The next two days flew by in a flurry of activity – rehearsals with the Boys during the day, followed by romantic nights with Natalie – and before I knew it, it was Friday morning.
When the alarm I’d set on my phone went off well before dawn, I woke to find something fuzzy in my face. “Siri, turn off my alarm,” I muttered, spitting out a mouthful of fake fur. As silence fell, I felt a warm body stir beside me and looked down to see a much different sight than I’d been treated to the previous two mornings. This time, it was not Natalie curled up next to me but Mason, who had somehow migrated from his side of the king-size bed over to mine in the three hours since Dawn had come in to turn me.
In the faint glow of the clock face, I could see him clutching the stuffed monkey Natalie had bought at the toy store with the last of the cash I had given her. “I thought it was so cute,” she’d said when she showed it to me after her shopping trip with Leighanne. “It reminded me of Mason hanging from his swing set like a little monkey. I just had to get it for him. Do you think he’ll like it?”
Mason already had too many stuffed animals at home, but I didn’t tell Natalie that. “He’ll love it,” I’d assured her – and, of course, he had, choosing to sleep with it over the teddy bear he’d brought from home. Poor Teddy had been abandoned in a room down the hall, which Natalie had agreed to share with Dawn when Mason begged to sleep in my bed.
“But I missed you, Daddy!” he had whined at bedtime the night before. I’d already told him no, but his tears worked on Natalie, who insisted that she didn’t mind spending the night in a different room. I could tell she was still trying to score points with Mason.
“Is it morning?” he mumbled now, rubbing his eyes with his fists.
“Yeah, but it’s early. Go back to sleep, buddy,” I whispered through the dark.
While Mason rolled over and fell asleep again within minutes, I lay awake with butterflies fluttering in my throat as I waited for one of the women to come in to start my morning routine. In another two hours, we would be on our way to Central Park for my first official performance with the Backstreet Boys in over six years.
Just when I was beginning to worry that both women had overslept, I heard a soft click as the door lock disengaged, and one of them let herself into my room. “Good morning,” Dawn’s voice called softly as a light came on. “Anyone awake in here?”
“I am.” I couldn’t decide whether I was disappointed or relieved that it was Dawn and not Natalie who had arrived to help me get ready. Natalie had done a great job with my routine the last two days, but I still felt more comfortable with Dawn, who didn’t need me to talk through every step with her.
“Your girlfriend’s getting her beauty sleep in the other room,” she told me, turning back the covers to take off my catheter. “So, you ready for your big day?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied with a shrug, trying to downplay my performance anxiety. There was no reason to be nervous, I told myself. Our rehearsals had gone well. The guys had all agreed that we should keep things simple for our first concert as a quintet since my injury. No complicated choreography or scripted banter, just the classic five-part harmonies our fans wanted to hear from us. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining all the things that could go wrong. My biggest worry used to be that my mind would go blank in the middle of the song, and I would forget my lyrics or dance steps. Now, I had different fears. What if I rolled too far forward and fell off the stage? Or got overheated and had a bout of AD during our performance?
“You’ve got this!” Dawn called as she carried my catheter bag into the bathroom to empty.
When she came back, she helped me stretch and transfer to my shower chair while Mason slept soundly in the center of the huge bed. By the time I finished showering, he was awake and watching TV with the volume turned down low. I ordered room service for breakfast, and Dawn helped me get dressed while we waited for our food to be delivered.
“You do know it’s going to be a high of ninety-three today, right?” Dawn said, frowning as she unzipped the garment bag that contained my outfit for Good Morning America: a black button-down shirt, black blazer, and black pants. “You’re going to roast in this.”
“It won’t be that hot this morning,” I said dismissively, although I was worried about the same thing. I hadn’t been thinking about the outside temperature at our wardrobe fitting earlier that week, where I had asked our stylist to find me something that would hide my quad belly. “I don’t want the fans to think I’ve let myself go,” I’d said, gesturing to the flabby little pooch that I couldn’t seem to get rid of, no matter how much I exercised or how little I ate. Despite the forecasted heat, I had Dawn wrap an abdominal binder around my waist before I put on my shirt, knowing the wide compression belt would help to hold in my gut and give me more breath support while I was singing.
I was still only half-dressed when I heard a knock at the door. “I’ll get it!” Mason shouted, leaping off the other side of the bed and racing across the room.
“No, wait!” I cried. “Let Dawn get it.” I gave her a pleading look, not wanting some poor unsuspecting server to see me without a shirt.
“Room service already?” She looked back at me with raised eyebrows. “That was really fast!” She left me lying bare-chested on the bed and hurried after Mason to answer the door. “Oh, hi!” I heard her say and realized it must not have been room service after all. “Come on in. He’s almost ready.”
My relief was short-lived when Natalie walked into the room. “Morning, babe!” she said brightly, coming over to the bed to give me a quick peck on the lips. She looked cute and colorful in a cotton summer dress with a bold, pink and orange floral print, which she wore with a pair of wedge sandals and a wide-brimmed sun hat. I noticed the new watch she’d bought with the money I’d given her fastened around her wrist. (“This will make it easier for me to count down the minutes until I can see you again,” she had said jokingly when she showed it to me.) Next to her, I was going to look like I belonged in a funeral home.
“Hey there, hot stuff,” I replied, flashing her a smile to hide how self-conscious I felt. “You look incredible.”
“Thanks!” Her eyes dropped to the white elastic band around my waist. “What’s that you’re wearing?”
My face grew warm. “It’s an abdominal binder. It improves my posture and breathing so I can sing better,” I explained. “I used to wear one all the time because it helped with my blood pressure after I got hurt, but I don’t need it as much now.”
“I see. It looks kinda uncomfortable,” she said, making a face. “Almost like a corset.”
I shrugged. “Considering I can’t feel that far down, it’s not bad, but I’ll take it off after the concert. Dawn’s already convinced I’m going to die of heat stroke on stage.”
“Look at this outfit they gave him to wear,” said Dawn, showing Natalie the black shirt and blazer she had draped over the back of a chair. “For a summer concert! In Central Park!”
“All the guys are wearing black,” I argued as Natalie giggled. “Well, black and tan.”
Dawn blinked. “Sure, because nothing says ‘summer fun’ like black and tan. Y’all should be wearing Hawaiian shirts and shorts!”
“We’re the Backstreet Boys, not the Beach Boys,” I said, shaking my head. Natalie laughed even harder at that.
She helped me put the shirt on while Dawn packed my bag with a change of clothes for after the concert. Since we were already going to be in Central Park, we planned to take Mason to the zoo later.
Natalie had just finished fastening the last button when our breakfast arrived. “Perfect timing!” she said as the server wheeled in a cart full of food. I had ordered plenty, so she ate in the room with us while we watched the sun rise outside the window.
When it was time to leave, we headed to the hotel lobby to meet up with the rest of the guys, our bodyguards, and a small camera crew, who would be filming my comeback performance for the documentary. “See? I told you – black and tan,” I said to Dawn in an undertone as we approached the group.
“But why are you the only one wearing all black?” she whispered back.
It was true; all the other guys had on a piece of tan clothing. Nick wore a buttery-looking, caramel-colored leather jacket and matching belt with his black shirt and pants. Brian had on a brown button-down shirt under his black vest, while AJ had gone with tan pants on bottom and a black t-shirt, vest, and fedora on top. Even Howie had paired a rust-colored polo shirt with his black jeans and blazer. They were all perfectly coordinated. My all-black ensemble blended right in but didn’t stand out, a complement with no contrast.
“Camouflage,” I replied with a shrug.
Two vans were waiting to take us to Rumsey Playfield, the outdoor music venue in Central Park. Judging by the hordes of people we passed on our way into the park, there was already a large crowd gathering for the concert.
“Break a leg,” Natalie said, giving me a good luck kiss before she left to find a place to watch with Dawn, Mason, Leighanne, and Baylee. “You’re gonna be great!”
“Thanks, baby.” I flashed her what I hoped looked like a confident smile.
Our soundcheck before the show went well. But as I waited backstage, the butterflies I’d felt before only seemed to multiply, filling my brain with a buzzing sense of anxiety. I went through the motions, warming up my voice alongside the others and mentally rehearsing the modified accompaniment for “Incomplete,” which the guys had convinced me to play on the piano.
It was Nick who had come up with the idea during one of our conference calls. “We should do it as an acoustic number,” he’d said when AJ suggested adding “Incomplete” to the set list. “Just the five of us gathered around a grand piano with Kevin playing and me on my guitar. It’ll be a good way to remind the world that we’re real musicians who can still put on a great show without all the bells and whistles.”
At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. After all, I had already been practicing the piano for months in preparation for my return to the stage, where I wanted to pull my weight and prove my worth as a performing artist in a wheelchair. But now, the thought of plunking out notes with my paralyzed hands while I sang in front of a live audience made me even more nervous.
Sitting next to me, Brian seemed just as anxious. He was hunched forward with his head hanging down, clutching a cup of hot tea in his hands.
“Hey,” I said, looking over at him. “You good?”
“Yup,” he replied hoarsely, hardly glancing up. He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip of his tea. “You?”
“I’m freakin’ out here,” I confessed. New fears kept cropping up in my mind: What if my nerves caused me to soil myself in the middle of the concert? I had heard horror stories of perfectly able-bodied artists having bathroom accidents onstage. If it could happen to them, it seemed even more likely to happen to me. I had already cathed myself to make sure my bladder was empty before we took the stage, but it had been twenty-four hours since my last bowel program. I suddenly wished I had asked Dawn to do another one that day to get me good and cleaned out, just in case.
Brian finally straightened up and turned to face me. “You’re gonna be just fine,” he said, flashing me a reassuring smile. “You got this, Kev.”
I nodded, forcing myself to return his smile. “Right back at ya, cuz.” I knew he was dealing with the same uncertainty, albeit for different reasons. Despite my own self-doubts, I didn’t envy him. I may not have been able to control my bladder, bowel, or the majority of my body, but at least I could still control my vocal cords. My voice was the one thing I felt reasonably confident in.
A producer poked her head through the heavy curtains that kept us hidden behind the stage. “The show just cut to a commercial break. Your segment is coming up next. Lara’s going to give a quick introduction, and then we’ll bring you out on stage.”
As the other guys got up from their folding chairs, I tightened my gloves with my teeth and planted my hands firmly on my push rims. “You ready to roll, Kev?” AJ asked me with a grin as we took our places at the bottom of the ramp that had been set up to give me access to the stage.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I think Kevin should lead the prayer,” Howie suggested, and the others nodded in agreement.
Prayer had been an important part of our pre-show ritual for as long as I could remember. Before every concert, we would gather in a circle, join hands, and bow our heads to pray, asking God to bless everyone involved in the performance. The last time I had taken part in this ritual was almost four years ago when I’d made a surprise appearance at the Boys’ show in Los Angeles. It felt good to know that I wasn’t just there as a special guest this time but officially back in the group as a Backstreet Boy again.
As the five of us formed a circle and joined hands, I closed my eyes, cleared my throat, and tried to come up with something profound to say. Since I hadn’t prepared anything in advance, I settled for what was on my mind. “Lord, we thank You for giving us the opportunity to be here today. We ask You to watch over us as we perform together for the first time in six years. Please let it go well.” I paused, swallowing the fears that kept bubbling up from the pit of my stomach. “In Your name, we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” I heard Howie, Brian, AJ, and Nick echo as I opened my eyes again. The morning sun seemed even brighter than before.
A sound tech handed each of the guys his microphone. He had a headset for me to wear so I didn’t have to worry about holding a mic while I was wheeling myself around.
On a small TV screen set up next to the stage entrance, we could see GMA’s Lara Spencer giving her introduction. “The wait is finally over,” she was saying. “Backstreet Boys… they are back, all together after six years apart! Kevin Richardson joining the best-selling boyband ever, more than a hundred and thirty million albums sold. They’re now going to perform for us in the first official concert since reuniting, but first, a look back at some of our favorite hits.”
A lump rose in my throat as I watched the package they played, a compilation of clips from our music videos over the past couple decades. It was strange to see my younger self standing, walking, and dancing. I could clearly remember filming every one of those videos, but after more than four years in a wheelchair, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be able-bodied. My memories may as well have belonged to an earlier incarnation of me from another lifetime. I wasn’t that man anymore.
But you never would have known it from the way the fans reacted to me. When Lara called us onto the stage, the crowd cheered just as loudly as always. I heard a chorus of high-pitched screams rise as I rolled up the ramp and across the stage. In spite of my anxiety, I felt a smile creeping across my face.
Lara was standing in the center of the stage, where there were five director’s chairs set up. I stopped to greet her, then pushed myself past them and parked my wheelchair at the end of the row. I turned to wave to the audience while Howie, Brian, AJ, and Nick followed my lead. They filled the empty seats, leaving the last one for Lara.
As she began the brief interview we’d agreed to give before our performance, I looked out into the crowd again, my eyes panning the sea of faces in search of a familiar one. I found Natalie first; she stood out like a beacon in her bright-colored dress and sun hat. She was off to one side of the stage in front of the barrier with Dawn and Leighanne. Mason and Baylee were standing in front of the three women. When Mason saw me look his way, he waved wildly at me. His wide grin melted my heart. I smiled and waved back, happy to have my son there watching.
“We definitely have some of the best fans in the world,” I heard Howie say as my gaze shifted back to Natalie, who looked almost as enamored as Mason. As I locked eyes with her, she beamed and blew me a kiss.
Dawn caught my eye next and gave me a subtle nod and a thumbs up. “You’ve got this!” I could hear her saying in my head, encouraging as ever.
I felt a boost of confidence as I turned my attention back to Lara, who had asked us about the best part of getting back together.
“It’s like we never stopped,” said AJ. “Which, we never stopped.” I could tell he was gently trying to correct the mistaken notion that the group hadn’t done anything together since Never Gone. Good Morning America seemed determined to promote our appearance as a Backstreet Boys reunion, ignoring the fact that AJ, Nick, Howie, and Brian had released two more albums without me and performed together as recently as one week earlier, when NKOTBSB had played at a music festival in Pennsylvania that they’d booked before I rejoined the group. “But now, we got Kev back, so… Backstreet’s back!”
Another round of cheers rose out of the audience as AJ wrapped up his answer. Lara turned to me next. “I wanna ask you, Kevin: What made you decide to come back?”
Immediately, my mind flashed back to the conversation I’d had with Brian the previous Thanksgiving, when he’d confided in me about his vocal condition and begged me to come back. I wouldn’t tell the world that story without his blessing, so I left that part out of my response, pretending I had decided to come back all on my own. “Um… I’m a person that always follows my heart and follows my gut, and… my heart said now’s the time. It just felt right. I feel inspired to make music again with these guys,” I said, smiling as I looked at my four brothers. “And, you know, when I left, it had nothing at all to do with our relationship right here. It just had to do with me just needing to be inspired, and so I had to step away for a while.”
“A lot has changed in the six years since you left,” said Lara. “Life looks a little different for you now. And, you know, I don’t think we’ve ever seen a singer with a physical disability like yours perform in a group like yours, which is famous for dancing as well as singing. How will using a wheelchair affect the way you guys do things moving forward?”
“Well… I guess you’re about to find out,” I replied with a chuckle. “No, in all seriousness, when I left the group, the guys said the door would always be open for me to come back whenever I wanted. That didn’t change even after I got hurt. If you’d asked me four years ago if I thought I would ever be a Backstreet Boy again, the answer would have been, ‘Absolutely not.’ Even if I’d been ready to come back then, I didn’t see how it could ever work. But if you’d asked any one of these guys, they would’ve said we would find a way to make it work. And, so far, we have.” I smiled as I looked down the line again, thinking of all the conversations that had led up to this day, all the encouragement they had given me to get to this point. “I can’t thank my brothers enough for being so supportive and accommodating. They’ve welcomed me back with open arms and made it possible for me to continue my career in music. I feel incredibly blessed to be on this stage with them this morning.”
“Aww, Kevy Kev!” AJ, Nick, and Brian grinned back at me as Howie, who was sitting beside me, slung his arm around my shoulders.
The fans went wild, clapping and cheering so loudly and for so long that Lara could hardly get another word in. Once the crowd finally quieted down, she continued the interview, asking us about our growing families and the new album we were working on. I talked briefly about the album and our twentieth anniversary, and AJ announced that there would be another BSB cruise happening the following fall. Then Lara cut to a commercial break, promising the audience watching at home that we would perform when the show came back.
During the break, we did a rapid-fire Q&A with one of the other co-hosts while the crew cleared the stage for our performance. “Places, please!” the producer called. “We’re back on the air in one minute!”
With shaking hands, I wheeled myself to the center of the stage, where the five of us arranged ourselves in a straight row for our opening number, “Larger Than Life.” AJ helped me put in my in-ear monitors, which had been hanging around my neck. Immediately, the sound of the crowd was muffled. Instead, I could hear my own heartbeat hammering inside my head, the blood whooshing through my ears. Then a voice said, “We’re live in five… four… three…” As the countdown continued in my ear, I saw a cameraman filming the front row, panning across the cheering crowd. We would be starting the first song a capella before the live band came in behind us. The few seconds that passed while we stayed frozen in place, waiting to hear our starting pitch, were the first most nerve-racking for me.
Finally, the pitch played in our ears. We all looked to Brian, who was in the middle, for our cue. When he raised his microphone to his lips, we pointed to the crowd and started singing in almost perfect sync. “All you people, can’t you see, can’t you see… how your love’s affecting our reality? Every time we’re down, you can make it right, and thaaat makes you laaarger than life!”
As the band began to play behind us, I felt a surge of adrenaline flood my veins, washing my anxiety away. I performed a sharp one-eighty in my chair by pushing one wheel forward while pulling the other wheel backward, putting my back to the audience at the same time AJ, Howie, and Nick did.
Still facing the crowd, Brian stepped forward to sing his line of the first verse. “I may run and hide when you’re screaming my name, all right…” His voice sounded soft and shaky on the first few notes, but it grew stronger as he went on.
The rest of us turned around and spread out across the stage as Nick continued, “But let me tell you now, there are prices to fame, all right…”
I rolled to the edge of the stage where AJ was standing and harmonized with him to finish the first verse. “All of our time spent in flashes of ligh-ee-i-ee-i-ee-ight!”
As we launched into the chorus again, I looked out into the crowd and saw people singing along, dancing, and waving their arms. Nearly all of them were wearing huge smiles on their faces. I felt the hundreds of eyes that followed me as I rolled across the stage, but for once, their stares didn’t bother me. I knew they weren’t watching me with curiosity or pity the way most people did; they were there to be entertained, and I was eager to perform for them.
I did my best to match the other guys’ energy, moving my upper body as much as I could and dancing in my chair during their solos. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a bit envious when I watched Nick and AJ run off the stage and into the crowd, climbing easily onto two folding chairs in front of the barrier between the stage and the front row. I wished I could still do stuff like that, but, considering I could barely get my wheels over the cords that were taped to the stage, I had no choice but to stay up there with Brian and Howie.
“Yeah-ah-ah! Every time we’re down…” As we neared the end of the song, I glanced down at Natalie again and found her singing and dancing alongside Leighanne. “Yeah-ah-ah! You can make it right.” I caught her eye and winked. “Yeah-ah-ah! That’s what makes you larger than…” Next to them, Dawn was swaying back and forth behind Mason, her hands on his shoulders. We’ll make a boyband fan out of you yet, Dawn, I thought, smiling at her.
Nick and AJ raced back onto the stage during the final chorus, and we finished the song with our fists in the air, remaining frozen in that position for a few seconds as we soaked up the wild applause that followed. I had almost forgotten what a good feeling that was. I wished I could bottle it up and save it for the bad days, the days when I felt depressed and down on myself. Instead, I gazed out at the adoring crowd, listened to their cheers, and tried to commit every detail of the moment to memory, hoping I could conjure it up the next time I needed a confidence boost.
As the show cut to another commercial break, the stage crew set up for the next song, “Incomplete.” While they wheeled the glossy, black grand piano onto the stage, Brian helped me put on the wrist cuffs that held my styluses. I heard squeals of excitement and shouts of, “We love you, Kevin!” coming from the crowd when I positioned my chair in front of the piano. I couldn’t help smiling as I played a few scales to warm up.
Brian sat down on the piano bench to my right so he could press the sustain pedal while I played. My search to find a way to work the pedals without using my foot had yielded only a few results, all of which would have required me to use my mouth instead, making singing at the same time impossible. In the end, the most practical solution I could come up with was to have someone sit beside me and press the pedal for me. Since Brian didn’t have any solos in “Incomplete,” he had offered to be my right-foot man.
“So, how you feelin’ now?” he asked me as I finished my warm-up.
“So far, so good,” I said with a nervous smile. The butterflies had come back during the break; I could feel them fluttering inside my throat again. “I’ll feel better once this number’s over.”
“You’ll be fine.” He patted the back of my hand. “Are you happy you came back?”
I nodded. “I’m havin’ fun,” I admitted. “I almost forgot how good it feels to be up here in front of a big group of fans.”
“It’s pretty great, huh?” AJ agreed, grinning as he approached us. “We’ve got the best job in the world.” He perched on the other end of the piano bench, turning his body to face the audience.
And I walked away from it. A lump rose in my throat as I looked around, realizing how lucky I was to have been given a second chance at the kind of life most people could only dream about. While I didn’t regret taking time off to focus on my family, I felt like a fool for leaving the group when I was still physically capable of performing to the highest caliber, only to come back in a wheelchair. I would never take my career for granted again. Judging by the number of signs I saw with my name on it, the fans felt the same way about me. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I thought, bowing my head in appreciation as I caught the eye of a woman in the front row who was holding a “Welcome back, Kevin!” poster.
Nick wandered over next, strumming the guitar he wore strapped across his chest to make sure it was still in tune. He had taken off his leather jacket. “Damn, it’s hot out here,” he said, wiping the perspiration off his forehead with the sleeve of the baggy black t-shirt he’d worn under it. “You doing okay, Kevin?”
I nodded. “Yeah… I’m all right.” I knew it was only a matter of time before my body reacted to the rising temperature, but since I was usually cold, the heat hadn’t started to bother me yet.
“Let us know if you need water or something,” Howie added helpfully as he stood next to Nick behind the piano.
“Thanks. I will,” I said, watching the camera crew scurry around the stage as they prepared to go live again.
When the show came back from its commercial break, Lara did another short lead-in to introduce “Incomplete.” My hands shook as they hovered over the piano, the styluses placed on the starting keys. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm my nerves before I nodded at the band leader. On my cue, one of the percussionists performed a cymbal roll to start the song, and I began to play.
The first five notes were perfect. Then, panic struck as I hit the wrong key. I kept playing, trying to cover up my mistake, but the melody was off. My mind went blank; I couldn’t seem to find the correct notes, and the cameraman hovering over my shoulder to get a close-up shot of my hands only made me more nervous. My shoulders stiffened, making it harder for me to move my arms fast enough to keep up with the tempo of the cymbal tapping softly in the background.
But AJ, ever the consummate professional, didn’t miss a beat. Despite my clinkers, he came in perfectly on key to sing the first verse. “Empty… spaces… fill me up with holes…”
“There you go,” I heard Brian murmur in my ear as I made the transition from arpeggios to chords and found the right keys again. “You got it, cuz.”
Once I got back on track, I felt my body relax, the tension leaving my shoulders as I continued accompanying AJ. “Distant… faces… with no place left to go.” His voice sounded amazing, low and smoky at first, then loud and clear as he crescendoed to hit the high notes. “Without you… within me… I can’t find no rest. Where I’m… going… is anybody’s guess…”
“I tried… to go on like I never knew you.” Nick came in with the chorus, his vocals soft and silky. “I’m awake… but my world is half asleep.” Howie joined him in harmony on the second half of each line, adding a layer of depth to his tone. “I pray… for this heart to be unbroken…” I could hear the raw emotion in Nick’s voice as it rose above Howie’s. I knew it was partly an act he put on for the sake of the performance, but it came from a real place. Like me, he and Howie had both experienced the pain of losing people they loved, most recently with the passing of Nick’s sister, Leslie. “But, without you, all I’m going to be is… in-come-puh-le-ete…”
Glancing up, I caught a glimpse of Nick’s face as he sang the last line. His eyes were closed, his features contorted with grief. A hard lump swelled in my throat as I looked back down, the piano keys blurring before my eyes as they prickled with tears. Despite the heat and my layers of dark clothing, I had goosebumps on my arms. I swallowed hard, secretly glad I had the whole second verse to regain my composure before I had to sing. But as we repeated the chorus, I couldn’t help but think of Kristin.
“I try to go on like I never knew you.
I’m awake, but my world is half asleep.
I pray for this heart to be unbroken,
But, without you, all I’m going to be is incomplete.”
I had listened to those lyrics countless times on my last tour with the Backstreet Boys, harmonizing along without a clue that I would be living them just a few years later. But when I was at my lowest point, lying awake in a hospital bed with a broken heart and a body that was half asleep, I also couldn’t have imagined I would ever be able to perform with the Boys again. Yet, here I was on a stage in Central Park, singing and playing the piano for a huge crowd of people while an even bigger audience watched from home. As I played the last few notes, letting them linger along with Nick’s vocals, I looked heavenward, wondering if Kristin was watching, too. I hoped she would be proud of me for how far I had come since then.
By the end of the song, I had beads of sweat dripping down my face, which helped to disguise the tears that were trickling from my eyes. “You okay, Kev?” AJ asked as he helped me take off my wrist cuffs during the commercial break that followed. “You look flushed.”
“I could use some water,” I admitted, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. I felt slightly nauseous, but I wasn’t sure whether that was from being overheated or nervous.
“I’ll grab you some,” Howie offered, hurrying over to the side of the stage to get me a bottle of water.
“Thanks, brother,” I said as he twisted off the top and handed it to me. Holding the bottle between the heels of my hands, I lifted it carefully to my lips and took a sip. “Y’all sounded great on that song. Sorry I fucked up the beginning.”
“It’s okay,” Howie said with a reassuring smile. “You covered it well. I doubt anyone even noticed.”
I knew our die-hard fans had noticed, but they didn’t seem to care. The crowd responded just as enthusiastically to our last two songs as they had for the first two. I’m sure it helped that they were our two biggest hits, “I Want It That Way” and “Everybody.”
A wave of high-pitched screams swelled from the crowd when the band played the familiar intro to “I Want It That Way.” The five of us started the song in a tight formation in the center of the stage with Brian standing in the middle. As AJ sang his opening notes, segueing into Brian’s solo with a quick, “B-Rok!” I stared down at my feet and said a silent prayer:
Please let Brian’s voice be strong.
Of all his solo parts, the first verse of “I Want It That Way” was the one Brian had struggled the most with during our rehearsals. Despite the simplicity of the song’s structure, its melody was deceptively difficult to sing because of the way it jumped between high and low notes. It required a vocal workout – and Brian’s voice, weakened by dysphonia, was far from being in the best shape of his life. But although he sounded a little bit shaky, Brian managed to hit every note before he held out his microphone to the audience, inviting them to sing the last line. The fans were happy to help him out, finishing the first verse by chanting, “I WANT IT THAT WAY!” as loudly as they could.
Nick and AJ both nailed their solos, which we followed with the chorus, performing a modified version of our old choreography that was mostly arm moves I could still do in some capacity. When we finished the second chorus, I rolled forward for my solo. Looking out into the crowd, I saw a sea of phones and cameras raised to capture the moment. I cleared my throat, sucked in the deepest breath I could, and sang, “Now I can see that we’ve fallen apart… from the way that it used to be, ye-eah.”
AJ came up alongside me, bending down to put his face close to mine as he added his harmony. “No matter the distance, I want you to know… that deep down inside of me…”
It was hard to hear Howie’s solo over the screaming that followed mine. I couldn’t help smiling as the five of us harmonized into the key change. Hearing the fans singing along at the top of their lungs only added to my happiness.
We finished the concert on a high note with “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back),” which held new significance for me now that I was back, too. The fifteen-year-old song felt fresh and fun for me again, especially when I saw how much the fans were enjoying it. I looked for Natalie and found her singing along as Nick and Brian went back and forth with their questions. When Nick sang, “Am I sexual?” I caught her eye and did a seductive little wiggle in my chair, shimmying my shoulders.
“Yea-ah!” she sang back, her brown eyes shining as she pointed up at me with both hands. For a brief second, I felt like I was singing to her alone. Then a blush rose in my cheeks as I realized there were thousands of people watching me.
“Am I everything you need? You better rock your body now. Everybody…”
On the last chorus, we did the famous dance from the video. I followed along with the choreography as best I could from the waist up, like I had at AJ’s wedding reception. The fan reaction was so enthusiastic that it didn’t seem to matter that I couldn’t move my legs – if anything, the wheelchair only made me more captivating to the crowd. I could feel the eyes following me as I spun around and rolled toward the rest of the guys for the final, “All right!”
The fans went wild as we gathered at the front of the stage, arms wrapped around each other, and took our bows. While Brian, AJ, Nick, and Howie all bent at the waist, I bowed my head, afraid I wouldn’t be able to sit back up again if I let myself lean too far forward.
“We’ll see you next year on tour!” AJ called to the cheering crowd as we exited the stage. “Brand new record!”
Backstage, we exchanged hugs, high fives, and fist bumps. “You did great out there, dawg,” Nick told me, bending down to give me a hug. “How’d it feel to be back on the stage?”
“Amazing.” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “That crowd was incredible.”
“Dude, they freaking loved you!” AJ chimed in. “Did you hear them? I think they screamed even louder for you than they did for Nick!”
I laughed, but no one disagreed with him – not even Nick.
Despite the mixture of joy and relief I felt at that moment, it didn’t take long for my performance high to fade, replaced by a pounding headache. I felt physically and emotionally exhausted from performing in the hot sun. My arms were so shaky and weak that I found it difficult to push myself back to our dressing room. A glance in the mirror made me grimace at the sight of my bright red face. My hair was plastered to my forehead, which was sweating profusely, although I felt dry from the neck down. I knew these were signs of AD setting in, the result of being overheated.
Thankfully, the rest of the guys recognized the symptoms, too, and sprang into action to help me cool down. Nick and AJ worked together to take off my layers of clothing while Brian wet a paper towel to wipe off my face. Howie fetched another bottle of water for me and held it to my lips as Nick and AJ freed my arms from the confines of the stiff, long-sleeved shirt I was wearing. Brian left the room to find ice and returned with a handful of ice packs from the medical tent. He pressed one to the back of my neck, strategically placing the others on my bare chest, stomach, and legs.
While my bandmates were busy taking care of me, Keith had escorted our families backstage. Hearing a gasp, I glanced up to see Natalie standing in the doorway of the dressing room. “Oh my goodness! Are you all right?” she asked as she rushed to my side.
I nodded, my face flushing even redder when I realized how ridiculous I must have looked, sitting half-naked in my wheelchair with four other men fussing over me. “I’m just hot,” I said, flashing her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “You know how I get in the heat. Gimme a few more minutes, and I’ll be fine.”
“Here, let me help with that.” Natalie took the ice pack from Brian’s hand and held it to the back of my neck. “Y’all put on one heck of a show out there!” she said, sweeping the sweaty hair off my forehead. “I just wish it wasn’t so short.”
“Thanks… although I dunno if I would’ve made it much longer out there in that heat,” I admitted, leaning back in my chair.
“I did warn you that outfit wasn’t a good idea,” Dawn said with a smirk as she walked over to me. “You gave a great performance, though.” She patted my shoulder.
“Thanks. You looked like you were enjoying it,” I said, smiling back at her before my gaze shifted to Mason, who was glued to her side. “What did you think, bud?”
He grinned. “You did great, Dad!”
“Thanks, son. I’m glad you guys could be here to watch.” I reached out to ruffle his hair. “You ready to go see some of Dad’s movie and then go to the zoo?” Our management team had rented a movie theater near the park for a private screening of the documentary footage the film crew from London had put together for us to preview after our performance.
“Yeah!” he replied eagerly.
“Are you sure you’re still up for the zoo?” Natalie asked me, sounding anxious.
I nodded. “I told you, I’ll be fine. Don’t baby me,” I muttered out of the side of my mouth before turning my attention back to Mason. “As soon as Daddy cools down, I’ll get dressed, and then we can get going, okay?”
“Okay!”
It took another half hour for my headache to go away, and even after it did, I still felt drained, despite drinking plenty of water. “You sure you’re okay?” Dawn asked as she helped me put on the shorts and t-shirt she had packed. “You look tired.”
“I am tired,” I admitted to her. “I think the combination of the heat and the whole rollercoaster of emotions I was riding earlier this morning really took it out of me.”
“You know, I could always take Mason to the zoo by myself if you wanna go back to the hotel room with Natalie and rest after the film screening,” she offered. “Or, if she would rather go with Mason, I’ll stay at the hotel with you.”
“Don’t you start with me, too,” I said, shaking my head. Although a nap sounded nice, I hadn’t flown my family out to New York to waste an afternoon hanging out in my hotel room. I wanted to make the most out of Mason’s first trip to the Big Apple and spend the whole weekend with him. “I said I was tired, not that I needed to go back to my room and rest. I’ll do that tonight. Today, I’m taking my son to the zoo.”
“Duly noted,” said Dawn with a nod. She let the issue drop and didn’t bring it up again, though she kept a close eye on me for the rest of the day.
Once I was dressed, we piled back into the two vans for the short ride to the theater, where we watched a rough cut of the documentary. It was strange to see three weeks of our lives condensed into twenty minutes, but the editors had done a great job putting together the best clips from the hours of footage the film crew had captured. I loved that I could show Mason where we had stayed and worked in London. The film included a little of everything: our arrival at the house, eating breakfast together, writing and recording in the studio, relaxing on our days off. I was relieved to see that while our trip to Hampstead Heath had made it into the cut, my embarrassing moments were missing. There were no shots of me riding on Nick’s back or almost reenacting Mac and Me on the hill. Overall, I was happy with the result, and the rest of the guys seemed to feel the same way.
“If you’re willing, we would love to expand this into a full-length feature,” the producer, Mia, proposed after we finished watching the preview. “We could film you going back to where the group began and visiting each other’s hometowns, like you talked about doing when you were in London, and use it to tell the Backstreet Boys’ story. It wouldn’t just be about this new album but your whole history.”
We all agreed that it was a good idea, not only as a gift to our fans but as a way to reintroduce the rest of the world to the Backstreet Boys.
After the screening, we went our separate ways. Although I would be spending the weekend in New York, the other guys were flying home that afternoon. “See you soon,” we told each other as we said our goodbyes, knowing we would be back in mid-September to perform for the Old Navy show at New York Fashion Week. While Nick, AJ, Howie, and the Littrells headed back to the hotel to pack their bags, Natalie, Dawn, Mason, and I returned to Central Park.
Sitting inside the dark, cool theater had helped me recover from the heat, but I still felt tired as I wheeled myself toward the zoo entrance. Despite confiding in Dawn, I did my best to hide my fatigue from Natalie and Mason, not wanting either of them to worry about me. I was determined not to let my disability put a damper on the day’s excitement. In addition to our zoo admission passes, we had dinner reservations at a nice restaurant to celebrate my successful return to the stage and four tickets to see Wicked that night. It would be Mason’s first Broadway musical – Dawn’s as well – and I wasn’t going to mess that up for either of them.
But, late that night, as I lay in bed with my eyelids drooping from the long day’s exertions, my own anxiety kept my mind wide awake. Getting through my first concert back with the group had helped to boost my confidence, but it had also filled my head with fresh doubts. I should have felt relieved that the show had gone as well as it had – I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself onstage, and the reaction from our fans had far surpassed my expectations. But, in spite of the work I’d put in to get myself performance-ready, a four-song set had wiped me out. I wondered how I was going to make it through a full, two-hour set five or six nights a week on a summer tour.
I’ll just have to keep training and build up my stamina, I told myself determinedly as I stared into the dark void of my hotel room. With the blackout drapes drawn across the window, I could barely see a few feet in front of my face, but I could hear the sounds of the city that never sleeps on the street below. A distant siren wailed, growing steadily louder before it gradually faded away.
I tried to focus instead on the soft, steady breathing coming from the other side of the bed, where Natalie was sleeping next to me. I’d had a much easier time talking Mason into sleeping in the other room with Dawn that night – having fallen asleep during the second act of Wicked, he was too tired to argue with me. After tucking him into bed and telling him goodnight, I’d gone back to my own room, where Natalie was waiting for me. By the time we had finished transferring me into bed and taken off my clothes, I’d felt far too exhausted to try making love to her that night. Yet, somehow, she had fallen asleep first while I was the one still lying awake, worrying about the future.
***