December: Chapter 1
If there was one thing Adam seriously hated, it was being sick on the day of a show. He had dealt with nausea a week or so beforehand, but passed it off as what everyone else on the bus had. It was December, after all. Prime time for catching any number of ailments, including the flu. Adam had thought that was what he picked up, too, but felt better with some rest, and some Thera-Flu.
Now, though, he just felt gross and a little bit weird. Maybe he hadn’t shaken his flu the first time around after all. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten that big greasy burger from the fast food joint on the way to the Little Rock tour stop. Thoughts of food-poisoning made their way through his mind. That fit. But the flu had fit, too. Hell, there were so many possibilities, and so little time to figure out what each one meant.
The fact was, Adam was on a schedule. He barely had enough time to sneak off to the restroom, when he was sure his stomach was about to seize up. But vomiting might help. If he could stop the room from spinning, that is.
His phone vibrated on his hip.
“Hey, Kris. You guys still coming to the show tonight?” Adam asked wearily.
“Yeah, I am. Katy’s got to stay home with the boys, but I’ll be there. She’s practically making me come,” he scoffed good-naturedly.
“You got that right,” Katy put in from the background. Adam could hear fumbling as the phone was passed from person to person. “I told him, somebody’s got to be there to see this amazing show we keep hearing about. Break a leg, will you?” she asked, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
“Might end up breaking a hell of a lot more than that…”
“What are you talking about? Do you not feel good?” Katy asked, curious and sympathetic all at once as she tended to her spaghetti, and sent Jesse and Kaleb into the other room, where a Christmas movie was playing on the television.
“Not really,” Adam admitted, because he could. Katy made it easy to disclose things he might otherwise keep to himself. She was a mother for one thing, and that meant she wouldn’t judge him for feeling less than one-hundred percent on a show day.
“Have some water, or tea or something,” she suggested helpfully. “Do you have aspirin or something with you?”
“Yeah, somewhere,” he answered vaguely, searching the empty bathroom and his empty pockets to no avail.
“What about Vitamin C? It’ll boost your immune system,” she offered.
“No, I don’t have that. I don’t think it’ll help anyway. Probably just because I had a huge burger earlier. Maybe it’s food poisoning?” he offered hopefully.
“Maybe,” Katy echoed. “Well, I’m going to give you back to Kris, because he’s got to go if he wants to get there on time. We love you. Take care.”
“You, too,” Adam returned, blinking at his reflection in the mirror.
He knew for a fact that he looked disgusting and pale under his stage makeup. But his wardrobe at least, was holding up fabulously well. The name of the game was leather, and lots of it. And there wasn’t going to be any shit hitting the fan about racy performances. That’s what the fans loved. And that was only one song, really.
“So, hey, Katy’s sending medicine or something with me to give to you,” Kris greeted, sounding concerned. “Are you okay? If you’re sick or something, you should call out for the night.”
Adam smiled ruefully, cursing the dark circles beneath his eyes. A little more foundation should take care of that.
“It’s not like anybody can go on in my place, Kris. And besides, it’s the last show before this leg of the tour’s over for the holidays.”
That wouldn’t have been the case, but Adam had insisted. There was no way he could tour for more than six months straight without some kind of break to catch his breath. It was no wonder he was getting sick.
“Well, I’ll see you there,” Kris promised. “Maybe you can come over to my parents’ place on your break and hang out with us.”
“That’d be cool,” Adam nodded, wishing he hadn’t, because it made the room spin.
--
The meet and greet was hell. Adam usually could handle large groups of loud and sometimes overzealous fans, but today, even signing his name was a chore. A deep ache had started in his left hand the night before. It had been painful enough that he assumed he’d smacked it on something, but couldn’t find any bruises. Today, it just felt incredibly numb.
The lack of sensation had continued, creeping up his arm, until he could barely hold the Sharpie. Could barely sign his name. It had degenerated into the letter A, followed by an unidentifiable squiggle. No one seemed to notice, and he was grateful they couldn’t tell anything was amiss, and if they did, no one commented.
His head throbbed with the noise, and he felt very tired. Sounds echoed as if someone had put extra reverb and a microphone up to everyone, making their voices echo for several seconds. Adam had stopped talking and propped his head up one hand.
“Okay, folks,” he heard security tell the crowd. ‘That’s it.”
Even in Adam’s altered state, he knew that this wasn’t normal procedure. He must look like shit right about now.
He was led back to the dressing room, and stumbled alongside the guard.
“Adam?” he asked, seriously, studying his charge.
Big Mike? he thought irritably. Why was Big Mike staring him like he was some kind of freak show, when he was the one wearing the tackiest pair of huge sunglasses Adam had ever seen.
“You gonna be okay, kid?”
Adam must have nodded, because the door was pulled closed, and he was left alone.
--
Time was passing, but Adam couldn’t think of anything but the huge amount of pressure building in his head. With it, came a sense of urgency - a tear-your-hair out panic that let Adam know the situation was critical. Vomiting was no longer a possibility but an imminent threat, as Adam tried in vain to search for something, anything to use, so he didn’t ruin the floors in this place.
But the taking the first step was as far as he got. The numbness had spread. His left leg was useless now.
With his entire left side paralyzed, Adam fought to stay conscious while losing the battle against his rising nausea and throwing up all over the tile. Something was happening and Adam had no control over it whatsoever.
He faded in and out of consciousness, alone on the floor of the venue’s dressing room. In his aware moments, Adam wished for someone to check on him. He didn’t want to be left, forgotten, to live out these moments by himself. But it wasn’t looking good.
The world started to go dim at the edges and Adam thought he heard a knock at the door. With his last ounce of strength, he willed whoever it was to come in. To see him here, like this. To know that something wasn’t right.
--
Tommy was annoyed as he pounded repeatedly on the door of Adam’s dressing room. There wasn’t any music playing, so Adam couldn’t use that as an excuse.
“Come on, Adam! Show’s starting in a few. We need you.”
Heedless of any crazy ideas Adam may have had about privacy, Tommy threw open the door, prepared to curse him out, when he stopped cold.
There was Adam, sprawled gracelessly on the dressing room floor. Puke was in a puddle next to his mouth.
His heart stuttering crazily in his chest, Tommy dropped to his knees beside Adam to see if he was breathing. To Tommy’s relief, this one thing seemed to be intact. He was scared to touch Adam because his eyes were open and staring in a way that creeped Tommy out.
“Shit, Adam,” he managed, reaching for his phone. “What the hell did you do? What happened?”
His hands shaking, Tommy punched buttons on his phone, until he reached security.
“We need medical help back here. Now.”
Tommy hung up and waited long seconds and minutes. “Hang in there. Help’s coming,” he said, and hoped it was true.