Chapter 6

The infection is alive.

Howie had nearly passed out, a considerable change in his usually impassive behavior. Then he had swallowed what looked like a rock, and sat down. Hard. Brian had been by his side immediately, trying to reassure him, but his eyes never left mine. He could see my eyes beyond the sunglasses, ability he was adept at by seeing me without them so rarely.

He almost started crying. He hadn’t cried at all during this whole occurrence, so it frightened me pretty badly. I think it was the shock factor that willed him into his world of self-pity. I only hoped we could help him out of it and bring him home to our world, where he belonged. We missed our peacemaker, our sweet brother. Where had he gone?

“Dr. Raymond wants to see you at the hospital,” I said, trying to catch his eyes with my own. He was now purposely avoiding my gaze.

Brian was in shock. “So… So it’s alive?” he asked in disbelief.

I nodded.

Howie raked a hand through his hair, a very un-Howie like gesture. Howie treasures his hair like it’s a divine work of art sent from Heaven. For him to even think about messing up his hair was entirely unlike him. He was wrecked.

Neither Brian nor I knew what to say to him. It had been awkward between us before, but now it isn’t even worth trying. Anything we said at that moment could be taken the wrong way. If we said we were sorry, we’d be letting on that we pitied him. He’d get insulted. If we told him it would be all right, he’d never believe us. He knew our tendencies when we had to lie, every one of us. But if we didn’t say anything, he’d think we didn’t care or that he was being a burden to us. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Damned whatever way you go.

Brian numbly got up and walked into the kitchen to call Nick and Kevin.

Then there was only Howie and I.

“Howie…” I trailed off. What in hell could I say? Howie was the one with the way with words, not me. Then I was trapped. He looked up at me with a look he hasn’t given me in a long time. Vulnerability. Almost like he was counting on me to say something inspirational that would ease the pain he was going through. God I hate that look. But I can’t blame him. I’m actually surprised he held out on it for so long. If it were me I would have used it as soon as I knew there was some possibility my voice could be gone.

He realized I wasn’t in a truly inspirational mood and studied the floor instead. He looked incredibly let down. I wished I could have said something. I wanted to say something then, but my tongue had lodged itself in my throat. I had a fraction of an idea what Howie was going through.

“You’ll get through this,” I heard someone say. I was truly shocked when I realized it had been me. He looked up at me for what seemed like an eternity, searching my eyes for a trace of dishonesty. He’s a master at that. He knows the human soul better than anyone I know. He knows mine like the back of his hand, like he knows Brian’s, Nick’s, and Kevin’s.

He smiled weakly, the first real smile I had seen in months. His eyes were thankful. He looked away quickly, his smile vanishing. I thought for a moment I had done something wrong before I realized he was rubbing his eyes. He was crying.

I sat next to him and hugged him tightly. He stiffened, being as stubborn as I would have been. Funny, I never thought Howie would have rejected our sympathy for so long. Eventually though, he cried into my shoulder, releasing the pent up emotions he had been struggling with for months. I held him with comforting arms, knowing in my heart I had said the right thing. But where had it come from? I hadn’t even thought of saying anything. Maybe that’s what they mean by “speaking from the heart”.

Brian walked back into the living room with the cordless phone held against his shoulder. He started to say my name, but cut himself off mid-sentence. He smiled faintly and walked back into the kitchen, saying, “Sorry Kev, he’s busy. Yeah. Yeah. Meet us there. Umm… I don’t know. The waiting room… Kay. See ya there. Say ‘hi’ to Nicky for me.” Then the low “beep” confirming the phone had been hung up rang out through the near silent house.

He came back and leaned against the kitchen’s doorway. He folded his arms across his chest and smiled. That’s one of Brian’s best qualities. He knows when to shut up. Had it been Nick, he would have been rolling on the floor in hysterics, making some crude comment about Howie. It wouldn’t have been on purpose, to make Howie feel worse or something. It was just that Nick tossed insults off so habitually and offhandedly that it was like second nature to him. Dissing Howie was a game to him, but a game Nick never knew when to stop and where the boundaries were set up.

“Shh,” I whispered, smoothing out Howie’s hair. He was in hysterics, virtually shaking with every sob. I felt so bad for him, but I didn’t dare tell him. He would have killed me. As much as he hated to admit it, his ego was as big as mine, and the two of us hated to be pitied. The thing was, he never gave anyone reason to pity him. He never cared that Nick was the adored Backstreet Boy, it didn’t bother him anymore what the fans said about him. He was so content with where he was that he couldn’t possibly have cared less. That’s why no one pitied Howie Dorough: because he was always cheerful and optimistic about the world.

But now that was slowly dying, and it was obvious, because Howie seemed to have given up.

~From the journal of A.J. McLean

<~*~>

I hate hospitals.

Hospitals took my sister away, took Kevin’s father away, took A.J.’s grandmother, and Brian and Kevin’s grandfather, almost took Brian from us…and now it was taking my voice away. To make things worse, my doctor was telling me that inside these walls, the “infection” as we had come to call it, was alive. Alive. That meant that there was some living thing inside me. Inside me!

Dr. Raymond told me not to worry. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Don’t worry? Of course I was going to worry! What was he, deaf? Wasn’t he the one that just told me a living thing was moving around inside of me? Yeah, with that in mind I’m going to be as happy as Richard Simmons. Sensing the sarcasm?

My doctor let Kevin and A.J. come with me. I don’t really understand why still. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that A.J. kept sending bloodthirsty scowls at him while Kevin sat next to me, gently trying to reassure me that whatever was wrong could and would be fixed. He reminded me that I was one of the most famous singers in the world. I wanted to remind him that that didn’t matter a bit to some unidentified living thing too busy eating my organs than listen to our CDs. The infection wasn’t going to stop destroying me because I was a Backstreet Boy.

A.J. hardly said a thing to me. For some reason, I know it was for the better. I didn’t want him lying to me, and he knew it. He occasionally glanced at me, considered saying something, and then shook his head. I knew he wanted to say something, but the expressing-consolation-outside-of-simply-being-there corner of his mind had frozen.

“Howie,” Dr. Raymond said, walking into the waiting room. He glanced at A.J.’s murderous eyes and said, “Your friends can come if they want.”

A.J. and I stood together. It was obvious A.J. wasn’t going to let me go through this alone. I glanced at him. He shrugged, smiling slightly. Kevin flanked me, resting a comforting hand on my shoulder. Nick and Brian stood up to come with us, but Kevin shook his head “no”. They exchanged betrayed gapes before staring at Kevin. Kevin glared back, his eyes noxious. They sat down.

“Please wait here,” Dr. Raymond said, pointing into a small room. Resignedly, I shrugged and entered the room. What else did I have to lose? My hearing?

“You okay?” Kevin asked as soon as the door had shut. His emerald eyes were scanning mine with concern.

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t going to lie to him. I shook my head.

Unexpectedly, Kevin hugged me. “I know you won’t believe me,” he said softly, “but everything will be fine. I promise it will.”

Usually this scenario would have been funny. Kevin and I were a year and a few months apart, yet everyone acted as though we, his younger band mates, were decades younger. Kevin usually kept his sympathy to himself. Rarely did he ever have to reassure me. The two of us, Kevin and I, were the two the others leaned on. Both emotionally and physically, we supported the others. Kevin offered them strength, I offered them…well, guidance, I suppose. Reassurance… Now I needed that from Kevin. It was the oddest scene of any I could imagine, but I didn’t care.

I felt a hand close around my shoulder and instantly knew it was A.J. I pulled back from Kevin and looked at A.J. curiously. His eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Before I could so much as move towards him, the door swung open and Dr. Raymond came back inside. A.J. spun away quickly, smearing the tears away from his eyes with the backs of his hands. I frowned slightly. Poor guy… I’d have to talk to… I shut my eyes. But I couldn’t, now could I?

Dr. Raymond was reading a chart. “Apparently, the infection itself is actually alive. It has…well, it has a pulse and–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kevin interrupted, holding his hands up. He arched an eyebrow. “It has a what?”

“A pulse,” Dr. Raymond repeated with a curious frown. “Why, is there something wrong?”

“If you don’t count living things eating your best friend’s organs wrong, then no, everything’s peachy,” A.J. snapped sardonically, whipping around to face the doctor. His eyes were no longer tear-filled, but replaced by chocolate embers scalding furiously at the man before him.

“Look,” said A.J., more rationally. He also looked pleading. “What’s going on? Is he going to be all right or not?” Tears were working their way to the corners of his eyes again. He held stiff, trying not to draw attention to his face.

Dr. Raymond either didn’t notice, or didn’t make any acknowledgement about it. “We’re not sure yet,” he said hesitantly.

“Well you’re just doing your job perfectly then, aren’t you?” A.J. growled.

Kevin kicked his ankle discreetly, nodding at the doctor. “Sorry. Go on.”

The doctor went on to explain in intense detail what was going on and what had been developing over the months. But he never mentioned what was going to happen. Finally I couldn’t take any more of his droning. I looked to A.J. pleadingly, but his eyes were trained fiercely on the doctor, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses. Being on his side, I could see the fear in his eyes, could see him blinking rapidly to free his eyes of tears. I let him be and grabbed Kevin’s wrist. He turned his head hesitantly to me. I made my eyes as wide and begging as I could. Somehow, the five of us can understand boredom and anxiety. We all understood it and the expressions it made us take on.

But it wasn’t Kevin that interrupted Dr. Raymond.

It wasn’t A.J. either…

~From the journal of Howie Dorough

<~*~>

“What’s going to happen to him?” Nick demanded from the doorway. None of the four had heard the door open. None of them could determine how long he had been standing there, but they guessed it had been long enough judging by the tautness of his features.

Brian ran up behind him, slapping his shoulder. When Nick looked at him, Brian scowled fiercely at him. “Why the hell did you run off like that?” he snapped angrily.

Nick ignored him and glared at the doctor. “Tell us. Is he going to be all right?”

In a swift movement, Howie found A.J. by his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. A.J. squeezed his shoulder in reassurance for whatever was coming next. It was a comforting reminder that whatever happened, Howie wouldn’t face it alone, no matter what should take place.

Dr. Raymond saw the five singers ganging up on him with surprising determination and eventually realized he wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from them forever. He sighed.

“Well?” Nick pressed with an insensitive growl. Brian smacked his arm impatiently.

Dr. Raymond looked directly at each Boy as he spoke, never letting his eyes linger on any one pair of eyes for more than a few seconds. “The infection has already eaten away Howard’s–”

“Howie,” A.J. corrected him pointedly.

Dr. Raymond nodded. “Howie’s voice box and from our latest tests, was eating off of his blood cells. Unfortunately, it seems to be slowly heading for his heart.”

Howie felt A.J.’s hand stiffen, his fingers digging into his shoulder. It hurt even more since every muscle in Howie’s body had tightened. His eyes were wide with an unshakable fear. His heart… It was going for his heart.

“Can you stop it?” Kevin choked out.

Dr. Raymond paused. Looking at each of them, he sighed. “I’m afraid not.”

“Then…then…” Brian couldn’t find his voice. He supposed it was hiding somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Maybe that was what was making his stomach so unsettled.

Nick covered his mouth with his hand. Shaking from head to foot, he stumbled out of the room backwards and ran down the hallway, trying to get as far away from the room as possible.

Kevin glanced at his band mates…except Howie. He couldn’t look at Howie. If he did, then he knew he would mirror some of the depression and terror that he was feeling in his eyes. And Howie could read eyes better than anyone he knew. Without a word, Kevin walked out of the room, following Nick.

Howie’s eyes were quickly changing from disbelief to stricken practicality. He shook his head, still trying to deny it. What did this mean? Would he…?

“So…so… He’s… What’s gonna happen to him?” A.J. managed to croak. He was leaning heavily on Howie, his breaths coming out in short, terrified gasps. He knew what was coming.

So did Howie.

Dr. Raymond said slowly, “I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do to stop the infection from spreading. Before the year is out… Well…”

“He’s going to die?” Brian whispered, his voice octaves higher than he would have preferred and shaking hysterically.

Dr. Raymond nodded. “I’m sorry.” And he did sound truly sorry. “But yes. Within a year or so.”

Howie passed out.