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Chapter 104

The Backstreet Boys’ sixth studio album was released on the last Tuesday in August. They spent the day in New York City, going from TV station to station to make promotional appearances and perform. There was Today in the early morning, The View in the late morning, and TRL in the afternoon. After dinner at the Hard Rock Café across the street n Times Square, they headed to the Virgin record store next door for an album signing.

“How are you holding up?” Kevin leaned over to ask Nick quietly, once they were seated at a long table inside the Virgin store, waiting for the security guards to unlock the doors and let in the flood of girls waiting outside.

“I’m fine,” Nick replied honestly. He knew he’d be exhausted by the time the day was over – they’d been going almost non-stop since five o’clock that morning – but right now, his adrenaline rush was powering him along. Album release day was always an exciting one, and today, he’d never felt better. All of their stops on the promotional circuit had gone well that day. They’d sang to a lively crowd in the packed Rockefeller Plaza that morning, and though they hadn’t shut down Times Square for their MTV appearance, as they had in the past, there had been large packs of people with signs on both sides of the street, and the audience inside had been as enthusiastic as ever. If Nick had ever worried about losing the support of his fans, he was worried no more. The Backstreet fans were still there in full force.

They poured in like a massive wave when the store doors were thrown open and swelled in front of the autograph table, all clutching copies of the new album, their faces shining with excitement. Even if Nick hadn’t been excited himself, those expressions would have been enough to make him smile.

The security guards and brave store employees got everyone organized and started hurrying fans forward to have their CDs signed. They were forced to move more quickly than Nick would have liked, but he managed to ask each person’s name and talk to them briefly. Some were too shell-shocked to speak much beyond telling him their names and that they loved him, but many of the fans offered him words of encouragement and support.

“You look sooo great, Nick,” one misty-eyed teenager told him. “We’re sooo happy that you’re back and healthy and everything.”

“Thanks, sweetheart; so am I,” Nick replied, offering her a big smile before he glanced down to scrawl his name across her CD booklet.

Near the middle of the line was a mousy-haired middle-aged woman who came forward and laid her hand over Nick’s on the tabletop. “Congratulations on the new CD,” she told him. “I haven’t had a chance to play it yet, but I’m sure it’s just beautiful. I’ve been a fan of yours for years through my children, but the real reason I came downtown today was to tell you about my son. He’s just a couple of years younger than you, and he lost his right leg serving in Iraq last November. He was devastated, as I’m sure you can imagine, but you’ve been such an inspiration to him these last few months, the way you’ve shown how life goes on, even after a tragedy like that. Just look at you.” She smiled down at him with a fond, motherly expression and patted his hand. “I wish you the very best, Nick, honey. You deserve all the success and happiness and health in the world.”

Nick was nearly rendered speechless by her words, but, signaling the guards to let her stay for a few more seconds, he managed to thank her and wish her and her son the very best in return before she continued on down the line. Wow, he thought as he watched her walk away, humbled by her story about her son. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, for a second later, the next fan, another teenage girl, came forward, practically bouncing, and begged him for a hug across the table.

As the store started to empty, a girl who appeared to be in her early twenties walked up and handed Nick her CD jacket, smiling shyly. “Hi, Nick. Congrats on the new album – I’ve already listened to it, and it’s incredible!”

“Well, thanks…” He looked up at her, prompting her for her name.

“Nichole,” she supplied him with a smile.

“Nichole,” he repeated, smiling back. “Thanks, Nichole. I’m glad you like it.”

As he started to sign her CD jacket (“Nichole with an ‘H,’ or no ‘H’?”), she asked hesitantly, “Hey, Nick? Would you mind taking an extra minute to sign this too?” Nick glanced up from the jacket to see her pulling a rolled up Backstreet Boys poster out of the messenger back she had slung over her shoulder. “It’s for my students,” she explained as she unrolled it. “I teach music at an elementary school in Pennsylvania, and I thought I could hang this in my classroom. A lot of the kids are fans, and you’re such a good inspiration to them. Your music is so positive and clean compared to most of the stuff that’s out there for them to listen to these days.”

Nick smiled, touched. “Well, thank you. Yeah, sure, lemme sign this.” He pulled the poster towards him and flattened it out with his arm, making his autograph out to the kids of the school she named. “So, you teachin’ ‘em any Backstreet songs in music class?” he asked her with a teasing smile, as he slid the poster back to her.

“Hm… no… but maybe you could visit us sometime and teach them some yourself,” Nichole replied with a wink.

Nick smiled. “I wish I could; that would be awesome.”

Nichole nodded and then said, “Well, thank you for the autographs. I’m so glad you guys are still around and making music after all these years. I’m like your number one fan; I love everything you do, and I think this is your best yet.” She waved the album around, her expression starry-eyed.

“Aw, thanks; we really appreciate your support too. Thanks for stickin’ with us through the years and listening to our music.” Nick gave her a smile of gratitude as she moved down the table and then turned his head towards the next person in line.

***

Claire and Laureen got off work at the same time that day. As soon as they punched out that afternoon, they both jumped into Laureen’s burgundy Saturn and headed to the Target store in the strip mall down the street.

“Oh my God, I’m sooo excited!” Laureen squealed, bouncing a little in the driver’s seat after she had parked. Then she quickly unbuckled her seatbelt, letting it fly back into its position against the door, and practically launched herself out of the car. Laughing, Claire followed. She had to struggle to keep up with Laureen’s pace as the two of them hurried across the parking lot and into the store.

“Music – to the right,” Laureen said, pointing. She made a beeline back to the music and movies section of the store, Claire hot on her heels.

A woman on a mission, thought Claire in amusement, as she followed Laureen’s brisk strides. When they reached their target – no pun intended – Laureen expertly wove her way through the aisles of DVDs and CDs, stopping in front of a section of new releases.

“There,” she breathed, her eyes wide as she looked upon it… the new Backstreet Boys CD. It was as if she had uncovered the Holy Grail itself. Claire almost expected the CD to give off an aura of shimmering, golden light as Laureen picked it up on the shelf, the way she was staring at it. Her friend’s expression was of sheer delight and utmost reverence… the look of a true fan.

Claire knew that her own excitement didn’t even compare to Laureen’s, but as she snatched a copy off the shelf for herself, she couldn’t help but feel a wave of giddiness rush over her. Standing in the middle of the aisle, she brought the CD closer to her face and studied the picture on the cover, her eyes immediately fixating on Nick. It was finally here, she realized. The album he’d been working on for almost a year. She knew how much time and devotion he’d put into it, and she couldn’t wait to hear the end result.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Laureen whispered over her shoulder, seeing Claire staring at the cover, and then dissolved into giggles.

Claire laughed too. “It’s a gem alright,” she replied. “C’mon, let’s go pay for these bitches so we can listen to ‘em!”

With the same speed-walking pace, they took their CDs to the checkout counters and paid. As soon as they made it back to Laureen’s car, Laureen burst out, “Okay, open it!!”

“Are you gonna be okay to drive?” Claire laughed as they got inside, Laureen sliding behind the wheel. “You’re not gonna start spazzing out and crash the car once I put the CD in, are you?”

Laureen giggled. “I’ll try not to. Don’t think Nick would be very happy with me if I killed his girl-… his friend.” Realizing what she’d almost mistakenly said, Laureen’s freckled face reddened, and she shot Claire a sheepish smile.

Claire smiled wryly back. “Eh, he probably wouldn’t mind, as long as you said that it was just because his songs were so good, you forgot to keep your hands on the wheel,” she joked.

As Laureen started the car, Claire pulled her CD out of her bag and tore off the plastic wrapping and security stickers. When at last she pried open the jewel case, her fingers brushed across the back of the album jacket and the front of the CD itself. They both had the texture of materials which had barely been touched, and when she popped the CD out, she caught a faint whiff of that “new CD” smell.

“Here,” said Laureen, hurriedly pressing the eject button on her car’s CD player as she drove them down the highway. Out popped her copy of the Boys’ last CD, which she quickly grabbed and shoved into a CD pocket mounted on her visor. “Okay… stick it in.”

With Laureen in the car, the moment seemed very momentous indeed. She’d been talking about the album for weeks and weeks, and with that kind of build-up, sliding a Backstreet Boys CD into a player seemed like cracking open the door to a secret, never-been-discovered ancient vault after digging for months. It was all sort of ridiculous, but Claire found herself anticipating the first few notes of the album just as much as much as Laureen.

The first single, already very familiar to both of them, was the first track on the CD, and they took advantage of the opportunity to sing along. “Sorry,” Claire apologized halfway through the first verse, “I should have warned you that I can’t sing to save my life.”

Laureen giggled. “It’s okay,” she paused just long enough to say, then kept singing. Unlike Claire, she had quite a nice voice, perfectly in tune with the guys on the recording.

With the way Laureen was speeding, they made it back to her apartment before the fourth track was over and sat in the parking lot, waiting until it was. In the pause before the fifth song started, Laureen ejected the CD and barked, “Upstairs!” As if they were racing against time, the two twenty-somethings scrambled out of the car and dashed upstairs, giggling like a couple of silly teenagers the whole way.

This was fun, Claire thought, plopping down on Laureen’s couch while Laureen knelt in front of her stereo to put the CD back in. She’d had her share of favorite music groups over the years, but it had been a long time since she’d gone crazy over an album release. As Laureen started the CD up again, they both sat back and just listened, murmuring occasional comments and rating the songs during the pauses in between. Of course, Laureen’s rating of every single one was “Amazing!!” or something similar.

As for Claire, she still found many of the lyrics cheesy, the melodies and beats a bit too poppy and light for her tastes, but overall, she had to admit, she liked it. The guys’ voices blended together beautifully, their harmonies rock solid. Although she thought they all sang well and appreciated AJ’s and Brian’s leads in particular, it was Nick’s voice who gave her chills. She doubted his would be her favorite, had she not known him, but because she did, she could plainly hear the passion and emotion behind every word and in every note that flowed from his mouth. His voice held the rawness of pure, organic talent, the roughness of a rock fan at heart, and the anguish of a man who had been to hell and back. It was at times heart-wrenching for her to listen to, yet too captivating not to. All in all, it was beautiful.

She held the jewel case in her lap the entire time they were listening, turning it over to follow along with the tracklisting printed on the back. One of the last tracks was a song called “Siberia.” The title had intrigued her from the moment she saw it; it was more unique than the rest of their song titles, which were, for the most part, one cliché after the next, and she’d been waiting curiously to hear it.

She listened in anticipation as the track before it finished. “Siberia” began with a driving, exotic-sounding hook that instantly grabbed her attention. Then a voice she recognized as Brian’s came in to compliment it. Eager to find out what a Backstreet Boys song called “Siberia” could be about (somehow, she knew it wasn’t going to be a geography lesson), Claire paid special attention to the lyrics. When you come back, I won’t be here, Brian sang, She said and gently pulled me near…

If you wanna talk, you can call
And no, it’s not your fault

I just smiled and said, let go of me
Now there’s something that I just gotta know
Did someone else steal my part?
She said it’s not my fault

Then my heart did time in Siberia
Was waiting for the lie to come true
Cause it’s all so dark and mysterious
When the one you want doesn’t want you too…

How sad, thought Claire, knowing just how it felt to be in love with a man who didn’t want to be with her anymore. She liked this song already; it was catchy and clever. It wasn’t until after the bridge, though, that she realized its true significance.

When I came back, she wasn’t there
Just a note left on the stairs
If you wanna talk, give me a call…

As the lyrics processed in Claire’s mind, she gasped and jerked her head to look at Laureen. Laureen was staring back at her, her eyes wide. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s about…”

“Me,” Claire finished emotionlessly, unable to keep herself from listening to the chorus repeat itself. Then my heart did time in Siberia… “Oh, God,” she whimpered, biting her lip. “He… did he write this??”

“I’ll look.” Laureen was already tearing into the case, pulling out the album jacket. She flipped through it, her eyes scanning the pages, until she said, “No… Max Martin wrote it. He’s written a lot of their hits. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t-“

“It had to have been,” Claire said softly. “There’s no way this is just a coincidence. Maybe Nick didn’t write it, but he must have given him the idea.” She sighed, a million thoughts running through her stunned mind. Somehow, she had never imagined she’d hear a song about herself on this album. She’d assumed their songs were mostly just generic break-up or “let’s make love” kind of songs. She wondered if she should be angry.

She wasn’t. More than anything, she just hurt. Not because Nick had hurt her with the song… but because the song revealed how much she had hurt him. He didn’t sing any of the leads, but in her mind, the lyrics were all in his voice. His heart did time in Siberia? So dark and mysterious? The one that he wanted didn’t want him too?

That’s me, she thought with an overwhelming sense of sadness. I’m the one he thinks doesn’t want him… I made him feel that way…

She’d always known that she’d hurt Nick by leaving him the way she had, but hearing this song was like a new, horrible realization. “I’m a terrible person, Laureen,” she mumbled, staring straight ahead, yet looking at nothing, her gaze simply seeping into the wall across from her. “How Nick could still ‘want’ me is beyond me. I don’t deserve him. You know, he treated me like a queen… and what did I do? I walked out on him.”

Her own words nauseated her; she felt sick to her stomach, sick with disgust at her own self. How could she have done such a thing? How could she have written a note like that, left it on his stairs for him to find, and driven away with all of her possessions and no warning at all? Even now, nearly nine months later, she couldn’t explain her actions. She barely remembered even doing it; the memory was just a blur. She’d been in a fog when she’d gone around the house, packing up all her things as quickly as she could. She had no idea what she’d even written in the note. And it was a miracle she’d made it all the way from Tampa to Gainesville without wrecking her car, for she had no recollection of the drive at all. The whole time, she’d been on auto-pilot, just going through the motions while her mind was somewhere else. Where, she still did not know. What had she been thinking that day? Maybe that was the problem – she had not been thinking clearly at all.

“Do you regret it?” Laureen asked quietly after a long pause, interrupting Claire’s flood of thoughts.

Claire chewed on her bottom lip as she considered the question. “Yes…” she answered slowly, “… and no. I regret what I did to him… I regret hurting him as much as I think I did… I’m sorry that we didn’t make it as a couple… but do I regret breaking up? I… I’m not sure. I really did love him… and a part of me still does. I’m sure I always will. He’s an awesome guy; he really is. But… I don’t know if he was right for me. I mean, now that I’m back together with Jamie, I’m starting to think maybe Jamie was the one for me all along. I loved him so much… and I don’t think I ever really got over that. I tried to, but all it took was the right moment to bring all those feelings back. I think things happen for a reason, ya know… and I think there’s a reason Jamie and I got back together after all these years. Maybe it’s that we’re meant to be. And Nick and I… we’ve gotten each other through a lot. We make great friends. But maybe that’s all we’re supposed to be.”

Laureen nodded. “I believe that too,” she said, “that things happen for a reason. Who knows, maybe you had to break Nick’s heart so that he’d go out and find someone new. The girl he’s with now… Veronica… maybe she’s the one for him. Could be, right?”

“Yeah…” Claire said slowly, picturing Nick’s new girlfriend in her mind. She’d seen more and more pictures of them together over the last month or so; with all the promotion the guys had been doing for the album, they had been out and about all the time, and new pictures had been plentiful on the internet. Veronica looked like a nice girl… not a celebrity-wannabe type, but normal… not a knockout, but cute. Claire had no idea what she was like in person, but she hoped, for Nick’s sake, that she was as sweet as she looked. Nick didn’t need another woman like his old girlfriend Leah in his life.

“You wanna… keep listening?” Laureen asked after a pause. Claire looked up; she hadn’t even realized Laureen had paused the CD.

“Yeah, definitely,” she replied. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay!” Laureen chirped, smiling. “Are you okay? I mean… about the song and everything?”

“I’m fine,” said Claire and then grinned. “You know I totally had it coming. And besides, it’s a good song! Catchy! I like it!” She tried to imagine herself rocking out to “Siberia” in the car. How could she sing along and know the words coming out of her mouth were about her… her and the emotional upheaval she’d put Nick through? Yeah, that was gonna be fun.

But Laureen laughed, and she joined in. It was kind of funny… how many other girls got to hear the story of their breakup narrated by their ex and his bandmates through an undeniably catchy pop song? Oh, the joys of having once been a Backstreet girlfriend. It was so bizarre when she thought about it that she could do nothing else but laugh.

They listened to the last track on the album and then let it repeat. On the second time around, Laureen started flipping through her album jacket, and Claire did the same. She admired the glossy, professional, air-brushed photos inside, her eyes lingering on Nick’s face. He’s so beautiful, she couldn’t help but think, looking deep into his blue eyes, which seemed to be staring back at her from the small booklet. She thought his eyes were one of his most attractive features; she’d always had a weakness for blue eyes on guys. Even when chemo had stripped him of his trademark blonde hair, his sexy, seductive eyebrows and his healthy, rosy complexion, she’d secretly still found him attractive, mostly because of his eyes. Well, and the cute nose and pouty, kissable lips never hurt either. Especially when he did that little smirk/half-smile of his... the Carter smile drove her wild.

God, what am I doing? Claire thought all of a sudden, realizing the way she was studying his every feature, admiring how gorgeous he was, and, at the same time, remembering how her fingertips had traced every line, every curve of his face, how her lips had covered every inch of it. This is wrong… I’m with Jamie now. I can’t sit here drooling over pictures of my ex, even if he is a hot popstar.

She quickly turned the page and found herself looking at the liner notes. She skimmed briefly over the guys’ thank-yous until she got to Nick’s, which were last. A smile tugged on her lips as she read them; the words he had written were filled with his personality, and she could imagine him sitting up in the middle of the night, trying to write them before they were due the next day, like a college kid who had procrastinated too long on his term paper. He thanked God, a bunch of people in the music business whom she did not know, his family, and the guys, of course. He thanked the fans for supporting him through the tough times he’d gone through since the last album. He thanked his doctors and his physical therapist, without whom he probably wouldn’t have been around to record the album.

And then he thanked her. The note was simple, short, and sweet. Ren – thanks for making me feel complete again.

If that was not enough to make tears well in her eyes, she squinted at a long string of numbers at the very end of his notes.

93 724533 66 86438437, 93 3743833 27278, 288 69 2767 273 78455 6736

“What is this supposed to be?” she asked Laureen.

Leaning over to see what she was pointing at, Laureen said, “Oh! Nick’s done this before! It’s in phone code. Lemme see your cell phone.”

Claire pulled her cell phone out and set it on the couch between them. They both leaned over their album jackets, their eyes flitting over to check the corresponding letters on the phone’s keypad as they read through the numbers, struggling to figure out each word.

“The first one’s We,” Laureen announced. “We… rag-… no. We… sag-… sai-…”

“Sailed,” said Claire suddenly, and she knew what the next few words were without even cracking the code. “We sailed on together,” she said slowly, hastily checking the letters on the phone just to make sure. “We drifted apart…”

Laureen gasped. “Those are song lyrics! I know those lyrics! What are they... Journey!! ‘Open Arms’!!” she cried excitedly, practically bouncing on the couch. “Aww, Claire!!! That’s such a sweet song!”

“It’s our song,” Claire whispered, not sure if she could speak any louder even if she tried; there was a lump in her throat that seemed to be blocking any more sound from coming out. And the tears… those rare tears of hers were definitely welling up now.

Laureen gasped. “Oh my God! Nick sang that song, a couple years ago… during that charity concert…” Her shining eyes temporary clouded, as she added solemnly, “The one he… you know… collapsed after. I have the DVD. Was that… for-?”

“It was for me,” Claire murmured with a nod, her voice cracking. “And I wasn’t even there to see it live. I wasn’t there for him.”

I was with Jamie, she realized, flashing back to that night. While Nick had been singing his heart out onstage for a group of sick and disabled children and their families, she’d been stuck at an airport in Iowa, trying to get home after she’d spent the week with Jamie, whose father had just passed away. When Nick had collapsed backstage after the concert and was rushed to the hospital, she’d been fifteen-hundred miles away and completely oblivious. She’d made it back in time to see him before he went in for the risky lung lobectomy he’d needed to save his life… but she still regretted not being there earlier, for the concert especially. What it would have been like, to stand in that theater and listen to him sing a song that she knew was meant just for her…

It would have been unforgettable.

She still remembered watching it on TV for the first time and the astonishment she’d felt when she realized it was for her, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the way Nick had intended it to be. All because Jamie had needed me, she thought. Even then, unknowingly, she had chosen Jamie over Nick. The realization brought more tears to her eyes.

Next to her, Laureen looked about ready to cry herself. “Does the rest say, And here you are by my side?” she asked, bending back over her copy of the liner notes.

“No,” said Claire; returning to the message, she had just realized it herself. “It’s something different.”

But within a minute or so, she had that cracked too. The numbers wiggled and blurred before her leaking eyes as she panned across the string of numbers once more, picturing the words they stood for in her head, clear as crystal.

We sailed on together, we drifted apart, but my arms are still open.

She reached up to wipe her eyes, but she was too late; a single tear that had rolled down her cheek slipped off her chin and fell, splatting right over Nick’s name at the end of the paragraph. Looking at it, his short, one-syllable name all alone below the coded message she knew was meant for her, she wondered if Nick had really moved on at all.

***