I don’t really remember how the teasing started. For the most part, I don’t even remember why. No one ever gave me a real good chance, maybe just to get to know me. About the only time I got attention from the kids at my school was when I had a chocolate bar they wanted me to share or something that they wanted for themselves. The bullies tended to just take what they wanted from me. That’s when I just stopped caring and the pain went away. I always remembered what they did to me, but I dealt with it on a personal level. Every time my mom asked “So how was school today?” I just grinned and lied. “Oh, it’s great mom, I’m making lots of new friends and I got an “A” on that math test I was worried about.” That was basically the size of it. I just couldn’t tell her because she was doing so much for me: driving me around, catering me from one audition to the next. There simply was no time.
When I joined the Backstreet Boys, I thought it would finally be over. I thought, well now I’ll show them, I’ll show all of them how great I am. They’ll see. That’s how it was at first, then later on I just lost complete interest in getting revenge. Revenge is AJ’s thing, not mine. He was a high school geek too.
Instead of getting better, with the success of the Backstreet Boys under my belt, it, for the most part, just got worse. As I grew, so did the comments. Personally, I really didn’t give a shit what the public thought of my hair, my clothes or my stomach. I’ve always wanted to go Steve Perry for a day. As far as I was concerned, they could pull their lips over their heads and swallow – it wouldn’t make a difference to me.
All of that was fine – I could deal with it for the time being. But as it progressed and the guys started joining in on it, my opinion changed. I knew that it was all in the fun, but I was getting sick and tired of becoming the guinea pig for all of their jokes. It’s incredibly unnerving when everyone is cracking jokes all about you and only you. I could have fought back with my own jokes and I did that sometimes, but when everyone is playing against you, the insults coming to you are more than the ones coming out. “Bubble butt” was fine for a while too, I considered that a nickname. But the jokes and the insults were just getting to be too much. I hadn't realized it until now, but even before I got sick, I had horrible depression. And when I was depressed, I would eat and then exercise privately until I dropped – quite literally most times. It was only a matter of time before I left the guys to find myself (that too turned out to be a horrendous mistake on my part).
One time I met a fan (I’ve forgotten her name by now) who had premonitions about us Backstreet Boys. She said that if she heard a portion of a new song, she would think about it a lot, then in her dreams the song would complete itself. She claimed that those premonitions were always accurate. Afterward, the guys and I had a good laugh about the sheer possibility of that. We started joking around about what we would have premonitions about. Apparently I would have a premonition about becoming a three hundred pound twenty-year-old.
Despite my recurring disbelief in premonitions, I tried each night for two weeks to have a premonition, but nothing worked. At first I thought I was doing it wrong, then I considered that the blushing young girl might be lying but still I tried. I felt like the little engine that could or something. Eventually, when I stopped trying, I had a premonition.
Although I didn’t know it then, each dream I had been having during those two weeks was a premonition. The point of a premonition is to do something or see something and have it happen to you in the future. Obviously I had forgotten that fact. One time I dreamt that Mandy was going out with another guy (he was younger-looking, but I don’t really remember what his face looked like so it’s a possibility that my premonition was entirely correct) and now she is. It was bound to happen someday, because deep down inside of myself I knew that I actually hated her. My loneliness and low self-esteem kept me from finding the truth behind my feelings. I just wish that I hadn’t seen it happen right in front of me. If it were a cover-up affair, then at least I wouldn’t have to be reminded of that hairy, wrinkled-up back and those wandering perverted eyes every time I regret that I ever met Mandy. How did I ever meet her anyway?
My second premonition was also about Mandy. I had a lengthy dream that she was cheating on me, but I dismissed it. When you’re really set on something in particular, it’s hard to see it another way. For example, if you think that you’ve dropped your watch onto the floor, you hardly stop to think that the “thonk” noise you heard was the watch landing on the cushion of your bed. While you’re on your hands and knees trying to find it, it’s not there at all. That’s the best way to describe my denial.
This premonition was my quickest proven one. Promptly, a few days later even, I found evidence that Mandy was cheating on me. The evidence was in my room, in my bedroom of all places, poking out of the duvet cover on my bed. I crept closer to it, to see if my eyes were deceiving me. But they were not.
A pair of no-name boxers stared me bluntly in the face. When I picked them up (as much as I “trusted” Mandy, I picked them up at the waistband using the fingernails of my thumb and forefinger, both of which were quite short most of the time) I could see that they were certainly not mine. They were worn and torn, something I would have tossed away a long time ago if it were mine. Actually, I never let my underwear get that gross, I’m a performer and I like to have a certain aura of clean about me. Also, I knew that I only had a bit of underwear stored in my drawer – the rest was already packed away in my suitcases in case of on-call duty. When we were under Lou Pearlman’s management, we had on-call on almost a constant basis. Maybe he had seen some dying child on TV in Africa who liked us or a homeless shelter that loves and only listens to our music. Or in one case, that famous tornado that hit our hometown in ‘98, which we did a benefit for. Sure, we love to help people, we jump at the chance you know, but sometimes it’s just too much for us. Especially when it’s our last day at home before a huge world tour for which we have to ride on a plane for 12 hours to get to where we’re going. Plus the fact that I only had a few hours to say goodbye to my family. They were sympathetic, but no doubt pissed.
Well, back to the boxers. They were blue as well, I knew that I only owned black and white ones. On top of that, back then I still preferred briefs to boxers. I could lie and say I didn’t, but you know, I’m such a bad liar. My initial explanation was that I accidentally brought home a pair of Brian’s boxers. It happened sometimes.
The premonition that I knew I had when I got it (after many moons of trying and utter disappointment) is one that I’m still dealing with today. I had a premonition that I was going to be sick. In the dream I was in the hospital again, with no one in sight. Every time I woke up looking for someone to talk to and finding no one my heart rate slowed another notch. Gradually, I died. I was dying in bits and pieces at a time, and I knew it. This was a different kind of sick, maybe a heartsick kind of thing. In the dream I was utterly lonely. That was even reflecting my life at the time. I was lonely and I was depressed, I just didn’t know myself enough to realize that. If it had been a bit different, I wouldn’t have recognized it as a premonition. Generally, people tend to recognize and regard these kinds of dreams as premonitions. I was scared for myself all right, but all too excited that I had finally received a premonition. When I became unconscious for the first time, in the place that I went to I had premonitions. They were more of the vision sort though, more vague and dream-like than usual. I didn’t know right away what any premonition meant, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.
As I said before, during the time before and after I had my “first” premonition, I started getting…strange in a sense. I was becoming a stranger to my friends, my Backstreet family and even myself. For reasons unknown even to me, I would shut my world out from everyone else’s. I felt unimportant and disconnected. Instead of checking out the nightclubs for people my age like I normally did, I just listened to Journey all alone on the tour bus or in my hotel room. Most of the time the guys didn’t even know that I was there because the clubs they go to don’t except anyone under the age of twenty-one. Brian likes to stay in his hotel room too, and he was actually the first person to notice that I wasn’t going where I said I was going. “I’m goin’ out,” would be all I would say. Most of the time I was sure they didn’t even hear me.
When Brian finally confronted me about this (I’m sure he noticed a while ago, but he wanted to make sure that it wasn’t just a one-time deal so that I wouldn’t get all pissed at him) I told him off. I told him I was just sick of going out by myself, there was no point. Brian offered to do something with me, but I told him I’d just get in the way.
“Get in the way of what?” he asked stupidly. The answer was going to be the obvious.
“Of you and Leighanne, naturally,” I replied coldly, “I know she’s waiting for you in your room. I can practically smell her from here.”
“Nick, come on, I’ll challenge you to a game of basketball, or Nintendo if you agree to turn on the light-” I left the lights off, because that way I would be left alone completely. It made the room look deserted.
“Grab your goddamn cup of sugar and get the hell out of my sight!” I growled at him. But he didn’t move. He just sat there like a good friend with a concerned expression on his face that broke my heart. I hated to hurt him, but I was drowning in self-pity and the helping hand he was trying to let just wasn’t strong enough for the both of us.
Brian sat and watched me as I adjusted my headphones to my ears and turned them loud enough to deafen both Brian and me. I didn’t want to hear him breathe near me, I didn’t want to hear it when he shifted on his seat, or his heartbeat in his chest – the one I used to thank God for. Part of me wanted him badly to leave and the other part was grateful that he decided to stay after all.
He stayed for a full half-hour, just watching me. I avoided his gaze, but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time, racking my nerves. When he got up to leave, I didn’t say anything because I was afraid that he would just come right on back if he heard something from me.
Brian closed the door softly behind himself, and I shut off my disk man. My ears were ringing loudly and they felt very tender to the touch. Then I decided to follow Brian. I knew that he was going to talk about me to Leighanne and I wanted to be there when he did. The paranoia I had was killing me just as much as the depression.
The cold doorknob felt icy under my warm hands. Even so I turned it slowly, the creaking sound it made was loud enough to wake the dead. I rotated the knob all the way then paused before I opened the door. Nothing; so far so good. Brian’s room was only a hop, skip and a jump away from mine, very convenient for me. My conscience kept trying to convince me that I was of error, but I ignored it just as I ignore everything else I don’t care to understand. Sure Brian was my friend, sure he was only trying to help. But having a good time with Leighanne at my expense wasn’t exactly what I’d call friendly. I didn’t want her to look at me the way the other guys’ girlfriends did. Like a candidate for Jenny Craig. She was nice enough, so far, but I didn’t want her to start teasing me too, I was sure that I just couldn’t take it.
When I got there, I pressed my throbbing ear roughly against the door. I would feel it badly in the concert that night. Bunches of screaming girls every night isn’t the right way to go when you’re trying to fix sore ears. But it didn’t matter then.
At first, I could only hear some muffled voices and the TV going on in the background. I wished that they would only turn off that damn TV because the sound was drowning out their talking. Brian is doing this on purpose, I thought, he’s teasing me…
“Leighanne,” I heard clearly from behind the door. He was close now. “I want to ask you about Nick, could you turn off the TV?”
Chapter 40
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