Over the next couple of weeks, we settled into a new routine in the Richardson household. On weekdays, I woke up early, dropped Mason off at school, and headed back home. While Dawn ran errands, did housework, and prepared meals, I worked on myself.
My mornings were devoted to music. I practiced the piano for an hour each day, singing along to warm up my voice as I plunked out the songs I could still play with my two styluses. I wrote lyrics and recorded myself singing them so I would remember how the melodies went. Some days, I had conference calls with the Boys and our management team. During one of these phone meetings, we came up with a setlist for our upcoming performances in New York. Other topics of discussion included the documentary, the new album, and the next BSB cruise. We may not have had a record deal, but we did have a contract with a company called Rose Tours to do four more cruises. “They’re a ton of fun, Kevin,” Howie assured me, “and the ships are actually really accessible, too.”
My afternoons were full of physical activity. I continued going to therapy three days a week, wanting to increase my stamina so I could keep up when the Backstreet Boys’ schedule got busy again. On my days off, I worked out at home, using my punching bag and standing frame to exercise my arms and legs. Natalie had sent me links to some wheelchair yoga videos she’d found on YouTube, and some days, I sat in front of my computer and did those.
When Mason came home from school, we rode bikes and played outside until dinner time. After dinner, we practiced his sight words, played games, and snuggled in front of the TV until it was time to get ready for bed. I still read him a book or two each night, as I had almost every night since he was a baby. “Soon you’ll be able to read this all by yourself,” I said, smiling at him as I closed my tattered copy of Where the Wild Things Are, which I’d had since I was a kid.
“I already can – watch! Where the Wild Things Are,” he read, pointing to each word on the cover. I watched with a mixture of amusement and pride as he opened the book back up and began turning its pages, retelling a paraphrased version of the story that was peppered with the sight words he recognized, like and and the.
“Wow… look how smart you are!” I exclaimed when he finished, setting the book on his bedside table. “I’m so proud of you, son. I know your momma would be proud, too.”
Mason grinned, looking pleased with himself as he snuggled under the covers. Once he was tucked in, I gave him a kiss on the top of his head and told him goodnight, turning off the light on my way out of his room. If only Kristin could see him now, I thought wistfully as I wheeled myself down the hall to the master suite.
By the time Mason went to bed, I was usually tired of sitting up in my chair and ready to transfer into bed myself. Most nights, after Dawn did my night routine, I would lie awake and talk to Natalie on the phone until I felt relaxed enough to fall asleep. Hearing her voice helped take my mind off whatever was troubling me, whether it was pain and spasms making me restless or anxiety making my heart and mind race. Our conversations left me with more pleasant things to think about. Instead of counting sheep, I counted down the days until I could sleep next to her again.
One night, Natalie called me crying. “What’s wrong?” I asked the second I saw her red, tearstained face appear on my FaceTime app. My heart had leapt out of my chest; I could feel it filling my throat, hammering fast against the sides of my neck. I was already on high alert, knowing she had flown to Lagos, Nigeria – not the safest city in the world for a young, white, American woman. “Are you okay??”
Natalie nodded, flashing a watery smile. “Oh, I’m fine… or will be, anyway,” she said with a sigh. “I just finished that stupid book I was reading.”
Relief set in when I realized nothing bad had happened to her in real life. “I’m guessing it didn’t end happily ever after, huh?” I replied, raising my eyebrows.
She shook her head. “I loved the story, but I hated the ending. It was horrible!” She sniffled. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I just had to call you. I wanted to see your face.”
“Well, here it is.” I smiled and struck a cheesy pose, tucking my hand under my chin and tilting my head to one side.
Natalie giggled. What she really wanted, I thought, was for me to take her mind off the tearjerker she’d read, so I started talking about our upcoming trip to New York City. The Backstreet Boys were scheduled to play our summer concert for Good Morning America in Central Park on Friday morning, but all the guys had agreed to fly in a few days early so we could rehearse. It would be our first official performance as a fivesome since I’d come back to the group – and my first time performing on TV from a wheelchair. I was incredibly nervous, but knowing Natalie would be there with me, watching from the crowd, gave me a boost of confidence.
She was unusually quiet during the conversation, responding to my ideas for what we could do together when I wasn’t busy rehearsing in the fewest words possible. She seemed distant, distracted. I figured she was just jet-lagged from the time difference, but, finally, I got tired of doing most of the talking and asked her directly, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded. “Yes, but… are you sure you’re okay?”
I blinked, taken aback by her turning the question around on me. “What do you mean? Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” I glanced down at myself in confusion, wondering if she’d seen something on camera that I couldn’t feel, like a bleeding cut on my finger.
“I don’t just mean physically okay,” she amended. “What about emotionally?”
I sighed as it suddenly dawned on me why she was asking. “Is this about the damn antidepressants again? Babe, I told you… these days, I take them more for pain relief than anything else. I’m not depressed.”
“So you would never try to hurt yourself?” She raised her eyes and looked directly into her camera so that she appeared to be staring right at me. “You’ve never wanted to end your own life?”
My mouth fell open. Her questions seemed to come out of left field, catching me so off-guard that, for a few seconds, I could only gape at my phone screen. Finally, I came to my senses and managed to form words. “What the hell, Natalie? No,” I said adamantly, shaking my head. “I don’t wanna kill myself. Why would you even ask me that? Do I seem depressed?”
“No… but you never know what’s really going on inside someone’s head,” she replied hesitantly. “I just had to make sure… for my own peace of mind.”
“But why?” I asked again, frowning. “What made you think-?” And then it became clear to me. “Wait, does this have something to do with your book?”
Natalie nodded, fresh tears welling in her brown eyes.
“Lemme guess – the crippled guy commits suicide in the end?” When she bit her lip and didn’t reply, I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, you’re right; that’s a terrible way to end a romance novel. And what kind of message does that send to real people like me? That my life’s not worth living just because I’m in a wheelchair?”
“I know,” she said, wiping her eyes. “That’s why it made me so upset.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me,” I told her. “I would never do that. I have too much to live for, too much left to do with my life.”
What I didn’t tell her was that I hadn’t always felt that way. I would never forget the long nights I’d spent lying helplessly in the ICU, unable to do anything except stare at the ceiling and listen to the beeping, hissing sounds of the equipment that surrounded me. I couldn’t move a muscle below my neck, which was encased in a hard collar that made it impossible for me to turn my head. I couldn’t breathe without a machine forcing air into my lungs through the tube that had been threaded down my throat, which also meant I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even sleep without the help of drugs, which caused me to have frightening hallucinations. As I’d lain awake in my hospital bed with the dark, spectral form of a raven hovering ominously over my head, I had fantasized about falling asleep and never waking up. I didn’t want to live like that, tethered to tubes, confined to a bed, completely dependent on other people to take care of me. But even if I had been determined to put an end to my pathetic existence, I couldn’t have done that without help, either.
Of course, my outlook on life improved once I got out of ICU and began my rehabilitation. By the time I left rehab, where I’d worked hard to regain some of the upper body function I had lost and learned to compensate for what my lower body could no longer do, I had adapted to my new way of living. What I lacked in physical capability, I made up for in mental toughness. Yet, despite my strength and resilience, I still had moments of weakness, when I couldn’t stop the dark thoughts from creeping back into my mind.
The day I had choked on a hot dog, I’d felt death’s cold hands close around my throat, cutting off my air supply, and at first, I was afraid. But as I lay helplessly on the patio with a panicking Nick hovering over me, the pain and the fear began to fade away. On the verge of passing out from a lack of oxygen, I had looked up and pictured Kristin standing where Nick had been. I could see her face floating above me and hear her voice in my head, calling for me to come with her. For a few seconds, I felt a sense of peace, knowing I was about to follow her to Heaven, where we could be together for eternity. But Nick had prevented this with a well-timed abdominal thrust, forcing the food out of my airway so I could breathe again. Afterwards, I had lashed out at him in anger, humiliated over what had happened. A part of me was actually disappointed that, in saving my life, he had cheated me out of a chance to join Kristin in death. It was only later, as I fed Mason a bottle before bed, that I felt grateful.
But that was four years ago, and a lot had changed since then. “I love my life,” I added honestly. “I love my family. I love my friends. I love you. I would never choose to leave you all. Especially not now, when the future’s looking bright. I mean, Mason’s growing up, and I’m back at work, making music with the guys again. It’s been a long, hard road for me to get here, but I feel like I’m finally in a good place. Why would I give that up?”
Natalie let out an audible sigh of relief. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.” Her lips curved into another quivery smile. “I love you so much, Kevin. It hurt my heart to imagine you feeling that hopeless. You know you can always talk to me when things get hard, right? I’m here for you… even when I’m on the other side of the world.”
I smiled back and nodded. “I know. Thanks, babe.”
The rest of our conversation went on like normal, but I could tell the book continued to weigh on Natalie’s mind. When she met me at the Atlanta airport a few days later, she threw her arms around me, practically pulling me out of my chair in her exuberance. “I missed you so much,” she said as she hugged me tightly.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I leaned heavily on her shoulder, completely thrown off balance by the force of her embrace. “I can tell! But I missed you, too, babe.” I clung to her, breathing in the sweet, flowery scent of her perfume.
When Natalie finally let go, she helped me correct my posture, pushing my upper body against my back rest and squaring my hips as she repositioned me on my seat cushion. “There, that’s better.” She buckled the seat belt across my lap with a click and straightened up. “So, how was y’all’s flight?”
“Fine,” I said with a shrug, glancing up at Keith, who had accompanied me to Atlanta.
He nodded in agreement. “How’s it going, Natalie?” he asked, smiling at her.
“I’m great!” she replied as we left the packed gate where our flight from Lexington had just arrived. “Looking forward to this little getaway. It’s nice to go somewhere like New York for fun instead of just for work.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, watching the crowd part to clear a path for me as I pushed myself through the cluster of passengers waiting to board the plane. One of the perks of being in a wheelchair was that, even in a crowded space, people were usually pretty considerate. Most seemed to take pity on me and tried to get out of my way, giving me a wide berth. The downside was having to put up with their stares and pretend I didn’t notice.
We made our way through the crowded terminal to the Sky Club that was closest to the gate from which our next flight to New York was scheduled to depart. Brian met us there about half an hour before pre-boarding began. Leighanne and Baylee were with him.
“How’s Mason liking kindergarten?” Brian asked me as we caught up with each other.
“He loves it! I think it was a harder adjustment for me than him,” I said with a chuckle. “He wasn’t even too disappointed that he didn’t get to come with me, although I know he’s looking forward to flying out with Dawn Thursday night.”
As much as I wished I’d been able to bring my son along with me like Brian had, I couldn’t justify letting Mason miss almost a week of school to make the trip. But since the upcoming weekend was a long one due to Labor Day, I’d bought two tickets for him and Dawn to fly out after school on Thursday and join me in the Big Apple. He would still miss a day of kindergarten, but Dawn and I had both felt it would be worth it for him to be able to watch my big comeback performance with the Backstreet Boys in person. Selfishly, I wanted to see my son’s face in the crowd and show him what his daddy did for a living long before he was born. After our concert in Central Park on Friday, we would spend the weekend sightseeing in the city and fly home together on Monday.
That meant Natalie and I would have the first two nights in New York all to ourselves. It wasn’t exactly the romantic weekend getaway Dawn had talked about us doing; I would be working during the day, and my bandmates would be just down the hall from our hotel room at night. But it was still a big step for us as a couple: our first time spending more than one night alone together without my kid or caregiver around. Although I was looking forward to it, I couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.
Thankfully, our flight from Atlanta to New York went off without a hitch. When we arrived at our hotel, a bellhop helped us with our luggage, loading everything onto a cart to bring up to the accessible room that had been reserved for us.
“Wow, this is really nice,” said Natalie as she walked around the room, noticing the welcome gift waiting for us on the desk: a chilled bottle of wine with two glasses and a small plate of fine chocolates that had been arranged in the shape of a heart. “Did you see this?” She pointed to the plate, where someone had written the words “We’ll never break your heart” inside the heart with chocolate sauce.
I smiled when I read it. “Hey, that’s pretty cool.”
“Heck yeah! I’ve never gotten a custom message written in chocolate at any hotel I’ve stayed at. I guess they go to more effort when they know there’s a celebrity staying in one of their rooms,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Lifestyles of the rich and famous.”
I laughed. “Hardly. I’m B-list at best. Probably more like C or D-list these days.”
“Oh, stop,” she said, playfully swatting my shoulder. “You’re a music icon. Who doesn’t love the Backstreet Boys? I bet Central Park will be packed on Friday.”
“I hope so. It’d be pretty embarrassing if no one turned up to see us,” I said with a chuckle.
“Trust me. There will be plenty of people there,” she promised as she poured us both a glass of wine.
I didn’t doubt her. I had faith in our fans; they had always shown up for us in the past, and their support hadn’t wavered since we’d announced my return to the group. I was more worried about letting them down than the other way around.
“Thanks,” I said when Natalie placed my wine glass carefully in my cup holder. “Would you mind grabbing me a straw? There should be one in my bag.”
“‘Course not, babe!” As she bent down behind me to dig through the bag that hung on the back of my chair, it occurred to me that I was no longer embarrassed to let her see the other supplies I kept inside it. She had a better understanding of my needs now and knew the catheters and other equipment were a normal part of my life. We had come a long way since our first date.
The realization made me wonder if, despite my reservations, I might be willing to let her help with the more intimate aspects of my care someday. I remembered how reluctant I had been to accept Nick’s assistance after I’d lost another one of my hired caregivers in L.A., but he was the first person I’d called to ask for help with my bowel program while I was in New York without Dawn. Of course, he had agreed, insisting that it was no big deal, even though that hadn’t always been the case. Natalie would be doing everything else by herself. I knew she was capable of handling my care – she had gotten pretty good at the rest of my morning and night routine – but it still made me nervous knowing we were flying without the safety net Dawn’s presence had always provided.
“Here you go,” Natalie said, reaching over my shoulder to stick a reusable straw in my wine glass.
“Thanks, baby.” I leaned over to take a sip. “Mmm, that’s good,” I said as I swallowed, still tasting the light, crisp, slightly fruity flavor on my tongue – not too sweet, but not too dry either.
“Yes, it is.” With her own glass in hand, Natalie perched on the end of the king-size bed, next to where I had parked my chair. “Have I told you how much I love your new haircut in person?” she asked, reaching out to touch the top of my head. “You look really hot with it short like that.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and self-consciously brought my hand up to rub the back of my neck, which felt oddly exposed and vulnerable without any hair covering it. After keeping my hair collar-length for the last few years to hide the scar running down my spine, I had finally decided to get it cut short for the first time since my accident. “I thought I’d better clean it up before my big comeback,” I’d told Natalie when I showed her my new ‘do over FaceTime.
“I’ve been waiting two weeks to do this,” she said as she raked her fingers through my thick roots, her nails grazing my scalp. It felt so amazing that I didn’t even care if she was messing up the way Dawn had styled it for me that morning.
“I love when you play with my hair,” I admitted, closing my eyes so I could savor the sensation.
“I know,” Natalie whispered, her voice drifting nearer to my ear as her fingers crawled across the closely-cropped hair at the base of my skull. She traced my scar with her fingertips, sending tingles down my spine. “It’s not still tender there, is it?” she asked in a concerned tone, taking her hand off my neck.
I must have flinched at her touch. “No,” I quickly assured her, opening my eyes. “Not anymore. I mean, it’s sensitive, but it doesn’t hurt when you do that. It feels good.”
“You still have tan lines from where your hair was,” she said, laughing. “We need to get you out in the sun.”
“I know.” I sighed. “If only it weren’t ninety degrees in the sun. I can’t wait for fall.”
“Me neither.” Natalie smiled and took a sip of her wine. “Pumpkin spice season.”
“Football season,” I corrected. “First game is next week.”
She giggled. “I know. Go Falcons!”
“Go Chiefs,” I said, grinning back at her. Our teams were facing off on the first Sunday of the NFL season. Natalie had rearranged her whole work schedule so she could come up and watch it with me, trading a flight to her favorite city, Rome, for the less-desirable trip to Lagos in order to get another weekend off.
While I finished my wine, she bustled around the hotel room, unpacking bags and assembling my shower chair so it would be ready in the morning. Afterwards, we went out to dinner with the Littrells, Keith, and Howie, who had just flown in from Florida. Nick and AJ’s cross-country flight wouldn’t land until later that night.
“Happy belated birthday, D!” I told Howie at the restaurant. “Dinner’s on me tonight.”
“Aw, you don’t have to do that,” said Howie, who had turned thirty-nine a week earlier.
“Yeah, Howie can afford his own meal,” Brian chimed in, grinning at Howie. “Trump Jr. over here… he’s got the most money of all of us! He should be buying us dinner.”
“I know I don’t have to,” I said to Howie, ignoring Brian, “but I want to.”
“Well, if you insist…” Howie smiled, his cheeks darkening. “Thanks, Kev!”
“You’re welcome, brother.” After a waiter came to take our drink orders, I asked, “So, how’s the family? I saw where you and Leigh announced you’re expecting another boy.”
Howie nodded. “Yeah, everything’s been going well with the pregnancy so far, and we’d already told all our family and friends, so we figured it was time to share our big news with the world. The fans online seem happy for us, so that’s good.”
“I bet they are. Two more Backstreet babies in the same year – that is pretty exciting,” I said. “How’s James feeling about having a little brother?”
“Too soon to really tell,” Howie replied with a shrug. “He’s only three, so it’s still kind of an abstract concept for him at this point. But he talks to Leigh’s belly sometimes, which is really cute, and we bought him a baby doll so he can practice being a big brother.”
“Aww… that’s sweet.” I smiled, imagining Mason in the same position. The itch to give him a sibling had only gotten stronger since I’d started dating again, even though I knew it was still too soon to talk seriously about getting married and having kids with Natalie. We hadn’t even been together for five months. But I found myself glancing at her, wondering if she felt the same way.
Next to me, Natalie was deep in conversation with Leighanne, who sat on the other side of her. I wasn’t sure if my girlfriend would like Brian’s wife, but so far, the two women seemed to be getting along well. Both Georgia girls, born and raised, they had bonded over their similar backgrounds.
“Well, we’re just glad to see Kevin finally moving on with his life,” I heard Leighanne say in a hushed tone as she smiled at Natalie. “He seems so much happier now than he was a few years ago. It’s good to see that a pretty girl like you was willing to look past the wheelchair and give him a chance.” I felt my face flush as I turned my head toward Howie again, pretending I hadn’t overheard. “I know it’s probably a lot to deal with at times, but y’all are great together!”
“His disability doesn’t bother me,” Natalie insisted. “I’ve always found him physically attractive. But, of course, I care more about the person he is on the inside than his outward appearance.”
“Aww… well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” gushed Leighanne, laying her Southern accent on thick. “He’s sure lucky to have you in his life!”
I didn’t disagree with her, but I felt awkward listening to the two of them talk about me like I wasn’t sitting right there at the same table. Clearing my throat loudly, I looked back at them and said, “So, ladies, what are you going to do tomorrow while we’re rehearsing?”
“Well, I don’t know what Natalie had in mind, but Baylee’s been begging me to take him to F.A.O. Schwarz. You’re welcome to come with us if you’d like,” Leighanne offered, looking at Natalie. “We could do a little shopping for ourselves on Fifth Avenue, too.”
Natalie nodded eagerly. “Sounds like a plan! Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“Anytime!” Leighanne grinned and gave Natalie’s leg a pat. “We Backstreet girls gotta stick together.”
Later that night, in the privacy of our hotel room, I asked Natalie, “So, what did you think of Leighanne? I know she can be a little much…”
“Oh, no, she’s lovely!” Natalie answered brightly as she slipped off her shoes, setting them neatly on the floor next to her suitcase. “I appreciate her being so welcoming to me. It’ll be nice to spend some more time with her and Baylee tomorrow so I can get to know them better.”
“I’m glad she invited you to go shopping with them. Otherwise, it would be a pretty boring day for you.” I paused. On sudden inspiration, I reached into the pouch on the side of my chair to retrieve my wallet. Setting it in my lap, I pried the snap enclosure open and peeked inside. I still carried a wad of cash with me when I traveled in case of emergencies, but I rarely used it on anything but tips, preferring to pay with cards, which were much easier for me to pull out of my wallet. “Hey, babe, can you help me with something real quick?” I asked Natalie.
“Of course!” She walked over to me. “What is it?”
“Open my wallet and take out two hundred bucks.”
“What?” Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“Please, just do it.”
“Okay…” She counted out ten twenty-dollar bills and started to hand them to me, but I shook my head.
“No. Put that in your purse and pick out something nice for yourself tomorrow when you’re out with Leighanne. A new pair of shoes or earrings or… whatever you like,” I said with a shrug.
“Oh, babe! That’s so sweet, but… no.” Shaking her head, she held the bills out in front of me again. “I don’t want your money.”
“Please, take it,” I insisted. “Consider it a gift. I would go with you and buy you something myself if I could, but since I’ll be in rehearsal all day…”
“You don’t have to do that,” Natalie protested, frowning. “I have my own money; I’m not-”
“I know I don’t have to… but I want to.” I flashed her my most charming smile. “You’re not gonna argue over a guy wanting to treat his girlfriend, are you?”
Gradually, her face relaxed into a smile. “All right, fine… if you insist,” she said, heaving an exaggerated sigh as she slipped the cash into her handbag. Then she came back over and kissed me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you,” I said, wrapping my arms around her waist.
“For what?”
“For looking past the wheelchair and giving me a chance.”
As I winked at her, Natalie’s face turned pink. “Oh, Lord… you heard what she said at dinner?”
I nodded. “She’s not wrong, though. I have been a lot happier these last five months, mostly thanks to you. I’d almost forgotten how good it felt to be in love. I never thought I’d find that again.”
“Same here,” she said softly, a smile creeping across her face. “I’m so glad we found each other.”
As she climbed into my lap to kiss me some more, I suddenly thought of the crippled guy in her book. How could he just give up on life like that? I wondered, closing my eyes as I kissed her back.
Since the accident, my life had been far from perfect. It was a lot harder than before, and, some days, it was downright depressing. But I could still find joy in simple moments, like listening to my son read me a story, enjoying a glass of fine wine and a good meal with good friends, and making out with my girlfriend.
Her soft lips left mine and meandered along my jawline, sending little shivers of pleasure down my spine when they reached the sensitive spot on the side of my neck, near my left earlobe.
I guess he never had a Natalie.
***