jamesr @ 2003-02-14T10:08:00

2003-02-14T18:11:04Z

Well, I sure haven't done much with this journal yet. The road to hell is paved with good intentions!

Since it's Valentine's Day, I just wanted to post a message here to my dear wife of five years who in 2002 gave me the best gift of my life, my son Thomas. I got two very important things in college: A decent education was the lesser of the two. Hallie was the real find!

Hallie, I love you more than words can say. You keep my feet on the ground, even when my head's in the clouds. You are my someone who was waiting 'Somewhere Out There' and made my dreams come true.

If I had the all the money in the world, I'd whisk you off to some romantic spot in Italy or France and wine and dine you in style. But since I don't have all that much money, the most romantic place I can offer is in my arms!

Hugs and kisses,

(I Love My Family!)

~James

Welcome to my LJ!

2003-01-25T22:34:06Z

Okay, Kev's pushin me to write this journal, so here goes. I don't plan to treat it like a fanfic, so don't expect perfect grammar or punctuation, please.

The main reason I wanna do this is to be able to use some pictures of my little Thomas. That'll be fun.

Last night I finished my latest cousins fic, "Grandpa's Funeral." I posted it at around 2:00 a.m. Seems like I always finish my fics and post them in the middle of the night. It's just a pattern with me. When things get quiet and I can just sit and write, that's when I have the best luck. Last night was strange because I was at Kev's house instead of my own, but I had to finish that story. I'd been foolin with it for several days.

Title: "Grandpa's Funeral"
Author: James Royal
E-mail: jamesroyal01@yahoo.com
Fandom: BSB
Pairing: The Cousins
Category: RPS (real people slash)
Date: January 23, 2003
Disclaimer: This isn't meant to offend or to be believed true or to gain anyone financially, including me.
Dedication: This is dedicated to my friend Charlie, who just had surgery last week. I know what a big Kevin Richardson fan she is, and I hope this helps cheer her on her road to recovery. This is also dedicated to the Cousins, who lost their grandfather last week. I wish them the best as they deal with this loss and hope they hold their memories close (their real ones, that is -- not the imaginary ones in this story).
Warnings: Don't read if you have issues about male/male love or possible incest themes.

It says in the Bible that when you become a man you put away childish things. And when you become a husband, you hold your wife to your heart and she becomes more important than anything, even other family.

I don't spend a whole lot of time thinking about what makes me a man at the ripe old age of 27. I still enjoy plenty of things that other men might consider childish, but now that I have a son -- Baylee Thomas Littrell -- I definitely feel like a man. And I have a wife I love very much. When I married Leighanne, it made me very happy and fulfilled. I certainly knew I was in the minority, because it made a lot of my fans very unhappy.

And it made some of the people in my family unhappy, as well.

Worst of all, it made most of the Backstreet Boys unhappy, too.

Well, I'm getting ahead of myself here.

Last week my grandpa died. Harold Baker Littrell was one of the big influences in my life, and even in his 80s he was a force to be reckoned with. He loved his family, he loved to sing, he loved his church and he loved the Kentucky Wildcats. I can honestly say that most of the things my grandpa loved, I love. And I certainly loved him.

We got the call that day -- Tuesday, January 14 -- and Leighanne and I immediately made plans to head to Lexington for the funeral. With Baylee not even two months old yet, we hesitated to take him on an airplane. It takes about six hours to drive to Lexington via Highway 60, and even though 12 hours roundtrip in a car with a baby sounds pretty miserable, we thought we could handle it. We'd have plenty of time in between trips to rest up.

Then we heard the weather forecast. A snowstorm was heading to Kentucky, and there was no way we wanted to be on the road with bad weather conditions. So we went ahead and booked a flight.

When we got to Lexington on Thursday, we expected to find a blanket of snow. Schools had been closed in anticipation of the weather. The inch or so of white stuff on the ground was both a relief and a little bit of a disappointment.

My brother Harold picked us up at the airport. We hadn't known what to expect with the crazy weather and the possible prospect of media interest in grandpa's passing. It was surprisingly quiet at home.

Kevin and Kristin arrived late that night. They had caught a flight out of New York City, where he was in last-minute rehearsals to open on Broadway in the musical 'Chicago' just four days later. He looked tired and thin, his eyes serious and far away. I knew he must have a million things going on in his life and grandpa's death couldn't have come at a worse time for him.

But his first thoughts were for his mom, and he just took her in his arms and held her for the longest time while the rest of the family bustled around making plans for the next day.

I was very happy that when Kevin had finished comforting his mom and then grandma, he turned to Leighanne and asked about Baylee, sleeping in a downstairs bedroom. Leighanne gave him a smile and led him down the hall, and as much as I wanted to watch my cousin and my son together, I didn't follow. It was nice for Kevin to have a moment alone with my wife and child.

In the early days, when I first got together with Leighanne, Howie was the only one besides me who really liked her. In fact, when I first got to know her, I thought Howie more than liked her (which was ridiculous, of course).

Howie seemed like the only one of the Boys who really had a good time at my wedding and was genuinely happy for us. Nick was morose, A.J. acted like it was the end of the group (even with us having a new album ready to come out) and Kevin got so drunk, you couldn't really tell what he was feeling.

I never really understood why the other guys didn't like Leighanne much, especially Kevin. Of course, Kevin always wanted to be the boss -- especially my boss. And when Leighanne came into my life, she definitely took over that role, and Kevin never seemed that comfortable with it.

Lately A.J. -- or Alex as he likes to be called -- and I have gotten a lot closer, and he and Sarah have become real friends to Leighanne and me. We spent a lot of time in L.A. the past year -- close to Alex and Sarah -- and we celebrated a lot of milestones together. In fact, Alex was the first one of the Boys I told when I knew Leighanne was pregnant -- and he seemed like the only one who was happy about it.

It's been hard enough to drift apart from Nick during the past couple of years, but it really is sad to lose the special closeness I shared with my cousin Kevin. I can't really put my finger on all the reasons I'm not as close to Kevin, but I think most of it has to do with Leighanne. There's been a real strain since she got pregnant, and the comment Alex made was "now he knows it's for real" -- meaning our marriage, I guess.

The next morning I couldn't help staring at Kevin's serious, pale face as he carried Grandpa's casket across from me. He hadn't said much to me since he got to Lexington, and I didn't feel like pressing him. I figure the special relationship I've had with my cousin Kevin my whole life will carry on until we're in our 80s, despite a few bumps along the way. Eventually our kids will play and sing together, just like we did.

It was comforting to listen to Reverend Jim and sing grandpa's favorite hymns during the service at Kerr Brothers. Kevin was down the row from me, but I could hear his clear, deep voice the same way I've always been able to when on stage with the Backstreet Boys.

Like I said before, Grandpa Harold was the one who gave us our love of music; a good singer himself, he always filled a room with song. He also started us on our passion for the Kentucky Wildcats. He was such a fan himself, and even though neither Kevin or I made it to college, you would have thought we graduated from UK.

Hillcrest Memorial Park is hardly more than a couple miles from the funeral home, but it took a while to get there in the long cortege that followed the hearse carrying Grandpa. There was still snow on the ground, and driving out Versailles Road that day is something I'll never forget. Kevin and Kristin rode in the car with Leighanne, Baylee and me. Baylee slept through the service and most of the way to the cemetary, but since it was pretty cold, Leighanne planned to stay in the car with him and skip the burial.

We didn't really talk much, and I could hear Kevin humming to himself. I couldn't tell if he was continuing with a hymn or practicing the music from 'Chicago,' but it didn't matter. It was a comfort to be together.

One of the good things that comes from losing someone you love is that you start to appreciate the people left all that more. And when I saw my Grandpa Harold lowered into the frozen ground that day, I wanted to regain some of the closeness to my cousin Kevin. It suddenly hurt too much to simply share my pain with my wife and immediate family.

It wasn't easy to get Kevin alone. He didn't seem to want to talk about anything, and I could see the pain in those dark green eyes when we left Hillcrest. We were all headed to grandpa's house for a reception, but Kevin needed to fly back to New York that night. I knew he had been working hard, getting ready for his musical. He was thin -- almost gaunt -- and you could see the veins throbbing in his temple. When Kevin concentrates on something, it's an awesome sight. And I knew he was concentrating on this musical and his role in it.

I hadn't felt all that glad for him when he got the role, because it was just another sign of the end of Backstreet. Sure we were supposed to be working on an album. But with Nick off doing concerts and Kevin on Broadway, how would we really work on our music together? And even without a label, there were plenty of things to be done to shop our work around.

And yet none of us seem ready to give up entirely on the group, so we keep talking about the next album and one final concert tour.

None of that seemed very important right then. My grandpa's house was a place where Kevin and I shared lots of childhood experiences long before we were old enough to do more than dream of something like the Backstreet Boys. I needed a chance to tell Kevin what I was feeling before he left for what was probably the start of a whole new chapter in his career and life.

"Kev, you got a minute?" I asked him when I finally got the chance. "I wanna talk for a minute."

Kevin glanced over at Kristin before he shrugged and followed me into one of the downstairs bedrooms; Baylee lay on his back on a large bed surrounded by pillows. I glanced over at him and saw he wasn't sleeping, but he seemed completely engrossed with studying his left fist.

I cleared my throat and looked up at my cousin. "I'll miss him," I said, suddenly fighting back tears.

Kevin nodded. "We all will."

"I miss you," I said.

He nodded again. "I know. Me, too."

Sometimes it can be maddening trying to get Kevin to speak his mind, just like at other times you'll do almost anything to try to have the last word. He's such a complex person, and I have to admit that there are times when I don't understand him at all. How can that be true about someone you've been so close to your whole life?

"Kev, I know things have been a little rough lately, but I want you to know how important you are to me."

He pressed his fingers against his temple. "Bri, I know that. It's hard for me to deal with all the changes, too. I'm just doing the best I can."

I couldn't let well enough alone. "I know there's a strain with you and Leighanne, but I need you to accept my wife and child."

He looked pained. "I accept everything, Brian. I don't have any problem with Leighanne."

I couldn't help but remind him of the fact that when you take your wife, you have to give yourself to her. And now there was Baylee, too. I seemed to feel the need to find excuses for having made Leighanne the most important person in my life.

Kevin sighed, started to say something and then stopped. Finally he spoke, barely above a whisper. "Funny. You were my wife before she was yours."

He said it so calmly, in this matter-of-fact tone, and yet I could see the emotion spark somewhere behind his eyes. I was shocked for a minute, not remembering what he meant. And then suddenly I did.

Sure.

Back when we were just kids . . .

I had forgot all about that day! I was only 11 years old at the time, and it had been a hot, sticky August afternoon without much for us boys to do. I was hanging around with Kevin and my older brother Harold at our grandpa's place, and I felt lucky they seemed willing to put up with me that day. We were swigging on Cokes and swatting flies, trying to decide whether we had the energy to go for a swim. Kevin and Harold were discussing a couple of girls they knew, and I was getting pretty bored. Late summer in Kentucky can often get tiresome, especially when you're too young to care about things like girls in skimpy swimsuits.

Just a week or so before, Prince Andrew of England had married this redhead by the name of Sarah Ferguson, and it had been all over the television and newspapers. My mom said it was hardly as big a deal as the famous wedding of Princess Di exactly five years earlier, but she was completely caught up in it and watched it all just the same. Seems like when there's a royal wedding it catches everyone's fancy like a fairy tale, bringing back childhood memories of Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella and stories like that.

In the Littrell/Richardson family, Kevin was definitely the prince. My brother Harold and I agreed that he'd make a better royal groom than the stodgy-looking Prince Charles or his stout younger brother. At 14-going-on-15, Kevin was already slender, tall and handsome, with that straight dark hair and those green eyes and black lashes. When we were casting any of our role-playing games, Kevin always got to be the hero, albeit a reluctant one. He just looked the part. (No wonder years later the smart folks at Disney World would dress him as Aladdin, the leading man with his own flying carpet!)

I guess it must have been Harold's idea that we should act out a 'royal wedding.' We wanted to fool around with the horse and carriage thing, and Grandpa had this old riding lawn mower that didn't work, but made for a great prop. (I hesitate to bring up how many times that lawn mower served as the space shuttle Challenger, with all of us kids making emplosion noises and jumping off when the O-rings failed. It had only been a little over six months since that national disaster, and even though we kids understood it was a tragedy, it still made for great dramatic re-creations.) Anyway, the mower could fit two small butts up on the worn seat, so we figured it could be a pretty nice carriage.

Harold had memorized the wedding ceremony from either listening to TV or our local pastor -- I'm not sure which. He also liked to pretend he was a BBC announcer, and he could make up a line of garbage faster than his mouth could deliver it in a funny-sounding English accent. He took great pains to prove to us he was the right man for both jobs, although my opinion didn't really count. Kevin would just shake his head and give a little smile, willing to go along.

So, we had ourselves a natural prince and a carriage to deliver him to the make-believe church -- or cathedral, I guess. And we had a minister to perform the ceremony and an announcer to give all the breath-taking details to the poor folks at home.

We were only missing one important ingredient of a successful royal wedding.

A bride.

Well, like I said, I was just eleven years old. And since both Kevin and Harold were so much older, they either left me out of the games altogether, or I was forced to take on the roles that nobody else wanted.

It was inevitable. As the littlest kid, I was the closest thing we had that day to a girl.

"No way," I remember saying at some point. "You guys just wanna make fun of me."

"C'mon, Bri, do it," Harold wheedled. "We won't make fun, and we won't tell anybody. It's just a game."

Kevin just shrugged and looked unconcerned. "If you don't wanna do it, don't," he said, which pretty much made up my mind to do it.

"Well . . ." To tell the truth, I was feeling nostalgic for the days of skinning my elbows after experiencing a particularly violent Challenger explosion.

"C'mon, Brian. You don't have to wear a dress or a veil or anything. You just have to hold Kevin's hand and repeat the stuff I say."

"Does he have to kiss me on the mouth?" Kevin asked, a twinkle in his eye.

For once Harold didn't have an answer. "I guess not. You can just pretend to kiss."

I wasn't going to make a fuss over pretending to kiss my own cousin. It wasn't that big a deal to me, even if we were both boys. If I wanted to play along, I had to go along. That was always the way of it. I didn't even bother to nod.

"Get in the carriage," Harold ordered. "We've got to get to the cathedral!"

So Kevin and I 'rode' along a road lined with spectators and strewn with rose petals, according to my imaginative brother Harold. We waved and smiled and nodded at our make-believe subjects, transformed from our t-shirts and shorts into magic regalia made by the same seamstress who fashioned the Emperor's New Clothes.

And we held hands and walked up a huge imaginary flight of stairs into the cathedral, which was actually a small copse of trees with spreading branches forming a sort of dome over our heads and shading us from both the summer sun and any casual observors who might wonder what in the world we were up to.

I think it's the groom -- not the bride -- who's supposed to sweat at a wedding, but I was definitely experiencing some wet pits when we knelt down on the gnarled roots of the center oak. Kevin looked as cool and collected as usual, but something about the whole thing got to me. When you're 11, you take things like church and weddings pretty seriously. For that matter, I still do at 27. But back then I wondered if the thing could be legal, even though it was officiated by my crazy brother and acted out in the dust under those trees.

I remember I was trembling a little when I took Kevin's strong hand, and I couldn't make out all the words that Harold was intoning in a dramatic English accent. I was surprised and a little alarmed when he used our real names instead of making up some fake prince and princess monikers.

"Repeat after me, I Kevin Scott Richardson take you Brian Thomas Littrell to be my lawfully wedded wife," he said.

And Kevin slowly repeated it.

After a bunch of stuff about honoring and obeying and keeping only unto thee as long as we both shall live, it was my turn.

"Brian, repeat after me."

I stumbled through it. I couldn't get my name right or his name right (but that was okay, since I guess it happened to both Prince Charles and Princess Diana when they were married), and with perspiration dripping in my eyes, I could barely make out Harold himself in the shade of those heavy branches.

When it was time for us to stand, Kevin helped me to my feet.

"You may kiss the bride," Harold announced, and my cousin bent down and kissed me. This was no fake kiss; he pressed his lips against mine and held them there. I remember it felt strange to me, because it seemed to last so long and there was no smacking sound.

Then with a sigh, my new husband took my hand again and led me through the trees and back outside to the 'carriage.'

Even before we got back up on the lawn-mower, Harold decided the game was boring and we should go take that swim after all. Kevin just smiled and shrugged, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

"You did good, cuz," he said. "It wasn't too bad, was it?"

I shook my head, confused and suddenly tired. I didn't want to go for a swim. I suddenly needed a nap.

"Let's go, Kevin," Harold urged. "Before we miss the girls."

"Okay," he agreed, "but it seems like a pretty strange way for a newlywed to act."

Harold laughed. "Brian won't mind. Sure he has a crush on you, but he don't wanna go on a honeymoon at his age!"

Remembering the wave of embarrassment and dizziness I experienced at Harold's joke from 16 years earlier, I found my face flushing as I stood facing my solemn cousin, my little baby cooing in the background. I didn't know what to say. It had never occurred to me that the afternoon game all those summers before meant much to Kevin at all; we had never referred to it again.

Without a warning, Kevin reached over and pulled my face up to his, nearly slamming his mouth over mine. His lips were warm and smooth, and when they parted and I felt the moisture of his tongue, I nearly swooned.

"Hey guys? You in here?"

It was Harold. My damn brother Harold, again, coming between the two cousins.

We didn't jump apart or anything that dramatic, and Harold just stood there, dumbfounded.

"Grandma's asking for you," he finally said, while I tried unsuccessfully to catch my breath. My heart felt like it might break through the long scar on my chest.

"Okay then," Kevin said, reaching out and placing a hand on Harold's shoulder. "We better go."

Watching my grandpa's namesake -- my brother Harold -- walk down the hall next to my cousin, I clearly remembered the feeling I had that day when I watched them heading for that swim. And I experienced the same feeling of loss and loneliness I had then, sensing some kind of missed opportunity that I didn't really understand.

"You okay, hon?" Leighanne asked, poking her head in. "Is Baylee asleep?"

We both glanced over at our son who was making little gurgling noises, clearly still awake.

"I think he's about to poop," I answered, recognizing the sounds.

"Well, I better take over then, huh?"

I nodded. "Fine."

"You okay?" she asked again, probably noticing my flushed face. "You have a fight with Kevin?"

"No. I'm okay. He just reminded me of this time when we were kids, and it brought back a lot of memories."

She looked sympathetic, probably thinking I was missing my grandpa. I couldn't tell her that if Grandpa Harold had ever known some of the things we did with that old riding mower, he never would have let us play on it.

"I'm gonna go find my dad," I said, leaving her with the baby.

"I'll be out in a few minutes," she said as I shut the door behind me.

I stood looking down the long, deserted hallway. For a minute, it was as though I was standing in the vestibule of a church, and I thought how imagination can color and enhance the important ceremonies of both youth and adulthood.

Like funerals.

And weddings.

Funny how you can forget those important moments and then suddenly wonder how you ever did. My grandpa's funeral ended up reminded me of my first wedding.

And this time I knew I wouldn't forget again.

~The End~

I figure I might as well keep my fics in this journal. Why not? Kevin has them at his website, and that's good enough for me, but when you put them in an LJ, you can make those nice banners like FatJoey has on his fic.

I already got some nice fb at the Cousins list. Collen (foreverfan) always gives me wonderful feedback. And Kit wrote a very nice one, like he always does. He's a good list dad for BSBCousinsSlashFic. He doesn't do much, but he always comes around and posts from time to time and says the 'right things.' He's pretty consistent.

Hallie's gone to the store with Thomas. She likes to take him out with her, and it gives me a little time to fool around at home. We stuck around Kevin's house this morning, and I made some eggs with peppers.

Hell, this is pretty boring, isn't it? Not really sure what you're supposed to say. I don't even read Kev's journal most of the time, so I'm gonna have to get the hang of it. I'm sure I will eventually.