Changes

I remember the first time I thought it. I never said it out loud, at least not then, but I definitely remember the first time I really thought it. It’s not like it had never occurred to me before; it had crossed all of our minds at some point. Hell, even A.J. went through those times when he wanted to throw things at the walls, break windows, and then scream “I quit” to the entire world. It was natural. But even at those times, deep down we knew that it would pass. We’d get on the next tour bus, go to the next photo shoot, and put on the next show, because that’s what we did. Sometimes all it would take to get over it would be nothing more than the adoring grin of a fan, knowing that we’d made her life better somehow just by doing what we loved to do. Sometimes it would take more, like a scream fest that let us get our frustrations out by pissing each other off. I can’t say those were my favorite, but things always seemed a little better after they ended. I’d call it crazy, but I’m not really a good judge of that. I mean, look at what I do for a living.

Then there were those times when we’d hide out and cry, be it in a hotel room, dressing room, bunk, or maybe even at home. Needless to say, that last one didn’t often happen. When being alone didn’t cut it, we’d use each other. Long ago we’d learned to get over the “grown men don’t cry” bullshit, and we’d learned to do it in front of each other. Some of us did it more than others. Brian did it. Nick usually didn’t. I swear, that kid has become like a river that’s dried up. When he was fifteen, all it took was a little bit of homesickness for him to bawl. Now, I don’t think that even a death in the family would yank a tear from him. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up in the business. I wish with all my heart sometimes that he hadn’t grown up like this, but all things considered I think he’s turned out pretty well. I’m still trying to figure out how to tell him that, but some day I will.

When all else failed, we’d follow A.J.’s lead and just beat the crap out of something. At least we tried to limit our abuse to our own property. The last thing we needed was to make the headlines for wrecking a hotel room. We got enough attention for everything else as it was. Whatever method we chose, we dealt with it. If things got bad, we dealt with it. On the whole we were happy, and as long as that lasted, we planned to keep doing it.

I don’t want to give the impression that I was suddenly unhappy; I wasn’t. I was married, I was a father, and I loved it. At first I’d thought that staying in the band would never work, and that it would have to end right then and there. I didn’t want my kids to grow up while I was on the road. To my surprise, it wasn’t really like that. The tours were shorter. We had more time off in between. When we were touring, my family came with me. It wouldn’t work forever, and I knew that, but for the time being I was content.

So the Backstreet Boys continued, just like before.

I don’t really remember where we were. I know it was summer, and we were on the road somewhere between Arizona and New Mexico. Maybe it was Kansas and Missouri. All I know is that it wasn’t the east coast, though I couldn’t say why I’m so sure about that. Funny what you remember and what you don’t. Most of my time with Backstreet went by in a blur, but I remember odd things, like what Howie had for breakfast the morning of the last show on our first tour. I don’t remember what anyone else ordered, but I remember that Howie had French toast and a side of sausage. I think there was some huge ordeal surrounding his particular meal that morning, which could be why I remember it, although I have no idea what it could have been. But I sure as hell remember that French toast and sausage.

The odd thing about that day was that it was just the five of us. Sarah had taken our boys to see her mother, Whitney had deadlines, and Suzanne was taking summer classes. A.J.’s wife hadn’t been feeling well lately, so she’d gone home. It had been a long time since it had been just the five of us. We’d slipped back into our old routines as if there had never been any change, and I remember smiling about that quite a bit.

I had actually slid the window open, over Nick’s protests. I really couldn’t say why I was so dead set on having that window open, but I was. They were such a pain; hard to open and even harder to close. Not only that, but the sound the wind made coming through them was damn annoying. So it was no surprise that Nick got on my case the moment I popped the latch. He and A.J. bitched at me about not being able to hear their movie over the roar of the wind, but as usual I ignored them, and they got tired of it after awhile and left me alone. Brian complained at one point about some random smell coming through the window that was making him nauseous, so I politely suggested that he change his socks. That took care of him. Howie was the only one who didn’t say anything; he just grinned at me, winked (no matter how much we tried, we never did cure him of that), and went back to his book.

For the longest time I just sat there, watching the scenery whipping by at seventy miles an hour. Somewhere in there it hit me.

I didn’t want to do this anymore.

Unlike the other times this train of thought had occurred to me, I wasn’t questioning myself. I wasn’t asking myself if I wanted to keep doing it. I wasn’t trying to decide if putting up with all the shit was worth it. I wasn’t having a bad day. This time I meant it. I was done.

Wow.

What do you do when you’re a Backstreet Boy, and you have a revelation like this all the sudden? Hell if I know. I still don’t know.

Brian walked past me right around then headed for the bathroom. He caught my eye, just for a second, but that was all it took. I’m good at hiding things, but this just flabbergasted me so much that I did a piss poor job that time. It didn’t help that Brian’s always had some sort of sixth sense about him when it comes to stuff like this. Sometimes it’s a blessing, but sometimes it really, really sucks. This looked to be one of those times, because I knew this was not something I should even bring up until I’d thought about it more. A lot more.

When he’d finished in the bathroom, he plopped down next to me like I knew he would. Surprisingly though, he never asked if anything was wrong. He just started chatting about nothing, never once even looking curious about what I’d been thinking. The entire way to the next stop he sat there, keeping me company. When we weren’t talking he’d read, or listen to his Discman. I don’t know if he knew what was going through my head or not, but nevertheless, he remained right there next to me. Nick asked him to play a video game at one point, but he politely said no. Howie wanted him to look over a song he was writing, but he came up with an excuse for that too.

When we got off the bus, he gave me this pat on the shoulder when he stood up. He didn’t say or do anything else, just patted me on the shoulder. It wasn’t any different from what we all did all the time, but that time it meant a hell of a lot more.

I’ll always love him for that.

I’ll always love him no matter what, but especially for that.

* * *

It was five months before I dared to let my desire to quit the band surface. I’d been hoping that that ‘feeling’ would go away, but it didn’t. If anything, it got even stronger. I was through with being a Backstreet Boy. I wanted to move on. I hated that I wanted to move on.

I had no idea how to even bring this up with the others, even though we’d always said that we would talk about things like this. In the past, we had. When one of us was itching to take the time to do something on his own, we’d done our best to make it happen. We’d taken the time off to do solo projects, be it in the form of singing or something else entirely. But underneath all of that we knew that when it was done, we were coming back. The Backstreet Boys were still there, and we were still one.

Not this time.

But how in the world do you tell that to four other people who you’ve spent the last thirteen years of your life with? We’d been through it all together. And when I say it all, I mean it all. Surgeries, death, scandals, superstardom, you name it we’ve been through it. But we’d never dealt with the band breaking up, and I absolutely did not want to be the one to put us through that.

The break from our tour gave me a long time to think about it. Really think about it. I’d gone home to Lexington with Sarah, and we did out best to be a normal family. I played with the boys while Sarah took her pictures. I swear, the photos she takes of me and my kids are things that magazines would stampede over to get their hands on. I wish she had more of a chance to really get out there and make a name for herself in the photography world, but my career always seemed to be in the way.

When I wasn’t being ‘Dad,’ I wrote songs and thought. Often, I did both of these things on the porch; in the swing I had hung there. I’d insisted on it when we built the house. Sarah could have whatever she wanted on the inside, but I was going to have my wrap around porch with a swing, so help me God. I’d gotten my way, and it was my favorite place on the property.

It was there one afternoon that Brian found me, swinging lazily back and forth in the summer breeze, with a glass of lemonade in my hand. I was the perfect country bumpkin, and quite content to be that way. My notebook lay next to me on the bench, closed. Amazingly enough, on this perfect day I was uninspired, so I used my time to think.

I watched his Beemer pull up in my driveway, wondering how in the hell he could read my mind. I’d wanted to talk to him before anyone else, and I’d wanted to do it soon. All I needed was one glance at his face through the windshield to tell that talking was what was on his mind.

He slammed the car door shut and ambled over to me with a grin, his hands shoved deeply in his pockets. “I knew I’d find you there,” he informed me. “You and your porch.”

“I like my porch,” I said.

“I know.” He came over and picked my notebook up before sitting down beside me. Casually he flipped through it, reading my hastily scribbled ideas and notations. He nodded occasionally, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Every now and then he smiled or offered a comment, and I responded in kind. I offered him a glass of lemonade, but he turned it down.

“It’s bad enough I’m hanging with my cousin, who is drinking lemonade, on a porch swing in the middle of Kentucky,” he told me. “I feel like I should be in overalls.”

I laughed at this. “Don’t deny your roots Bri. You’re a country boy as much as I am.”

“I am a southern gentlemen,” he said importantly. I snorted.

“You are full of shit.”

He bobbed his head a little in acceptance, and pushed off with his feet so that we swung back and forth.

“Where are the boys?” he asked me after a comfortable silence.

“Napping,” I replied.

“Well, aren’t you a lucky son of a bitch.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. So what’s up? Have you heard anything from A.J.? I hear Tasha’s handling being pregnant about as well as Sarah did.”

Brian grimaced. “Yeah, poor Bone is taking a beating. I actually feel sorry for him. I’m glad we’ve got this time off. If he had to be on the road during all of this, she would hand him his ass when he got home. I’m beginning to wonder if she’ll let him tour again once she actually has it.”

I shifted uncomfortably. The bastard had just handed me a window to bring up what had been weighing on my mind for so long, and I was too chicken to take it. Fortunately, he saved me by bringing it up himself.

“Unless there isn’t a next tour.”

I almost choked on my lemonade. Swearing colorfully under my breath, I held the glass away from me while I checked to make sure it hadn’t gotten on my pants. Brian watched me with a little too much amusement.

“Just look at that dignity and grace,” he said in awe. I shot him a glare, but he just laughed. When I had recovered, he sobered up a little and fingered a tiny rip on the frayed corner of the notebook. “So, do you want to talk?”

“Not particularly, but I need to.”

His smile returned a little. “Whatever.”

“You know what I’m thinking, don’t you?” I asked softly, staring into my glass.

He didn’t answer right away, and I wondered if he was going to. When he finally did, he sounded very subdued, and very small. “You want to leave the band, don’t you? For good.”

“Yeah,” I echoed distantly. “For good.”

Brian nodded, still picking at the notebook. “I thought so.” Drawing in a breath, he set the notebook on the ground and put his elbows on his knees, exhaling slowly as he rested his chin in his hands. “I take it you haven’t really mentioned this to anyone else yet.”

“Nope,” I answered, though my voice sounded strange. “Not even to Sarah.”

“That’s a pretty big secret to be hauling around.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Heavy too.”

He nodded absently. “I’ll bet they charged you extra to take something that heavy on the plane.”

“They tried to. But I used my vast powers of persuasion while abusing my fame in order to talk them out of it.”

“I’ll bet that pissed them off.”

“Royally.”

“Good for you.” He looked up at me out of the corner of his eye, and I was stunned at how young he seemed. Like a little boy. “And you’re sure? You’re sure that’s what you want? ‘Cause- ”

“I’m really sure,” I interrupted. I hung my head a little bit, unable to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said immediately. “We’ve been at this for a long time Kevin. It can’t last forever. If now’s the time, then now’s the time.”

I nodded glumly. “The music’s changed, you know? And I don’t mean the words we sing. I mean life. Living. All of it. It’s just… it’s time.” I stopped rambling, because I no longer trusted myself to speak. The sudden silence must have been a little too much for Brian, because he started babbling where I left off.

“It makes sense,” he said reasonably. “Your kids are going to start preschool soon, and that means they have to stay here while you go off gallivanting around the world. If you can gallivant when you’re thirty five...”

I was not so upset that I couldn’t reach over to cuff him upside the head. Not that it stopped him from continuing.

“I’ve got a toddler to worry about, and Whitney and I have been talking about more kids. A.J.’s got a baby on the way, and when Suzanne finishes veterinary school you know she’s going to want to start a practice. There’s no way she’ll be able to travel with us, and Nick can’t seem to function without her. So really, the timing is kind of right.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. “I don’t think there’s ever a good time for something like this.”

“No,” Brian agreed. “But maybe this is as good as it’s going to get. Would you rather we broke up because we couldn’t sell any albums? Or fill concert seats, for that matter?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Me neither.”

The two of us sat there for a few minutes, swinging gently back and forth. The look on Brian’s face seemed almost painful, so I offered him some of my lemonade. He laughed softly- more like breath being forced out his nose accompanied by that smile of his- and took it from me, downing a rather large gulp.

“The Country Bumpkin’s Drink Of Choice,” I said solemnly. This time I got a real laugh from him. Luckily, he’d already swallowed.

“So what on earth do I do now?” I asked with a sigh.

Brian shrugged. “I always thought I’d be the one asking you that.”

I smiled quietly to myself, appreciating that remark more than he could possibly know. “I just can’t bring myself to drop this on everyone now, you know? A.J.’s got too much to deal with as it is, Nick’s about to get slammed with Sue’s whole I-Don’t-Want-To-Live-In-Florida thing,”

Brian groaned. “No kidding. There is no way he’s going to be able to keep her in Florida. She wants to be here.”

“This is where the horses are. I just find it funny that all of us know that this is coming, and he really doesn’t have a clue. Poor kid.”

“When he’s thirty you’re still gonna call him ‘kid,’ aren’t you?” Brian asked with a knowing grin.

“Yup,” I replied, nodding my head matter-of-factly.

“Do you want my advice?”

“Quite badly.”

“Don’t tell them. Not yet.”

I nodded slowly, knowing he was right but wishing things could be different.

“We’ve only got that brief promo tour, and then we’re going to be laying pretty low until Tasha delivers,” he continued. “I think springing this now would…would be bad.”

“Yeah,” I said dully.

“Can you hang in there that long? I understand if you can’t. We’ve been at this for a long time. If you need to make the break now, I’ll back you up. All the way.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, rather embarrassed by the lump in my throat. “I’m okay. I won’t bail on y’all until the time is right. Not after…you know, everything.”

“We have had a lot of everything, haven’t we?”

“We sure have.”

He rubbed his eye with his fist, and I don’t think it was from allergies, although he started mumbling something about ragweed. “I think we’re about to run out of everything,” he said through a tiny sniffle.

“Naw, if there’s one thing we’ll always have, it’s everything.”

“Well, maybe not everything,” Brian thoughtfully. “I mean, I for one would be much happier without Nick’s dirty socks.”

“Or A.J.’s eight different colors of hair dye scattered all over the place.”

“Howie’s belly dancing video.”

We both doubled over laughing, and boy did it feel good. “Oh my God if there is one thing we make sure Howie never forgets, it has to be that belly dancing video,” I said gleefully, wiping tears from my eyes.

“We’ll be all right,” Brian said when we recovered a little. “We will be. Things will just be different. Normal, even. We’ll be more like normal people. That could be fun.” I knew he was talking just to try and convince himself, but since I needed convincing too, I played along.

“Yeah. This won’t be a bad thing. Just different.”

“The music’s changed,” Brian said with a confident nod.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “The music’s changed.”

And it was time to change with it.

Index