"Leslie, come get your mail off of the cabinet!" Charlotte Flynn yelled to her daughter. The summer was coming to a quick close and she was trying to hold her composure as she got ready to send her son to college and her daughter, who seemed to grow bleaker each day, back to high school. She wasn't sure what was wrong with Leslie, but it seemed as if an ever-present cloud was covering her joking demeanor, and, now, she never even spoke.
Instead of bounding down the stairs like she used to, Leslie slowly came down the stairs, took the two magazines, five letters, and the one large manila envelope that were for her and walked back up the stairs to her room, shutting and locking the door as she went in.
Her daughter�s actions didn't surprise her, as she'd grown accustomed to the distraught mood, but the amount of mail her daughter received did.
�Where did all those letters come from? All her friends send her email, and most of those were from out of state. Maybe Jeremy wrote, or they were magazine renewal forms. But what about that big envelope? Maybe she bought something off the Internet, or maybe her email friend, Jazz, sent her those Backstreet Boys appearances. Speaking of them, she's stopped talking about them lately. Maybe she's grown out of them�
~
Meanwhile, Leslie had gone upstairs to study her mail more carefully, without having her mother looking over her shoulder.
�Teen People, 16. These magazines are of no use to me now, or at least for the moment�
Slowly, she looked at the six envelopes spread before her, and slowly, a feeling of dread came over her as she noticed the return addresses: New York-MTV Studios, Florida-Jazz, Toronto-Ryan, LA-The Firm, Pennsylvania-Jeremy.
The first four were - no - had to be connected with each other. The fifth, from her best guy friend, would be safe. About to pick it up, her eyes drifted to the sixth letter, the large brown envelope a little further away from her.
Her name and address were sloppily written, and there was no return address. Reaching towards it, something told her not to open it, which intrigued her even more despite the dread that was running throughout her body. Deciding to save it for last, she picked up Jeremy's letter, reading his cheerful message about his summer trips.
Normally, receiving anything from him would have brought a smile to her face, but it seemed as if it were impossible for her to smile anymore. Casually tossing it to the side, and scanning over the remaining mail, she composed herself for the worse.
Tearing open Ryan and Jazz's first, then the letter from MTV, she finally opened the letter from the Firm, the Backstreet Boys management team. She'd been sending letters to their manager in hopes of having the privilege of receiving news about the BSB sooner than most others.
Scanning the letter, she tossed it aside and picked up the larger envelope, pretty sure of its contents. Pulling everything out, she looked through it, finding the final proof that the message carried in the other four was actually true.
Somehow, despite reports that he�d recently been in perfect health, Brian Littrell had died after his collapse during rehearsal. The Backstreet Boys were virtually no more.
Ignoring the commotion from her mom downstairs, Leslie curled into a ball in her bedroom floor and cried herself into a dreamless sleep, something she'd become accustom to. The only differences this time was her heart full of sorrow that was slowly breaking in two.
*
The next morning, she woke up depressed with a hollow feeling throughout her. Noticing the mother of all migraines pounding through her head and the quiet sound of "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" playing in her room, everything from yesterday slowly came back to her.
�Brian's dead�
Slowly pulling herself up from her lying position on the floor to sitting at her desk, she reached down to pick up the brown envelope and spilled the contents onto its surface. Immediately saddened, she re-read the letter that gave her a small amount of comfort. Typed in a fancy script, it read:
Dear Ms. Flynn,
Mr. Brian Thomas Littrell passed away on July 20, 1999 from a heart defect
that has plagued him his entire life. Due to unknown circumstances, I've been asked to send you
this letter in gratitude for everything you've done for Mr. Littrell and his family. On behalf of
the Littrell family, I'm to inform you that your presence at the funeral would be a great comfort
for Jackie and Harold Littrell and would be greatly appreciated by Brian.
On behalf of you, Ms. Flynn, a $500 contribution has been sent to Mr. Littrell's
charity. Also, the check accompanied is a last gift from Mr. Littrell, who greatly
appreciated your gratitude and stated your presence would mean a lot to him before he passed.
God Bless,
Anonymous
In a messier written script was written a p.s.:
P.S. I know your parents probably won't allow you to come, but you're needed here. Please come
despite any problems your parents try to throw at you. I think it will help you be happy again. And
I know you Leslie, you'll do whatever it takes to help me be happy, and it would help me a lot if you
showed. I also know you'd do anything to be here so I'm going to be expecting you to come.
Believe me, I'll know if you do.
Leslie looked down at the ticket and check she held in her hand, and drew in her breath as she recognized the handwriting. Tears began to flow freely from her eyes as her heart slowly became heavy with sadness. She knew he was right, her parents would never let her go to Kentucky by herself, especially for a funeral for someone she'd never met. Knowing she'd never forgive herself if she let this go by, she made up her mind.
No matter what tactics she might have to use, somehow she�d make it to Kentucky so she could say goodbye.
~
Leslie knew if she had bothered with her parents about going to Lexington, they would have put double security on her, giving her no chance of leaving.
So she took the initiative by packing up her stuff and then just left. She knew her mother would freak out despite the fact she had left them a letter saying she would be okay. Her mother wouldn't have understood her situation anyway, so she had simply packed enough stuff for a weeklong trip and planned to call her parents once in Kentucky where they wouldn't be able to trace her call.
Leslie had left at 4:30 am the next day, having a taxi drive her to the airport.
�He always knows what I need�
With a sad smile, she shook herself from her memories as she paid the driver and headed towards her plane.
*
After a difficult check in where she was bugged by everyone for flying solo, she finally got the stewardess to leave her alone; sitting back while pulling on her headphones, she cried silent tears as she started on her four hour trip to Kentucky.
She cried for Brian and his friends and family.
She cried for herself and everything that might have been.
And she cried for what was about to come.
~
She had called the police. She didn't know what else to do. Her daughter could have been gone for hours by the time she wandered upstairs to see if she was awake, only to find that letter. That damn letter.
Dear Mom, Dad, and Charlie,
I have some place I have to go and something I have to do. I'll be okay, and
I know what I'm doing. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone, but you don't need
to worry. Things will be fine.
Leslie
Don't need to worry?? How could she not worry?? Her precious daughter disappears and expects her to not worry??
�She probably went to meet one of her Internet buddies. I knew I should have never let them convince me to bring that crap into my house. "But mom, I'd never do something like that. I'm smarter than that. We'll be safe.��
But now her daughter was missing, and there were no clues to where she was.
Turning on the news, Charlotte went back to racking her brain to where her daughter might have gone, until something on the news caught her ear.
"Pop sensation Brian Littrell, from the world renowned Backstreet Boys, died last Tuesday from heart complications due to excess stress and strenuous physical activity. Right now, there is no word on if the four remaining Backstreet Boys will continue to do their world tour or disband. Mr. Littrell's funeral will be a private ceremony held in Lexington, Kentucky on Friday."
It didn't click.
***
Five hours later, Leslie found herself in a posh Lexington hotel, contemplating whether to call her parents to tell them she was okay. Closing her eyes to try and collect her thoughts, she realized she'd be plagued with guilt if she didn't.
Picking up the phone, she slowly placed her long distance phone call.
Listening to the rings, she realized her parents wouldn't pick up the "out of area" phone call and was grateful she wouldn't have to talk directly to them.
Suddenly, the familiar mechanical voice of the answering machine picked up: "Please leave a message at the beep�"
Slowly, being careful not to give too much away, she began to talk. "Hey, this is Leslie. Um, I'm okay, so don't worry. I should be back in a week if I get everything I need to do, done." She paused before slowly setting the phone down in the cradle.
~
Charlotte and her husband, Bryan, had just sat down to talk to the police for what seemed like the thousandth time, as the phone began to ring.
Immediately jumping up, Charlotte was stopped short as her son, Charlie, said, "It's out of area."
Sitting back down, she went back to listening to what the police said until her ears picked up on a familiar voice.
"�don't worry. I should be back in a week if I get everything I need to do, done."
But by the time she got to the phone to pick it up, Leslie was already gone.