Epilogue
Author’s Note:
The following part was written in 2008 as a challenge on the Absolute Chaos forum. The challenge was to take an old, cringe-worthy
part from a story you had written and rewrite it to make it better. Although I have many, many cringe-worthy
parts, the original epilogue to this story was the one that stood out for its
extreme crappiness, so it’s the one I decided to rewrite. The following is the new part that
resulted. The story content is basically
the same, but with more detail and hopefully less cheese. ;)
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
