The first thing I noticed about him as I exit the check out area of the airport was his newly dyed black hair. The neat crop was gone, replaced by a longer, grungier style. I felt that little tug on my chest, that familiar feeling of envy. The freedom of doing whatever the hell I want. The Oasis hairstyle man, that was all the rage right now. And nobody had to tell me; I knew I couldn’t have it. That Oasis hairstyle.

He smiled and waved at me, clueing me in that I had been found. I couldn’t stop the grin on my face, or the sudden urge to flail my arm up and wave back at him. Don’t draw attention to yourself – God! Sometimes I really think that aliens abducted me on one of our rides in the tour bus and they had implanted Kevin’s voice in my head. Recorded it down in a microchip and embedded them somewhere in my brain. That could be the only logical reason why I was the only one in the group who constantly got attacked by severe headaches.

You’re on your own out there; the last thing you want is to get mobbed. And he thought I never listened.

We stood eye to eye, not an inch taller or shorter than the other. And when he called my name, the right side of his lips curved into a hint of smirk, I shuddered.

“Nicholas.” I said, once we had pulled back from the short embrace. “You look good dude.”

He grinned and looked me up and down. My off-white, oversized sweater and my one sized bigger pair of jeans. My loyal red backpack hung on my right shoulder, threatening to slip.

“You look great too, mate!”

And finally, there it was. The difference between us. An all American white boy and a surfer dude from Australia. But even that couldn’t hide the fact that we were very much alike and identical in so many ways. Shockingly identical that it had me spooked the first time we met.

-

1993

I was at the backyard of the McLean’s house, taking my much needed break from schoolwork. Brian was still struggling through his quiz – American History, while it had intrigued me reading and learning about our past, Brian argued that it still doesn’t make sense why they had to make a quiz test out of it- and AJ had to sit through a bunch of spellings which he messed up quite often. It didn’t mean I was let off easy; Mrs. Sheffield, our tutor, had made me solved twenty mind boggling Geometry today, finding out what the angles of a, b and c were. I told her I couldn’t grasp the purpose of solving them, didn’t even know letters have angles in them. She always responded with that same smile and ‘you’ll appreciate them when you grow up’ line. I had the suspicions that she used the same line to all of kids she tutored.

“I thought you’d be glued to the TV right now.” I turned and scowled at Kevin, because he just made me jump for nothing, almost cost me a heart attack at 14. He smiled, smugly too if I may say so myself. “Chill dawg, it’s just me.”

Kevin was a headache to figure out. One moment he’d be calling me little man, put an invisible wedge between us just because he couldn’t accept the fact that he was in a musical group with a 13 year old (and growing). Almost thought that it was all one huge joke even. He told me he stayed because we made good music. I settled for that and kept my mouth shut, even when it killed me to not ask if he even played around the idea that he might possibly look at me one day and see a friend, not a 13 year old pest.

And then there were times when he’d just plopped his ass down next to me, if not in comfortable silence (which means I’d be busy on my Nintendo and he’d be reading the papers), he’d engaged us in small talks, often leading to his huge ideas of preserving the environment. I think it was those conversations that had saved us somehow. He was interested when I started talking about my passion for the sea and the wildlife that exist in the ocean.

I had no problems whatsoever holding such conversations with adults like Kevin. There had been Mrs. Carmichael, the old lady at the Home where Mom used to be a cook. I enjoyed holding conversations with her in the evening, when my sister and I would help out and bring the dinners to the old folks. She was born on October 24 1929, notoriously called Black Thursday, smack in the middle of the Depression and had survived World War Two. My favourite story from her would be how her family overcame depression, told to her from her mother because she was too young to understand it fully. I felt honoured because she was passing me a piece of history that her mother had told her. It made me feel better about our family financial struggle then. It made me appreciate what little we got. After that, I had to face a lot of adults for auditions; I learnt that if I at least acted as if I know what was going on, they wouldn’t just push me around so much.

So Kevin wasn’t as tough to handle, although I wouldn’t think about telling him that in his face. The good times when he decided he would treat me like an equal, he’d call me dawg or better yet, the one that never failed to send warm tingles in my stomach, bro.

“I need some fresh air.” I said as I retreated to the picnic bench Mrs. McLean had set up. It was my favourite place over there. Brian, AJ and I would take our lunch, grandma McLean’s famous Lasagne over at the picnic bench. It was there that we mapped out our ingenious plan to become famous. To reach the success that The Beatles had. Brian wondered if we would do what The Beatles did, spot the same haircut, and I jumped in with everything I had, protesting to the idea. AJ’s defence was, New Kids didn’t. And that’s why they weren’t as huge as The Beatles, Brian said. AJ told him to shut up. I remember sitting there in silence, munching on the Lasagne, picturing the five of us with identical haircuts. I burst out first, and they followed. AJ claimed it would hurt his ego if he were to spot the same hairstyle as Kevin.

“While I’m here, I thought you’d like to know that you got only 2 wrong answers on that Geometry paper you took earlier. Mrs. Sheffield showed them to me, said I should be proud.”

I laughed. “Like you’re supposed to be my father and proud of my solving some angles?”

He joined, sat facing me, slid the papers across the table and said, “I’d be proud of you like I’d be proud of my little brother.”

Mrs. Sheffield gave me a star with the words ‘Excellent effort!’ stamped above my score of 18 over 20. 14 and still treated like I was in a goddamned kindergarten. “You don’t have a little brother Kev.”

“Not by blood,” he shrugged. “but you and AJ and Howie even, you’re all my little brothers.”

I was going to tell him that he missed out Brian and then remembered that they were cousins. Related by blood. “Sometimes, family goes beyond just blood Nicky.”

I remember smiling, whispered a silent prayer that night and asked the Man above to bless our group, thanked him for giving me four big brothers that I had always asked for. And then asked him kindly not to take them away from me. “And you guys are all my big brothers.”

“Damn straight.” Kevin chuckled. “I know we’re a bit too much to handle sometimes, but look on the bright side, in five years, you’ll be nineteen, one of the grown ups.”

I pouted. “Five years’ a long time. I wish I have friends my age I could hang out with, when you guys aren’t around.”

“Don’t rush your childhood kid, cherish them.” Kevin said. “You can always make friends outside of this group you know.”

“Yeah well, I have to be an ultra cool kid first.”

“Hey, when we’re famous, they’d be kicking their own behind for not wanting to be your friend.”

“IF we get famous.” I reminded him. He shook his head. “Shouldn’t put yourself down this early, why do you think I put up with this if I don’t think we’re gonna make something out of it?”

I sat there in silence, staring at my Geometry paper again. I didn’t tell Kevin that that was my third attempt at solving Geometry; that I had scored below the passing mark on the previous two. I could only thank Mrs. Sheffield for not telling me off on Kevin. I needed to earn my respect from him, I felt compelled to for some reason. And me scoring 18 out of 20 had impressed him a hell lot.

“Look, I’ve got an idea.” Kevin said. I looked up at him, uninterested. Ideas only interest me if they involved major pranks on Howie and frankly, that was more of the other Kentucky cousin’s specialty, not Kevin Richardson.

“What?”

Kevin’s appearance at the McLean’s backyard that day was to pick Brian, AJ and I up after our lessons and straight for the studio, where we would face long hours of vocal practice. But Kevin had drove me to a nearby amusement park, told me we had only 15 minutes before we had to drive back and pick up the other two and meet up with Howie in the studio. Kevin said we couldn’t afford to be late.

“What? You want me to pick up a friend at random, is that it?” I asked as we got out of the car.

“You’re not that desperate, are you?” Kevin chuckled.

“No!” I cried. “So what the hell are we doing here?” He led me to one of the pushcart stalls; this one in particular was selling cotton candy and balloons. “You wanna treat me to cotton candy and buy me one of those rabbit faced balloon?”

“You want a cotton candy?” Kevin asked.

“Are you buying?”

He smiled and bought me a packet of cotton candy. Green, cause I wanted that colour. He also wanted to buy me a round shaped, green balloon filled with helium. “I don’t want no balloon Kevin, I’m freaking 14, not 4.”

“I came here not to buy you cotton candy Nick, I came here to buy you a damn balloon.”

I must have been the most confused kid in that park. I couldn’t even say anything, just stood there with my left hand clutching the packet of cotton candy that he didn’t want to buy in the first place, feeling down right insulted. Was it supposed to be a low blow? Buying me a damn balloon? When I finally found my voice, gathered enough frustration in my head to speak my mind, I was nearly in tears. Be damn with random people and what they thought of me.

“You know what, if this is your way to insult me, I’m just gonna tell you straight that it worked damn well.”

He raised that sorry excuse for an eyebrow and looked at me like as if I was the inhuman one. The one who would actually think about buying someone cotton candy and then insulted him. “I’m not here to insult you, man…here, let me just buy the balloon and then I’ll explain the rest.”

I couldn’t tell you why I didn’t leave, why I had stayed there instead, with that cotton candy in my hand, watched him paid the guy a dollar for a green balloon.

“You said you can’t make friends on your own right? Think they might thought you uncool for some reason?” Louder please Kevin; I don’t think the kids at the other end of the park heard you.

“I want you to write your name and address on this balloon and let it fly. I bet you, someone will find it and thought it cool that you wanna make friends that way.” Or weird, whatever.

I thought Kevin had finally gone the deep end. I guess all the torture I put him through with my constant whining and pranks had got him. “The damn balloon will burst in mid air with all that helium inside. It won’t last a day.” Surely he had some education in high school right?

He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. It won’t hurt to at least try.”

Nickolas Carter, 14, Do you want to be my friend?

I asked him if I could put his address instead of the Home. Told him I didn’t want the kid who finds it to think I’m some deranged old man from the home who really believed that he was still 14. He agreed and with that finally piece of information written, I let it free. I didn’t even wait to see how far it’d go, because frankly, I found it stupid. You’d expect such a stunt from AJ, the guy who had convinced me that if I hold my breath long enough, I could float, not Kevin.

It was about three months later when I received that letter. The five of us were in Kevin’s apartment, about done with an entire day of practice and promoting ourselves. It was Brian who found the envelope, along with the rest of Kevin’s mail. For some reason unknown to us all, Brian loves checking the mailbox. He said it gives him the thrill, the anticipation of finding out what the mails had for him. AJ had told him out right that he needed to find a new hobby.

“Hey, how come there’s a letter to Nickolas Carter?” Brian asked as he waved the manila envelope in the air. I was in the kitchen, helping Howie unpack the frozen dinner we had bought earlier and putting them in the microwave oven. We were having black pepper lamb chop, mashed potatoes in thick, generous helping of gravy and some veggies at the side. Except for Kevin, he had the cravings for some Chinese food.

“Me?” I frowned, as I passed a plastic plate over to Howie.

“In Kevin’s mailbox?” Howie asked.

“Where it came from?” AJ asked. He was already seated by the dining table, waiting for food to be served. I glanced at Brian, who was frowning a little, trying to make out the origin from the stamps.

“Sydney, Australia.”

“You know someone from Australia?” AJ asked. “Cool.”

“I don’t know someone from Australia.” I said and left the unpacking to Howie. “Let me see.”

Kevin entered the kitchen and plopped next to AJ. “Maybe someone found your balloon.”

I looked at him, deadpan. “That’s impossible. It didn’t fly all the way to Australia. How come you still remember that?”

“It was my idea remember? See, I told you it’ll work.” Kevin smirked.

AJ shook his head and waved his hands in the air. “Hold up, did I miss something in between cause I really don’t know fuck what you’re talking about.” Kevin smacked him upside the back of his head. He deserved it too.

“No need to curse Bone.”

“Please, there’s only five of us right now, we all know what fuck is, what’s the fucking problem?”

“The fucking problem is that it’ll become a habit and one of these days you might just slipped that in while talking to some big shot person who wanted to actually sign us on.” Kevin lectured.

“We’re talking about the letter here, don’t get sidetracked.” Brian said. I sat facing both AJ and Kevin, Brian sat next to me and Howie was rushing through the heating process. AJ’s and Brian’s dinner got served first.

“Read it Nick, you can explain to us about the balloon later.” Howie urged. I nodded and tore the envelope carefully. It was written in a piece of paper that was torn from a book, handwritten.

Hello Nickolas Carter,

I found your balloon while my family and I were at the beach. It was floating in the surface of the water, the size of my father’s fist. I was going to throw it away until I saw some writing on it. My father blew the balloon as big as he could and that was how I got to read your little note. I told dad I wanted to write you back because I just moved to Sydney, I originally came from Queensland, and I hardly have any friends. I would like to be friends with you if it’s okay. I’m leaving you our home number; dad said he wants to make sure you’re not some sick person out to pull a prank on kids like me. There is something else that you should know but I think I’ll tell you if you call me back.

Thank you,
Nick

“You wrote all that stuff on a freaking balloon?” AJ gasped after Kevin had told of our little ‘adventure’ at the park.

“A green balloon filled with helium which by right should have burst long before it reached the freaking Australia.” I corrected him.

“Why then, it’s a miracle.” Brian grinned. I wasn’t surprised that Brian would think that. Everything he said back then always had some kind of attachment to God. I think he was still getting used to the idea that he was not going to a Christian college and become a priest, or something like that.

“You know what I think?” Howie said as he swallowed another piece of his lamb chop.

“What?” I said, as I took another spoonful of my mashed potato.

“Call him.”

“I agree.” Kevin said. “You guys even share the same name.”

I ended up calling Nick the Australian guy after dinner, with the guys crowding around me.

We talked for about two hours that night. At first it was like a passing baton marathon, with us passing the receiver around, each got to talk to my new friend. I even got to talk to his dad and his mom, unlike me; my new friend was an only child. By the end of the call, I was convinced that it had been a miracle indeed. Or weird, according to AJ.

My new friend is called Nicholas Carter. Different spelling but identical in a way. His birthday is January 28 1980, born at 10.42 a.m. the exact same time I was born (although time difference would say otherwise). His favourite hobbies are basketball, music and Nintendo and he loves the beach.

If this had happened by the time we were famous, I would have deemed the family for being fake. But I was a nobody back then, no one in Australia gave a damn of a certain American white boy by the name of Nickolas Carter living in Florida.

The next day, as promised, I received an email from Nicholas along with a scanned picture of him. Blue eyes, blond hair, and scrawny physique like mine. We don’t look exactly alike, not really, he had a fuller upper lip than mine for instance, his eyes are larger and rounder and his nose has double the freckles than mine; but other than that, we could have passed as twins. I was overwhelmed by it the first time I saw his picture and in the following letters that he and I would exchange through the course of our friendship, he had told me he had the same the reaction when he saw mine.

We grew up learning about how the other one lives. I was the Nickolas who slowly climbed up the ladder to become one fifth of the Backstreet Boys, the boy who had to leave school and skipped a lot of kid stuff along the way just to perform in schools and malls. My life was filled with tight schedules and meeting demands and then travelling to countries to promote our first album. My life saw me from nobody to being a guy that would make young girls screamed my name. I was the life of every young boy’s dream.

Nicholas, through his letters, shared with me the life of normalcy, something that I would gradually find hard in my life. Through him, I understood the meaning of graduating high school in a school along with my friends, to know how it feels like to go to the movies on Friday nights, had my first date and got my heart broken.

I offered him the life of a superstar in the making; the life that he only dreams about; while he offered me the life that I left behind yet didn’t want to lose.

We finally met when Backstreet Boys came to Australia in 1996.

It was weird to see someone you felt you knew your whole life, for the first time. The fact that he and I were born on the exact same day and time and to share the same name. I remember him spotting the crew cut, a style that most high school student wore back then, neat and tidy. While I had mine long. Just the way Jonathan Taylor Thomas wore it. Just the way Leonardo Di Caprio wore his. Just the way Jesse Spencer wore his. Just the way Devon Sawa wore his. He quoted all those names to me, told me for someone who was climbing up the ladder to superstardom, I definitely had the right haircut.

Next time you see me in person, I’ll have mine longer than yours.

Care to bet my friend?

You’re on.

1999

So I lost the bet. Stupid fucking Oasis with their stupid fucking hairstyle. Our management would kill me if I ever dye my hair any darker than sandy brown, or have that rock edge haircut.

“Don’t you need a cap? People might recognise you here.” Nicholas said. I shook my head. “Nah, nobody expects me to be here, especially on my own. Besides, it’s been awhile since our last album, it’s a lot calmer these days.”

“That wouldn’t be for long once that album comes out.”

“I hope so, or it’d mean the end for us.”

“I highly doubt so.”

“Well then James, where are you taking me first?” To avoid confusion, we had come around to calling Nicholas by his middle name.

“My house, meet my baby sister Patricia and my parents and then out to meet my friends. My girlfriend’s dying to meet you.”

“Oh yeah, Maria, was it?” He nodded and smiled. “Yup, that’d be her.”

As I followed him to his banged up Toyota (they have cars made in Japan because they drive on the other side of the road, weird for me), I realised James and I weren’t much different. Both nineteen, he was a sophomore in College and we were going to release our US sophomore album and we were both currently dating with good friends around.

Well, except I don’t drive a banged up car and speak with an accent. James never failed to constantly remind me of those.

On nights when I couldn’t find sleep, I would lay in my bed in some hotel, stared at the ceiling above me and wondered if everyone has another them out there somewhere. Wondered if there were more to the likes of Nickolas and Nicholas Carter. And then I wondered how many of them were as lucky as we were, to know that the other exist in this world.

I wish everyone had someone smart like Kevin in their lives and buy them a damn balloon.

The End