Kentucky in June. The hillsides bursting with the color of the famous bluegrass and smatterings of wildflowers. Brian had risen early in the hope of using what was left of his five senses to commit one more scene to memory. He had seen the sun rise over the hills that morning and heard - though faintly - the songs of the various birds.
Brian and Leighanne had arrived at his parents' house late the previous night and would be staying in Lexington for a week. Kevin and Kristin were being married up at Cathedral Domain, the summer camp that Jerald Richardson managed when the eldest Backstreet Boy was growing up. The band had all been invited to witness their nuptials.
Today was the day of the rehearsal dinner - and Brian's day of reckoning. It was time to tell his parents about his handicap. Just the thought that he was going to make them suffer any range of mental and emotional anguish had made him toss and turn the night before. Rather than awaken Leighanne, he chose to escape to the porch and sort through his thoughts. After an hour of contemplation, Brian was no closer to figuring how he could approach Jackie and Harold Littrell about the news.
He was so focused on the conversation that lay ahead that he didn't hear the sliding door open and close. Leighanne had been awake when Brian had left the bed and after waiting what she thought was an appropriate amount of time, found him downstairs. She had been observing her fiancee for nearly half an hour from the other side of the glass door before deciding that he might need her support to help wade through his torment. One perfectly manicured hand reached to lay on his shoulder, serving to both alert him to her presence and comforting him at the same time. She leaned close to his ear.
"It's going to be okay," she tried to reassure him.
He shook his head sadly. "I'm not so certain...I can't do this to them, Leigh. They've already suffered so much because of me."
"But you need to tell them. Wouldn't you rather hear their reaction than have me translate it for you? Or worse, they could find out from the media." She turned his gaze toward hers. "Brian, I know that's not what you want. It certainly isn't what they deserve."
Brian focused his eyes on her chin trying to unearth the courage to tell her what was really causing his melancholy. "God, I feel like such a f-failure. I've failed you. I've failed my parents. I'm going to fail the guys miserably."
Leighanne's heart ached for her fiancee. She wanted to help him, to shoulder some of his hurt. He needed to realize that her love for him meant that she could do just that.
"How, Leigh? How am I going to tell them?"
"Nick said he'd hold onto the secret for as long as it takes. The guys are your friends, Bri. I'm sure they'll take it all in stride. And, you're parents - you need to realize something, they love you. You're their son, their baby. It's going to be a shock to their systems, I can tell you that from my own experience, but they will come to grips with it in time.
Brian took her hand in his, caressing the back of it gently with his thumb. "Would you be there with me?"
She smiled. "Of course. I wasn't going to suggest it because I thought I'd be imposing."
"Well, I know it would help - for moral support." He sighed. "Maybe over breakfast..."
"What are we making, B-Rok? Mac and Cheese?"
The grin he wore wiped the anguish from his face though his blue eyes were still a bit gray. "So funny. Actually I was thinking of Belgian waffles heaped with strawberries and whipped cream, Eggs Benedict dripping with hollandaise sauce..."
"Woah, how about we compromise with a good Southern breakfast? You can scramble the eggs and make the grits. I'll make the biscuits."
"That's what I like to hear," he replied pretending to skip to the door.
Leighanne didn't follow right away. His last sentence echoed in her mind. She doubted he even thought about what he'd said but she understood the implication all too well. Her eyes felt wet.
"Leigh?" Brian watched as she tried to casually wipe at her eyes. He returned to her and didn't hesitate to hold her. The words he chose echoed the sentiment that hers had earlier. "Don't cry, baby. We'll be okay. Everything will be okay."
* ~ * ~ *
Breakfast came together quickly although Brian managed to nearly burn the instant grits because he was concentrating so hard on how he would broach the subject with his parents. Leighanne had little problem making him promise that he would be the one scouring the bottom of that pot later.
The smells from the kitchen served as the wakeup call for Jackie and Harold. The couple was surprised when they were ushered to seats at the table and had plates set in front of them.
To what do we deserve this honor, Jackie wondered, but she didn't press the issue. Who was she to argue when it was a home-cooked meal that she didn't have to slave to make?
Once the breakfast was finished, the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the pot was left to soak. The family, which now included Brian's brother Harold, Jr. and his wife Tracy, brought their coffee and tea out to the deck.
Leighanne and Brian shared a glance - knowing that the time had come. He took a deep breath. "Mom. Dad. There is something I need to tell you." Leighanne's hand grasped his and squeezed gently, a gesture not lost on any of the others gathered.
"What is it, son?"
"You remember early on during the second leg of the tour I had to go see a doctor and get some medication because I was sick with the flu?" His audience nodded. "Well, later on I still wasn't feeling right and went to see another doctor in Los Angeles.
Brian chanced a look at his mother. He could read the uncertainty in her eyes. He swallowed hard before he continued, "He diagnosed my problem as sensorineural hearing loss."
"What does that mean?" Jackie's voice was barely audible.
Another squeeze of his hand passed on a little more reassurance. "I-I'm losing my hearing...probably caused by a reaction to the antibiotics...it should be slowing down...but somehow, something has caused it to get worse. I," he whispered a quick prayer before allowing the bomb to drop, "I-I'm...going...d-deaf."
"Oh my God," Harold, Jr. whispered as he watched their mother collapsed into their father's embrace.
"God, not my baby. Please not my baby," she murmured. It seemed to be her life's mantra.
Brian's heart physically hurt. Why did he have to cause his loved ones so much pain? It was his fault, always his fault. "I'm sorry, mama. I'm so sorry. Dad, you have to believe how sorry I am."
"It's okay, son," his father replied while still comforting his mother. "We just need to absorb this. Why don't you go finish up some of those dishes, then we can go ahead and discuss this?"
"Yes, sir." Brian walked back into the house. He stepped up to the sink and reached for the brillo pad using it to dislodge the patches of caked on grits from the bottom of the pan.
Leighanne had followed and sat at the kitchen, an almost predatory eye on her fiancee. She knew too well the guilt he felt. Closing her eyes, she offered a prayer to whoever was listening. Please let them understand. He needs them in this.
