AJ was already smoking outside the studio when I arrived that afternoon. “Kevy Kev!” he called, waving as I pulled into the parking lot in my rental car, which had hand controls so I could drive it myself.
I was happy to see him standing next to the gate. “Hey, AJ!” I hollered out the open window after parking in the lone handicapped spot. “You mind giving me a hand here?”
“Sure thing, buddy!” He stamped out his cigarette butt and hurried over to help me transfer from the front seat to my wheelchair, which was wedged in the back. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to pop the big wheels back onto the frame and position it for a successful transfer, but he finally managed to get me out of the car and into my chair. “Whew,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he bent down to fasten my foot straps. “That was a workout!”
“I know. Thanks, though; I appreciate it,” I replied as I rolled toward the entrance.
“Not a problem. So, how’s it goin’?” AJ asked, holding the door open for me.
“Pretty good. I put in an offer on a house yesterday.”
“Yeah? Good for you, bro!”
“Yeah, Natalie loves it ‘cause the master suite is pink – her favorite color. Dawn doesn’t like it at all and thinks Nat’s got me pussy-whipped ‘cause I said we could leave it pink for now.” I paused. “Well, she left out the ‘pussy’ part, but I knew what she meant.”
AJ laughed. “What’s wrong with pink?” he asked, wiggling his fuchsia-painted fingernails in front of my face. “Sounds pretty sweet to me!”
As we went down the hall, I quickly filled him in on my awkward conversation with Dawn that morning. “…And now I’m worried there’s some kind of underlying resentment between her and Natalie that will only get worse if we all end up living together,” I finished with a sigh.
“I thought they got along fine.” AJ frowned. “Didn’t they hang out together our first day in London?”
I nodded. “Hell, they’re hanging out together right now! They were headed to Hollywood. Dawn’s never seen the Walk of Fame.”
“She could have just waited a few months,” he said with a chuckle. “You will invite her to the ceremony, won’t you?”
“Of course,” I said, smiling. We had recently found out the Backstreet Boys would be getting our own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame the following April, just in time for our twentieth anniversary. I still had a hard time wrapping my head around what a huge honor it was to have our name cemented in history along with so many other famous names. “But you know how catty women can be. I just don’t want there to be any drama.”
“You don’t think Dawn’s, like, secretly in love with you or something, do you?” AJ asked awkwardly. “I mean, she obviously cares about you, and you two spend a lot of time together… and she sees you naked.”
“Now you sound like Natalie,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You saw me naked when you were living with me. Are you in love with me?”
“No, but I think Nick might be.”
“Nick might be what?” We had reached the studio, where Nick and Howie were already hard at work, their heads bent together as they studied something on Nick’s laptop. They both looked up as I wheeled myself in.
“Never mind,” I replied at the same time AJ answered, “In love with Kevin.”
Nick laughed. “Was it that obvious? Of course I’m in love with Kevin.” He came over and planted a big, wet kiss on my cheek. “How could I not be?”
“Gross, Nick.” I wrinkled my nose as I wiped his slobber off my face.
“Sorry.” He snickered again, not looking one bit sorry. “So, how’s it goin’, dawg?”
“Good.” I quickly repeated my news about the house, leaving out the part about Natalie and Dawn. “How are y’all doin’?”
Nick and Howie filled me in on the latest in their lives – Nick’s girlfriend Lauren was getting ready for a major fitness competition in Dallas, which he would be performing at, while Howie’s wife Leigh had almost reached the halfway point of her pregnancy. Then they introduced me to the producer we would be working with that week, an up-and-comer named Morgan Taylor Reid, whom they’d met through another producer they had worked with on their last album, and his songwriting partner, Mika Guillory, who went by the name “Prophet.”
I was looking forward to writing some music together. The creative energy in the room was flowing, and I felt inspired. But as we sat around a table, tossing out song ideas, I couldn’t forget the fact that we were missing a member. “Is it just me, or does it feel weird to be doing this without Brian?” I asked Howie during our first break.
“Nah, it’s not just you. We felt the same way after you left. It was always a little weird.” His words sent a wave of guilt washing over me.
“Well, at least Brian won’t be gone that long.” At least, I hope not, I added inwardly. While the rest of us were working in L.A., Brian had flown up to Boston to see a specialist about his voice. I found it a little hard to believe that the only time the doctor could fit him in happened to be during the same week we’d planned to be in the studio on the opposite side of the country; a part of me couldn’t help but wonder whether this was his way of avoiding another difficult recording session. It wasn’t like Brian to back down from a challenge, but he had never faced a struggle like this as a singer before.
“I wonder how his appointment’s going,” Howie said as Nick returned from the restroom, wiping his hands on his red sweatpants.
“Let’s call him and find out.”
We waited until AJ came back from his smoke break to FaceTime with Brian. “He may not be able to answer if he’s with the doctor right now,” I warned the others as we watched Nick’s phone try to connect with Brian’s.
But after a few seconds, Brian’s face appeared on the screen. “Hey, fellas!” he croaked.
Inwardly, I cringed at the sound of his voice, which was hoarser than ever, but I forced a smile onto my face to hide my reaction. “What’s up, Brian? We’re all in the studio together and wanted to check in with you. How’s everything goin’?”
“It’s goin’,” he replied with a shrug. I could tell by the bland beige wall behind him that he was still inside a medical facility of some sort. “Sorry I sound like crap. They just did a scope to look at my vocal cords, so my throat’s a little sore.”
That made me cringe even more as I remembered how uncomfortable it was to have a tube down my throat. “Do you know yet if they can help you?”
He shook his head. “The doctor I’m seeing is the same one who did Adele’s vocal cord surgery last year. He’s also operated on Steven Tyler, Keith Urban, and Julie Andrews, so I’m in good company. But I dunno if there’s anything he can do to fix my problem surgically. The doctor who diagnosed me in Atlanta already said there wasn’t.”
“Didn’t Julie Andrews lose her singing voice after a botched surgery?” Howie asked, frowning.
“Yeah – that was a different doctor, though. Trust me; I looked it up before I made this appointment,” Brian said, a brief smile flickering across his lips. “But that’s what scares me. Even if he could operate, I dunno if it’d be worth the risk. What if it just made my voice worse?”
“That’s something you’d have to discuss with him and consider whether the benefits outweigh the risks.” I didn’t envy him having to make a decision like that, if it turned out that surgery was an option for him after all. It wasn’t difficult for me to imagine myself in a similar situation. What if there was a procedure that could potentially repair my damaged spinal cord and restore feeling and function to the paralyzed parts of my body, but it came with a high risk that I would lose the use of my arms if anything went wrong? Would I do it? I didn’t know either.
Brian sighed. “Yeah… but I’m putting the cart before the horse. There may not be anything he can do to help me.”
“It’s good that you’re getting a second opinion, though,” Howie pointed out. “It never hurts to ask.”
“True.” Brian cleared his throat. “So, how’s it goin’ in the studio?”
“Good so far,” Nick answered. “Me and Howie started writing this song called ‘Soldier.’ It’s a love song, but it’s got a bunch of, like, battle imagery.”
“In other words, Nick’s been playing too much Call of Duty lately,” AJ added.
Brian laughed. “Can’t wait to hear it. But, listen, guys, I’ve gotta go; the nurse just walked back in. I’ll talk to y’all later, all right?”
“All right. Catch you later, cuz. Good luck with everything.” I flashed an encouraging smile at the camera lens on Nick’s phone. “Keep us posted, okay?”
Brian nodded. “I will. Thanks.”
When he ended the call, we all went back to work on the songs we had been writing before the break. Nick and Howie huddled around Nick’s laptop to continue composing their soldier song on one side of the room while AJ and I worked together on the other.
“I wanna write something for my baby girl,” AJ had said earlier after showing us photos from Rochelle’s latest sonogram. “Maybe we could write a song about all our kids. I mean, most of us are dads now – or almost dads.” He grinned.
“That’s a good idea,” I’d agreed, thinking of Mason. “I’d love to work on that with you.”
We had started by brainstorming some ideas and had even come up with a few lines we liked, but we still didn’t have a solid theme in mind, a thread to tie the lyrics together. For inspiration, I swiped through the photos of Mason on my phone, smiling at the memories we’d made over the last few months: his fifth birthday, the Fourth of July, his first day of school, and all the small moments in between.
“He’s getting so big,” AJ said as he leaned in to look over my shoulder. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw him in New York last month. He’s not a baby anymore.”
“I know,” I replied, a lump rising in my throat. “I can’t believe he’s already in kindergarten. It’s crazy… The wait for them to be born seems to take forever, but once they’re finally here, time flies. Before you know it, you’re sending your baby off to school.”
“He looks more and more like you every day,” AJ observed. “I mean, I still see a lot of Kristin in him, too, but he’s definitely got your eyes and nose.”
I swallowed hard. My breath still caught in my throat whenever someone brought up my late wife, but it had gotten easier to keep breathing. “Thanks… I think.”
He chuckled. “I meant that as a compliment. You’re a good-looking man, Kev,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’m sure Nick would agree. Natalie’s a lucky girl.”
I smiled and shook my head. “If anyone’s ‘lucky’ in our relationship, it’s me. I never thought I would fall in love again. I never thought I’d find a woman like her who could look past the wheelchair and all my physical needs and limitations and love me the way I am now. But fate brought us together on that flight to London.”
AJ raised his eyebrows. “You really are in love, huh?” When I nodded, he smiled. “Well, I couldn’t be happier for you, bro. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you would ever fall in love again either – not because of anything to do with your disability but because you couldn’t let go of Kristin. I know how much you loved her… and how hard it was for you to lose her.”
“I still love Kristin,” I said quietly. “I’ll always love her. But Natalie knows and accepts that. And I think Kristin would approve of Natalie, too; I think she would want me to be with someone who makes me happy.”
AJ nodded. “I’m sure she would. And Natalie certainly seems to make you happy.”
“She does.” After a pause, I added, “You know, after four years, it’s finally getting easier for me to live my life without constantly thinking about Kristin… and that has a lot to do with Natalie. Now that I’m with her, I can look to the future and feel hopeful instead of wanting to cry over what was and what could have been. I mean, the twentieth anniversary of my first date with Kristin was earlier this month, and for the first time since her death, I didn’t shed a tear. I thought about her, of course… but I also thought about Natalie and how we’re still in that honeymoon phase of our relationship where everything is new and fun and exciting and a little nerve-racking. And instead of wishing I could go back twenty years and relive my relationship with Kristin from the beginning, I found myself looking forward to the possibility of spending the next twenty years with Natalie.”
“Wow…” AJ blinked. “Dawn was right; you really are pussy-whipped.”
My mouth dropped open. “Damn it, AJ! I just poured my heart out to you, and that’s all you have to say?”
He laughed and punched my shoulder. “Aw, c’mon, you know I’m just kidding. This is what I always hoped would happen for you someday. You were in such a dark place after the accident, and all I wanted was for you to look for the light at the end of the tunnel and have faith that you would find love and happiness there. But you had to go through it to get to that point. It may have taken you four years, but you finally made it. I’m proud of you, bro.”
I barely managed to say, “Thanks.” My throat had tightened as tears welled in my eyes. I wasn’t even sure if they were sad or happy tears – maybe a little bit of both. I was touched by what he’d said, but his words had triggered a painful memory of being in that dark place. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, I hastily wiped my eyes and cleared my throat.
If AJ noticed, he pretended not to, pulling his laptop closer to look at the lyrics we had already written. I bent over my phone, continuing to swipe distractedly through my photos until I found one that made me smile.
“Did you see this picture I tweeted out the other day?” I asked, showing AJ one my mom had sent me on Saturday. “Dawn was helping me clean my music room last week and came across a box of BSB keepsakes that I put away after I left the group. We found a full set of the Burger King action figures in it and left them out to show Mason. He’s been obsessed ever since. He thinks it’s so cool that his dad and uncles have superhero secret identities.”
AJ laughed as he looked at the picture of Mason’s latest Lego creation, some kind of guard tower where the five Backstreet heroes were keeping watch while an army of bad guys crossed the sea of his blue bedspread. “Hey, how come he put Rok at the top of the tower and kept you and me on the ground?”
“We’re the first line of defense,” I replied, brandishing my fist. “Ain’t nobody gonna get past us.”
“I guess he doesn’t know Uncle Brian’s afraid of heights.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, well, I don’t have the strength to beat up bad guys or punch my way out of a coffin like my alter ego does either. But that’s the fun of pretending.”
That was when AJ had a lightbulb moment. I watched as his eyes widened, his mouth dropping open as he drew in a sharp breath. “Dude… you just made me think of something. What was that phrase on the sign your mom made for your workout room at your old house? It was hanging on the wall with your Unbreakable tour robe and the boxing gloves we got you.”
I smiled, picturing the hand-painted sign clearly in my mind. It was now hanging next to my punching bag in my house in Lexington. “Show ‘em what you’re made of. It’s something my dad used to say to me all the time when I was a kid.”
“Yeah!” AJ nodded eagerly. “That’s it! I remember now! I was thinking maybe we could use that in the chorus of our song. You know, like words of wisdom passed down from father to son – or daughter. I mean, what a great message about not giving up even when life gets tough.”
My eyes began to water again as I thought about my dad. I hoped he would be as proud of me as AJ was. “I love that idea,” I said hoarsely. “Let’s do it.”
With the help of our songwriting team, we went to work, crafting a chorus that incorporated my dad’s words and a couple of verses to go with it. By the end of the day, we had finished drafting a full song. Morgan played the keyboard to accompany AJ and me as we performed it for Nick and Howie.
“I’ve seen it all a thousand times.
Falling down, I’m still alive. Am I? Am I?
So hard to breathe when the water’s high.
No need to swim; I’ll learn to fly… so high… so high…”
Listening to AJ sing the first verse, I was suddenly transported back to the ICU where I had spent a week floating in a drug-induced fog. For days, I had drifted in and out of consciousness, riding on a wave of sedatives that flowed through my veins to calm me down and keep me from fighting the ventilator that was breathing for me. I had vivid dreams of dancing with my wife, but when I was awake, I felt like I was drowning. The weight of grief was heavy on my chest, like a pair of hands pushing me underwater, and I was completely powerless to resist it. No matter how hard I tried to swim to the surface, my arms and legs remained limp and motionless, nothing but dead weights that dragged me back down into the depths of despair. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. I was alive, but I wasn’t really living. I didn’t want to live that way. I would have gladly given up on my miserable existence, left behind the broken body lying in its hospital bed and gone to Heaven to be with Kristin, if it hadn’t been for the baby boy waiting for me back home. Knowing my son needed me had been my sole motivation for surviving.
“You find the truth in a child’s eyes
When the only limit is the sky.
Living proof, I see myself in you…”
Tears flooded my eyes as memories filled my mind: The first time my mom had brought Mason to visit me in the hospital, when I couldn’t even hold him in my lap without help. The first time I’d sat up on the side of my bed, which made me so lightheaded that I had to lie back down a few minutes later. The first time I’d managed to move one of my arms, sparking a flicker of hope that I might regain more function down the road. The first time I’d sung after the accident, reminding me that I hadn’t lost everything. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night… Take these broken wings and learn to fly…” My voice had changed as a result of my injury. Outwardly, it wasn’t as rich or as powerful as before, but my inner voice had never been stronger. I had drawn inspiration from my triumphs and traumas, infusing them into the lyrics I’d contributed to our song.
Clearing my throat, I joined AJ on the chorus:
“When walls start to close in,
Your heart is frozen over.
Just show ‘em what you’re made of.
When sunlight is fading,
The world will be waiting for you.
Just show ‘em what you’re made of…”
As I sang, I closed my eyes and pictured myself on a stage, performing in front of a large crowd like I had in Central Park. My first show back with the Boys had been nerve-wracking, but I’d loved every moment of it. The Kevin who had sung “Blackbird” in the dead of night from his hospital bed never could have imagined he would be back on the stage someday, back in the studio, back to the career he thought he’d lost forever. But there I was, proving him wrong with every step I took forward – metaphorically speaking, anyway.
I opened my eyes to see Nick and Howie smiling as I sang the second verse solo:
“Gloves are off, ready to fight.
Like a lion, I will survive. Will I? Will I?
You gotta stand for something even if you stand alone.
Don’t be afraid. It’s gonna be all right…”
I focused on Nick’s face, seeing him how he’d looked four years ago when we had shared a different hospital room. I remembered the fear in his eyes as he’d fessed up, recounting the dangerous habits and frightening symptoms that had landed him in the emergency room after a night of hard partying with what he’d thought was a heart attack. Despite my own worries about what he was doing to his body, I had reassured him that he would be all right… and after he was diagnosed with heart disease two days later, I had promised to help him down the road to recovery, just as he had helped me during mine.
The boxing gloves were as much a symbol of Nick’s wellness journey as they were my own rehabilitation. I had bought him a pair of boxing gloves, autographed by two of the greatest, as a birthday gift while I was still at the rehab hospital. In turn, he and the guys had given me the personalized boxing robe that matched the ones they wore onstage as a parting gift before they embarked on their first tour without me. Even on my worst days, seeing that robe hanging on the wall with the sign my mom made had encouraged me to stay in the ring and keep fighting.
When we finished the song, both Nick and Howie had tears in their eyes. “Wow,” said Howie, letting out an awkward little laugh as he hastily wiped them away. “That was really powerful.”
Nick nodded in agreement. “You guys killed it,” he said, smiling. “I mean, I’m not a dad, but I thought it had a great message that could apply to more than just kids.” He caught my eye, making me wonder if he had also connected to our lyrics on a deeper level. “Definitely a keeper.”
“Thanks.” I smiled back at him, bowing my head in appreciation.
AJ grinned and gave me a fist bump. “You think Rok will like it?” he asked the others.
“I’m sure he will. We should record a demo to send him,” Howie suggested. “He could probably use some words of encouragement, considering everything he’s dealing with right now.”
Picturing Brian at the hospital in Boston, facing the same uncertainty about his future as Nick and I both had before, I realized Howie was right. “Good idea, D. Let’s add that to our agenda for tomorrow.”
I left the studio feeling accomplished and far better than I had when I’d arrived. Realizing I wasn’t far from the Hollywood Walk of Fame, I called Natalie on my way back to the hotel to find out where she and Dawn were and ended up meeting them for dinner at a nearby restaurant.
As we waited for our food, the two women told me about what they’d done that day. To my relief, I didn’t detect any sign of tension or drama between them as I listened to them talk about taking a tour of celebrity homes and looked at pictures of them putting their hands and feet into the famous prints outside Grauman’s Chinese Theater. From the sound of it, they’d had a great time together.
“So, how was your day?” Dawn asked after I’d finished swiping through the photos on her phone.
“Pretty productive! AJ and I wrote a new song I’m really excited about.”
“Ooh, do we get a sneak peek?” Natalie replied, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Not tonight… especially not here,” I said, looking around the busy restaurant. “But we’re recording a demo tomorrow. Maybe you could meet me at the studio and hear it then.”
“I would love to, but I’m leaving for Tokyo in the morning, remember?” She stuck out her bottom lip.
“Oh, right…” I had almost forgotten about Natalie’s work schedule, which always got in the way of us spending as much time together as I would have liked. “Well, another time, then.” I forced a smile back onto my face, not wanting to let the anticipation of saying goodbye to her the next day ruin our last night in L.A. together. “You know, if you moved here once I close on the house, you could come to the studio any time.”
“True…” She smiled back. “But what about when you’re back in Lexington? Then I’d be a lot farther away from you – and there’s no direct flight from Lexington to L.A.”
“Trust me; I know,” I said with a sigh, my smile fading. Natalie and I had managed to make our long-distance relationship work for almost six months now, but I knew one or both of us would have to compromise in order to make it last. We couldn’t keep living in different states and commuting back and forth if we wanted to take it to the next level and turn it into a long-term relationship. But it wasn’t the right time to talk about our future together, not with Dawn sitting right there at the table. “I don’t wanna discuss it during dinner, though. We can talk about it later.”
Natalie nodded, flashing me another quick smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. But I wasn’t too worried. After everything I had been through, I’d learned not to let little bumps in the road hold me back – metaphorically speaking, anyway. One way or another, I knew we would figure it out.
***