The day after AJ’s wedding, Dawn let me sleep late while she and Mason watched cartoons with the TV volume turned down low. I didn’t think I’d had too much to drink the night before, but I still felt hungover when I woke up. Whether it was because of my injury or just because I was getting older, I wasn’t sure, but my body didn’t tolerate alcohol as well as it used to.
With Dawn’s help, I finally got out of bed, took a shower, and got dressed in time for us to check out of the hotel. We didn’t have to be at the airport until late afternoon for our evening flight home, so after meeting up with Keith in the lobby, we loaded all of our luggage into the accessible van I had rented and spent the day driving around Los Angeles County. Dawn had never been to California before, and Mason hadn’t been back since he was a baby. It was fun showing them some of the sights. We ate a leisurely brunch at one of my favorite breakfast spots, then headed to the beach. “I don’t care about all the Hollywood stuff,” Dawn had told me before the trip. “I just wanna see the Pacific Ocean.”
The beach we picked wasn’t crowded, considering it was a cloudy day with temperatures in the low sixties. It was too cold to go in the water, but we found a deserted strip of sand near the boardwalk to spread out the cheap vinyl tablecloth we’d bought at a convenience store on the way. I was even able to rent a beach wheelchair, which had huge, thick tires that could roll across the sand without sinking.
Keith and I sat a safe distance from the water, watching as Dawn and Mason walked along the surf with the bottoms of their pants rolled up and their shoes and socks off. Every time one of the waves washed over their bare feet, they both shrieked with laughter. “The water’s freezing!” Dawn shouted.
“Well, what did you expect? It’s December!” I called back. The weather was a lot warmer than it was back home, although I was still bundled up in a jacket and stocking cap, a thin blanket thrown over my lap to keep my legs from getting cold. My body couldn’t regulate temperature like most people could, especially below my level of injury. Still, it felt good to be outside in the fresh air. I pulled off my hat so I could feel the ocean breeze whipping through my air. I had almost forgotten how much I missed living on the West Coast. Kentucky was beautiful in its own way, but nothing beat the view I’d had from my old house in the Hollywood Hills. I didn’t miss the traffic, though, nor the paparazzi, not to mention the smog, wildfires, and constant threat of earthquakes.
Eventually, Dawn got cold and came back to where Keith and I were sitting to dry off her feet and put her socks and shoes back on. Mason continued to play near the water’s edge, where he was content to dig in the sand and collect seashells. I kept an eye on him while I carried on a conversation with the adults.
“So, I wanna talk to you both about something,” I said, clearing my throat. “Brian’s been trying to convince me to come back to the Backstreet Boys.”
Keith raised his eyebrows. “I overheard part of that conversation at the reception last night,” he said, shooting me a grin. “So? Are you gonna do it?”
I shrugged. “I had my doubts at first – I mean, I didn’t even know how it would work – but the more I’ve been thinking about it, the more I wanna try to make it work. Going onstage with the guys again at the NKOTBSB show this summer gave me the performance bug – or brought it out of hibernation, I guess – and doing the ‘Everybody’ dance at the reception last night just sorta sealed the deal for me. I really do miss performing in front of an audience. It would be nice to find a way to do it professionally again.”
I paused for a second, trying to gauge their reactions. Keith still had that goofy grin on his face. Dawn looked surprised, but… pleasantly so?
“The other fellas seemed pretty eager to welcome me back, and they think the fans would be, too, but I wanna make sure y’all are on board before I make a decision,” I went on. “Keith, this would mean I may have to take a sabbatical from teaching at The Music Workshop.”
“Same here, brother,” he said without missing a beat. “You don’t think I’d let you go back on tour without me, do you?”
I smiled in relief. Keith and I had been best friends since we were kids. He had followed me on tour since the beginning, first as one of the Backstreet Boys’ opening acts and then as one of our bodyguards. I couldn’t imagine being on the road without him.
“And, of course, I’d wanna bring Mason along, too,” I added, turning to Dawn. “I’ll also need a caregiver on the road. Nick knows how to help with my needs, but I really don’t wanna have to put that responsibility on him or any of the other guys again. Would you be willing to travel with us?”
Her open mouth stretched into a wide smile. “Seriously? I would love that! Getting paid to see the world? Sounds like a dream job to me!”
I chuckled. “Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it seems. When we’re touring, we don’t have much time for sightseeing since we usually only spend a day or two in each city.”
“I don’t care,” said Dawn, tossing back her head of strawberry blonde curls. “I grew up in a big Catholic family with a lot of love but not a lot of money. We didn’t get to go on many vacations. And when you marry young and have a kid with special needs… well, traveling becomes even more difficult. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been on an airplane. I don’t even have a passport.”
As a fellow Kentuckian who also hadn’t traveled much before moving to Florida and joining the Backstreet Boys, I understood where she was coming from. “We’ll have to fix that,” I replied, smiling back at her. “Mason will need a passport, too. But we’ve got plenty of time to figure everything out. The guys still have another leg of the NKOTBSB tour to get through, and then I assume their plan is to record another album before they go back on tour. That’ll take months, if not years.”
Dawn nodded. “So does that mean you don’t wanna tour with the New Kids? Worried you don’t have ‘the right stuff’? Can’t ‘hang tough’?”
Catching onto her puns, I cracked up. “Nah, I think I’m better off sitting this one out. Their stage set-up wasn’t exactly wheelchair-friendly. I don’t want Keith to have to carry me ‘step by step’ onto the stage each night.” I winked while Keith and Dawn both laughed. “But, all jokes aside, that’s something we’re gonna have to think about for future tours.”
A wave of fresh panic washed over me as I thought about how my presence – and my disability – would change the way we did things in the group. But it quickly receded when I reminded myself that we would figure out a solution for any problem that presented itself. Ramps instead of risers. Lifts instead of stairs. The Backstreet Boys had always been resilient, and one way or another, we would find a way to make this work.
“So when are you gonna tell the guys?” asked Keith.
“I think I’ll wait until after the holidays,” I decided. “That’ll give me more time to think about it and make sure this is really what I wanna do. If I haven’t changed my mind by then…”
“I think we should drive over to Nick’s place and tell him now.” A mischievous smile spread across Keith’s face. “He lives somewhere around here, doesn’t he? AJ’s not too far away either.”
“I’m not bothering AJ the day after his wedding,” I said flatly. “Besides, there’s one more stop I wanna make this afternoon before we head to the airport.”
Keith raised a curious eyebrow. “Where’s that?”
“Cedars-Sinai.”
“The hospital?”
I nodded. “I was gonna try to meet up with a friend for lunch while I’m in town, but she’s working today. I’m hoping we can catch her on a break.”
“Okay…” Clearly, Keith had more questions, but he let me maintain an air of mystery as we packed up, returned the beach wheelchair, and piled back into our rented van.
Worn out from beachcombing, Mason fell asleep on the ride over to the hospital. “Wake up, buddy,” I whispered, gently jostling his shoulder as Keith followed the signs for visitor parking. “We’re here.”
Mason opened his eyes. “Where?” he asked, blinking blearily up at the big buildings outside his window.
“This is the hospital where you were born.” A lump rose in my throat as I looked out the window, too, recognizing the tower where I had first laid eyes on my son… and last laid eyes on my wife. This was where Kristin had given birth. It was also where she had been pronounced dead, less than a year later and a few floors below. I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure in front of Mason. “I remember carrying you out to the car in your car seat when you were a brand new baby. You were so small…”
Mason frowned, a look of confusion creasing his forehead as he considered what I’d said. Of course, he couldn’t remember ever having been here before, although he had been many times – first as a newborn and then as a six-month-old baby, when my mom would bring him to visit me after the accident.
My own memories were much more vivid. When we went inside, crossing the glass-covered walkway to the critical care tower and taking the elevator up to the eighth floor, I felt a sense of deja vu that was difficult to describe. I had been there before, yet everything had looked different when I was lying flat on my back, watching the lights fly by on the ceiling overhead as I was whisked down the hallways on a gurney. I hadn’t walked out of there the way I wanted to, but, four years later, I still felt grateful to be sitting upright and wheeling myself in a manual chair.
As we approached the information desk outside the Neurosurgical Intensive Care Unit, the feeling of deja vu intensified. The cheerful Christmas decorations in the waiting area weren’t enough to make me forget that I had once spent two weeks imprisoned on the other side of those doors.
“Can I help you?” asked the receptionist.
I cleared my throat as I rolled closer to the counter. “Yes, I’m looking for Dr. Torres. She’s a friend of mine. She said I could find her here.”
“Wait here while I page her.”
A few minutes passed. I watched a few people come and go, catching a whiff of the familiar antiseptic smell of the ICU each time the doors opened and closed. I was more than fine with waiting outside the unit, which held only unpleasant memories for me.
Finally, the doors opened again, and a short, dark-haired woman walked out, wearing a white coat over her blue scrubs. The moment she spotted me, her round face split into a wide grin, her brown eyes gleaming behind her red-framed glasses. “Kevin!” she cried, coming over to give me a hug. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!” She released me and straightened up, taking a step back to get a better look at me. “You look great!”
“So do you,” I said, smiling back. “You’ve got the white coat and everything! Very professional. I kinda miss the blue hair, though.”
She laughed, fingering the ends of her chic bob haircut. “Yeah, they frown on having crazy hair colors here. I guess they’re worried the patients and their families won’t trust a doctor with blue hair. Dunno why,” she said with a shrug, rolling her eyes. Then her gaze dropped to Mason. “Oh my god, look how big he’s gotten! How did that happen?!”
“I know, right?” I reached out to ruffle his blond hair. “Mason, you probably don’t remember Sam, but she used to help me out in the mornings when we lived here in L.A.” Then I turned to Dawn and Keith. “This is Sam – sorry, Dr. Torres. She used to be my caregiver, and now, she’s a brain surgeon.”
Sam beamed. “Barely. But, yes, I have officially been Dr. Torres for about… seven months now. I wouldn’t call myself a brain surgeon yet, though. Technically, I’m a neurosurgical resident.”
“That actually sounds even more impressive. Congratulations!” I told her. “This is my current caregiver, Dawn-”
“I prefer the term ‘personal assistant,’ seeing as how I’m working for a celebrity and all,” said Dawn, smiling as she shook Sam’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too!”
“-and this is Keith, my best friend from Kentucky.”
Sam shook his hand as well. Then she said, “How about we go down to the cafe and grab coffee or something to eat? I’ve got about half an hour for lunch as long as none of my patients go south.”
“That sounds great! Lead the way.”
My arms were tired from all the pushing it had taken to get up to the ICU, so I let Keith push my wheelchair as we went back down to the cafeteria. I got Mason a dish of ice cream, while I stuck with coffee myself.
Sam got a salad along with her coffee. “Sorry for eating this in front of you,” she said as we found a table to sit at. “I’ve learned to eat whenever I have time because, working in the Neuro-ICU, sometimes emergencies happen, and my breaks get cut short. If I get paged, I’ve gotta head right back upstairs, so I’ll apologize in advance if that happens.”
“Hey, you do whatever you need to do, and don’t apologize,” I replied. “I’m just glad we got to meet up for a few minutes.”
“Me too!”
“So, how are you liking it here so far?” I asked her.
“Honestly, it’s pretty overwhelming,” she admitted as she drizzled dressing over her salad. “I’m only an intern, which means I’m still a newbie and know next to nothing. I’m seeing the sickest patients during this rotation, which is interesting but also scary.” She sighed. “I still have so much to learn before I’ll feel like a real doctor.”
“I’m sure that’s part of the process, though,” I said sympathetically. “No one expects you to know everything on day one.”
“True. And it’s not like they let me operate on patients or anything yet. The first year of residency is a lot of observation and scut work – wound checks and pulling drains and other gross stuff I shouldn’t talk about while I’m eating.” She laughed, spearing a piece of lettuce with her fork. “Truth be told, it’s not all that different from my last two years of med school. The main difference is that now I have ‘M.D.’ behind my name.” She pointed to the ID badge clipped to the front pocket of her white coat.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I told her. “You worked hard to earn that title. Wear it with pride.”
She swallowed a bite of her salad and smiled. “Thanks. But enough about me. How have you been?”
“I’m good,” I said, smiling back. “Just been living the dad life and working a few days a week at the music academy Keith and I own.”
“That’s great! And I see that you’ve upgraded to a manual chair.”
I nodded. “I’m driving now, too. Got a new truck with hand controls and a lift that lets me stay in my chair behind the wheel.”
“Wow! That’s awesome!” said Sam. “Good for you.”
“Yeah, it’s been nice being able to get out and do more independently. Now, if we’re out of milk, I can go to the store and get some myself instead of asking Dawn to do it.”
“It’s been nice for me, too,” Dawn inserted, smiling.
Sam laughed. “So, how was AJ’s wedding?”
“It was… exactly what you’d expect out of AJ’s wedding,” I said with a chuckle. “Very goth. Everything was black and red. The bride, Rochelle, wore a black wedding dress, although she changed into a tux halfway through the reception, and AJ put on a dress and high heels.”
“No way!” Sam giggled. “That’s awesome!”
“Yeah, I wish I had pictures to show you, but I’m sure they’ll be online in a few weeks. They had photographers from People magazine there taking pictures for an exclusive article.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing those,” she said. “How about the other guys? How’s Nick?”
“Nick’s good. Real good, actually. He’s been with the same woman for about three years now – longest relationship he’s ever had, as far as I can remember. His girlfriend, Lauren, is a fitness model, so she’s been a good influence on him. He seems really happy… and healthy. He looks great.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Sam gave me a knowing smile. She had been there when Nick had the health scare that had landed him in the hospital, leading to a diagnosis of cardiomyopathy caused by alcohol and drug abuse. Since then, he had straightened out his life, gotten clean, lost weight and kept it off.
“Yeah, I’m proud of him.”
We continued to chat, catching up on each other’s lives, until Sam’s pager went off. “Ugh.” She grimaced as she glanced down at it. “Sorry, but I’m gonna have to cut this short. Duty calls.”
“That’s okay,” I said, smiling at her. “Go do what you do best. Take care of people.”
She smiled back as she stood up, picking up her coffee and what was left of her salad. “Thanks. It was so great to see you!” She came around to my side of the table and leaned in to give me a one-armed hug. “Take care, Kevin, and hit me up again next time you’re in town. Hopefully it won’t be another three years before I see you again.”
“Oh, I have a feeling I’ll be back before then,” I replied, catching Keith’s eye and winking. He grinned.
If Sam noticed, she didn’t question it. “It was nice meeting you both,” she said to Keith and Dawn. “Have a safe flight home!” Then she hurried off, tossing her salad container in the trash can on her way out of the cafe.
I didn’t envy her having to go back up to the ICU, where all the patients were probably as bad or even worse off as I had been right after my accident. I pictured people lying in hospital beds, barely conscious, surrounded by beeping equipment, their bodies covered in tubes, wires, and bandages. I remembered the helplessness, loneliness, grief, and fear I’d felt when I was in their position, being pumped full of painkillers that caused me to have frightening hallucinations of big, black birds hovering over me as I tried to sleep. It was the worst two weeks of my entire life.
After reliving that experience in my mind, it was a relief to roll back out into the fresh air and sunlight when we left the hospital. “Ready to head to the airport?” asked Keith as he climbed behind the wheel of our van.
I nodded from the back, where my wheelchair was strapped into place. “Yup,” I said, glancing out the window at the beige, concrete walls that surrounded us, so different from the rolling, green hills and woods of rural Kentucky. “Let’s go home.”
***