Chapter 15 – My Heart Will Go On

“Insanity.”

Stephanie watched Adeline twist, turn, and maneuver herself backstage, noticing that she had gone into her full “panic” mode.

“Pure insanity,” Adeline said, reaching for a shirt that one of the boys had discarded, while dipping out of the way of a young man moving backstage. “Each show isn't insane enough, you know? With all the choreography and the meet-and-greets and the pyrotechnics and trying to keep someone from getting hurt every time they insist on the hackey ritual. Add Celine into the mix and she comes with her own personal fucking crew of like, a thousand people.”

“Well, she is Celine,” Stephanie said.

“She has her own orchestra.”

“She has her own orchestra?” Stephanie said, her face scrunching.

“We're talking, like, Philharmonic or Carnegie Hall,” Addy said. “I had to get coffee for her personal flutist.”

“Flautist,” Stephanie said. “They're actually called a flautist, properly.”

“Flutist, flautist, who gives a God damn? It's no less annoying for me.”

“Why does Celine need her own orchestra for an NSYNC concert?” Stephanie asked.

Adeline sighed when another man in the extra crew tried to walk past her, accidentally bumping into her.

“It was Chris's idea,” Adeline said. “And I may kill him for it.”

“But, why would Chris request that Celine have an orchestra?”

“It was for Mel,” Addy said. “She's performing three songs with them – 'That's The Way It Is', 'Because You Loved Me', and 'My Heart Will Go On'. All three of Mel's favorite songs.”

“Oh boy,” Stephanie said.

“Precisely,” Adeline said with an annoyed glance.

“The flautist and orchestra are for...”

“'My Heart Will Go On'. And you know, at first, I was like, 'Awwww Chris, that's so romantic'. And I'm all for romance. But right now?”

“I would say more homicidal than romantic,” Stephanie said.

“Now, I have to go check on Mrs. World Famous Diva and make sure everything is going swimmingly for her and all disasters are averted,” Adeline said, gathering up the rest of her items in her arms. “Then, you and I are going to go check on Chris to make sure he's functioning, hasn't pity-drank himself into a stupor, and he hasn't killed himself yet. And then, if he hasn't...you're gonna help me kill him.”

“I'm totally up for murder,” Stephanie said, quickly getting up to follow Addy in a rush. “But in our pretty dresses?”

Adeline glanced back at her friend, watching her full-length black dress flutter with her movement.

“Yeah,” she said, briefly glancing down at her own black dress, nearly the same but without some of the extra length. “As if our jobs aren't hard enough, now we have to do them in dresses and heels.”

“Was this Lance's stupid idea, or just another reason to murder Chris?” Stephanie asked.

“It was neither Dumb nor Dumber's idea,” Addy said. “It was mine.”

Stephanie stopped short as Addy did, right in front of a dressing room door.

“But...why?” she asked.

“Because,” Addy said, placing her hand on the knob of Celine's dressing room, “I'm meeting fucking Celine Dion.”

Stephanie smiled as Addy opened the door, quickly pasting a smile on her face and greeting the celebrity behind the door enthusiastically.

“Well, of course,” she said to herself. “How stupid of me.”

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“I can't do this.”

Gina looked over at her friend. Melissa looked pale white, with almost a hint of green. She was doubled over as they stood first in line in front of the door that they would go into for the meet-and-greet, the palm of her hand against the wall.

“You're not gonna throw up, are ya?” Gina asked. “I don't wanna lose my place in line.”

“Thank you so much for your sympathy,” Mel said, her breathing becoming rapid. “I think I'm having a panic attack.”

“How would ya know if ya were?”

“I have a friend who has them,” Melissa said. A slight smile crossed her face. “The irony is that the same friend will be in that room when we go in.”

“Chris?” Gina asked, surprised.

“No, the 'dumplin's' wife,” Mel said. “Adeline. She has an...anxiety disorder. She had panic attacks occasionally.”

Both girls were silent for a moment, Mel trying to catch her breath.

“So, ya really were, like...friends with these guys, then,” Gina finally said.

“Yeah,” Mel said softly. “I really was friends with them.”

“I thought maybe ya just happened ta meet them in New York once,” Gina said, staring at the door in front of her. “Had some fun. Partied with 'em for a night or somethin'. And ya'd been hangin' on to that to deal with everything you're goin' through here in Arkansas. I didn't know it went this far.”

“It went this far. I let it go too far,” Mel said. “Now I'm trying to let go – but I just keep hanging on.”

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“Hey...whoa.”

Chris looked up from his dressing room mirror at Justin, who had stepped in and stopped suddenly.

“What?” Chris asked.

“You're...” Justin stuttered. “Um...you're...dressed up.”

“Yeah, we have a meet-and-greet in ten minutes.”

“Yeah, but...you haven't really dressed up like this for any of our meet-and-greets so far,” Justin said. “I just guess I'm wondering...why now?”

“It's Little Rock.”

Justin sighed.

“Chris, you do realize she's not going to show up, don't you?”

“And you do realize that hanging on to one, single sliver of hope is what is keeping me going long enough to do this show, right?” Chris asked. “Besides, I was actually saying it's Little Rock, and we're performing with Celine Dion. We'll be sitting next to her at the meet-and-greet. I don't want to look like the bum who slept under the bridge last night compared to the world's greatest diva.”

Justin was silent.

“What was it you came in here to tell me, anyway?” Chris asked.

“Um...I was just gonna say we were getting together for the meet-and-greet,” Justin responded. “And that Addy is on the warpath so you might not want to screw with her too much if she comes in here.”

Chris smirked. “'Cause you already did.”

“Yyyyyeah,” Justin drawled. “One of these days, I'm likely to lose an eye – but it's so much fun.”

Chris shook his head as Justin turned and walked out. He looked himself over once more in the mirror – fixing the collar of his button-up shirt and reaching down to smooth his slacks out.

“Here we go,” he said to his reflection in the mirror.

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“You think she's over-dressed, or are we under-dressed?”

Chris looked over at Lance, to his right at the table.

“Say what?” he asked.

“Hi, I'm Lance. You might recognize me as your bandmate,” Lance said with a smile. “Of course you might not because your body's here but your brain is somewhere else.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Chris said, picking up the Sharpie in front of him and tapping it mindlessly on the table. “I think it's the pain meds.”

“Right,” Lance said. “Anyway, Celine – I mean look at her.”

Chris looked up, seeing Celine Dion standing next to the door, talking with Addy and Stephanie. Not only were they dressed in an unusual black dress combination, Celine sparkled in a sequin-covered dark blue gown.

“Well, she is a 'diva',” Chris said.

“It must be contagious, then,” Lance said. “I haven't seen Addy wear that black dress in...actually, come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen her wear that dress. I think she went shopping, and I'm pretty sure the other black dress standing next to her probably talked her into it.”

“What do you think it's gonna be like when Steph leaves in a couple days?”

“Quiet,” Lance said, smiling when Chris chuckled.

The room went mostly silent for the next few moments as all the boys waited for the meet-and-greet to start. Chris could hear Stephanie and Addy softly conversing with Celine from across the room, and JC tapping his Sharpie on the table in front of him.

When their security guard, Tiny, opened the door and took his place by it, the three women dispersed to their places – Celine to her seat at the end of the table next to Justin, and Addy and Stephanie to the corner, out of the way of the meet-and-greet.

Chris hung his head, sighing as he heard the door open. It was just another meet-and-greet; it would go the same way as all the ones had the week before, and the week before that. He was here physically, a warm body to sit in the chair and smile and sign autographs for dedicated fans, but that was it – and that was enough.

His head was still hung when he heard Lance next to him audibly gasp, and felt a harsh slap against his arm.

“Dude,” Chris said.

He only had to look up and see the shocked look on Lance's face.

“What the hell man?” Chris said, narrowing his eyes at his friend, still feeling the sting of the slap.

Lance didn't answer; he only stared out in front of him, his eyes wide. It didn't take long for Chris to see the other men look up, the same expression on their faces.

But it was when he saw Addy's jaw drop and her hand fly to cover her mouth that he finally decided it was worth it to look up himself.

There he saw her – standing just inches away from him, her blue eyes staring back at him, and her blonde hair pulled back in a clip. She moved slowly toward him with her purse in her hand, her navy blue dress flouncing behind her with her movement.

“Hi, Chris,” Melissa said with a sigh.

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She placed her hand on her stomach, willing the urge to vomit to disappear.

“Are...are you sure it's okay for me to be back here?” Melissa asked as she heard Chris close the door of the dressing room behind him. “I only have meet-and-greet passes, not the VIP package.”

“Who's going to kick you out?” he asked her, rubbing his sweaty hands together. “Lonnie does love to kick people out, but I think even he recognizes that VIP package or not, you're the most 'very important person' here tonight.”

“I don't think so,” she said with a slight smile. She still couldn't turn to face him. “After all, I'm fabulous – but I'm no Celine Dion.”

“To tell you the truth, Mel,” he said, “there are at least seven people here tonight that couldn't give a fuck about Celine after seeing you walk into the room.”

The smile disappeared; she swallowed the lump in her throat back down to her stomach.

“My God, Mel, you're here,” he said.

“I wish it were under less surprising circumstances,” she said, finally turning around to look at him.

“It doesn't matter,” he said. “The fact is that you're here. That's all that matters.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“I'm stupid,” he said. “I'm looking a miracle horse in the mouth – but I can't help asking myself...why? Why now?”

She swallowed again. “Partially because I was coerced...threatened, even,” she said, setting her clutch purse down on a chair next to her. “That girl with me out there, Gina...if I had refused to come, she would have drugged me and carried me here.”

“So you didn't want to come?” he asked.

“No, Chris,” she said, seeing his hurt look. “It's not that. I wanted to come. I wanted to see you. But I've been...scared.”

He paused, shaking his head and looking away.

“I never said goodbye,” she said. “And all I've done for the past month and a half since is imagine how much you guys must absolutely hate me for it.”

“Hate doesn't even approach what we feel about you, Melissa,” he said. “Hate could never even be in the vicinity of what we feel about you because you're our friend. But fear...fear is a different story entirely.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I wish I could have done things differently. But circumstances what they were...I couldn't.”

“Why?” he asked.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Seeing him again wasn't what made her sick to her stomach; it was knowing he would ask why.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It's not important, Chris.”

“It's not? It's not important to me,” he asked, pointing a finger to himself. “Or it's not important to you?”

She closed her eyes, hanging her head.

“I guess that's my answer,” he said. “After all, you did pack up your stuff and leave in the middle of the night, with no warning.”

“I told you,” she responded. “I wish I could have done things differently, Chris.”

“Why couldn't you?” he asked.

“You wouldn't even begin to understand,” she said softly.

“So you leave in the middle of the night, scare the crap out of all of us, and then reappear – but you can't explain any of it?” he said. “I'm sure you just came for the show, right? You hoped we could bypass the big dramatic 'welcome back' scene all together.”

“I didn't come back to tell you my sob story or try to pay for my sins,” she said, raising her voice. “I came to tell you I was sorry.”

“Why bother?” he asked.

“Because I never did!” she yelled. “Because I should have. Because you deserve it.”

“But you didn't come back for me,” he said. “You came back for you. The only thing that sorry does is make you feel better – so you did come back to pay for your sins.”

“I can't undo what I did,” she said. “And I can't go back and change how I did it. All I can do is apologize and hope that it makes a difference.”

“I want it to,” Chris said softly. “I want it to make a difference.”

“But it doesn't,” she said.

Chris shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks, looking down at the floor as he leaned against the wall of his dressing room.

“I'll go,” she said quietly.

She reached down and grabbed her clutch from the couch.

“I hope you have a good show,” she said as she walked around furniture toward the door.

She stopped with her hand on the knob, glancing over at him. He had finally looked up at her, and her eyes connected with his. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping she could hold back the tears, and released her grip on the knob, walking over to him.

“It's important,” she whispered.

She leaned into him, cupping his cheek with her hand, and let her lips touch his.

“Goodbye, Chris,” she whispered, before pulling away.