Chapter 64
Claire was
not a big fan of cooking, nor was she very good at it. But as she stood at the kitchen stove, making
Nick breakfast that morning, she decided that she would gladly cook three meals
a day, every day, if only her soon-to-be husband could be there to enjoy them
(or at least tolerate them) every day too.
Her mother
had always been an excellent cook. She
hadn’t worked during Claire’s childhood and had instead become the perfect
stay-at-home mom, the kind who cleaned the house till it was sparkling while
her kids were at school, drove them around to all of their practices and
lessons after school, and still managed to provide three full meals a day for
her family. The Ryan family had always
eaten dinner together during Claire’s youth; it was a nightly ritual. Dinnertime grew later and later as she and
her brother grew older, when evening football practices and basketball games
kept them out till after dark; yet she and Kyle were always expected to come
home and sit down with the family for supper when they were done doing whatever
else they had to do.
As a
teenager, she’d hated it. None of her
friends’ families were as old-fashioned as hers – half of them had divorced
parents, and even those whose parents were together didn’t have to go home and
eat dinner with them every night; no, they got to go out for burgers or pizza
while she was stuck at home eating meatloaf and listening to her dad’s lame
stories from work and the equally lame gossip her mom had heard at the beauty
shop or the grocery store.
It was not
until adulthood that she really came to appreciate the close-knit family in
which she’d been raised. The rebellious
teenager who had butted heads with the mother she found suffocating grew into a
young woman who respected her mom and the way she had always put her family
first. Claire wanted to be that kind of
wife – and, God willing, mother. She
didn’t strive to be exactly like her own mom – she was a modern woman; she
wanted to hold down a job and help provide for her family, in addition to
physically taking care of them. But her
fantasy of her own perfect little family was not unlike the one she had grown
up in. She pictured herself in the
kitchen, making dinner after work while the kids did their homework and waited
for their daddy to come home from his own job.
When he did, they’d jump all over him, and he would laugh, swinging them
around and letting them tell him all about their day before he came to her,
sliding his arms around her waist and kissing her sweetly before asking how her
day had been.
The fantasy
was idealistic, but not impossible. Real
families like that still existed; hers was living proof. Yet as she stood there, flipping pancakes and
listening to Nick’s footsteps over her head as he puttered around upstairs,
packing his bag back up, she realized it was not to be. Not for her and Nick. His schedule would keep him on the road, away
from home for weeks at a time, while she’d keep coming home to an empty house
and making dinner for one.
If they
ever did adopt children, being unable to have their own, she would be the one
at home taking care of them while he was away.
She would be the one to tuck them in at night and tell them, “Daddy will
be home soon,” when, to her, “soon” seemed an eternity away. She would be the one to get up in the middle
of the night and care for them when they got sick or comfort them when they had
bad dreams. She would be the one
responsible for explaining where their daddy was and why he couldn’t come home
to check for monsters under their beds before they went back to sleep. Instead of Daddy, she would be the one
crawling around on her hands and knees, assuring them again and again that
there really was nothing under there and listening as their stubborn voices
insisted, “Daddy does it better. Only
Daddy can make the monsters go away.”
The
scenario was a lonely one to Claire; yet, she was not naïve enough to think it
would be any different once she and Nick were married. She knew he would make a wonderful husband
and father, when he was around. But his
career did not allow him to be around as much as she wished he could be. At the same time, she thought she could be a
good wife to him and a good mother to his children, but how could she be both
at once? A good wife was always there
for her husband, supporting him in everything he did, yet a good mother could
not drag her children on a whirlwind tour around the world when they should be
going to school and just being kids. If
she and Nick married and started a family, she knew she would spend the next
few years – maybe even the next decade, or longer – making these kinds of
decisions. Keep her job and her own
life, or follow Nick on tour? Raise her children
at home, without their father, or take the kids away from home and bring the
whole family on the road? She didn’t
know quite how Leighanne Littrell did it – for all its perks, being a
Backstreet wife was going to be tough.
She’d been
thinking about her future with Nick a lot lately and realizing so many things
she’d hardly considered in the giddy, carefree weeks they’d enjoyed together
following their spur-of-the-moment engagement.
So many issues that could come between them and interfere with their
love for one another. All you need is
love, love… love is all you need, the Beatles sang, and there had been a
time when Claire had believed those words with all her heart. She still wanted to believe that, but the
real world had stripped her of her naivety long ago. Love was certainly powerful… but it wasn’t a
cure for everything.
It really
was good medicine though. Perhaps that
was why she’d come back last night and slid into bed beside Nick as if the
argument they’d had hours earlier had never taken place. She wasn’t really mad at him, and she didn’t
want him to leave the next morning angry at her either. It was their last night together for awhile,
and they owed each other more than that.
She’d barely mentioned the argument that morning, and though she knew
they needed to talk about it, she wasn’t ready.
She just wanted to enjoy her time with him while she could, and she knew
that he wouldn’t push the issue. If anything,
it was usually her pushing him to talk, not the other way around.
She needed
more time to think and sort things out in her head before she talked to him,
for despite the fact that she’d driven aimlessly for hours the night before,
reflecting on the direction her life was headed in, she’d come up with no
answers to the problems that had surfaced as they fought that evening.
You need to talk to him, a little voice in the back of her
head told her. You need to figure
this out together.
But the
thought of getting into the same old argument again (“You cheated on me!”
“Well, you lied to me about Jamie! How
do I know you’re not cheating on me with him?” “I’m not! Maybe you should be around more so you’d know
for sure!” “Oh yeah? Maybe you should
quit your job and come to LA with me!”) just made her weary.
I don’t want to bring it up again this
morning; there’s not enough time for us to figure anything out, she decided as she flipped off the
burner on the stove. Right now, she just
wanted to eat pancakes.
“Nick! Breakfast!”
***
“Your
pancakes actually weren’t burnt this morning,” Nick commented as Claire zipped
his Jag into a parking space at the airport.
Jerking the
car into park, she shot him a nasty look that just ended up making him
laugh. “Cute. I’ll have you know, I haven’t burnt them in
quite a while!”
“Well,
whaddya know,” replied Nick with an impish smirk. “You’re getting better, baby.”
“Ass,” she
teased, playfully slugging him in the shoulder before reaching down to unfasten
her seatbelt. “Just be glad I fed you.”
“I am, I
am!” he insisted, holding up his hands in innocent defense. “You know I love your cooking, baby,” he
added, leaning over to place a sweet kiss on her cheek.
She smiled,
glad they weren’t fighting. But…
But they
also hadn’t resolved anything, not even the things they’d fought about the
night before. Not really. Even though she’d made the decision not to
bring it up that morning, it troubled her.
She didn’t like leaving things unresolved. If only he didn’t have to leave again so
soon. But he had a big meeting with the
record company big-wigs first thing Monday morning, so she knew he didn’t have
a choice in the matter.
“Well, come
on; we should get inside,” Claire said reluctantly, her fingers brushing the
door handle.
“Yeah,”
Nick agreed with just about the same level of enthusiasm.
After a few
seconds, they finally opened their doors and got out of the car, Nick slinging
his backpack over his shoulders. Hand in
hand, they made their way into the airport and checked in. Claire followed Nick until they reached the
security checkpoints she could not go past.
With a sigh, he turned and took her other hand, holding them both
between his.
“Less than
three weeks, and I’ll be back again for Thanksgiving,” he promised with a
crooked smile. “And then Christmas… and
then New Year’s…”
“Our
one-year anniversary,” she smiled back, a lump rising in her throat.
His smile
grew broader. “That’s right. And we’ll make it perfect. I won’t be recouping from surgery this year –
we can go party.”
“You better
not be,” she said, rising onto her tip-toes to kiss his lips. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
He dropped
her hands and wrapped his arms around her instead, pulling her into a tight
hug. “Back at ya,” he replied as he
squeezed her. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you
too.” This was the third time in a month
that she’d uttered those words as she’d hugged him goodbye in the middle of an
airport, and it was no easier than the first two times. Would it ever get any easier? She didn’t see how it could, but she told
herself she’d better get used to it, because from this point on, she’d be doing
it often.
They were
just about to say goodbye for real when they heard a timid voice ask, “Nick?”
They both
turned to find a pair of teenage girls standing just a few feet away. Claire blinked in surprise; she had not even
noticed them come up.
“Um, sorry
for interrupting,” said the one who had spoken first, twisting her feet
nervously while her companion fidgeted with the strap of her backpack, looking
equally mortified. “Me and my friend
Maggie are big Bsb fans though, and we were wondering if we could get a picture
with you or something.” She held up a
small camera and smiled hopefully.
“Sure, I
got a minute,” agreed Nick, smiling back ever so patiently. “Give your camera to Claire here; she’ll snap
a pic of us.” He flashed Claire the
kind of grin that said please, thank you, and I’m sorry all
in one. She winked and turned to the
girl, offering her a smile as she handed over her camera.
“Thank you so
much!” the fan gushed brightly, as she and her friend darted over to Nick,
taking places on either side of him. He
draped an arm around each of them and smiled good-naturedly as Claire counted
off and took a picture.
“Can you
get one with mine?” pleaded the other girl, speaking for the first time as she
ducked out from Nick’s arm just long enough to shimmy out of her backpack and
pull another camera out of it.
“Sure,”
said Claire, taking the camera and snapping another photo of the two starstruck
teens with Nick. Both girls were
practically glowing as they hung on to him, their eyes shining above
million-watt smiles. And he loves it,
she thought, smiling as she watched Nick through the camera’s lens. He may have acted like fans were a hassle
sometimes, but he clearly loved them and the attention he received from them.
“Thank you
so much!” both girls said again, as Claire handed the second camera back.
“No
problem,” she smiled. She couldn’t help
but be a little surprised that they were even acknowledging her, even if it was
just a “thanks” for taking their pictures.
But the
real shock came when they asked, “Can we get a picture with you too?”
Blinking,
Claire repeated, “With me?”
“Yeah! You’re Claire, right? Nick’s fiancée?” The two girls looked between her and Nick,
grinning from ear to ear.
She
couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I am,”
she answered, feeling that little rush of euphoria shoot through her. Nick’s fiancée…
“Well, will
you take a picture?”
“Well,
sure,” she said, still surprised that they would care about being in a picture
with her. But they handed their cameras
to Nick and crowded around her this time, slinging arms around her as if they
were old friends. This is the
weirdest thing, she thought as she smiled for the camera, wondering if Nick
had felt the same way when he and the Backstreet Boys were first starting out.
“Thank you
guys so much! And congratulations too –
we’re really happy for you!” the first girl said as her friend nodded eagerly
beside her.
“Thank
you,” chirped Nick, pulling Claire back towards him and sliding his arm around
her. “Listen, I gotta go in a minute so
I don’t miss my flight, but do you ladies have something you want me to sign
before I go?”
Both sets
of eyes lit up, and the girls nodded eagerly, immediately diving for their bags
to find something for him to autograph.
To Claire’s shock, both emerged with Backstreet Boys CDs - different
ones, at that. The first girl handed him
a copy of Millennium, and her friend offered a copy of their latest
release from the year before. Claire
smiled; she had that one at home. She
and Nick hadn’t even really been in touch when it came out – he’d been dating
Leah, a relationship she’d never thought much of, and they’d had words – but
she hadn’t been able to resist buying it.
And although she liked to give Nick a hard time, it really wasn’t
bad. Not her favorite kind of music, but
the guys were definitely talented; no one could deny that.
“Wow, you
guys come prepared,” Nick joked as he signed both album jackets.
“We’re
flying to Denver to visit my aunt and uncle.
Long flight – gotta have our Bsb music,” the first girl explained in a
matter-of-fact voice, smiling broadly.
Then she offered her Millennium jacket to Claire. “Claire, could you sign too?”
“Are you
sure?” Claire asked, her eyes widening as she looked at the open booklet. The girl – Erinn; she’d spelled out her name
for Nick – had turned it to one of Nick’s individual pictures, a photo of him
sitting in water, hugging one knee while his other leg was stretched out in
front him. He’d scribbled a short
message to her in the top left corner and signed beneath it. It didn’t seem right for her to write her
name there too – this was his album, his picture… she hadn’t even
known him when he was this young and baby-faced.
But Erinn
and Maggie both nodded eagerly, and so she found herself reluctantly penning
her signature below Nick’s on each of the CD jackets. Claire Ryan. It looked so plain to her, the same boring
name she jotted when she was signing receipts and writing checks at the grocery
store. She added a few XOXOs
above it to spruce it up, but she still couldn’t see why they wanted it. “Here you go,” she said, handing the last
booklet back. Then she laughed and
confessed, “I’ve never signed an autograph before – this is so weird!”
“Yay, we’re
your first!” exclaimed Erinn, shooting Maggie a wide grin. “Thank you!”
“No
problem. Thank you for your
support,” Claire returned with a smile, then mentally berated herself for it. Thanks for your support? How lame is that? But she didn’t know what else to say. She was still sort of thrown off by this
whole situation.
So this is being a Backstreet wife…
***
Nick was
highly amused by the situation that had taken place at the airport. Claire looked so discombobulated by the
requests to take pictures and sign autographs for the two fans; she’d never
experienced anything like it before. He
was glad she’d met up with supportive fans and not jealous, delusional ones –
there were less of those now that he and the guys were older, for the fans had
grown up too, but he still encountered them every once in awhile.
These two
girls were nothing but sweet though, and when he finally told them that he
really did have to get to his gate, they giggled and replied, “So do we!”
“My mom
will kill me if we miss our flight!” added the one who had done most of
the talking, her eyes flashing melodramatically.
He laughed
and let them go ahead of him through the security check, giving himself an
opportunity for a private goodbye to Claire.
“Thanks for being cool about that,” he told her before pulling her back
into his arms and planting a kiss on her forehead.
“No
problem,” she smiled. “That was kind of
cool… in a weird way.” She laughed. “I guess I’ll get more of that if I come on
tour with you, huh?”
“Probably
so,” he answered, but he couldn’t help but notice the way she’d worded it. If I come on tour with you. If… not when. Come on, Claire, he pleaded
internally. How could they call
themselves married when he’d be out on the road all the time and she back home,
too absorbed in her own routine to come along with him? They’d be apart more than they’d be together. It would drive him crazy, not seeing her.
And
wouldn’t she miss him too? Wouldn’t she
wonder what he was doing, alone on the road without her, being fawned over by
infatuated female fans on a nightly basis?
Wouldn’t she worry, the way he couldn’t keep himself from worrying about
what she was doing every time Jamie came back to town? And he’d been coming back a lot lately, Nick
had noticed. Job interviews,
supposedly. What if he got one of the
jobs? Then what? He’d move back; he and Claire would see a lot
more of each other…
And Nick
would be touring.
He released
her slowly, wishing he could hold onto her forever, in every sense of the
phrase. Looking deeply into her eyes, he
said, “I love you” and waited for her to say it back, which of course, she did. And he had no reason to doubt it, did
he? She had always been there for him,
which was more than he could say about himself.
And she always would be, wouldn’t she?
Even if she wasn’t there physically…
He picked
up her hand and gave it a squeeze. It
shouldn’t matter, as long as he knew she loved him, but god, he loved that
physical contact. Not even sex or just
making out either. It was simply her
presence that put him at ease and made him happy. Her hand in his… her arms around him… He missed that when he was away from
her. Even when he was in Los Angeles, a
city he loved, doing what he loved, a part of him wished he could just be back
at home, lying in bed beside her and laughing at one of the cheesy movies they
liked to watch late at night. They
laughed over the phone together nearly every night… but it wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t
the same…
“You okay?”
Claire’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
“You’re spacin’ out on me,” she teased gently as she reached up to touch
his cheek, the heat from her palm radiating through his skin.
“Just
thinking about how much I’m gonna miss you,” he confessed with a sad smile.
“I know,”
she sighed, her face taking on the same melancholy expression. “I’m gonna miss you too. I always do.”
Then come with me! he thought, but he didn’t say it. She’d only sigh again and tell him she
couldn’t. But when will you be able
to? Now it was his turn to
sigh. “I really should go,” he said
reluctantly. “Don’t wanna mess around
with finding another flight if I miss this one, and you know how the security people
like to give me hell.” He patted his
fake leg beneath his jeans and shot her a grin.
She smiled
back. “I know. Go on.
I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“Absolutely.” He leaned in for one last kiss and then
forced himself to walk away from her, her voice echoing in his mind. Her laughter… her I love you’s…
Her words
from last night…
Oh, right, this is all just part of a
huge conspiracy against you, Nick. Jamie
flies down every weekend so he and I can fuck each other behind your back.
You know, I see pictures of you with
other women all the time.
You’re a superstar, and I don’t want
anything to do with that kind of fame.
I know you don’t, baby, he thought. But this is my life. Take it or leave it. That was certainly how he felt sometimes. But when it came down to it, he cared about
her too much to give her some kind of ultimatum regarding her priorities. That was selfish and not at all fair to her. Their lives were different, but one was not
more important than the other. They just
had different careers, different interests, different priorities.
As people, we’re just different.
We’re not that different, he thought fiercely. We can make this work. Somehow, we’ve always made it.
By the time
he boarded his flight, he was alone, but she had not left his thoughts. For better or for worse, she never would.
Say you’ll go with me forever
Though I know that you can’t
Well I ain’t much with words
There’s nothing I can say that you ain’t heard
But I promise you, each and every day
I’ll hear your voice
In every thought that flows through my mind
I’ll see your face
In every cloud that floats through my sky
And when the world is too much
And my hurt’s got me down on my knees to pray
I’ll hear your voice
And you won’t be so far away
Do you remember a moonless night
With only sound for a view
It’s funny what an ocean can do
Say you’ll go with me wherever
Even though I know it’s just a dream
Oh I know it’s unknown
But it’s something that I gotta do alone
But I swear to you, I would never do
Anything without your soul inside
I’ll hear your voice
In every thought that flows through my mind
I’ll see your face
In every cloud that floats through my sky
Someday I’ll hold you
And we will be sailing
And I will never have to say goodbye again
Till then, till that day…
I’ll hear your voice
And you won’t be so far away
- “I’ll Hear Your Voice” by Rockapella
***