The day of our Good Morning America appearance, I woke up with butterflies in my brain. I suppose they were in my stomach, too, but since I couldn’t feel that far down, my anxiety manifested as a dull, throbbing headache.
“Big day today!” said Dawn as she finished stretching me. “How ya feelin’?”
“Nervous,” I admitted. “I think my stomach may be a little upset.”
“Hopefully your program will help with that,” she replied, patting my shoulder. She rolled me onto my left side and tucked an absorbent pad beneath me as she prepared to begin my bowel program.
Half an hour later, I was sitting on my commode chair, mindlessly scrolling through my social media apps while I waited for the suppository to work its magic, when I felt my phone vibrate in my hand. Hearing the familiar trill of FaceTime’s ringtone, I saw Natalie’s name appear on the screen. I tapped to accept the call, cringing as the front-facing camera came on. Quickly, I held up the phone at a more flattering angle before the call could finish connecting.
“Good morning, babe!” Natalie’s smiling face filled the screen.
“Good morning! Or should I say goodnight?” I frowned, trying to remember where she was and what time it was there. It felt like we hadn’t talked on the phone in forever, even though it had only been a few days. She had flown to Tokyo over the weekend, and the time difference made it difficult for us to stay in touch. Whenever she was awake, I was either asleep or at work, and vice versa. After playing phone tag for two days, we’d resorted to texting each other and replying hours later.
“I know, right?” She laughed. “It’s three a.m. here, so I guess either one works.”
“That’s right – you’re back in Atlanta, aren’t you?” I’d almost forgotten that she had been on a flight home while I was in bed the night before.
“Yup. Home sweet home,” she said, smiling as she held the phone out to show me more of her bedroom.
“So, did you just wake up, or have you not been to bed yet?” I asked.
“Oh, no, I was so tired when I got home, I went to bed early. And then, of course, I woke up way too early. Jet lag is the worst,” she said, shaking her head. “I always feel like a time traveler when I go to Asia because you literally lose a day on the way there and then repeat the same day when you get back. Like, it was six p.m. on Monday evening when I boarded the plane in Tokyo, and it was still six p.m. on Monday evening when I landed in Atlanta, even though I’d been in the air for fourteen hours.”
I nodded. “I know the feeling. It’s like that movie, Groundhog Day.”
“Exactly. But if time is, in fact, moving forward again, and I have my days right, today is Tuesday… which means you’re gonna be on Good Morning America in a few hours, correct?”
“That’s right,” I said, smiling. “You gonna watch?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said, beaming back at me. “That’s another reason I went to bed so early last night – I wanted to make sure I would wake up in time to watch.”
I chuckled. “Well, you’ve still got a few hours. Don’t you go fallin’ back to sleep on me now.”
“I won’t,” she vowed, hiding a yawn behind her hand. “So, how have you been? I feel like I’ve barely talked to you lately.”
“I know. I’ve missed you,” I admitted. “But things have been going good here.” I tried to remember what I’d done since the last time I’d talked to her. “We had a nice day off on Sunday. Brian made everybody breakfast burritos, and then we went to this big market, Old Spitalfields. Well, most of us went there; AJ and Q went shopping in East London. AJ wanted to check out Urban Outfitters – as if it would be any different from Urban Outfitters back home.” I shook my head. “This is the same guy who used to get McDonald’s in every foreign country we went to, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Oh, no,” Natalie said, laughing.
“Yeah. Anyway, then we were treated to a proper Sunday roast at a dear friend’s house in the countryside.”
“Sounds like a great way to relax after working all week.”
I nodded. “It was really nice. Felt almost like being home.” A wave of homesickness washed over me as I pictured my own house in the country. In my mind’s eye, I saw Mason riding his new bike up and down the driveway. It had been two weeks since he turned five, and I missed him so much that it hurt. I couldn’t wait to get home, but we still had ten more days in London. Not wanting to dwell on it, I swallowed the lump that had swelled in my throat and forced myself to keep talking. “Then it was back to the grind yesterday. We put in a long day in the studio, but at least it was a productive one.”
“I can’t wait to hear the new music,” said Natalie. “Are you going to sing anything on TV today?”
I shook my head. “Not today. But they did book us to perform in New York at the end of August.”
“New York is nice that time of year,” she said in a suggestive tone.
“So come with me,” I replied without hesitation, looking directly into the camera. “I’d love to have you in the audience for my first official performance back with the group.”
She nodded eagerly, her lips curving into a smile. “I’d love to be there.”
We chatted for a few more minutes until Dawn came back to check on me. “Listen, babe, I’d better get off the phone now,” I told Natalie. “I’ve gotta shower and start getting ready. Don’t wanna be the reason we’re running late.”
“Oh, no problem; I’ll let you go now,” she replied. “Good luck today! I hope everything goes well with Good Morning America. I’ll be watching!”
“Thanks.” I grinned. “I’ll call you later. I love you.” The last three words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
I saw a look of surprise flicker across Natalie’s face, but then she smiled back and said, “I love you, too.”
When the FaceTime call ended, I lowered my phone. Despite the fact that I was naked except for a towel draped over my lap, I felt very warm.
“Wow – when did y’all start using the L-word?”
I looked up to see Dawn standing in the doorway, watching me with raised eyebrows.
“Um… about twenty seconds ago?”
Her eyebrows went even higher on her forehead. “Really? You told your girlfriend you loved her for the first time while you were on the toilet?”
I cringed. “It just came out,” I said, feeling my face redden. Bad choice of words, considering the reason I was on the commode.
Dawn snickered. “Real romantic, Kevin. Speaking of coming out… you ready for me yet?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Sighing, I leaned forward so she could help me finish.
I felt better once I was all cleaned up, fully clothed, and back in my regular chair.
“Morning, Kev!” AJ was the first to greet me as I rolled into the kitchen, where the guys had gathered for breakfast. The glorious smell of bacon filled the air; I could hear it sizzling as Howie stood in front of the stove, a spatula in hand. The others were sitting at the island, drinking coffee.
“What’s up, fellas?” I wove my way around the island to see what else Howie was cooking. “Smells good in here.”
“Nicky made more of those nasty protein shakes he’s been drinking – but for those of us who prefer real food, I’m fixing bacon and eggs,” he said with a grin.
“Hey, there’s plenty of protein in that, too,” I replied, deciding to pass on one of Nick’s shakes when I saw what was left of the gloppy, greenish-brown concoction in the blender on the counter. It looked like it had already come out the other end of someone’s body. “No offense, Nick.”
“None taken,” Nick muttered, hardly looking up from his laptop screen as he raised a glass of the green slurry to his lips and took a sip. “Just trying to be healthy here.”
I nodded. “I respect that. But if you give me the choice between bacon and kale – or whatever the hell is in that drink – I’m gonna choose bacon every time.”
“Me too,” said Dawn as she poured me a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter. “But I’m still not used to the bacon in this country. It’s so thick and chewy, not thin and crispy like our bacon back home. I love London, but I miss American bacon.”
“I miss my wife’s cooking,” Brian said longingly as Howie brought the frying pan over to the island and slid two slices of bacon onto his plate next to the pile of scrambled eggs he’d already put there. “Leighanne knows how to make the eggs nice and fluffy.”
“Sorry,” Howie said with a shrug. “I guess I didn’t whisk them long enough or something.”
“They look fine to me. Thanks for fixing breakfast, D,” I said as Howie filled a plate for me, too. “It’s me and Dawn’s turn tomorrow.”
Dawn nodded, putting the lid on my coffee cup before she handed it to me. “I was thinking we could make biscuits and gravy.”
Brian perked right up upon hearing that. “Yes, please!”
She laughed. “I thought you’d like that. I’ll go to Tesco and get some groceries later while y’all are working.”
“So, you ready for GMA today?” AJ asked as I took a sip of my coffee. It was strong, the way Brian always made it.
Swallowing, I nodded. “I think so. I’m a little nervous, but… that’s natural, right? It’s been a long time since I’ve done a live TV appearance.”
“Don’t worry, bro – we’ve got your back,” he assured me. “You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah, just let AJ do all the talking,” Howie added, winking.
I chuckled. “Thanks, fellas. I’m sure it’ll be fine. You know me – I tend to overthink things.”
“You? Overthink things?” Brian said sarcastically, pretending to be shocked. “Never!”
Everyone laughed – even me.
“I’m working on it,” I said, carefully placing my coffee mug in my cup holder. “Life’s too short to sweat the small stuff.”
Nick nodded. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, slurping down more of his protein shake.
“Hear, hear!” Howie held up his coffee cup.
Dawn caught my eye and smiled at me. “Well said.”
As I wheeled myself into the dining room across the hall, it occurred to me that they all knew as well as I did what it was like to have your whole world turned upside down by the death of a loved one or a devastating diagnosis. I thought about that as I pulled up to one end of the long table. I wished I could eat at the kitchen island with the others, but it was too tall for me to reach comfortably from my wheelchair.
Whenever I felt overwhelmed with the challenges of my everyday life, I tried to remind myself that it could always be worse. It had been worse – a lot worse – but once you hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up. Little by little, I had dragged myself out of the deep, dark hole I’d fallen into the day Kristin died and I got hurt. Sometimes, I slipped back down into the abyss, but even on my darkest days, I could look up and see the light.
For the first few years after my accident, it was Mason who kept me going. Being a father to my son was my sole purpose in life and my main reason for surviving, for pushing through the pain and learning to live again. Seeing his sweet little face light up with a smile when he saw me was what forced me to get out of bed each morning.
But, in the last few months, I’d found so much more to look forward to. Meeting Natalie, going back to work, and making music with the guys again had given me a new sense of purpose. I wasn’t just a father anymore but a boyfriend and lover, a friend and brother, a musician and performer.
Dawn followed me into the dining room, carrying my plate for me. As she set it down on the table in front of me, I wondered if she’d felt the same way when she went back to work after her divorce and the death of her son. When we first met for an interview, I had asked her why she wanted to be a caregiver. I still remembered her answer:
“Because I’ve always been a caregiver,” she’d said with a shrug. “I’ve been taking care of other people my entire adult life.”
She went on to tell me about how she’d married young and become a wife and stay-at-home mother. When her only child, Michael, was diagnosed with Duchenne muscular dystrophy at the age of four, she went back to school to become a CNA so she would be able to handle most of his care at home by herself. She had worked at a rehabilitation facility for a few years while Michael was in school, but when his condition progressed to the point that he needed round-the-clock care, she quit her job to become his full-time caregiver. Meanwhile, the stress of watching their son deteriorate had driven her husband to seek solace outside the home, leading to an affair and a divorce. Even with child support, alimony, and insurance, the mountain of medical bills and legal fees became insurmountable, forcing Dawn to sell her house and move into a smaller apartment.
“After Michael died, I felt lost,” she had admitted to me. “I was a forty-one-year-old woman with no family, no home, no career, and no idea what to do with the rest of my life. I’d spent the last twenty years taking care of everyone else but me, so it was a shock to suddenly find myself alone with no one to look after.”
Eventually, she had decided to go back to work and gotten a job at a nursing home. Working with elderly people was rewarding but also depressing.
“I would form relationships with the residents, so it was always really hard when one of them passed away,” she’d explained. “I didn’t have the same level of detachment the more experienced nurses had developed; I took each loss personally. I finally decided it wasn’t the right place for me and started looking for other positions, which is what led me to apply for this one. I would love to be a full-time caregiver in a family setting again. Compared to what I’ve been doing, caring for you and your little boy would be like a breath of fresh air for me.”
That was how the last few months felt for me: like finally taking a breath of fresh air after years of slowly suffocating. Gradually, the weight of grief had been lifted off my chest, making it easier for me to breathe. My heart didn’t feel as heavy as it had before.
“Thanks, Dawn,” I said as she sat down at the table adjacent to me. I threaded my thumb and forefinger through the rings of my fork, which she had thoughtfully placed next to my plate.
“No problem.” She picked up her own fork and knife and sliced through the slab of bacon on her plate. Bringing a bite-size piece of it to her mouth, she chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds before she swallowed. “Nope,” she said, pursing her lips as she shook her head. “Still not a big fan of bacon you have to eat with a fork.”
I laughed, looking down at my plate as I concentrated on scooping up some scrambled eggs. “We’ll buy two pounds of American bacon the minute we get home,” I promised. “One for you and one for me. We’ll have bacon and eggs for breakfast, BLTs for lunch, and bacon cheeseburgers for dinner.”
“And stroke out from all the cholesterol and sodium, but hey, at least we’ll die happy,” she added with a chuckle.
“I can think of worse ways to go,” I said, stuffing a bite of egg into my mouth.
Her smile faded. “Me too.”
Swallowing, I said, “So, where are you and Keith gonna go today?”
“Well, actually, I was kinda hoping I could come to the studio. I would love to see where you’ve been working and watch y’all film Good Morning America… if you and the guys wouldn’t mind, I mean.”
“Of course, you can come!” I smiled at her. “You know nobody famous will actually be in the studio, though, right?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Besides the five Backstreet Boys, you mean?”
“Well, hell, you can see them any ol’ time. The other four are in the kitchen you just came from.”
Dawn laughed. “I know. I just thought it’d be cool to get a little behind-the-scenes look at what this part of your life is like – as long as nobody cares. I know y’all had a ‘no family’ rule, and even though I’m not technically family-”
I cut her off. “Of course, you’re family. But it’s fine; we all agreed that caregivers don’t count toward the ‘no family’ thing. I’d love to show you this part of my life.”
She beamed. “Thanks!”
After we finished breakfast, I went back to my room to brush my teeth and make sure there was no egg on my face. I had put more effort than usual into my appearance that morning, picking out a nice outfit and asking Dawn to style my hair instead of just cramming a baseball cap over it like I often did. I wanted to look my best on TV.
I took a moment to study my reflection in the mirror, turning my chair to see myself from different angles. The black button-down shirt I wore was slimming enough to disguise my quad belly, which always stuck out more than I wanted it to because of the lack of muscle tone. I had paired it with a pair of gray pants and black sneakers. Simple, but pretty boring.
On sudden inspiration, I went to the closet and dug out my gray derby hat. I placed it on my head and rolled back in front of the mirror to see whether it made me look sophisticated or stupid. No matter which way I turned, I couldn’t make up my mind, so finally, I took out my phone, snapped two pictures in the mirror, and texted them to Natalie. “Hat or no hat?”
“Hat! 😍” she texted back right away, using her favorite heart-eyed emoji. “You look so debonair, like a suave English gentleman.”
I supposed I could have gotten a similar reaction by posting the pictures on Twitter for the fans to see, but it meant more coming from my girlfriend. “Ha! Thanks,” I responded, feeling my face redden as I reread her text. But as I gave my reflection one last look, I couldn’t help but smile.
***
“So, what do you think?” I asked Dawn when I finished showing her around the studio.
She walked up to one of the large windows and looked outside. “It’s nice. Not at all what I was expecting, though.”
“Really?” I chuckled. “What were you expecting?”
“I dunno… the kind of recording studio you see on TV, I guess. You know, with the little room that has a sign over the door that lights up when someone’s recording?”
“A sound booth? We have one of those,” I said, tipping my head toward the small room to her left, where a drum kit was set up. “We’ve been doing most of our recording here in the live room, though. It gives it a more acoustic, organic sound.”
“I see.” Turning away from the window, she took another look around the large room. “It’s a lot lighter and homier in here than I thought it would be. I was picturing darker colors – black and gray, not beige and white.”
“Not all studios look like this one, but that’s what makes it special. When you’re stuck inside working all day, it helps to have natural light and a nice view, you know?”
“That makes sense,” she said, nodding. “So, when do I get to hear some music?”
I smiled. “I can sing you something I wrote. I need Nick, though.”
Nick was perched on the arm of one of the couches, tuning his guitar. He glanced up as I wheeled myself over to him. “What’s up, Kev?”
“Dawn wants to hear a song. Can we sing the one we worked on last week? ‘Sun Comes Out’?”
Nick nodded. “Sure.” He helped me set up my laptop on one of the wooden TV trays that stood near the couch so we could both see the lyrics and chords.
Dawn sat down on the other couch. As soon as Nick started strumming his guitar, I saw a smile spread across her face.
Hooking my arms behind my push handles, I took a deep breath and began to sing the words I’d written with Natalie in mind:
“When the sun comes out,
And the darkness fades,
You give me strength to get up
And face a new day
And even when the night falls,
And I’m feeling tired and weak,
I fall asleep with a smile on my face
‘Cause you’re lying next to me
And I know…”
As I reached the chorus, Nick’s voice joined mine in harmony:
“The darkness doesn’t last
Even when the night seems long
The sun comes out each morning
As the blackbird sings its song
And the rain won’t fall forever
Even when the sky is gray
The storm cloud’s silver lining
Means a rainbow’s on its way
When the sun comes out…”
Dawn was still smiling when we finished the song. “That was great, guys!” she exclaimed after giving us a round of applause.
“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s a work in progress. We still need to come up with a second verse, but the chorus is sounding pretty good.”
Dawn nodded. “I didn’t know you could play the guitar like that,” she said, looking at Nick in surprise.
“Eh, that’s a work in progress, too,” he said with a shrug, “but I’m getting better at it.” Despite his attempt to downplay his ability, I could tell by the way he blushed that he was pleased by her compliment.
“He’s trying to be humble, but he’s come a long way with his guitar skills since I left the group,” I told Dawn, then glanced back at Nick. “I can tell how hard you’ve been working these last few years. You’ve gotten really good!”
Nick grinned, his cheeks still pink. “Thanks, dude.”
“And you wrote the lyrics?” Dawn asked, looking at me.
I nodded.
She raised her eyebrows. “Wow. You really are in love, huh? I mean, you’re literally writing about sunshine and rainbows.”
I laughed, feeling my own face heat up. “Was it too cheesy?”
“Nah, it was sweet,” she said, smiling. “I liked it. I just had to tease you a little.”
We worked for a couple of hours before the team from Good Morning America arrived. While the camera crew set up their equipment, a makeup artist worked to get the five of us looking “camera-ready.”
“You have amazing eyebrows, you know,” she remarked as she used a tiny brush to tame my bushy brows. “I won’t even have to fill these in.”
I chuckled. “No, but you may have to trim ‘em down.”
“Nah… full brows are in right now, for both men and women.”
“Well, all right… I guess my time has come,” I said, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.
Once she’d finished with me, one of the other crew members waved me over to where he was busy setting up five director’s chairs. “We weren’t sure if you’d want to sit in one of these like the other guys or stay in your wheelchair,” he said as he unfolded the wooden frame of the last chair.
“Oh… uh…” I watched him fit the black canvas seat and back onto the frame. The chairs were tall; someone would have to lift me onto one and strap me in to ensure I didn’t lose my balance and topple out of it on live television. Despite the hassle, I liked the idea of being the same height as the other guys. I would stick out like a sore thumb if I stayed in my wheelchair, two heads shorter than everyone else. “Yeah… I suppose it would look better if I sat in one of those.”
When the time came to take our places, I called Dawn and Nick over to help me transfer. “Can y’all help me get into one of these director’s chairs?”
“Sure, bro.” Nick nodded and knelt to unfasten my foot straps, but Dawn frowned, looking doubtful.
“You don’t wanna do the interview from your own chair?” she asked me.
I shrugged. “I just figured it would look better if we were all on the same level.”
“I see. So you’re not self-conscious about being seen in a wheelchair?”
“What? No,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean, I used to be, but not anymore.”
Dawn flashed me a tight-lipped smile. “I remember Michael being really self-conscious when he first started using a chair full time,” she said, a faraway look in her eyes. “That transition happened over the summer, so he was nervous about going back to school in the fall. He was still walking when he finished fourth grade, so to start fifth grade in a wheelchair was a hard adjustment for him.”
A lump rose in my throat as I listened to her talk about her son. “I bet,” I said, swallowing hard. I couldn’t imagine losing the ability to walk when I was only ten years old, let alone watching it happen to Mason. Hearing her story reminded me how lucky I was to have been able-bodied for the first thirty-seven years of my life and blessed with a child before the accident that killed my wife and put me in a wheelchair. A little piece of Kristin lived on through our son, and I thanked God every day that he was healthy and happy.
“I remember Christopher Reeve wrote a book that came out around the same time we were getting Michael fitted for his first power chair,” Dawn went on. “It meant the world to him to turn on the TV and watch interviews with Christopher Reeve in his wheelchair. To see that even Superman needed help getting around… It made him feel less alone.”
I suddenly understood where she was going with this story. “So you’re saying I should stay in my chair, huh?”
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” Dawn replied quickly, holding up her hands in defense. “I just want you to think about the people watching who might relate to you the same way. You know, there aren’t many celebrities with physical disabilities, and now that Christopher Reeve is gone…”
“I get to be the new poster child for quadriplegia,” I finished, flashing her a grim smile. “Yay me.”
Picking up on my sarcasm, she offered me a sympathetic smile in return. “I know that’s not what you wanna be seen as, but face it – you’re probably the most well-known spinal cord injury survivor who’s still living. People look up to you.”
“She’s got a good point, Kev,” Nick added with a shrug. “Besides, we don’t wanna give the fans false hope about what to expect when we start performing again. I think you should let the world see you the way you are, wheelchair and all. If you’re worried it’ll look weird with the rest of us towering over you in those tall chairs, we don’t have to use ‘em. We can just sit on the couch.”
I nodded. “That’s true…”
In the end, I told the producer I didn’t want to sit in one of the director’s chairs after all. “I’d rather stay in my wheelchair,” I said, “so the people watching can see the real me.”
The crew quickly rearranged the furniture, pulling one of the couches forward and putting two of the tall chairs behind it. I parked myself beside the couch, where AJ and Brian were sitting, while Nick and Howie sat behind us in the chairs.
“Looking good, guys,” the producer said, giving us a thumbs up. “We’re going live in five minutes.”
The butterflies were back. I took a few deep breaths to try to calm my nerves. Next to me, AJ apparently noticed. “Don’t be nervous, dude,” he said, patting my forearm. “You got this.”
I forced my face into a smile. “Thanks, brother.”
On a monitor above the camera, we could see a live feed from Good Morning America’s studio in Times Square. I watched as a pair of makeup artists touched up the two hosts, Lara Spencer and Sam Champion, during what was apparently a commercial break.
“And we’re live in five… four… three… two,” the producer counted down as the makeup artists darted off the stage.
We listened as Lara led into our segment: “They are the best-selling boy band in history, celebrating twenty years of music. Joining us now, the Backstreet Boys, standing by in London with a huge announcement only for us. First, though, we want to take a look back at the group that still knows how to make hearts race and charts sizzle. Take a look.”
While the show cut to a montage we couldn’t see on our monitor, she and Sam made small talk with us. “Hey, guys! It’s so good to see you!” Lara gushed, waving at us. “Welcome back, Kevin!”
“Thank you,” I said, bowing my head with gratitude. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“You look great! How are you doing?”
“Doing well, thanks,” I said. “It feels good to be back with the boys, making music again.”
I felt uncomfortable having so much of the focus on me, so it was a relief when the video package ended and the real interview began. “Unbelievably, joining us now from London, AJ, Howie, Nick, Kevin, Brian,” Sam introduced us. “Good morning, guys! Now, wait a minute – this is a very big announcement, so make it for us.”
There was a time when the younger guys would have looked to me to speak on behalf of the group. But AJ and Brian both glanced back at Howie instead, reminding me how much the dynamics had shifted since I left. As the second oldest, Howie had stepped into my shoes as the unofficial leader, a role he didn’t seem to be completely comfortable with yet. “Yeah,” he said with an awkward chuckle. “We’re really excited. Uh, this is actually our first time in the studio together as all five of us since, uh, 2005. We’re recording our brand new record right here in London.”
“And it gets better!” prompted Lara.
Howie looked to AJ to pick up where he’d left off. “And, uh, the other special announcement we have for you guys: We’re gonna be coming to perform for you guys on August thirty-first – the first time together, all five of us. So, uh… see you guys in August!”
“On Good Morning America!” Sam added as he and Lara clapped. “They get them all together! Unbelievable! Thank you guys very much.” Smiling, he looked at Lara. “There you go.”
“There you go!” she echoed, grinning back at him before she turned to face the camera again. “Hey, fellas, how does it feel to be back together in the studio?”
Continuing down the line, AJ looked over his shoulder at Nick to answer. “It’s awesome; it really is,” Nick replied. “The vibe is fantastic. This is actually the studio that we’re recording in at the moment.” He waved his hand as he looked around. “Um, and we’re working right now with a producer named Martin Terefe, and it’s just been really organic. You know, there’s like three different rooms, and…” Nick rambled on and on about how our vibe had been revitalized and how much fun we were having living in the house together. “…and we’re not sick of each other. At all.”
“Now, wait a minute.” Smiling, Sam held up his hand. “That’s getting together in a whole new way. So, you guys just decided to get back together. Now you move into a house together, make the album together…” As he talked, he ticked off each “together” with his fingers. “Tell me, who’s the morning person? Who’s the one who wakes up, like, happy and friendly?”
We all looked at each other. Finally, AJ answered. “I think everybody wakes up pretty happy and friendly, as long as we get a good night’s sleep.”
“As long as we get our coffee,” I added.
“Yeah, as long as we get our coffee, we’re good,” Brian agreed.
“Brian makes the coffee first thing in the morning,” said Howie, tipping his head toward him.
“Strong coffee,” said AJ. “Very strong coffee.”
“We need a little music,” Sam interjected as Howie went to say something else. “Can you guys give us one little sound, just so we can, like, feel the energy?”
“Feel that magic again,” added Lara. “Just a nugget. Give it to us!”
“Absolutely,” said AJ.
“That’s what we do. Ready?” Nick cleared his throat, leaned forward, and crooned, “Tell me why…”
“Ain’t nothin’ but a heartache,” the rest of us responded in harmony, continuing the chorus of “I Want It That Way.”
Lara and Sam sang the last line along with us, clapping as we finished. “You still got it, boys! You still got it,” Lara cheered.
“I cannot wait for this,” said Sam. “So let’s make sure we’ve got it right…” He gave a summary of our announcement before the co-anchors cut to a video clip of one of our first performances as a group. We couldn’t see the video on our screen, but from the way Sam described it to us (“It’s you guys in brightly colored t-shirts and ‘Backstreet Boys’ sprayed on the wall, and you’re doing all the eighties breakout moves”), I was pretty sure I knew which one he was talking about. I pictured the five of us at the beginning of our career, so young, fresh-faced, and carefree. “What would you say to those guys?” Sam wanted to know.
“Oh, man…” Brian rubbed his leg as he thought about it.
The other guys were looking at me. “What would you say, Kevin?” Howie asked.
“Um…” I stroked my chin, struggling to come up with a coherent answer on the spot. “I would say hang on… It’s gonna be a bumpy ride… but it’s gonna be amazing… and enjoy every step of the way.”
AJ nodded, smiling over at me.
“Well, indeed, we are so thrilled to have you back,” said Lara. “What an honor for us at Good Morning America! Congratulations, and we’ll see you soon on Good Morning America. We’ll be right back.”
And, just like that, the interview was over. I let out a sigh of relief, sagging a little in my chair. “Whew… I’m glad that’s over with,” I admitted once the camera had stopped rolling.
“You did great, bro,” said Nick, clapping me on the back.
“Thanks,” I said, turning around to smile at him. “So did you. And, hey, I thought we sounded really good for singing off the cuff like that.”
“Like she said, we still got it,” Howie replied with a grin.
“I’m just glad you’re back, cuz.” Brian gave me a grateful smile. “Having your voice in the mix makes our sound so much richer.”
Before I could respond, my phone started buzzing. First, it was my mom FaceTiming me with Mason, who had been watching the show with her. While I was talking to them, Natalie texted to tell me how good I had looked on TV. “I wish you got to talk more,” she wrote, “but I’m glad y’all sang something after all! You guys sounded great!”
When I finally got off the phone, Dawn was waiting with a big smile on her face. “You did it!” she said, giving me a fist bump. “How does it feel to nail your first interview as a Backstreet Boy again?”
“I dunno if I ‘nailed it.’ According to Natalie, I barely talked. But she also said we sounded great, so I guess it went well.” I shrugged. “To be honest, it’s all kind of a blur, but… I feel good,” I said finally, nodding. “What was it like watching from behind the scenes?”
“Honestly? Not as exciting as I hoped it would be,” she admitted, laughing. “All that time and effort for an interview that barely lasted five minutes. But I’m glad I got to see it live. Thanks again for letting me come with you.”
“Of course.” I smiled at her. “Thanks for keeping me grounded.”
As we got back to work, I thought about what she’d said earlier about people like her son looking up to me and feeling less alone. I wasn’t entirely comfortable being a role model, let alone a poster child, but if seeing me on TV could offer hope to someone who was newly injured and struggling to climb out of the same deep, dark hole I’d fallen down, then I was willing to put myself out there. After all, I was living proof that life goes on, that it gets better.
I pictured myself the way I was four years ago, fully paralyzed from the neck down, watching Good Morning America from my hospital bed while my mother spoon fed me Jell-O for breakfast. I wished I could go back and tell that version of myself to hang on. It might have helped me to know that while my spinal cord injury would never heal, my broken heart would. That even though I couldn’t walk, I could still sing and would eventually continue my career. And that although my grief would never completely go away, the pain of losing Kristin would fade with time, allowing me to fall in love again someday.
I couldn’t help smiling as Natalie’s face came to the forefront of my mind, pushing the past memories aside to make room for dreams of the future. I imagined the two of us traveling together… moving in together… spending the rest of our lives together.
It was going to be a bumpy ride… but it was going to be amazing.
***