And now, here is the rewritten version of that Epilogue, with more depth and hopefully less cheese, although the story content is basically the same.
Epilogue
The Georgia sun was high in the sky on that May afternoon, and for the crowd of people sitting in the gleaming metal bleachers, without covering, there was no respite from its heat. Brian could feel its unrelenting rays scorching the bald patch at the crown of his head and wished he had thought to wear a cap. On second thought, he could practically hear Leighanne scolding him for the mere idea. “A baseball cap? To a graduation? Brian Littrell, you have more class than that.”
Smiling to himself, he glanced over at his wife of twenty-seven years. She was classy as always, dressed in a summer sundress that flattered her voluptuous figure. Her hair, dyed blonde to hide the impending gray, was pulled back off her tanned face, though her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses. A shame, he thought; Leighanne had beautiful, blue eyes. Lines of age had crinkled their corners, but they still sparkled in the sunlight, perhaps with a few tears at their corners as she watched her youngest child sitting out on the football field below in his cap and gown.
He’d be going off to college to study history in the fall, leaving the Littrell nest empty for the first time since the birth of their daughter, Baylee, twenty years ago. It seemed only yesterday that Baylee had been the graduate, and they’d faced the upheaval of their oldest leaving home for the first time. Now it was their youngest, their baby, and squinting down at the broad-shouldered, black-robed figure he knew to be his son made Brian feel very old.
He had turned fifty-three that year – not ancient, by any means, but sometimes he felt that way. It wasn’t his body that felt old – he was still in good health, and he tried to stay in shape. No, it was his soul. He had seen and done so much in his five decades that his time on Earth seemed much longer. In fact, some of his experiences seemed as if they were from another lifetime. No one around this town knew him as Brian Littrell, the Backstreet Boy anymore. He was only Mr. Littrell, the P.E. teacher, or Coach Littrell, to his players on the varsity girls basketball team.
Those who did remember him as the world-famous pop star he’d once been wondered why in the world Brian Littrell had turned his back on stardom and success in the music business and settled down in this podunk Georgia town to raise a family, coach high-school basketball, and teach gym. But to those who knew him best, it made perfect sense.
Brian Littrell had not been born a star. He’d been born a humble Southern boy, who lived to sing almost as much as he lived to serve God, and whose earliest ambition had been to do exactly what he was doing now. In his youth, he’d been called to become a youth minister, then diverted to become a Backstreet Boy, but serious illness and his own brush with death, as well as the death of his best friend, had changed his life’s course once more.
The Backstreet Boys just hadn’t been the same without their youngest member, and for a long time after his death, their career had hung in limbo, while each of them pondered what their next move should be. They had considered quitting altogether; after all, there was no BSB without Nick. But instead, they recorded one more album, released a year after Nick’s passing, as an homage to him. That final album felt like an appropriate epilogue to the unforgettable career they’d shared. For almost a decade, they’d sang together, but they could stand it no longer, at least in the professional sense. The magic was gone; every time they walked out on stage, just the four of them, there was only pain, an empty void where Nick should have stood.
Though their friendship had continued, the remaining four had disbanded and gone their separate ways, personally and professionally . AJ, Howie, and Kevin had stayed in the music business, AJ enjoying a mildly successful solo endeavor, while Howie and Kevin chose to work behind the scenes, producing and managing their own record labels.
But not Brian. With the second chance at life Nick has given him, he had married Leighanne, bought a house in her home state of Georgia, and gone to college. He’d graduated with a degree in education and landed a job that was a far cry from his former one, but still combined two of his other loves: sports and children. Singing became a hobby, as teaching and coaching became his life.
And it was a good life. Looking down on his son, the second of his children to graduate from the school where he had taught for two decades, Brian decided he had made the best out of his second chance. He was no longer performing to thousands and making millions, but he had provided a comfortable life for the family he had raised, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. It wasn’t the life Nick would have chosen, but somehow, Brian knew he would approve.
Taking his eyes off his son, Brian looked upwards, toward the cumulus clouds spread across the cerulean sky. Throughout his battle with cancer, his faith had stayed intact, but Nick’s death had rattled it. For a time, Brian had struggled with the unfairness and cruelty of the tragedy that had befallen his best friend. Even now, he didn’t have an answer as to his God had taken his best friend’s life in order to save his own. But in time, he had made his peace with the Lord. He still believed in Heaven, and he believed he would one day find Nick there, beyond the clouds or wherever Heaven existed, and thank him for the ultimate gift Nick had given him.
It was thanks to Nick that he was sitting here, enjoying the presence of his wife and daughter, feeling the sun on his skin as he watched his son stand and walk towards the podium.
“Nickolas Carter Littrell.”
As his name was announced, Nick’s namesake crossed the field to receive his diploma, while his beaming father looked on.
The End