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said with a sigh. I hated dieting, but I supposed it was better than dying.

Bypassing the beer and wine section, we went down the dairy aisle next. I opened one of the cases to grab a carton of milk while Kevin leaned over to get a quart of organic Greek yogurt off one of the low shelves. Putting the milk in our cart, I watched him place his palms carefully on both sides of the container. But he must not have applied enough pressure, or maybe there was too much condensation on the outside, because when he went to pick it up this way, it slipped right out between his hands and fell to the floor. “Fuck,” I heard him swear under his breath as we both looked down. The bottom of the container had busted, splattering yogurt all over the floor. Kevin groaned when he saw the mess. “God damn it…”

“Jeez, I can’t take you anywhere,” I joked. But my smile faded when I saw the humiliated expression on his face. “Just kidding. It’s okay,” I added quickly, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Stuff like this happens all the time. They’ll clean it up.”

Kevin shook his head, clearly upset with himself. “Excuse me,” he said to a teenager in a Whole Foods apron who had come out of the stock room, carrying a box of canned food. “I’m sorry, but I dropped a whole thing of yogurt on the floor.”

“Oh, no worries,” the kid muttered, hardly glancing at the mess. “I’ll get somebody to mop it up.”

“See?” I said, grabbing another container of yogurt and adding it to our cart before Kevin could try again. “No big deal.”

But I could tell Kevin was still embarrassed; his face had flushed bright red. As we continued through the rest of the store, he had me pick up anything else that could potentially break.

“I wanna grab some supplements before we go,” he said, turning down the vitamin aisle. “My doctor said to start taking cranberry pills; they’re supposed to help prevent UTIs. We can get you something heart-healthy, too. Isn’t fish oil supposed to be good for your heart?”

“I have no idea,” I replied with a shrug as I followed him. The cardiologist hadn’t put me on any medication, which I supposed was a good thing – it meant she really thought I could reverse the damage to my heart through dieting and exercise, along with quitting drugs and alcohol. I didn’t want to have to resort to taking pills if I didn’t have to. But after reading the label on a bottle of fish oil supplements, Kevin convinced me to give them a try. I also picked up a bottle of melatonin to help me sleep.

Then we went down the baby aisle to stock up on diapers. “We should get Mason some different formula,” I said, wrinkling my nose as we passed a display of powdered infant formula.

“I thought AJ just got some last week,” Kevin said, his forehead creasing.

“Yeah, but that stuff is nasty, dude. I mean, it… it looks nasty,” I added quickly, feeling my face flush. “The color seemed off when I made Mason’s bottle this morning.”

“Really?” Kevin’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t sound good. I hope it hasn’t gone bad…”

“We may want to get another brand, just to be on the safe side.” I scoped out the selection of canisters, searching for phrases like “new great taste!” on the labels.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to change brands abruptly… or maybe that’s just with pet food.” He sighed, running his hand over his hair. “I dunno, Nick. We didn’t even use formula before Kristin died; she always just breastfed him. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

I could hear the frustration in his voice and felt bad for causing him to doubt himself. “Don’t worry about it, dawg. I may have just put too much powder in the water today. Mason didn’t seem to mind, so it’s probably fine.”

“I’ll look it up when we get home, see if there’s a recall or something we missed,” said Kevin. “We can always send AJ out to get some later if we need to.”

I nodded. “Good plan.”

We were heading to the front of the store when I heard a voice say, “Oh! Hi!” I glanced up to see a young woman grinning widely at us, her big brown eyes gleaming. She was wearing a green striped polo shirt with a pair of khaki pants and pushing a cart full of groceries. “It’s so nice to see you!” she gushed.

I forced a smile onto my face, inwardly cringing. The last thing I felt like doing was talking to a fan, but I knew I couldn’t be rude. “Hey! Nice to see you, too,” I told her.

“I’m such a big fan of you both!” Her eyes shifted from me to Kevin. “Could I get a picture with you?”

I also looked to Kevin, letting him take the lead on this one. His fan interactions had been limited since his injury. I could tell he didn’t feel completely comfortable, but he, too, pasted on a smile and replied, “Of course.”

“Great!” The girl pulled her phone out of her purse and handed it to a passing employee. “Will you please take a picture of us?” She posed with me behind Kevin’s wheelchair, both of us bending down so we could put our faces close to his. The grocery store worker snapped the photo and handed the phone back to her. “Perfect!” she squealed as she checked the screen. “Oh my god, thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome,” said Kevin. “What’s your name?”

“Stevie!”

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Stevie. Have a good one.”

“You too! Thanks again!” Stevie said, grinning. “Bye-bye!” She practically jogged away, pushing her cart down the next aisle.

Once she was gone, I glanced at Kevin. “Feels good to be loved, huh?” I said with a grin.

“Yeah, it does. I miss the fans,” he admitted in a low voice. “Never take them for granted, Nick. You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

My smile faded when I saw the wistful expression on his face. “The fans aren’t gone, dude. You saw how happy that girl was to meet you. There’s a million more like her out there who would love to hear from you.”

He sighed. “I know. But it’s not the same now. It’ll never be the same.”

“Maybe not, but change can be good,” I said, pointing to the cart full of healthy food in front of me.

“Yeah… sometimes.” He put his hand on his joystick, powering himself forward, and I followed.

We finally made it to the checkout counter, where I quickly unloaded the cart as Kevin fumbled with his wallet. “You don’t have to pay for all this, dawg,” I said as I watched him drag his thumb over the edge of his debit card, slowly working it out of its slot.

“My house, my food, my responsibility,” he replied, handing it to me to swipe through the card reader. “You’ve done more than enough for me, Nick.”

I couldn’t argue with that, but I still felt guilty, knowing I was the main reason he had wanted to get all these healthy, organic groceries. And while it wasn’t like Kevin was hurting for cash, he no longer had a steady source of income like I did. I knew I could always make more money by touring or releasing new music, but all Kevin had to rely on were royalties from our old music. Of course, the media would probably pay big bucks for an exclusive interview or appearance, but he didn’t seem to want to talk publicly about what had happened to him yet. I didn’t blame him. I was already worried about the news of my diagnosis getting out before I was ready to talk about it. I hadn’t even told the rest of the group yet.

It was Brian whose reaction I worried about the most. Having dealt with a congenital heart condition himself, would he be empathetic? Or would he judge me for poisoning my perfectly healthy heart with drugs and alcohol?

“How do you think I should tell Howie and Brian about my heart?” I asked Kevin on the way back to his house.

“I dunno, Nick. You don’t need to make a big deal out of it. Just call them and tell them.”

“Maybe it’s better if I do it in person.” That way, I would only have to do it once.

“Yeah, maybe. But if you wait too long to tell them, AJ’s probably gonna let it slip before you do. You know what a big mouth he has.”

I laughed. “True. Maybe I should just let him tell them. Then I won’t have to.”

“It would sound better coming from your mouth.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I admitted as I turned onto Kevin’s road. “I just don’t know how they’ll react.”

“They’ll be concerned,” said Kevin. “But if you can show them that you’re taking it seriously and making healthy changes to your lifestyle, I think that will help reassure them that you’re gonna be all right.”

I nodded, the wheels in my head turning as I imagined what they might say. “What if Brian wants to postpone the tour again? You remember how pissed he was about being forced to go back on the road right after his heart surgery…” Brian had also been the one pushing us to reschedule our shows in Asia when Kevin was in rehab, I recalled.

“That’s different. You didn’t have surgery. And your doctor didn’t put you on any restrictions as far as activity goes, right?”

“No. She actually encouraged me to get more exercise – especially cardio.”

“Well, there you go. You’ll get plenty of cardio singing and dancing on stage. I don’t see a reason to postpone the tour.”

I was relieved to hear him say that. I really needed to get out of the house and go back on the road – for my mental health as much as my physical health. But a part of me worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up anymore. “I better get my butt whipped back into shape then,” I said, remembering how hard it had been for me to make it through a two-hour show with enough breath left to sing on the last leg.

“You’ve got, what, seven weeks until the tour starts again? That’s plenty of time to get into some healthier habits,” said Kevin. “I told you, I’m right behind you, brother – and I’m gonna push you hard because I love you, and I believe in you.”

I pulled the van into his driveway and put down my window to punch in the code for his privacy gate. “I appreciate it, bro,” I replied, catching his eye in the rearview mirror. “I wanna be better. I really do.”

Kevin nodded. “You will be.”

I wished I had his confidence. But as I continued up the long driveway, I was still filled with self-doubt.

***