Chapter 25

Kevin

I made a face at my reflection in the full-length mirror, hardly recognizing the man grimacing back at me. His face was thinner than mine, his cheeks sunken and gaunt. His green eyes were duller, gazing solemnly out of the dark hollows beneath his heavy brows. His black hair was longer, hanging all the way down to his collar. His designer clothes didn’t fit right; the button-down shirt he wore was loose in the arms and tight around the middle, the pants appearing several inches too short while he was sitting in his wheelchair. I hated the way he looked. The way I looked.

Standing behind me, Nick looked effortlessly stylish and handsome in his semi-casual jeans, t-shirt, and blazer combination, his blond hair spiked up off his forehead. He flashed me a confident smile in the mirror. “Looking good, bro. You ready to go?”

I sighed. “I guess.” I didn’t really feel ready, but I couldn’t back out now, not after Nick had just spent half an hour helping me get dressed for the evening. I knew he would be disappointed if I changed my mind at the last minute, and I didn’t want to let him down.

Going out with him that night was the least I could do, considering I owed him my life. I hadn’t forgotten the fear of not being able to breathe, nor the sense of relief I’d felt when the rush of fresh air had finally refilled my lungs after Nick dislodged the piece of food wedged in my windpipe. Despite my grief, I was glad to be alive.

Resting my hand over the joystick, I guided my chair out of the bedroom and into the elevator. Nick rode with me downstairs, where AJ was waiting with Rachel, Mason’s babysitter.

“Wow, you guys look great!” she exclaimed, her cheeks turning pink as her eyes lingered on Nick.

“They clean up nice, don’t they?” said AJ, grinning at me. He was dressed all in black – black jeans, black t-shirt, black jacket, and a black fedora. Even his nails were painted black, and he had smoky black eyeliner around his eyes.

I raised my eyebrows at his goth look. “Are we going to a birthday party or a funeral?”

AJ just shrugged. “Well, it is the start of Jenn’s last year in her twenties, so… maybe we’re mourning the loss of her youth.”

Nick snickered.

“You laugh now, Nick, but you’re next. Twenty-nine will be here before you know it!”

“Not before you turn thirty-one!” Nick fired back.

“Y’all are both young.” Shaking my head, I turned to Rachel, who was even younger still, yet somehow more mature than either Nick or AJ. “Thanks for coming over tonight to stay with Mason,” I told her. “He went to bed about an hour ago, so he should be down for the night. He’s been sleeping pretty good lately, but if he does wake up crying, you can give him his pacifier. He had a bottle before bed, so he shouldn’t need any more formula. We’ll probably be home by midnight.”

“Midnight?!” Nick squawked. “Oh, c’mon, Kev, you can make it past midnight!”

I ignored him, keeping my eyes focused on Rachel. “Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head.

“You’ve got my number, right? Give me a call if you need anything.”

Rachel nodded. “Yep, I will. Have a great time!”

I gave her a tight smile. “I’ll try.”

I couldn’t believe I had let Nick and AJ talk me into going out with them that night. I didn’t even know their new manager, Jenn, that well, but they insisted that I would know other people at her party and be welcomed with open arms. “No one’s gonna judge you, Kev, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Nick had insisted. “They’ll just be happy to see you.”

It wasn’t just the stares and the sympathy I was worried about. What if the club wasn’t accessible? What if I ran over someone’s foot with my wheelchair? What if I spilled my drink or dropped cake in my lap? What if my catheter bag leaked or, worse, I shit my pants? There was so much potential for embarrassing accidents out in public, and the possibility of paparazzi catching one on camera was enough to cause a panic attack.

But I fought my fears, telling myself it would be fine. I was doing this not just as a favor to my friends, but for myself. If I didn’t figure out how to face the world from my wheelchair, my future would be pretty damn depressing. I couldn’t allow myself to become a recluse. I was the only parent Mason had left, and he was depending on me to give him the life experiences he needed to grow up as a happy, well-adjusted kid. I wanted to be able to take him out and teach him about the world. But first, I had to learn how to navigate it in my new body.

I rolled up the ramp into the back of my van, where I had to wait while Nick fastened the harness that held my wheelchair in place. It made me feel like Mason being strapped into his car seat. AJ climbed behind the wheel as Nick rode in the front passenger seat like the parents in this fucked-up little family of ours, taking their poor, disabled son out on the town. It wasn’t their fault, but I hated feeling infantilized. Maybe it’ll help to have a few adult drinks with friends, I told myself hopefully.

Nick and I had pre-gamed by drinking wine with our dinner that night, which I hoped would help settle my nerves. But I still felt butterflies in my stomach as we pulled up in front of the club. Funny – I couldn’t feel anything else that far down on my body, but anxiety felt the same as before the accident.

AJ handed the keys to the valet as Nick hurried back to help me out of the van. Once I was safely on the sidewalk, I sucked in a deep breath as I watched the van pull away from the curb. There goes my getaway vehicle, I thought, letting my breath out with a sigh.

“Let’s go,” said AJ, beckoning us toward the entrance. There was a small crowd of people gathered outside the door, waiting to get in. I could feel their eyes watching us as we bypassed the line and went straight up to the bouncer. Were they wondering why we were going ahead of them, or were they staring at my wheelchair? Did they recognize us?

The bouncer didn’t. “End of the line’s back there,” he said in a bored way, pointing without giving us a second glance.

“We have reservations,” AJ replied. “We’re with the Sousa party.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he looked at AJ, then at his list. “Names?”

“AJ McLean, Nick Carter, and Kevin Richardson.”

Maybe the bouncer hadn’t recognized us, but he seemed to recognize our names. His eyes widened as he realized his mistake. “Oh, sure. Go right in,” he said, stepping back out of the way.

That was when I saw the steps. There were just two small steps leading up to the door, but to me, there may as well have been two hundred. My wheelchair wasn’t making it up them either way.

AJ noticed them at the same time I did. “Excuse me. Where’s your accessible entrance?” he asked the bouncer.

“What?” The guy acted like he had no idea what AJ was talking about.

“Your wheelchair-accessible entrance,” AJ repeated, his voice getting louder. “You know, the one your club is legally required to have, according to the Americans with Disabilities Act?”

Go AJ, I thought, looking at him with a mixture of admiration and astonishment. I didn’t want him to make a scene in front of all those people, but I appreciated him advocating for me like that.

The bouncer shifted his weight awkwardly. “Oh… right. It’s around back. Hang on one second.” He poked his head through the door and spoke briefly to someone inside. A moment later, a woman walked out and smiled at us.

“Right this way, gentleman,” she said, leading us through a narrow alley to the back of the building, where there was another door with no stairs. Judging by the dumpster sitting across from it, I assumed it was used mainly by staff members as they took out the trash. My theory was confirmed when the hostess took us through the kitchen to get to our table.

How welcoming, I thought sarcastically as I rolled right past a stainless steel sink, where some poor busboy was busy washing glassware. The smell of dirty dishwater hung in the air. Bob had warned us in quad class that “accessible” didn’t necessarily mean “equitable,” and now I understood what he meant. Following the hostess out from under the harsh, fluorescent lights of the kitchen and into the dimly-lit lounge, I felt annoyed. Surely, a high-end establishment like this one could afford to add a ramp to their front entrance.

“Here you are,” said the hostess, holding out her hand to show us our reserved seating area. There were three long couches arranged in a U-shape around a rectangular coffee table. My frustration only grew as I rolled my chair up to the end of the table and realized how low to the ground it was – way too low for my legs to fit under it. That was going to make it difficult for me to set my drink down and pick it back up. But there didn’t seem to be any other seating options. Looking around the club, I saw that all the furniture was the same. I was just going to have to make do with it.

I was distracted by a high-pitched squeal. “Hey, there they are!” Turning my head, I saw Jenn jump up from one of the couches and hurry over to us. Even in her high heels, she was still a whole head shorter than Nick. She hugged him and AJ, then leaned in to give me an awkward hug as well. “I’m so glad you could come!”

“Thanks for letting me crash your party,” I replied, flashing her a quick smile. It was nice not to have to look up to meet her eyes, like I did with almost everyone else. For the first time since my accident, I felt tall again. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks! Come have a drink with us!” She held up her champagne glass as she wove her way back to where she had been sitting before. I recognized a few other faces from our old management company, The Firm, but there were just as many people I didn’t know. I caught a couple of them giving me curious glances, but they both looked away when I made eye contact and quickly went back to their conversations. I felt like a buzzkill: Kevin, the former Backstreet Boy, the man in the wheelchair. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.

“What would you like to drink, sir?” asked a waitress, bending down so she could hear me over the music. I ordered an old-fashioned, wanting something to take the edge off my nerves. Whiskey would do the trick.

When she brought me my drink, I wrapped both hands around it the best I could, silently praying I wouldn’t drop it. It was weird to be able to see my hands cupped around the glass, but not be able to feel them. I couldn’t tell how much pressure I was applying.

“Here you go, buddy,” said AJ, slipping a straw into my glass. We had learned from my last outing and packed a couple of long, bendable straws in a small bag I carried on the back of my chair. “You want me to hold that for you?”

“Thanks – I think I got it.” Feeling self-conscious, I took a sip of my drink. I looked around to see if anyone was watching me, but everyone else seemed to be busy talking to each other – unless they had just turned away, afraid to be caught staring again.

Stop being so paranoid, I scolded myself, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I no longer fit in with these people.

Meanwhile, Nick looked right at home as he made his rounds through the party, talking and laughing with a drink in his hand. It was too crowded inside the club for me to feel comfortable maneuvering in my chair, so I stayed parked at the end of the table, awkwardly clutching my drink between my fists. AJ must have taken pity on me because he plopped down on the end of the couch closest to me.

“You don’t have to stay here with me,” I told him. “Go socialize.”

“I can socialize right here,” he replied, smiling at me. “Watch… the party will come to us.”

And sure enough, as we settled in, other people we knew from the industry started making their way over to us. “Good to see you, man!” they would say, clapping me on the shoulder, but I could see the pity in their eyes as they looked down at me in my wheelchair. Each conversation went the same way: the other person would ask how I was doing, offer their condolences, and make small talk with me for a few minutes before they found a reason to move on.

“Hey, I heard about Howie’s dad,” a couple of them said, turning their sad eyes from me to AJ. “How’s he doing?”

AJ shook his head. “He’s hanging in there, but it’s not good. They’re saying six months, tops.”

“Oh man… I’m really sorry.”

That was usually the point at which people would come up with a convenient excuse to walk away, but AJ tried his best to keep the conversations going by changing the subject. It usually went back to the music business, the one thing we all had in common. Or, in my case, used to have in common. My music career was over. I didn’t feel like a part of their world anymore. Listening to them talk about the hottest producers and up-and-coming artists, I withdrew further into myself as I sipped my drink. I just didn’t care about that kind of stuff anymore.

Looking back, it was hard to believe that just three years ago, I had been recording with the Boys, putting the final touches on our Never Gone album, and getting ready for a world tour. That felt like a distant memory from a past life. My world now revolved around bowel programs and pressure relief, stretching regimens and therapy sessions, all while trying to navigate my new role as a paralyzed single parent. Secretly, I envied AJ, Nick, Jenn, and most of the other people around me, who were all still young, able-bodied, and carefree.

The whiskey went down way too easy through a straw, and before I knew it, my glass was empty. I hadn’t even decided whether or not to order another drink when the waitress brought me a fresh glass filled with amber liquid over a large ball of ice, garnished with an orange. “Compliments of Mr. Carter,” she said, smiling, as she placed it in my hands. I looked past her and saw Nick wave from across the room. I nodded back, smirking. Clearly, he wanted to get me drunk.

I wasn’t sure that was the best idea, seeing as how I hadn’t had any hard liquor since my accident and didn’t know if it would affect me differently now. But I kept drinking anyway, hoping the whiskey would help me enjoy myself more. Instead, it just made me feel even more depressed – and tired, too.

“What time is it?” I asked AJ, as I set my empty glass down on the table. I didn’t want another drink. My head was already swimming from the first two, making it even harder for me to stay balanced in my chair.

“Almost eleven.” He looked up from his phone in time to see me stifle a yawn with the back of my hand. “You ready to go?”

I shrugged, hating to be such a party pooper. “Only if you are.”

He nodded. “I’m ready. It’s not as much fun going out now that I’m sober.” He gave me a crooked grin.

“I know. I’m proud of you, though, brother.” I smiled back at him, then glanced over at Nick, who was leaning back on one of the couches, surrounded by liquor bottles and beautiful women. “He doesn’t look ready to go. Do you think he’ll be all right if we leave him here by himself?”

AJ jerked his shoulder in a shrug. “At least he doesn’t have his own car here, so he can’t drive drunk. I’ll tell him to take a cab home.”

I waited while AJ went over to talk to Nick. When he came back, I was surprised to see Nick with him. “Dude, you can’t leave yet!” Nick exclaimed. “Jenn’s husband wants us to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her when they bring the cake out. I told him we would.”

I felt a flood of panic, imagining everyone’s eyes on me. I hadn’t sung in months. It was just the birthday song, but when I sang it with the fellas, it became a performance – five-part harmony and all. “I dunno… maybe you and AJ should do it as a duet.”

“What? No way! It needs to be all three of us, so we have the high, the middle, and the low. Right, AJ?” Nick looked at AJ, who looked at me with an apologetic shrug.

I sighed. “All right, fine,” I agreed grudgingly. “But I’m warning you now, I’m rusty as hell. I haven’t sung since-”

“That’s all right,” AJ interrupted. “It’s like riding a bike, bro – it’ll come right back to you.”

I swallowed hard. “I hope so…”

I hummed to myself as we waited for the cake to come, trying to warm up my vocal cords without being heard. Luckily, it was loud enough inside the club that no one seemed to notice.

Then the music abruptly cut off, and I heard the DJ announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve been told we have a birthday girl in the house. Jenn is here celebrating her birthday tonight… Let’s hear it for Jenn!”

Scattered applause filled the club, except from our corner, where Jenn’s friends and family were wildly clapping and cheering. Sitting in the center of one of the couches, Jenn covered her face with her hands, but I could tell she was smiling underneath.

“We also have some very special guests who are going to sing ‘Happy Birthday,’” the DJ went on. “Guys, get on up here!”

As he held out his microphone, I looked at Nick and AJ in horror. No one had said anything about doing this in front of the whole club.

“C’mon,” said Nick with a grin, beckoning for AJ and me to follow him as he made a beeline for the DJ booth. But I just froze, my hand hesitating over the joystick on my chair.

Then I felt AJ’s hand, heavy on my shoulder, and heard his voice in my ear as he bent down beside me. “You can do this, Kev. Come on.”

I don’t know that I could have done it sober, but the whiskey gave me the courage to face my fear. Sucking in a deep breath, I thrust the joystick forward. The crowd parted for me as I followed the path Nick had forged through the club. Out of the corners of my eyes, I could see heads turn as I rolled by. I heard gasps and whispers as people recognized me and started rummaging through their handbags or reaching into their pockets to pull out their camera phones. AJ stuck protectively close to me, making sure they stayed back.

We caught up with Nick in front of the DJ booth, which was on a raised platform I couldn’t climb. AJ and Nick remained on the floor with me, standing on either side of my chair as the DJ shouted, “Give it up for Nick Carter, AJ McLean, and Kevin Richardson – three-fifths of the Backstreet Boys!”

The crowd went wild. Cameras flashed all over the club as people raised their phones to snap photos. It was almost like being at a concert, except I felt like I was stuck in a hole instead of standing on a stage. Everyone seemed so tall compared to me in my chair; I couldn’t see over the heads of the first row of people gathered around us. It was a very claustrophobic feeling.

The DJ handed his microphone to Nick, then found two more for me and AJ. I held mine between my closed hands and hoped I wouldn’t drop it.

Nick hummed his starting pitch, and AJ and I joined him in harmony. “Happy birthday to you…” My first few notes sounded shaky, as my nerves got the better of me. I closed my eyes in an effort to block out the faces and flashes and focus on my performance. “Happy birthday to you…” That sounded a little better; my baritone voice blended with AJ and Nick’s tenor, adding a richness to our harmony. I took a deep breath, trying to sing from my weakened diaphragm and finish strong. “Happy birthday, dear Jenn…” I could feel the vibration rise from my chest through the vocal cords in my throat, as my voice rang out at full volume: “Happy birthday… to you!” It was a sensation I hadn’t experienced in months. I’d almost forgotten how good it felt to sing, really sing at the top of my lungs.

I heard cheers as we finished and opened my eyes to face the crowd once more. People were smiling and raising their drinks as they lowered the phones they had used to record our impromptu performance. Those videos would be on the internet by tomorrow morning, I realized with another rush of panic. But in spite of my self-consciousness, I felt a sense of relief.

AJ wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gave me a little squeeze. “That sounded fucking great!” he said in my ear. “I’m proud of you, bro.”

“Thanks,” I replied, grinning. I was proud of myself for going through with it – but also glad it was over.

The small crowd that had gathered in front of the DJ booth seemed to be closing in on us, swarming around us as we tried to make our way back to our table. Nick went first, pushing through people to clear a path wide enough for my wheelchair. My claustrophobic feeling increased as I powered my chair forward, worried I was going to run over someone’s foot. “Watch out!” I could hear AJ calling to people. “Stay back, guys! Give us some room, please.”

When we finally made it back over to our section, I saw a cake with pale pink frosting sitting in front of Jenn. Everyone clapped as she sucked in a big breath and blew out the candles.

As the cake was being cut and served, Jenn came over to us, carrying a piece on a plate. “Thanks for the serenade!” she said, beaming as she hugged each one of us again. “You guys sounded so good! Want a slice of cake?”

“Hell yeah,” said Nick, happily taking it from her.

“How about you two?”

I shook my head, as my fear of dropping cake in my lap resurfaced. “No, thanks. I think AJ and I are gonna head out in a minute here.”

“Aww, okay. Well, thanks again. I’m glad you came!”

“Me too,” I replied, smiling at her. I wasn’t sure if I really meant it or not. Most of the night had been hard for me, but that last bit – singing in front of an audience again – had made it seem worth it. “Happy birthday, Jenn.”

As Jenn returned to the rest of her friends, AJ pulled Nick aside. “Kev and I are taking off now,” I heard him say. “I’ll take care of his night routine and the first turning, but then I’m going to bed. You can stay out all night if you want to, but you need to be home by six to turn him and get Mason up. Got it?” I felt my face heat up, hating the fact that I was such a burden on my friends.

Nick didn’t look thrilled, but he nodded anyway. “Fair enough.”

“And you better be sobered up by then,” AJ added, raising his eyebrows in a warning look. “Be safe, all right?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever you say, Dad.” He looked down at me, shaking his head. “I feel like I’m in the fucking Twilight Zone, getting lectured by AJ. Usually you’re the one who tells me what to do.”

“I’m not in a position to lecture you, Nick,” I said, holding up my hands. “You’re doing me a huge favor here. But, for the record, you should listen to AJ.”

He just laughed. “See you in the morning, bro.”

AJ and I settled our bill, then went out the same way we’d come in, cutting through the kitchen and the alley to get back to the valet podium at the front of the building. The line to get into the club was longer than ever. I kept my head down, hoping we wouldn’t be recognized as we waited for the parking attendant to bring my van around. Thankfully, this was before Twitter and 4G phones, so we were long gone before anyone inside the club had time to post the videos they’d taken online and alert the paparazzi to our presence.

“So did you have fun tonight?” AJ asked as he drove me home.

“I don’t know if ‘fun’ is the right word to describe it, but I didn’t have a bad time,” I answered truthfully. “It was good to see everyone.”

“Everyone was happy to see you, too.”

I wasn’t sure about that. If anything, the sight of me in my wheelchair had brought the mood down and made people feel uncomfortable. But I didn’t argue with AJ.

“Thanks for taking one for the team,” I told him as he helped me get ready for bed that night. “It was nice of you to let Nick stay out later.”

AJ shrugged. “I didn’t do it to be nice. I did it so I can sleep in tomorrow. Prick better be home in time to keep his end of the bargain, or I’m gonna beat his ass.”

I laughed. AJ and Nick had worked out an arrangement for making sure both Mason’s and my needs were met. Since I hadn’t had any issues with skin breakdown, my doctor had given them permission to reposition me every three hours instead of two, which meant I only had to be turned twice in the night. AJ always stayed up late to do the first turning so that Nick wouldn’t have to wake up in the wee hours of the morning anymore. In return, Nick got up early to turn me the second time and take care of Mason until my caregiver arrived to get me ready for the day. Despite AJ’s doubts, Nick had never let me down.

“He’ll be here,” I assured him.

“Let’s hope he’s not still drunk – or high.”

“Aw, come on, give him a little credit. He’s been clean and sober all week.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s been here with us. But you know what he’s like when he goes out and parties. He has no self-control.”

“Hm, sounds a lot like someone else I once knew,” I said, giving AJ a meaningful look.

“I know,” he admitted, nodding. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

***

I woke to the sound of Mason crying.

I didn’t think anything of it at first. My son’s room was right next door to mine, so I could hear him through the wall. He always cried if he was left alone in his crib for longer than a few minutes after waking up, usually sometime between six and seven in the morning. Judging by the dim light filtering through the drapes over my windows and balcony door, it was just after dawn. He was right on schedule.

I lay awake, listening to his wails and waiting for Nick or AJ to go in and get him. The longer they went on, the more frustrated I felt. There’s nothing worse than hearing your baby cry and knowing you can’t comfort him. I wished I could get up and go to him, but I couldn’t. Even if I somehow managed to maneuver my broken body out of bed by myself, my wheelchair was on the other side of the room in the walk-in closet, where we always plugged it in to charge overnight. I didn’t have the strength to drag myself across the floor, let alone climb up into my chair.

So I tried to summon help instead. “Nick?” I called out. “AJ?” My voice was weak and croaky from the phlegm that had accumulated in my airway overnight. I tried to clear my throat, but I couldn’t do it very well because of my weakened diaphragm and abdominal muscles. That also made it difficult for me to project my voice. I took a deep breath and tried again: “Nick! AJ!” I didn’t know if my voice would carry far enough for either of them to hear me from their rooms further down the hall, especially if they were both still sound asleep.

I waited a few more minutes, but Mason continued to cry. “I hear you, buddy!” I called to him, hoping he would hear me through the wall. “Daddy’s right here!” I wanted to reassure him that he wasn’t really alone, that I hadn’t abandoned him, but I worried I was only confusing him. After all, he didn’t understand why I couldn’t come get him out of his crib the way I used to.

I’ll call Nick’s phone, I decided, figuring he would surely hear that – and if he didn’t, then I would call AJ. But the last time AJ had come in to turn me, he had put me on my right side. My phone was lying on the table on the left side of my bed. There was no way I could reach it from this position; I was facing the wrong direction. I would have to roll over onto my other side.

Before my accident, I wouldn’t have thought twice about changing positions in bed, but now it required careful planning and purposeful movements. I knew I was taking a risk in trying to turn myself over. If it went wrong, I could get stuck in an awkward position that would put me at risk of a pressure injury. But as my son’s sobs grew louder, I decided it was worth the risk.

I pushed the covers back as far as I could, freeing my upper body and part of my legs. Then I reached back with my left arm while pushing off the mattress with my right elbow, trying to flop over onto my back. My upper body followed the path of my shoulders, but when I looked down, I saw that my lower half had remained firmly in place, my legs lying neatly one on top of the other with a pillow tucked between my bent knees to alleviate pressure points. My torso was twisted.

Remembering the technique Ellis had taught me in rehab, I started swinging my arms from side to side, trying to build enough momentum to roll the rest of my body over, but I only managed to twist myself more. I tried to hook my arm through the bed rail behind me, hoping I could use it to pull myself over, but I couldn’t reach it with my right hand, and the left didn’t provide enough leverage to do any good. I brought both hands to the tops of my heavy, useless legs, thinking I might be able to pick them up and move them into a different position, but I couldn’t get a good grip or reach far enough down to wedge one of my fists between my thighs.

I finally gave up and lay there helplessly, half on my back, half on my side, already breathing hard from exertion. I felt like an overturned turtle.

I couldn’t see the clock, so I have no idea how long I lay like that, but eventually, Mason’s cries faded into whimpers and finally stopped. I hoped one of the guys had gone in to get him, but more likely, he had worn himself out and fallen back to sleep. No one had come in to reposition me, and I was pretty sure it had been a lot longer than three hours since the last time AJ had turned me over.

By then, I wasn’t only uncomfortable. I was also worried – not just about my son or myself, but about Nick. Knowing AJ, he was probably still sound asleep in his room on the opposite end of the house, unable to hear Mason or me, counting on Nick to come home and take care of us like he’d said he would. But what if Nick never made it home? What if something had happened to him?

You’re just being paranoid, I told myself. You were traumatized by what happened to Kristin. Nick’s fine. He probably just partied too hard last night, and now he’s sleeping it off.

But I couldn’t shake the bad feeling that something was wrong.

More time passed. My bedroom grew brighter as the sun rose higher in the sky. At one point, I heard my phone buzz with an incoming text. I tried again to turn myself the rest of the way over so I could reach it, but my body was stiff from being stuck in the same position for too long. It simply wouldn’t move the way I wanted it to. I flopped back onto my pillow, feeling frustrated and defeated.

The only thought that brought me any comfort was, At least Erik will be coming soon. Both my caregivers knew the security code and had their own keys to the house, so they could let themselves in even if no one else was up. I began to look forward to Erik’s arrival, prioritizing what I would ask him to do when he got there. First, get Mason out of his crib. Then go wake up AJ and find out where Nick was. Finally, start my morning routine: stretches, bathroom, shower, clothes. I had to do my bowel program that day, so it would take longer than usual. No problem – I would pay Erik extra for working overtime.

I lay still, listening for the welcome sound of footsteps on the stairs, but I heard nothing. Where the hell is he? I wondered desperately as the day wore on. Bright morning sunlight blazed through my bedroom windows, making me warmer and warmer. My face felt flushed and sweaty. With a start, I realized this was autonomic dysreflexia, my body’s way of responding to discomfort I couldn’t feel. My catheter bag had to be full by now. My colon, too. I needed to use the bathroom, but there was no one there to take me.

“AJ!” I called again, my voice cracking. My mouth was so dry, I could barely make a sound. “NICK!”

Next door, Mason must have heard me because he began to cry again. The sound brought tears to my own eyes, but I thought, That’s it. Keep crying, little guy. Cry loud. They’re more likely to hear you than me. I felt horrible for not being able to console my son, but at that moment, I was as helpless as he was. We were both at the mercy of our caregivers.

But the minutes crept by, and none of them came.

***