Kevin
“Goodnight stars,” I read in a soft, sleepy voice. “Goodnight air.” I nodded at Nick, who turned the page of the picture book he was holding in front of me. “Goodnight noises everywhere.”
“Not much of a plot,” he commented as he closed Goodnight Moon and got up to put it back on Mason’s bookshelf.
“It’s not about the plot,” I replied. “It’s about the cadence of the words – the repetition, the rhyme. It’s simple… soothing.”
“Boring.” Nick shrugged. “But hey, your son seems to be enjoying it.”
I nodded, smiling as I looked down at the baby nestled in my arms. His eyes were still open but starting to droop. “It’s one of his favorites. Kristin or I would read it to him a couple times a week when he was younger.”
A lump rose in my throat as I remembered secretly listening to Mason’s baby monitor on the nights when Kristin would put him to bed, captivated by the melodic sound of her voice. She probably would have been embarrassed if she knew, but I loved listening to her read aloud just as much as she loved listening to me sing. In the quiet, I could still hear her voice so clearly in my mind, it was as if she were right there in the room with me. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend she was. But when I opened them, I would only see Nick and be reminded of my current reality. It was always a rude awakening.
“Ready?” Nick asked, reaching out his hands.
Swallowing hard, I nodded.
He bent down and scooped Mason out of my arms. I watched with envy as he carried him over to the crib and carefully lay him in it. I missed being able to physically put my son to bed, but even if I could have reached over the crib rail from my chair, I didn’t trust myself to lift him that high without dropping him. No matter how much it hurt me to admit it, I knew Mason was safer in Nick’s arms.
Once he was settled, Nick turned around and smiled. “Wanna sing him the song tonight?”
I chuckled. “Sure. Let’s give it a shot.”
“I’ll get AJ.” Nick trotted out to the hallway. “AJ!” I heard him holler down the stairs. “COME HERE!”
I rolled my eyes as Mason sat up and looked around, suddenly not as sleepy as before. “Why is Uncle Nick being so noisy?” I asked him, moving my chair closer to his crib.
AJ came upstairs a minute later. “What’s up?” he said as he walked into the room.
“We’re gonna sing the song!” Nick’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. For a second, he looked like the thirteen-year-old kid he’d been when I had first met him, fifteen years ago. I wished he was still that innocent.
AJ grinned. “Yeah! Let’s do it!”
After all the jokes Nick had made about us being “Three Men and a Baby,” we’d finally sat down together and watched the movie earlier that week. It had been a long time since I’d seen it, and I had forgotten the part where the three men sing an old fifties song called “Goodnite, Sweetheart, Goodnite” as a lullaby. “Psh, we could do that way better than them,” Nick had scoffed at the end of the scene. “They weren’t even harmonizing.”
We had been working on the song ever since, singing along to the original recording by The Spaniels to perfect the harmonies. My voice wasn’t as smooth or as powerful as it had been before the accident. Because of my weakened diaphragm, I couldn’t project the notes as loud or hold them for as long as I used to be able to. But my injury hadn’t affected my sense of pitch. Despite all the changes, singing was one of the few things I could still do in my new body. It felt good to stretch my rusty vocal cords and sing with the guys again, even if it was just for fun. And by experimenting, I discovered ways to compensate for my lack of control over my abdominal muscles. I found that if I hooked my arms behind my armrests and pressed my shoulders into the back of my chair, it improved my posture, making it possible for me to push down on my diaphragm with the force I needed to project my voice further. Using this technique, I was also able to hit the high and low notes at either end of my vocal range.
This song required a strong bass, and Nick and AJ had insisted that I was best suited for the part. They stood on either side of me next to Mason’s crib as I took a deep breath and began, “Doh doh-doh-doh doh…”
“Goodnight, sweetheart, well, it’s time to go,” Nick and AJ joined me in harmony. Mason watched with fascination as we repeated the first line.
“Doh doh doh doo…”
“I hate to leave you, but I really must say,” Nick sang solo as AJ and I accompanied him with a series of “oohs.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight,” we finished the chorus together.
As we went on with the rest of the song, Mason lay back down, his eyelids beginning to droop again as he listened. We gradually decrescendoed, growing softer and softer, and by the last “Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight,” his eyes were closed.
“Wow,” AJ whispered, blinking in disbelief. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”
“That’s the magic of music,” I whispered back, smiling wistfully as I remembered how I used to sing as I rocked with Mason. I may not have been able to transfer myself to the rocking chair in the corner of his room anymore, but at least I could still sing my son to sleep. I didn’t feel quite as worthless these days.
After making sure the baby monitor was turned on, we snuck out of the room, AJ and Nick walking on tiptoe while my wheels rolled over the area rug on the hardwood floor. AJ closed the door quietly behind me. “You sounded great, dude,” he said as we went down the hall to the elevator. “I really hope you’ll come and sing with us tomorrow night.”
All week, he and Nick had been trying to convince me to come to the Backstreet Boys’ fifteenth anniversary celebration that weekend, but I couldn’t bring myself to make a commitment. “We’ll see,” I said, telling him the same thing I had every other time one of them broached the topic with me. “I’m not saying no, but I’m not saying yes either. I’ll have to see how I feel tomorrow. Y’all know how tired I get sometimes.”
I saw them exchange glances and felt a stab of guilt. It was true that my new body wore out much faster than my old one had, but fatigue had also become a convenient excuse for me to get out of whatever I didn’t want to do. All I had to do was claim I was too tired, that I just didn’t feel up to it, and I could stay home. I could tell by the way Nick and AJ looked at each other that they were onto me, but they both nodded, knowing better than to push me too hard. “Of course,” AJ replied lightly. “You don’t have to decide right this minute. But it would sure mean a lot to all of us to have you there.”
I lay awake in bed for a long time after AJ left my room later that night, turning his words over in my mind. I worried I would be letting him and the others down if I didn’t go to their party, yet there was a part of me that felt I didn’t belong there. I wasn’t a Backstreet Boy anymore. But I had been for thirteen of those fifteen years. I had helped the group get to where they were now. I didn’t get a lot of leads during my time in the group, but that was fine with me – I had always felt more comfortable being one of the background singers. But if I went onstage with the Boys tomorrow night, the focus would be on me, the former Backstreet Boy in the wheelchair. I would be thrust to the forefront for all the wrong reasons. The people watching would feel sorry for me. I didn’t want to drag the mood down, nor did I want to draw attention away from the four other guys and their accomplishments. AJ, Nick, Howie, and Brian deserved better than that.
“What should I do, Kris?” I whispered into the dark, missing the long talks I used to have with my wife as we lay in bed together. I wasn’t actually expecting an answer, and I didn’t get one – at least, not while I was awake.
When I finally drifted off to sleep, I dreamed of her, as I often did. But that night, the dream was different. Kristin and I were on a stage instead of a ballroom floor, and for the first time, I was in my wheelchair. Whenever we had danced in my dreams before, I was on my own two feet, waltzing with her across the wide open floor. But this time, she was sitting sideways across my lap with her arms wrapped around my neck and her long legs crossed. I held her with my left arm while the right one worked the joystick on my chair, spinning us in slow circles on the tiny stage. She threw back her head and laughed like she was having the time of her life, and when she looked up at me, I saw the love in her sparkling brown eyes.
In that moment, it didn’t seem to matter to either of us that I was in a wheelchair. I would be fine with never walking again if it meant I could keep dancing with my wife in this way. Just seeing her smiling face every day would be enough for me.
“But you will walk again, Kevin,” she whispered, though I couldn’t recall actually saying the words aloud. “One day, you’ll leave this body behind and walk with me through the gates of Heaven, where we can dance together for eternity.”
“I can’t wait,” I murmured, pulling her closer so I could kiss her forehead. “I miss you so much, baby.” I buried my face in her hair, breathing in the sweet, familiar scent of her shampoo.
“I know. I miss you, too, my love. And I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re ready to join me. But until then, you’d better embrace the life you have on Earth.” Her voice took on a sharper, almost scolding tone as she tipped her head back to look up at me. “I want you to go out and actually live. Don’t hide out at home, wallowing in darkness. Let the light shine down on you, darling, and share your own light with the world. It’s too beautiful for you to let it slowly burn out.”
I looked down at myself, no longer sure whether I was awake or dreaming. “But-”
“No buts,” she said firmly, pressing her finger to my lips. “So what if you’re in a wheelchair? Like you used to sing in your song… you’ve gotta roll with it!”
I started laughing then. I laughed so hard I cried. When I woke up, my face was wet with tears, but there was a smile on my lips.
“Good morning, Kevin!” I heard a female voice sing out. As light flooded my bedroom, I opened my eyes, hoping to find Kristin there. But when I looked around, I saw only Sam.
“Morning,” I croaked, my voice thick from the mucus in my throat.
Sam was busy opening the curtains over my windows with her back to me. She was wearing a pair of bubblegum pink scrubs that day. Combined with her blue hair, the look reminded me strongly of cotton candy.
“You must have been having a good dream!” she called over to me as she drew back the last of the long, room-darkening drapes in front of my balcony door. “You were out like a light when I came in, but you were smiling in your sleep.”
“Yeah… I was with my wife,” I replied without thinking. Almost immediately, I regretted it. What a strange thing to say to someone I barely knew. “Sorry,” I added, making a weak attempt to clear my throat. “I realize how weird that must sound.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Sam said. She came over and sat down at the foot of my bed. “I dream about my dead brother sometimes. It feels nice, like a little visit from Heaven, huh?”
“Mm-hm.” I met her eyes. “Is that the brother who…?”
“Had a spinal cord injury, yeah.” She nodded, confirming my suspicions. “His name’s Raymond – Ray for short. He passed away four years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, frowning. “Was it… sudden?” What I really wanted to know was how he had died, but I didn’t dare ask her such a personal question on her fourth day on the job.
“Sort of.” She shrugged. “He died from complications of an upper respiratory infection. Basically, he caught a cold, and instead of going away, it got worse and turned into pneumonia. By the time he was admitted to the ICU, he had developed sepsis. He died a few days later.”
I blinked, shocked by the matter-of-fact, almost clinical way she told the story. Then I remembered she was a medical student. She must have already learned to compartmentalize, to focus on the facts and keep her emotions in check.
“God… that’s awful,” I said, shaking my head. Knowing her brother must have been fairly young when he passed, I’d thought maybe he had committed suicide, but his actual cause of death sounded so much worse. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry, too – didn’t mean to start your day with a depressing story, especially after you had such a nice dream.”
I swallowed hard. “It’s okay. I wondered why you talked about your brother in past tense before. Thanks for telling me.”
“Sure. I would have told you sooner, but I didn’t wanna freak you out or anything.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “Of course, ventilator-dependent quads are a lot more susceptible to respiratory infections than quads like you who can breathe spontaneously. But still, having a spinal cord injury puts you at higher risk than the average person – which is why it’s so important to keep your airway clear. So, ready to cough?” She stood up, suddenly back to business.
I chuckled. “Nice segue. Yeah, I guess we should get started, huh?”
I hadn’t had to tell her how to do a quad cough on her first day; she already knew. Unlike her predecessor, caregiving seemed to come naturally to Sam. Clearly, her past experience had prepared her for this type of position. She managed even the most unpleasant parts of my morning routine without batting an eye, which made it less embarrassing for me.
“Hey, Sam?” I said as she helped me transfer to my commode chair for the trip into the bathroom. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Of course!” she said, bending down to buckle the seat belt around my waist. “Ask away.”
“Well, when you dream about your brother… about Ray… is he in his wheelchair, or can he walk?”
“Oh…” She paused, scrunching up her face as she thought about it. “Well, I’ve dreamed about him both ways,” she replied finally as she straightened up. “I can’t always remember clearly how he looks in my dreams. He’s just Ray, whether he’s in his chair or not. But since he passed, I’ve probably had more dreams about him being the way he was before his accident. I guess that makes sense – I was twelve when he got hurt and nineteen when he died, so I have more memories of him being able-bodied than paralyzed. But a part of me wonders if it’s his way of reassuring me that he’s in a better place now. You know, like he’s finally free from the limits his injury put on him here on Earth?” She shrugged, flashing me an awkward smile. “I’d like to believe that, anyway.”
“That’s a nice thought,” I said, nodding. “In my dream, I was in a wheelchair for the first time – I’ve never dreamed about myself that way before. I just wondered if that was a sign of self-acceptance or… something else…”
I desperately wanted to believe that it wasn’t just a dream, that my dead wife had actually spoken to me while I was asleep. But if she had, I had better follow her advice. Don’t hide out at home, she had said. Go out and live.
Easier said than done, especially when it took me almost two hours just to get out of bed, washed, dressed, and in my wheelchair. We had to do my bowel program that day, which added an extra half hour to the already long process of getting ready in the morning. Sam parked my commode chair over the toilet, then stepped out of the bathroom to give me some privacy while I waited for the suppository and stool softener I had taken to work their magic. “Call me when you’re ready,” she said as she closed the door behind her.
As I sat there playing on my phone, I had plenty of time to think about what Kristin had told me. Let the light shine down on you, darling, and share your own light with the world. Whether the words were really Kristin’s or just a manifestation of my own subconscious thoughts, their meaning was clear: I couldn’t keep avoiding the world. Maybe this was a sign that I should get over my fear and go out with the guys that night. Celebrate with them. Sing with them.
You’ve done it before, I reminded myself. It wasn’t that bad. But the good feeling I’d gotten from singing “Happy Birthday” with Nick and AJ was overshadowed by all the bad memories I had of being at Jenn’s party. The inaccessible entrance to the club. The crowds of people. The awkward small talk. The morning after.
The memory of what had happened two weeks ago made me break out in a cold sweat. I didn’t want to wake up the next morning covered in shit and be stuck in bed waiting for someone to come in and clean me up. Nick and AJ would never let that happen again, I tried to assure myself. And Greg is a lot more reliable than Erik. Still, I hated having to count on other people to take care of me. I missed my independence almost as much as I missed my wife.
But maybe Kristin was right. Getting out more would be good for both me and Mason. I couldn’t be a good dad to him or become more independent myself when I was afraid to go out in public and interact with other people.
If the world was a stage, then I had the worst case of stage fright I’d ever felt. But I knew the best way to cure it was to face it head on. I needed to do this. For Kristin… for Mason… but, most of all, for myself.
I sucked in a deep breath as I fumbled with my phone, opening the YouTube app. Painstakingly, I tapped the keyboard with my paralyzed thumb, typing the title of our most famous song. When the music video finally popped up, I pushed the play button and watched. At first, it put a lump in my throat to see my former self on the screen, standing, walking, and dancing alongside my brothers. But by the time the song reached its second chorus, I had begun to sing along.
“Ain’t nothin’ but a heartache… Ain’t nothin’ but a mistake. Tell me why…” It had been almost two years since I’d last sung this song, but the harmonies and lyrics were ingrained in my brain. I could have sung my part in my sleep. “I want it that way.”
I sang a little louder when my solo came, my real voice blending seamlessly with the recorded one coming out of my phone. “Now I can see that we’ve fallen apart… from the way that it used to be, yea-ah…” It was weird to see myself the way I had been, so tall and sophisticated in the black trench coat I had worn just a few weeks before the Columbine shooting had made it taboo. Comparing suave Backstreet Boy Kevin to the naked, crippled man currently hunched over the toilet, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “No matter the distance, I want you to know… that deep down inside of me…”
Deep down inside of me, the treatments had taken effect. When enough time had passed, I called Sam back into the bathroom.
“I couldn’t help but overhear you singing,” she admitted after she’d helped me finish the job and flushed the toilet. “You sounded really good.”
“Thanks.” I felt myself blush. “There’s this party tonight to celebrate the Backstreet Boys’ fifteenth anniversary. The other two guys and their wives are flying in this morning. They want me to go and perform this song with them.”
“You should!” Sam encouraged me without hesitation as she washed her hands in the sink. “Why wouldn’t you?”
I shrugged. “Because I’m not a Backstreet Boy anymore? Because I’m like this?” I looked down at myself in disgust.
“My brother was on his high school football team before his accident,” Sam said, drying her hands. “Of course, he couldn’t play anymore after his injury, but he was still part of the team. Once he got out of rehab, he went to every game and sat on the sidelines with the other players.”
I don’t want to be a mascot, I thought bitterly, but I knew better than to say that about her brother. Instead, I asked, “Wasn’t that hard for him?”
“Sure, it was, at first. But it got easier over time.” She walked over to the shower and turned on the water as she talked, waiting for it to warm up before she wheeled me in. “In the long run, I think it was better for his mental health to be out there on the field with his friends and teammates than home by himself every Friday night, you know?”
I nodded.
“I’m not trying to guilt trip you into going or anything,” she added, reaching her hand into the running water to check its temperature. “But hey, at least you can still sing. That’s all they’re really asking you to do, right?”
That’s all. As if it was that easy to go out and sing in front of a bunch of people from my power chair. And maybe it should have been for a seasoned performer like me. But it didn’t feel that way at all.
“Yeah… I guess I should be grateful to have my voice, huh?” I remembered how hard it was to be intubated in the hospital, unable to even speak, let alone sing. I shouldn’t take that gift for granted. I was a lot better now than I had been then.
Sam shrugged. “Who am I to preach about gratitude? I realize I’m speaking from an able-bodied perspective, so I probably shouldn’t tell you what to do or how to feel,” she replied apologetically. “I can’t pretend to know what it’s really like to be in your shoes. I wish Ray was still around so he could share his experience with you firsthand.”
“It’s okay,” I said, smiling at her. “I appreciate what you’re saying. It’s probably what I needed to hear.” I paused. “How’s that water feel?”
She stuck her hand in the shower again. “Feels warm enough to me,” she said, returning my smile. “You ready?”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.”
I thought about what she’d said while I sat in the shower, letting the hot water run over my head and shoulders as she washed the lower half of my body. Sam was probably right. I should face my fear and go to the party. That was what the guys wanted. It was what the fans wanted. It was what Kristin would want for me, too, and what she may even have been trying to tell me in my dream. I needed to do this – if not for her or the guys or the fans, then for myself.
Once I was done with my shower and dressed for the day, I went downstairs with Sam. We found Nick and AJ in the kitchen, drinking coffee while Mason finished his breakfast.
“Morning, y’all,” I said as I rolled into the kitchen. I kissed Mason, then cleared my throat as I turned my chair toward the other two. “I think I’m gonna go tonight.”
Nick and AJ looked at each other in surprise, then back at me with big smiles on their faces. “You are?”
I nodded. “As long as I can find someone to watch Mason.”
“I will if you can’t find anyone else,” Sam offered. “I’m free tonight.”
I glanced up at her in surprise. “Wow, that would be great. I’ve got another girl who usually babysits, but in case she’s busy, I may have to take you up on that. Thanks!” I said, smiling. My mom was right – I should have hired her from the beginning. Looking back at the guys, I added, “I know I need to start getting out more. Why not start with a big Hollywood party?”
AJ snorted. “Are you talking about our anniversary party, or did you get a better invitation? ‘Cause ours isn’t going to be very ‘big’ or ‘Hollywood.’ We’re not exactly A-listers anymore, bro.”
I laughed. “Even better.”
But despite AJ downplaying it, the party that evening felt plenty big and Hollywood to me. The Boys’ team had rented out the entire restaurant where it took place – which happened to be located in West Hollywood. There was even a red carpet outside the entrance, where a small group of paparazzi and a few well-informed fans had gathered to greet us as we went inside. I don’t think any of them had expected to see me with Nick, AJ, Howie, and Brian, but when they saw the five of us together, they went wild.
“KEVIN!” A chorus of screams rang out the second I rolled down the ramp of my van at the valet station.
Immediately, I felt the familiar wave of anxiety wash over me, but I fought it, forcing a smile onto my face as Kristin’s words echoed through my head: Let the light shine down on you, darling, and share your own light with the world.
“Hey, y’all,” I replied, raising my left hand in a limp-fingered wave as I used the right one to steer my power chair past them.
“You look great, Kevin!” one of the photographers called from the front of the crowd as cameras flashed in my face. “How are you feeling?”
I stopped, turning to talk to him for a few seconds. “I’m doing fine, thanks. Getting a little stronger every day.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but I knew it was what the public and our fans wanted to hear. I didn’t want to be depressing on what was supposed to be a happy day. This party was about the Boys, not about me.
“Are you going to rejoin the group?” another paparazzo asked at the same time someone else shouted, “Do you think you’ll ever walk again?”
When they started getting rude, I took my cue to move on. “No,” I said shortly and shoved my joystick forward, accelerating down the red carpet.
Just outside the front door of the restaurant, there was a backdrop set up for photos. Howie and Brian took turns posing in front of it with their wives, then sent Leigh and Leighanne inside while they hung back for group photos. “C’mon, Kev,” said Brian, beckoning me to join him and the others in front of the backdrop.
“Once a Backstreet Boy, always a Backstreet Boy,” added AJ with a grin.
I agreed to take a few photos with them, but I felt awkward sitting in my chair while the other guys gathered around me. At one point, Brian and AJ knelt on either side of me while Nick and Howie stood behind us, which somehow made it even worse than when they were all standing. Finally, I said, “Alright, fellas, I’m gonna go on inside so you can get some with just the four of you.”
Before they could protest, I powered ahead toward the entrance. Thankfully, it was flat and easily accessible, so I had no problem getting in.
Leigh and Leighanne were waiting for their husbands in the lobby. When I rolled up alongside them, Leighanne rested her hand on my shoulder. “How are you doing, Kevin?”
I took a moment to consider her question before I answered. So far, I felt uncomfortable and slightly out of place. But while a part of me wished I was at home reading Goodnight Moon to Mason again, there was another part of me that was glad I had gone out and faced the world.
“I’m okay,” I finally responded. I glanced up at the molded ceiling over our heads, imagining Kristin smiling down at me from somewhere far above. “Thanks.”
***