Chapter 48

Nick

By November, I finally had my life together again. I was five months clean and sober and had lost close to fifty pounds. I was looking and feeling better than I had in years. My cardiologist was pleased with the progress I’d made, telling me at my last appointment that my heart was already showing signs of improvement. I’d even met a girl who made it race in a good way. I’d gotten Lauren’s phone number before I left to go back on tour, and we talked every day while I was on the bus, traveling across Canada.

Toward the end of the tour, we had a rare three days off in a row after our last concert in Canada. Rather than drive twenty-six hours from Kamloops, British Columbia to Phoenix, Arizona with the rest of the group, I decided at the last minute to book a flight back to Los Angeles to see Lauren. The L.A. show was less than a week away, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was a risky move; I knew I might come across as clingy or desperate, but I hoped she would think it was romantic.

Our manager Jenn went with me to L.A. so she could spend a few days at home with her husband. She had already arranged for the two of us to fly to Phoenix together on Friday, the day of the next show.

My first night in L.A., I took Lauren out to dinner, then back to my place for dessert. We walked along the beach together and sat out on my balcony with a blanket wrapped around us, talking late into the night again. We had a great time together. It was still too early for us to define our relationship, but already, I got the sense that there was something different with this girl and the way she made me feel. I’d dated plenty of women, but I’d never felt that way about anyone before.

Everything in my life seemed to be going great. And then I got sick.

The day after my date with Lauren, I woke up with a sore throat. At first, I thought it was just from vocal fatigue. We had performed three nights in a row prior to my impromptu trip to L.A., where I’d talked to Lauren for hours. My vocal cords were probably fried. I told myself to take it easy and spent the day relaxing in my condo, drinking plenty of water, and resting my voice.

But the next day, I didn’t feel any better. In fact, I felt a lot worse. The pain in my throat had moved down into my chest, which felt tight and heavy. I had developed a hacking cough and a low-grade fever. Lauren and I had planned to go to the Santa Monica Pier that afternoon, but I called her and canceled. “I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely, turning my head away from the phone to cough into my hand. “I think I’m coming down with something, and I don’t wanna get you sick.”

Lauren was understanding. “It’s okay,” she said sympathetically. “You should stay home and rest anyway so you can feel better by tomorrow. You sound terrible.”

“It’s probably just a cold. I’ll be fine,” I assured her.

But I wasn’t fine. Friday morning, I woke up drenched with sweat. Despite sleeping for ten hours, I was so tired that I could hardly drag myself out of bed. I lay curled up in a little ball beneath the covers, racked with chills from the fever that raged through my body as I listened to my alarm ring over and over again. After snoozing four or five times, I finally summoned enough strength to stagger out of bed. I had a flight to catch. I didn’t know how I was going to perform that night, but the other guys and thousands of fans were counting on me to get to Phoenix for the show. I couldn’t let them down.

I put on my comfiest pair of sweats, my body alternating between hot and cold as I stumbled around my room, stuffing crap back into my carry-on bag. I called a cab and made it to the airport in Burbank about forty minutes before my flight.

When I finally met up with Jenn outside the security line, she wasn’t happy. “There you are!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, Nickolas! I was about to go on without you. Here.” She practically shoved my boarding pass into my hand.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, fumbling with my wallet to find my ID. “I got off to a slow start this morning.”

Jenn frowned, her eyes narrowing as she took a closer look at me. “Are you all right? You sound terrible. You look terrible.”

“I feel terrible,” I admitted.

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you sick or just hungover?”

I couldn’t blame her for wondering if I was coming off a three-day bender. She had been around during the recording of Unbreakable, when I was a complete wreck. She’d fined me thousands of dollars for regularly showing up late to the studio, still recovering from a wild night of partying. But that wasn’t the case this time.

“Sick,” I croaked. “I swear.”

“Well, damn, don’t give it to me.” She took a wary step backward, crossing her index fingers in front of her face like she was trying to ward off a demon with a crucifix.

I forced a weak laugh.

Jenn lowered her hands to her hips. “Are you gonna be able to perform tonight?” she asked impatiently.

I shrugged. “I guess I’m gonna have to.” As a professional entertainer, I had performed sick plenty of times before. It was never easy, but once I took the stage and the adrenaline kicked in, I always managed to push through my discomfort and put on a decent show. At that point, there was no doubt in my mind that I would suck it up and do the same thing that night.

The doubt started creeping in as we went through security. Standing in line with Jenn, I felt shaky and weak. I couldn’t wait to sit down once we got to our gate. I was glad we were flying out of Burbank, which was a lot smaller than LAX. It wasn’t a long walk to the gate, but it might as well have been ten miles. I trudged a few paces behind Jenn, struggling to keep up with her even though my legs were a lot longer than hers. My little carry-on suitcase felt like it weighed a ton as I dragged it behind me. At least it had wheels.

When we finally made it to the gate, I looked around in dismay. Every seat was full.

“Oh, good, our flight’s still on time,” Jenn said happily, glancing at the monitor behind the gate agent’s desk. “Boarding starts in ten minutes.”

But I didn’t think I could stay on my feet for another ten minutes. I felt light-headed and clammy. My face was on fire, but the rest of my body was covered in cold sweat. I could feel it dripping between my shoulder blades and down my back. I unzipped my hoodie and pulled at the t-shirt I wore underneath it, peeling the damp fabric away from my sticky skin. The neckline suddenly felt too small, as if it was strangling me. I kept tugging on it, trying to loosen it. I was winded from the brisk walk through the terminal, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. Whenever I tried to take a deep breath, it triggered a coughing fit. I doubled over, coughing violently into my hand. My lungs felt constricted, like there were invisible bands slowly tightening around my chest, compressing my rib cage. I straightened up, my heart hammering so hard, I could hear the blood rushing behind my ears. My head was buzzing, as if my brain had been filled with static. Black spots flickered before my eyes as my vision went fuzzy, the bright airport terminal beginning to fade as darkness closed in on me from both sides.

Fearing I was about to faint, I slumped slowly to the floor. “What are you doing?” I heard Jenn hiss as I stretched my legs out in front of me and leaned my head back against my bag. “That floor’s probably filthy!”

“I just need to sit down for a minute,” I muttered, “or I’m gonna pass out. I don’t feel good.”

“Oh my god, really?” Instantly, her disapproving tone transformed into a worried one. “Well, here, bend your legs and put your head between your knees.” She dropped down to the filthy floor next to me and put her hand behind my neck. “You’re burning up!” she gasped as she helped me lean forward.

I nodded miserably as my body trembled, racked with chills. I felt hot, then cold all over. I couldn’t stop shaking.

Jenn hovered over me, rubbing my back in small circles as I sat hunched over with my head hanging down. “Take slow, deep breaths,” she told me softly. I hoped we weren’t attracting too much attention, but at the same time, I was too sick to care if anyone was watching.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on controlling my breathing, but it was still hard to inhale. My chest hurt almost as much as it had the day I’d begged AJ to take me to the hospital. I hadn’t felt that bad in months, and it terrified me.

Trying to be discreet, I tucked my hand into my hoodie and pressed my palm to the left side of my chest, feeling my heart pound. It was beating really fast, reminding me that I had an underlying condition now. Clearly, I also had some kind of infection that was causing these symptoms, but my cardiomyopathy made everything more complicated.

I couldn’t help but think about Brian and the illness he’d had when he was little. He didn’t talk about it often because of how traumatic it must have been for him, but I’d heard him tell the story a few times over the years: how he had spent two months in the hospital as a five-year-old, recovering from a staph infection that had almost killed him when it spread to his heart, which was already weakened from the hole he had been born with. Once I made the connection, it freaked me out to think that something like that could happen to me. As this new fear took hold of me, my eyes filled with tears. I had worked so hard to get healthy again. Why was this happening to me now?

In the background, I heard a faraway voice make an announcement: “Attention, passengers on Southwest Airlines Flight 2517 with nonstop service to Phoenix. We will now begin pre-boarding. We invite those passengers with small children and any passengers requiring special assistance to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes. Thank you.”

“Nick? Are you feeling any better?” Jenn asked anxiously.

I started to nod, then shook my head. “Listen,” I said in a low voice, tears leaking from my eyes as I opened them and looked up at her. “You just gotta take me to the hospital.”

“What?” Her eyes widened when she realized I was crying. “Our flight’s about to begin boarding! Is it really that bad?”

I nodded wordlessly, wishing I had told her about my cardiomyopathy diagnosis. She didn’t understand why I was so concerned. As our manager, she deserved to know the truth, but this wasn’t the right time or place to tell her.

“Trust me,” I said. “I don’t wanna miss the flight, but I really need to get checked out before we go to Phoenix. Please.”

For a few seconds, she just stared at me in stunned disbelief. Then, finally, she nodded. “All right. I’ll take you to the ER. There were a few more flights later today we could try to catch if they clear you to fly.” I could practically see the wheels in her head turning as she tried to work through this unexpected change to our itinerary. “You might have to miss soundcheck, but we should be able to make it there by showtime.”

I nodded again, not sure I was going to make it there at all. Tears trickled down my cheeks. I felt terrible for letting the other guys and our fans down.

Jenn touched my shoulder. “Can you stand up and walk out of here, or do you want me to get you a wheelchair?”

“I can walk,” I replied quickly, feeling my face flush. Despite how woozy I was, I didn’t want to look weak. No wonder Kevin was so self-conscious about going out in public. I wouldn’t like people staring at me in a wheelchair either.

Jenn helped me to my feet, putting her arm around me as we trudged slowly back through the terminal. “You better not pass out now, Nickolas,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I could catch you if you collapsed on me.”

“I’m not gonna pass out,” I replied, trying to convince myself as much as her. I took deep breaths and looked down at the floor, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

Following the signs for ground transportation, we finally made our way to the exit. The fresh air felt good, but I was still shaky and short of breath when we climbed into one of the cabs waiting out front. “Can you take us to the closest emergency room, please?” Jenn asked the driver.

He brought us to a hospital in Burbank. I had never been there before, but as we pulled up to a big, beige building with a red sign that said EMERGENCY on the overhang, my stomach dropped with a sudden rush of deja vu. I guess all hospitals have a way of feeling the same.

“Feel better,” said the taxi driver as Jenn handed him a wad of cash.

My sense of deja vu only increased as we went inside, where a triage nurse checked me in. She asked me a series of questions, which I tried to answer in as few words as possible, wanting to save my voice. When she took my temperature, her eyes widened at the reading on the thermometer. “103,” she said as she set it aside.

“Jeez, Nick!” Jenn gasped. “That’s really high! No wonder you feel so bad.”

I nodded, not surprised.

“Your heart rate’s elevated, too,” the nurse remarked as she pressed her gloved fingers to the inside of my wrist, checking my pulse. “We’ll get you into an exam room right away, Mr. Carter.”

“Thanks,” I croaked.

Jenn waited in the hall while the emergency room doctor examined me. “I’m hearing some wheezing in your lungs,” he said as he listened to my chest with his stethoscope. “You probably have some secretions in there that are causing your cough. Any history of heart problems or breathing difficulties I should know about? Asthma or anything like that?”

“I was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy in June,” I told him. Once he heard that, he had a nurse hook me up to a heart monitor. As she moved around my hospital bed, attaching the sticky pads to my bare chest and clipping a device onto my fingertip, I felt like I was reliving a nightmare.

“Your oxygen level’s a little low,” the doctor noted, looking up at the monitor on the wall. “We’re going to give you some supplemental oxygen to help you breathe easier and medication to open up your lungs and bring down your fever. I’d also like to get a chest X-ray and run some blood tests.”

“How long will that take?” I asked as the nurse slipped a pair of prongs into my nostrils and tucked the attached oxygen tubes behind my ears.

“Oh, you’ll probably be here for at least a few hours. Why, do you have somewhere more important to be?” the doctor replied, smiling.

“Actually, yeah. I’m supposed to be on a plane to Phoenix right now. I have a show there tonight.”

His smile faded. “I doubt you’ll feel up to performing tonight. And even if you did, I would highly discourage you from flying anywhere today,” he said sternly. “You need to rest.”

I sighed and slumped back against the head of the bed, disappointed but not surprised.

The nurse brought over two pills for me to take and poured me a cup of water to wash them down with. Then she drew some blood from my arm. “Is that your wife waiting in the hall?” she asked as she labeled the little tube containing my blood sample.

“No,” I said, laughing. “That’s my manager.”

“Oh! Well, do you want me to send her in when I take this to the lab?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” She breezed out of the room, and Jenn came in. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Oh my god, Nick! You poor thing. I’m sorry I didn’t take this more seriously at first,” she said sympathetically, her gaze following the wires from my chest to the monitor on the wall. “Are you okay?”

“I dunno yet.” I took a deep breath, which was a little easier with the extra oxygen flowing into my nose. Brian may have been on to something with that. “There’s something I need to tell you, though.”

Jenn’s jaw dropped as I broke the news about my cardiomyopathy diagnosis. “Nickolas!” she cried. “Why didn’t you tell me before the tour? As your manager, don’t you think that’s something I should have known about?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, maybe… I mean, probably. I just didn’t want anyone to make a big deal out of it.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “We’re gonna have to cancel the show tonight. There’s no way we’re going to Phoenix now.”

“You don’t have to cancel,” I protested. “The guys can perform without me.”

She cocked one eyebrow, giving me a look. “Who wants to see a Backstreet Boys concert with only three boys? It was bad enough when you lost Kevin, but let’s be real here, Nick – you’re the one the fans most want to see. If you’re not there, what’s the point?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. A part of me wanted to argue that Brian, AJ, and Howie were plenty capable of putting on a great show without me, but another part of me knew she was right. Like it or not, I had always been the most popular member of the group. The fans who had paid to see me perform would be pissed if I wasn’t on that stage with the other guys.

Jenn pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Howie now.”

“Can you put him on speaker?” I asked, wanting to be a part of the conversation.

She nodded, pressing a button on her screen so that I could hear the phone ringing.

“Hey, Jenn!” Howie’s cheerful voice answered a moment later.

Jenn took a deep breath before she replied. “Hey, Howie. Brian and AJ aren’t with you by chance, are they?”

“Actually, yeah. We’re all having lunch together right now.”

She nodded. “Good. Listen, I have some bad news. Nick and I are not gonna make it to the show tonight. We’re stuck in L.A.”

“What?” Howie gasped. “Why? What happened? Did your flight get canceled or something?”

“No… Nick’s sick. We were at the airport, about ready to board our plane, when he got really shaky and started feeling like he was gonna pass out.” Jenn paced back and forth across the room as she spoke. “I took him to the emergency room. He’s running a high fever – 103. They’re still doing tests, but the doctor already told him he doesn’t want him flying anywhere or doing the show tonight.”

“Is Nick all right??” Brian’s concerned voice crackled through the speaker.

I nodded, not wanting him to worry about me.

Jenn glanced over at me. “Yeah… he’s in good hands. He’s right here listening if you wanna talk to him.” She held out her phone toward me.

I cleared my throat. “Hey, guys,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m really sorry about all this.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Howie said. “It’s not your fault for getting sick.”

“It’s my fault for flying home, though. I should have just stayed with you.”

AJ’s voice came on the line. “Nick, even if you were already here, it doesn’t sound like you’d be up for performing tonight. You sound terrible, dude.”

Jenn sighed. “I think we’re gonna have to cancel the show.”

No one argued with her, which was crazy to me because, in the past, we never would have canceled a show over one of us getting sick. But I supposed Jenn had a point. It was different now that we were down to four members. The Backstreet Boys weren’t meant to perform as a trio.

“What about the soundcheck party?” Howie asked. “Could we still do that for the fan club members who are coming?”

“Sure, if you want.”

“What should we tell them about Nick?”

Jenn looked to me for an answer.

“You can tell them I have a fever and feel like shit,” I said with a shrug. “Tell them to come to tomorrow’s show in Vegas if they can. I’m gonna try my best to make it.”

“Don’t worry about that right now, Nick,” said Brian. “You just focus on feeling better, all right?

He was being really understanding – they all were – but I still felt bad for letting them down.

“Rok’s right,” AJ agreed. “Like we’ve been saying all year, our health and mental wellbeing is more important than any concert. Take as much time as you need, bro.”

“Thanks, but don’t count me out yet. I’ll be there tomorrow,” I vowed. I loved Las Vegas, but I hadn’t been back since we’d left in a rush on New Year’s Eve, the night of Kevin’s accident. I was determined to make up for that the following day.

“Listen, I’d better let you guys go now so I can fill Justin and Eddie in,” Jenn said. “I’ve also gotta call the venue and let them know we’re canceling tonight so we can start getting the word out to the people who bought tickets.” She raked her hand through her hair, looking frazzled. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, keep us posted on how Nicky’s doing,” said Howie. “Thanks, Jenn.”

When we got off the phone, Jenn said, “I’m gonna step out for a few minutes to make some calls. Text me if you need anything.”

I nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Jenn.” After she left the room, I lay back and closed my eyes until the nurse came back to take me down the hall for a chest X-ray.

They kept me under observation in the emergency room for the next few hours, giving the medication time to work its magic. By that afternoon, I felt a little better. My fever had gone down, and it was easier to breathe. My nurse took the oxygen tubes out of my nose, but continued to monitor my oxygen level to make sure it didn’t drop again.

When my test results came back, the doctor who had examined me earlier stopped by to see me again. “Well, Nick, it looks like you have some kind of bug,” he said, glancing down at the clipboard in his hand. “I didn’t see anything to be concerned about on the X-rays, but your labs showed an elevated white count, which is a typical finding when your body’s fighting an infection. I’m not sure yet if it’s bacterial or viral, but just to be on the safe side, I’m going to give you a five-day course of antibiotics. You probably just have the flu, but with your heart condition, we don’t want it to turn into something worse, like pneumonia. Be sure to finish the whole prescription and follow up with your primary care physician if you don’t feel better in a few days.”

“Does that mean I can go home now?” I asked hopefully.

“Yep. Go home and take it easy this weekend,” the doctor told me.

I nodded, deciding not to mention my plans to perform a two-hour show in Vegas the following night. Jenn had already booked us two seats on a flight that left first thing in the morning. I hoped I would feel a lot better by then.

Once I was discharged, Jenn had her husband pick us up at the hospital and drive me home. When they dropped me off at my new place in Santa Monica, Jenn turned around in the passenger seat and said, “Get some sleep, Nickolas. I’ll see you at the airport bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be on time,” I promised. “Thanks for having my back today.”

“No problem. Feel better!”

I got out of the car and trudged up to my condo, dragging my carry-on bag behind me. Once inside, I left the bag by the door and made a beeline to my bedroom, stripping off my clothes as I went. They stunk like the hospital. I wanted to take a shower, but I was too tired. I flopped into bed, burying my face in the pillows.

It felt like I had just closed my eyes when I heard my phone ringing. Groaning, I raised my head and reached over to grab the phone from my bedside table. I glanced at it and saw Kevin’s name flashing on the screen. I didn’t feel like talking, but I knew I couldn’t ignore Kevin. I swiped my finger across the bottom of the screen to answer the call and brought the phone to my ear. “Hey, Kev.”

“Hey, Nick. I just wanted to check on you.” Kevin’s voice sounded concerned. “I heard the concert tonight was canceled, and when I called Brian to find out what was going on, he said you were in the hospital?”

“I’m home now,” I replied quickly. “I went to the ER earlier ‘cause I was running a really high fever and felt like shit. I was at the airport, about to board my flight to Phoenix, and I couldn’t stop shaking. It was kinda scary. But I’m already feeling better.”

“You sound terrible,” said Kevin.

I rolled my eyes. “So I’ve been told. But don’t worry about me, bro. I’ll be fine.”

“Good; I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better. I’m looking forward to seeing you on Sunday.”

“Same,” I said, smiling. “I’ll see you then.”

“Okay. I’ll let you get some rest. Catch you later.”

“Thanks, Kev.” I ended the call and set the alarm on my phone to wake me at five o’clock the next morning. Then I closed my eyes again and tried to fall asleep. Two more days, I told myself as my head sank deeper into my pillow. Two more shows, and then the tour’s done until next year.

Even in my sick and exhausted state, I smiled at the thought of having three months off to spend with Lauren before the South American leg of the tour began. If all went well, maybe we would ring in the new year together. Either way, I couldn’t wait to put 2008 in the past. New year, new me. It was time for a fresh start.

***