Chris Kirkpatrick did not want to attend the memorial service for Lance. Johnny had called earlier in the day and left a message saying that the first ceremony was planned for Friday in Orlando with a more private one happening in Lance’s hometown of Jackson, Mississippi later in the month.
Going to either one would only allow reality to return. Chris was perfectly happy living his dream world, where Lance was still alive and all was right in the world.
Chris sighed. He wasn’t stupid. He had studied psychology in college and even though, that was in a time prior to NSYNC, he still remembered the five stages of grief. He was stuck in denial at the moment, which meant that anger, bargaining and depression were ahead before he would reach acceptance.
He stood from the lounge chair he had been sitting in and, once he opened the sliding glass door, walked through it and into the house. He stopped at the refrigerator for a drink and stared at the six-pack of Coronas thoughtfully before grabbing a bottle of water. As much as Chris wanted to follow the typical route losing his sorrow in a haze of alcohol, he instead decided to let his conscience to rule his actions.
Chris flopped down on the couch in the darkened living room. He had long since pulled the drapes and shades around the house in an attempt to calm the headache that had been gnawing away at his mind and to keep the public and media curiosity – as well as the reality of the situation – at bay.
He reached behind him to the remote control that was poking him in the back and used the device to turn on the television. With a few clicks, he quickly bypassed the 24-hour news networks knowing they would still be airing news of the tragedy. He was clicking in the direction of MTV or VH1 in the hopes that his old reliable music could serve to comfort him. Of course, he realized that not even MTV or VH1 could provide solace because they would be covering the incident as well.
Rather than torture himself reliving the moment that he never wished he had to live in the first place, Chris grabbed a second remote a pressed the larger button that said ‘play’ in white letters. The television screen flashed as Justin Timberlake thrusting to the beat of “Bye, Bye, Bye” replaced VJ Aamer Haleem driving aimlessly driving around New York.
Damn. He had too much on his mind to remember that the last DVD he had watched was their yet-to-be released Celebrity Tour Concert. Chris was tempted to press stop. Just ignore. The memories will eventually fade away. A heart and a soul will attempt to mend.
But, he never wanted to forget.
Another glance at the television and he was transfixed by shine of Lance’s apple-green eyes as he smiled. The final concert in Orlando had been bittersweet for the men of NSYNC. They had made the announcement earlier in the day that the group as a whole was taking an extended vacation. It was now known as their last show ever. There would be no return for the group, not without Lance.
Chris wiped at the tears in his eyes then clicked another button on the remote that remained in his hand. A quick spin and the DVD player had switched discs. “It’s not easy to be alone…It’s not easy to fall in love…” Oh Shit. Why hadn’t he remembered? Joey and his brother Steve had commandeered tapes of all of their television appearances over the years, expertly edited the footage together and made DVD copies for the each guys and their loved ones. He had received the gift in the mail earlier in the month and had chuckled through the memories. Now as he watched, he could feel a dull pain in his heart.
Chris groaned as he watched the Disney In Concert Special from 1998. He was a guy, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that camouflage and bright orange actually matched. And those damn braids. He would never live that down.
The group had been incredibly green then even after honing their performing skills in Europe. Chris had to smile as he watched Lance mentally counting the dance steps - and five, six, seven, eight. The beginning had been a difficult time for all of them, but especially for Lance. He seemed almost painfully out of place. In truth, he hadn’t really fit the dynamics of the group either. He willingly admitted that he wasn’t sports-minded, which left him out in the majority of the quintet’s extracurricular activities like basketball and football. In the interest of making Lance feel welcomed, the others teased him incessantly.
When Chris returned his focus to the video on screen, the five men had grown older. Gone were his dreadlocks. His black hair was more in control, but not so mundane as to make fans think he had gone completely sane. Justin’s once bleach blonde short –cropped hair was now a mess of dark caramel brown curls and Lance’s similarly blonde spikes were instead an almost natural dirty blond. In five years time, the insecure mama’s boy from Mississippi had been transformed into a confident, business-minded young man of the world.
Chris laughed as the show’s host Dave Holmes posed a question to Lance about his fear of flying. toward Lance as the younger man began to the MTV audience about an infamous trip to the Empire State Building.
“I remember the first time we came to NY as a group…”
“Okay, shut up.”
“…like five years ago. We went to the Empire State Building.”
“Lance,” Chris warned sternly.
“The wind was like going 80 miles an hour, okay? He did not move. It was funny. We were like come on Chris. He’d be like, ‘Don’t touch me.’”
“Hold on a second, I got some more…Why don’t we make more fun of Chris.”
Chris’ blood turned cold as he remembered when the direction of the conversation turned from his own fear of heights toward Lance’s phobia of flying.
“You guys gotta fly everywhere though. How do you handle with that?” Dave asked.
“That’s why I don’t like flying. It’s fun at first, but then the more you fly, you’re like – ‘well, my chances they’re getting a little slimmer…I prefer not to. I like buses.”
“Make sure you make a good quote,” Chris interrupted. “Just in case something happens, you can like play it like on MTV News. And look what they said before they got on the plane.”
Chris cringed as he listened to his own response. “We’ll be like ‘We hate flying’. There will be a picture and down below: ‘1971-2000.’”
Jesus, those words had come back to haunt him now. It was a wonder some television newscast had not picked up the sound bite yet.
He paused the DVD as the guys had laughed good-naturedly along with the studio audience at Chris’ remarks.
Funny, now all Chris wanted to do was cry.
