I didn't want to open my eyes. I was fairly certain I knew what I would see, and I didn't want to see it. "Kevin... look," my father's voice echoed in my ear. I shook my head. "Kevin."
When I was a boy and he really meant what he was saying - a command or a factoid he wanted ingrained in my head - he would say my name in that exact tone. It was heavy and forceful and solid, with an irresistible, unarguable finality.
I opened my eyes.
Sunlight was streaming through two windows over a sink, which were decorated with yellow curtains with tiny pink flowers on them. The sink was full of bubbly water and dishes poked out of the soap suds here and there, glimpses of pans and forks and plates. I rubbed the back of my neck as I peered into the sudsy water. I felt out of place, dismayed by the serenity of the scene I'd landed in.
Where the fuck am I? I wondered.
I looked around the kitchen.The fridge stood behind me, humming and proud. On it were several magnets galore. The lower half of the fridge had ABC magnets that were pushed around spelling out various "little" words, evidence of a child in the house, though I heard none. I stepped closer and peered at the top half. A whiteboard with markered on dates and times for meetings and a grocery list hung in the center, a marker hanging off it on a purple ribbon. Beside it were more magnets of various shapes. Then I saw one I recognized and I plucked it off the fridge. It was a koala bear shaped magnet with little googly eyes and real fur of some sort which AJ had bought in Australia the first time we went there, a long, long time ago. He'd given it to Denise as a gift.
This was Denise McLean's home.
"Why is there a child here?" I asked my father, looking at him. But he didn't answer. I put the magnet back and continued studying the fridge. Now that I'd spotted something familiar, I realized a lot of the things on the fridge looked familiar to me, and then in the very uppermost top right corner was a tiny framed photo of AJ and Denise. Denise was hugging AJ's shoulders, and he was peering out, one of the rare times in the mid-days of the band when AJ had removed his sunglasses. He looked tired and his brown eyes were sad, but Denise was smiling gleefully, clinging onto her sun as though her life depended upon him.
Suddenly, a little boy - clearly adopted - came bounding into the room, carrying a pot of Play-doh. He seated himself at the kitchen table. Denise came in behind him. The boy was probably six or seven, and was beaming ear-to-ear. Denise breezed through me to the cupboard, but as she passed the fridge, in a reflexive-like manner, she kissed her hand and touched AJ's picture.
My stomach turned.
I looked at my father. "Where is he?" I asked. Then, with an air of hopefulness, "Is he on tour? Wait, no he moved to California with Rochelle, right? He still met Rochelle?"
My father's eyes darkened. "He didn't meet Rochelle, AJ. There is no tour, the Backstreet Boys were over by 2001, remember?"
"A solo tour then..." I mumbled, feeling desperate.
"Kevin..." my father stared at me.
And he said it. He said it without even saying any words. I could feel the weight of his thoughts on my shoulder, of the words he was holding back resting on me. I felt my throat expand and my chest tighten and I became so dizzy, even as Denise and the little Asian boy were laughing and talking right beside me. This wasn't Denise's son, Denise's son was AJ, Denise's son was - was -
I couldn't even bring the word to my mind.
"He can't be dead," I hissed. The kitchen scene slowly faded away and I found myself kneeling in some grass. "Dad, he just can't be dead," I pleaded.
"Kevin, don't you remember what happened?"
I closed my eyes. "He can't be fucking dead."
"How many drugs he was taking... how often he was drinking and clubbing and you were driving him home... how many times you stopped him from killing himself on the tour bus..."
"Someone else had to have noticed," I begged him.
My father shook his head, "Kevin... you saved AJ's life. You were the voice of reason in a mass of chaos. Why do you think AJ clings so dearly to you?"
Tears sprang out of my eyes and I couldn't control them. They made my throat burn. I bent forward and grasped the grass in my hands. "AJ deserved a second chance at life," I said quietly, "He deserved better than he was giving himself, he- just no. He can't be..."
"Kevin... open your eyes, look around you..." my father whispered, "You were the only one who saved him in the end."
I sat up and cast a blurry glance around. I saw the grave, but I couldn't read it. I reached out my hands and felt the etched letters instead.
"Kevin," my father whispered, "Do you still believe that any of them would have been better off without you?" he asked.
My heart was slamming in my chest and I could feel my hands shaking against the cold granite stone and I shook my head bitterly, not looking at him or at the stone, just crying, out of control. "No," I gasped, "No they wouldn't have been any better off without me."
My father's hand rested on my shoulder. "Kevin, my boy, you were important, you were crucial even, in all of these people's lives..."
I sobbed.
"Come, Kevin, it's time to go."
I shook my head, "I can't."
He came closer, and knelt beside me. "You can't?" he asked, "Why?"
I pressed my cheek against the stone. "This can't happen, Dad," I pleaded, "Please... Make it okay again."
"I can't do that, son," he answered.
"No dad, please," I begged him, "Daddy..." I added, feeling like a little boy. I grabbed his hand, "Daddy please, you always made things right again, always. You were my hero, you saved me so many times, you were the one I always counted on, that I knew would never let me down. Please, help me now... Please make everything right again..."
My father's voice was low, "Kevin... I can't."
I felt my gut and my heart rip apart from each other inside me and I let out a moan of agony that I hadn't heard come out of my mouth since the day he had died. It was an animalistic, pain-filled sound that wrenched itself right out of the very soul of a person... of my soul.
"Kevin," he whispered, "Christmas is a time of miracles, you know..." he said quietly.
"How can there be any miracles here," I gasped, "AJ is gone... Nick is destitute... Howie's a miser... Kristen is in agony... Brian doesn't sing... The world is gone mad." The words strangled me and I closed my eyes and returned my face to the stone.
"Kevin," he whispered, "You can fix this."
"How?" I asked.
He smiled... a smile so warming and so rich and so wonderful... that I would never forget it as long as I lived my entire life. "Ah Kevin, my son... all you have to do is........"
