Do You Remember? by Mare
Summary: Nick writes a letter to his mother on Mother's Day.




Categories: Fanfiction > Backstreet Boys Characters: Nick
Genres: Angst
Warnings: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 1436 Read: 668 Published: 05/07/05 Updated: 05/07/05
1 by Mare



Hey,



I’ve wanted to write this letter to you forever and a day. I just never seem to find the time anymore. Our schedule is getting so busy and life has taken so many unexpected turns both for the good and bad, it’s like when I think I have found a few spare moments, they are quickly stolen for use somewhere else. The thing is, I have been thinking a lot about you lately. I miss your laughter and smile around the house; I miss the home cooked meals. I miss being able to open up to you about things, telling you my problems about stupid girls. Remember when I came home from 5th grade and cried because my teacher caught me kissing Sally Fendermen in the back of the classroom? I knew I could tell you all about it and you wouldn’t get mad.



We had such a special relationship mom, where did it go?



It’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you for years now, after every rehearsal as you sat and watched me dance until I was ready to drop or after a night of partying with the rest of the guys and their families as we gradually broke into this business. It was all so exciting back then. Do you remember? Can you remember?



I can. I remember it like it was yesterday. The way your eyes would light up when someone complimented something I did. “Your son is so talented Mrs. Carter! He is certainly going to go far.” You would giggle and hold me close to you. I loved those times mom.



Remember our first trip to New York? How no matter how much I wanted to sit with Brian you made me sit with you because you knew I would be afraid to be on the plane, but it wasn’t me that was afraid it was you. I remember rolling my eyes at you as you said, “This will be our little secret baby.”



I threatened to tell everyone about how chicken you were whenever you got me mad, and that usually made you laugh and forget to punish me. Back when you used to do things like that.



I loved those moments we had, the moments between a mother and her son. I always looked at you as a friend and felt like no matter what as long as you were in my life, nothing could go wrong.



I was so silly thinking that wasn’t I? Because here it is the eve of Mother’s Day and here I am writing you a letter that most likely will never be mailed or read by anyone but myself.



The best Mother’s Day that I can recall was spent in your bed with dad and the rest of the kids, all squeezed into a small tiny space. I helped Aaron and Angel make you a huge breakfast and of course I burnt your toast. I always burn the toast. Don’t worry, I still do. We stayed in bed that day and had a competition to see who would get antsy enough to leave first. You all thought it would be me but fortunately it was Leslie who had to pee so you owed me a toy which I don’t believe I ever got.



I’m sure somewhere in some attic in one of our houses is that stupid homemade radio I made you when I was 5 or 6? I can’t remember. All I remember is being inspired by Gilligan’s Island and thinking that if the professor could do it than so could I. It was just a hunk of wood with a play dough antenna on it. Gosh come to think of it, you probably don’t have it anymore do you?



I know Mother’s Day is probably really hard for you these days, with none of us saying more than few words to each other anymore. Leslie is there though for you. I wish you were here for me.



I used to love Mother’s day and Father’s day. It was the one time of year that I could stop being Nick the Backstreet Boy and be Nick the son. Giving you the stupid, silliest nonsense presents I could find, but always backing it up with something grand. Something I felt that my mother deserved.



Now those days are just days and I sit and watch the guys celebrate with their families while I sit in the back of a bus and write to you. Hoping I’ll get up the nerve to mail it this year, or maybe pick up the phone and call you. I know it won’t happen but for some reason it makes me feel connected to you. Is that weird?



I wish I could turn that stupid wooden radio into some kind of time machine and send us back to the time when I used to walk over and sit on your lap for no reason, or you would come over to me and give me a kiss on the cheek and tell me you loved me.



When was the last time you told me you loved me mom? When there were no cameras around? You know what’s sad? I can’t recall.



I am going to go all poor me now because I try not to be that way around the rest of the kids when we talk, which isn’t very often anymore. I also try not to do that when endless reporters ask me about you and our crazy family. I always go the ‘my life is good don’t worry about me’ route. Not here and now though, I’m about to have a sympathy party for one.



Let me tell you what it’s like to wake up every morning feeling like the two people who should love you don’t. Now I know if you are reading this you are probably appalled right now. I can hear you saying, “How can you think I don’t love you?”



I guess my question would be, “How can YOU think I would know something like that?”



It’s like an emptiness mom, that no one can quite fill. It’s an ache, dull and numb, no matter who shows me kindness or affection, it isn’t good enough. Yeah I know I’m 25 years old, but it doesn’t matter. I have felt like this for years now and I’ll probably feel like this forever. Simple really, I’m just child who needs its mommy.

Maybe one day, you’ll wake up and see things from my eyes, or maybe one night I’ll look in a mirror and see things from yours. Whichever the case until then I guess it’s just letters and reflection.



I wish you the best mom, I always have. It’s easy to want to hate you, and sometimes late at night I do hate you. I wish I hated you all the time; it would make the pain lessen.



I wonder if you ever think of me that way? I wonder if you ever sit in the living room and out of the blue say, I wonder what my baby boy is doing. I love him and miss him. Who knows…maybe you are writing me a letter right now.



The truth is, I do love you mom and I miss you.



I hope all is well with you; I worry about you all the time. I’m afraid that one day I’m going to turn on the television and see that you have killed yourself, the ultimate sacrifice to this sad sad story. I can actually see you thinking boy wouldn’t that make a great movie.



It wouldn’t mom.



It would be nice if this story did have the ‘and they lived happily ever after’ ending though. But maybe that is for another day.



Well I guess I should go, Brian has called me three times already to come out and join them for dinner. His entire family is up for Mother’s Day. Now I have to go put on a happy face and pretend to not be jealous that I have never known that kind of life.



With love,



Nick


Have a Happy Mother's Day and think about all of those people out there that don't have much to celebrate :)
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