"Wish I could take back letting you go
If I knew then what I know now
I wouldn't have said I don't need you around
Alone in this mess, silence is so loud
So I would treat you the best
Baby, if I knew then what I know now"

Song: "If I Knew Then" -Backstreet Boys
Lyrics: Karlin, Kenneth; Kelly, Claude; Schack, Carsten

Tap. Tap. Tap.

No. I'm not ready to wake up.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

We can't possibly be in Memphis already.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

The finger poking me became increasingly harder against my shoulder.

"Sir, I'm sorry to wake you but...we've arrived at the gate."

My eyelids fluttered open and in my sleep filled haze I struggled to focus on the flight attendant in front of me. "Have we been here long?" I asked quietly, glancing around to notice that the majority of the passengers had all departed.

She smiled gently at me, opening the overhead bin to retrieve the coat and carry-on bag that I'd put up there when I got on the plane. "You looked like you needed the sleep so I figured I'd wait ‘til mostly everyone had deplaned."

I stretched and unbuckled my seatbelt, returning the smile. "How'd you know?" I questioned. She turned to another bin to check that everything had been picked up. "It's my job to observe the passengers and try to read their needs. You looked worn out so I gave you extra shut-eye time." She replied. 

Standing up as straight as I could (read: barely), I reached for my coat and bag and stepped into the aisle. "Well, I appreciate it. You have no idea how much I needed it. Thank you." She spun on her heel gracefully, the smile still on her face. Was she smiling because she was happy and being nice or was she just smiling because it was part of the job, I wondered. "You're quite welcome, Mr. Timberlake."

I guess I looked shocked that she had called me by name because she winked at me before continuing on. "Please tell me if I'm crossing a line in saying this--I wish you hadn't stopped making music. Your albums got me through some of my toughest times. They still do."

I felt my heart swell in my chest. What do you know? Someone out there still cared about my music. Someone who wasn't directly related to me or hadn't known me for years. A stranger. Her telling me that my music mattered, still, to her, gave me hope that maybe I was doing the right thing in going back into the studio and recording music.

I grinned at her and she faltered slightly at seeing it directed her way. The Timberlake 1000-watt smile still worked. "Thank you. How'd you know that's what I needed to hear right now?"

"I told you-it's my job to read people."

I hiked my duffel higher up on my shoulder and followed behind her as we walked towards the front of the plane. "Well regardless, you have just improved my mood considerably. Which needed to happen. And, if you can keep a secret, I'll let you in on a good one." She leaned against the cockpit door casually and nodded ‘yes' at me. "You promise?"

"Absolutely."

"I may or may not be recording again. And there may or may not be a new album coming out." I let on with another one of my big, toothy smiles.

"Well! That's fantastic news. I know of quite a few people who will be excited to hear about that...NOT from me but...you know...when YOU break the news." I chuckled at her stumbling over her words. "Glad to hear it. Thanks for everything Miss...?"

"Stacia." She said, extending a hand out to me. I switched my coat to my other arm and shook her hand in turn. "I'm glad I got put in the front of the plane tonight." She finished with a flirtatious smile.

"Me too. Have a good night, Stacia!"

"Enjoy your stay in Memphis, Justin."

"Thank you."

I exited the plane with her words still playing in my mind. Listening to my music got her through tough times. And she was excited to hear that I was planning on putting out more music. She couldn't possibly be the only one who felt that way. Where there was one, there was another. And that gave me hope.

*

"I don't feel like talking today." I grumbled to Dr. Bard, tweaking knobs and adjusting the faders on the soundboard. He let out a huff at me, rocking back in the big leather office chair.

"I don't know what you're paying me for then, Justin. This is the third day in a row that I've come in to the studio to talk to you and you still don't want to talk." I could tell he was getting frustrated with me. Hell, I was getting frustrated with me.

Dr. Bard had come highly recommended from the doctor that had known me and my family since I was in diapers. When I'd come into town my mom took one look at me, even though I was in a fairly good mood when I arrived, and said that she was ordering me to talk to a psychiatrist about what was going on with me. And who was I to argue? Mom knows best right? So she'd called the good old family doc and gotten him to recommend a shrink in downtown Memphis that could help me out.

When I'd told him to meet me at the studio I had been ready to talk, to open up about everything in my life. But then he showed up and started asking me questions and I closed off. I guess he had been expecting that out of me the first day, and maybe the second. He said that Dr. Martin informed him that I might be a little quiet at first. But today...today his usual cool, calm demeanor had dropped and he was eyeing me warily with his beady little brown eyes, willing me to talk. And I just couldn't. I wasn't even sure where to start.

"You know, why don't you just...go in and sing. Sing about whatever you'd like, whether it's something you've already written or something that comes to mind. You said that writing music is the best form of therapy you've ever had. Why not go in and do just that and let me listen, see if I can figure out from that a little bit about what's going on in that head of yours." He suggested.

I swiveled in the chair to face him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. What had he just said? Go in and sing and he'd try to decipher what I was feeling based on that? Was he nuts? That was the weirdest idea I'd ever heard. But maybe he was on to something. I did tend to show a lot of emotion when I sang. It couldn't hurt. And doing this would be more productive than just sitting around in this studio for two hours at time while he stared at me and waited for me to say something. If anything, that made it harder to talk. When he stared at me it just made my palms sweat.

"Alright doc. I'll try it. If you think it'll work." I told him, pushing back from the console and standing up.

He looked up at me from his notepad, glasses falling further down on the bridge of his nose. "I'm not positive that it will. But it's worth a shot, right?" he said, his voice still maintaining this gravelly rough tone that I had grown accustomed to hearing over the past few days.

"Sure." I replied, ducking into the sound booth. I leaned into the microphone and spoke as I adjusted the headphones on my ears. "Can you hear me alright? Just give me a thumbs up if you can."

I received an ‘ok' sign back, so I dragged in a breath and hoped like hell that something came out that was worth using.

What I started to sing instead was something entirely unexpected. But the words and melody came back to me as if I'd sung it just yesterday instead of years ago. And it was completely relevant.

So please give me another chance
To write you another song
And take back those things I've done
Cause I'll give you my heart
If you would let me start all over
Again

When I finished the song, I stood in the booth for a few minutes, wide eyed as I thought back over the lyrics. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about it before. (Another Song) All Over Again fit mine and Madison's situation perfectly, the song had just been released a few years too early, I thought with a bitter laugh. If I had known then what I know now, right?

I slid back on the piano bench and stood, peering through the glass at the good doctor, sitting there pen in hand, writing furiously in his little notebook. "I'm gonna come out now." I spoke, making his eyes drift from his pad of paper up to me.

I came out of the booth and stood waiting for him to say something to me. His little idea about having me go in and sing had seemed to work. I felt slightly more relaxed; the weight on my shoulders a little bit less.

"Are you ready to talk now?" he asked carefully, looking at me with watchful eyes, trying to gauge my state of my mind. The truth was I was ready to talk. To tell him the whole story. The song had somehow relaxed me enough and pulled everything into such clear focus that I was ready to tell someone and then have them make sense of the whole thing.

I plopped down onto the big leather sofa in the production room and rolled onto my back, putting my hands under my head. "Where do I even start?" I asked quietly, eyes staring up at the ceiling.

"Wherever feels natural to you. Just close your eyes and relax. Tell me the first thing that comes to mind and we'll go from there." He said soothingly, and I heard him dragging the chair he was sitting in across the carpeted floor, closer to me.  

I swallowed thickly and shut my eyes, trying to make my thoughts blank enough to give me time to figure out where to start. It was a wasted effort because the first thing that came to mind was Madison. She was always the first thing that came to mind when I was trying not to think about any one situation in specific.

I let the breath out, it puffing out my cheeks as the air was released. "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her." I told him, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Who?" His tone matched mine.

"Madison." I replied, her name rolling off my tongue easily. It was the first time I'd spoken her name since arriving here in Memphis. I hadn't even talked to my mom yet about what had happened to cause me to jump on a plane home in the middle of the night and escape LA. Needless to say, she was worried, and insanely happy that I was talking to someone about this.

"What happened?"

It was love at first sight. "I saw her and it was like my whole life came into focus, like the universe shifted under my feet and locked into place the moment she set her eyes on me. After all of the relationships I'd had, I wasn't sure I ever wanted to get married. They were too complicated and I was always too busy to pay them the attention they needed. But with her, it was like I couldn't do things quick enough. Couldn't ask her out, couldn't say I love you, couldn't propose, couldn't marry her or...have babies with her, fast enough. I wanted everything right now. And so did she.

"We were always on the same page. She was made for me, Doc. I'd never met anyone in my life that made me want to give up my career so that I could have more time to spend with them and so that I could make a proper life with them, until I met her. She changed all that. I stuck with it for a while but after being away from her for a month while I did a few shows overseas, I realized that I hated being away from her."

"She couldn't come with you?" he interjected.

"No. She had an amazing career that was just taking off when we first met and it demanded all of her attention while she got the company up and running. She was always independent and never wanted to need me too much. She didn't want to tear me away from my music-she always said she felt like it was an extension of me and that it'd be a shame to ever give it up."

"But you did."

"I didn't even hesitate to."

"She didn't stop what she loved doing just for you. She didn't make that sacrifice." He pointed out.

"Right. But her job wasn't as demanding as mine. True it was time consuming but...mine took me physically away from her. Across the ocean for weeks at a time. Across the country for a week here and there. Everyone always wanted a piece of me, to write them their next big hit or whatever. And I started to hate it. I didn't want to have to leave her for weeks or days for work. I wanted to just to be able to chill out and start to build an incredible life with this woman. My job was making it nearly impossible to do that."

"So what'd you do?"

"I stuck with the clothing line because it was based in LA, and worked some with the LA branch of Tennman. Jive came at me wanting to extend my contract for another three albums and wanted me to put them out in the span of five to six years. I told them they were nuts because that schedule would kill me and allow me almost no free time. Those five years would've been spent working every single day.

"And I wasn't ready to sacrifice the time I had been spending with Madison just so I could make some more money. It was a lot of money too, believe me. But I was never in this business for the money. I just liked to make my music and know that people were enjoying it and getting something from it. The quality of the music would have suffered too. Because while I can write good stuff in a time crunch, the first two albums weren't written in a day and definitely weren't recorded in a short time period either. And I wasn't going to put out music that I wasn't happy with.

"I thought about all the time I'd be spending away from Madison and how I'd have to put off proposing to her until after the five years were up. Because I wanted to be able to help plan and be able to enjoy a honeymoon where I wouldn't be photographed every five seconds or that I could take my time on and not worry about a deadline to be home. I was ready to start my life with her right away.

"When I told them to give me a longer time period they laughed in my face and said I had to choose between having a normal life or the life I was already leading. They wanted to give me a day to think about it but I didn't need a day, I'd already made up my mind. A life with Madison was all that I needed. So I told them no and they told me what a huge mistake I was making and not to come crawling back to them when I realized it." I finished, rolling my neck to the side to look at Dr. Bard. He was wide eyed when my gaze landed on him. I think he was surprised that I was being so open. Truth be told, I was too.

His eyes finally returned to their normal size. "What did Madison think of all this?" He asked, his pen skimming over the pages of the notepad in his lap.

I snorted. "She thought I was nuts and wanted to drag me back to Jive by my ears that same day and tell them I had changed my mind. She told me that she never wanted me to give up my music for her and that she'd wait for me, that she loved me enough to stick around. But I wasn't hearing any of it. We got into a fight about it. Like our first fight ever. She apologized and told me that it was my life and that if I wanted to quit my music and leave it all behind, then it was my decision and she'd stick by me in it."

"So then what?" He pressed.

Yeah, then what? Everything after this part always started to blur for me. "Well, we were engaged shortly after that all happened. We set the date for about a year and a half later, in November of 2010. We both wanted a long engagement so that we could plan things out the way we wanted and so that she wouldn't have to take so much time away from work. Because her label was still getting its sea legs. Somewhere in that year and a half I grew bored of my work with the clothing line, so I handed it all over to Trace. "

"And what'd you feel about your music at this point?"

I knotted my eyebrows together as I felt the weight press itself down on my chest. "I missed it. A lot. I was still writing, mainly just to feel like I was doing something with myself, but it wasn't the same since no one was going to be able to hear it."

"I'm sure you could've put the songs out if you had wanted to." Dr. Bard interjected.

I sucked in another breath and continued, almost not even hearing him now. I was in my own little world. "No. At this point I was still convinced that I'd done the right thing in walking away. I had friends in the business still and I'd talk to them and listen to them groan and complain about the hectic schedules they had to keep and I didn't miss it anymore. Not that part at least. But I missed the music. The songs I was writing got worse and worse since I had no inspiration to write quality stuff. And I felt like I had lost it, lost that gift that I'd always had to tell a great story with my words and my voice."  My chest tightened with the emotion of what I was talking about.

"Madison's company was growing fast and in between planning the wedding out, she was the one who was flying across the country now, leaving me by myself. I look back on it now and realize that the success she was having in her career was making me miss my own successes. And I think I resented her a bit because she could leave me alone for days at a time without batting an eyelash. She never made it seem like it was that big of a deal to her. And maybe it wasn't. Maybe she had fought with me so passionately about not quitting my job because she knew how much time she was going to have to take away from being with me for her job."

He tapped his pen against his notepad, seeming to think about what I had just told him. "That makes sense. She didn't want you to give up what you loved for her because she wasn't giving up what she loved for you. She thought you two could be a couple and build a life while you were both working in the careers that made you happy. Do you think you were angry at her for being so successful in her career?"

"I guess so? Maybe I was mad that she wasn't sacrificing like I was to start our life together. I don't know. All I can tell you about that time was that I was just...angry. All the time. Everything around this time is so fuzzy for me because I was in such an angry haze. I don't...I'm not sure where to go from here to continue with the story."

"Well, I think you've made quite a good attempt at talking things out for today, if you'd like to stop and come back to it later."

I sighed heavily. Maybe coming back to it was a good idea. It'd give me time to sort some things out in my head before having to talk to him again. Maybe I could figure out where I went wrong with Madison, what exactly had made me snap and completely stop caring about her and whether or not she was in my life. "Yeah, lets...I think I need a day to think some things through. I need a studio day where I don't have you watching over my shoulder." I said jokingly.

A tight smile pulled across his face. "Alright, Justin. You made good progress today. You talked. I'm proud. I guess I'll see you Thursday then? Same time?"

"Sure, doc. See ya." I told him, not bothering to move from my position on the couch.

"Good-bye, Justin." He called out over his shoulder as he left the studio. I shut my eyes tight, willing myself to return back to that time so that I could sort through the haze that was those few months before Madison left.

It really was no use. Nothing was coming to me. It didn't surprise me all that much though. I had pushed all of these memories out of my head for such a long time that it wasn't hard to comprehend why it was so hard for me to remember.

Those last few months with Madison were just filled with fights. Of me yelling about things and my life falling apart. And of her sitting back and taking it most of the time, only raising her voice to tell me that I was being stupid and that it was my decision to walk out on my career. I just didn't want to hear it back then. I was too stubborn, my pride always too great to admit that it was my fault that my life was taking a turn for the worse, and that I could have changed things if I'd only pulled my head out of my ass long enough to realize it.

I glanced towards the clock on the wall and realized it was way past the time I'd told my mom that I was going to stay in the studio today. Time to pick up and head out, I guess. Plus, she had promised she was making granny's peach cobbler for me, and I hadn't had a taste of that in ages. Not since Madison had made it for me that night, I thought with a smile.

I pushed myself up from the couch, body stiff from lying there as long as I had. Was I really talking to Dr. Bard that long? It sure didn't feel like two hours. I switched all the equipment off and headed out. Surprisingly, I was in a much better mood than I had been when I'd arrived at the studio earlier. Who knew that talking things out, no matter how insignificant the details of my past that I'd shared with the doc today were, could turn my mood around. Mom would be happy.

*

"Mommmm! I'm back." I yelled out as I came in from the garage. "I'm in the kitchen honey." She replied back, the sound of a pot hitting the ground right after.

I came around the corner to find her bent over, peering into one of the lower cabinets, with pots and pans scattered on the floor around her. I couldn't help but laugh. "Do you need help with something mom?" I asked, coming around to lean on the countertop by her.

"No. I've got it." She said, her voice sounded like she was stuck in a hole. Seconds later, her head popped up above the countertop. "So how was the studio today? Was it productive?" she asked.

I smiled at her. "Actually, yes. In more ways than one. I got some things out to Dr. Bard. So that was good. He told me it was good progress for me."

"Especially since you weren't even speaking before." She interrupted, turning away from me to tend to the pot of boiling water on the stove.

"Right. I laid down the instrumentals for two of the songs that I had written lyrics for. It was a good day. And I'm in a good mood." I told her. She looked over her shoulder at me, a wide smile on her face, one that looked exactly like mine. "I can tell. You wouldn't happen to be in a good mood because I'm making you your favorite dessert now, would it?" she teased.

"It has nothing to do with it." I said, sticking my tongue out at her. "Can I help with dinner?"

She shook her head. "Why don't you tell me what you and Dr. Bard talked about?"

"I don't want to go into it again. Besides, you know the story. I basically told him everything up until she and I started to fall apart."

"Too hard?" she asked.

"Nah. I just...it's fuzzy for me, you know? Repressed memories I guess. Stuff I didn't want to have to think about again."

"Well, you're going to have to talk about it, baby." Yeah, I know that, mom. I don't have to be reminded.

"I know. We stopped there partly because I didn't want to go on without having a clearer idea of things in my head. Do you have any beer? I'm in need of one tonight." I asked, heading to the fridge to search out something to drink. "In the fridge in the garage. Grab me one too."

I ventured into the garage and grabbed both of us a beer, lost in my head and stuck on a line of lyrics that I needed to revise before I recorded the song tomorrow.

"Are you ever going to talk to me about what made you come out here in the first place?" she asked me when I returned inside.

I popped the top on both bottles and set hers next to her on the counter. I tossed my head back and took a sip, letting the cold of it slide down my throat, and shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

She turned from the stove to eye me. "Everything. You sounded terrible and so out of it when I talked to you on the phone that night."

"I was out of it." I said shortly, taking another sip of my beer. "How about I tell you about it after dinner? I'd like to bask in this happy feeling I have for a little bit longer before I head back down that road."

"Sure baby. We can talk about it later. Now, how about you go fire up the grill for this chicken?" she told me, thrusting a plate of marinated chicken breasts in my hands. "No problem, momma. Thanks for cooking."

*

After dinner, when I was in a food coma, I stretched myself out on the couch and waited for her to join me. I tilted my head back and rest it on the cushion behind me and closed my eyes.

"You gonna make some room for me?" I heard her ask, patting my legs out of the way. "Of course." I replied, coiling up and settling myself into the corner of the couch. She pushed a steaming mug of coffee my way and I took it gratefully, eager for the warmth to take over my body and push away this feeling I had in my gut about having to bring this particular story up.

"Talk to me, sweetie." She said gently, extending her arm out on the back of the sofa. She raked her nails softly over my scalp and I settled into the comfort of it, relaxing. Moms always knew just what to do to calm your nerves.

I swallowed a sip of the coffee and held the mug against my chest, inhaling the steam as it rose from the liquid. "I ran into Madison at the grocery store the other night. Things seemed to be going great and then she dropped the bomb on me that she was with someone." I began, cutting my eyes to look at her and gauge her reaction, trying to see if she'd let on that she knew that Madi had been seeing someone. Her face betrayed nothing.

"At first, I thought it was ok. She didn't make it sound serious. But then he called while I was with her. And she said she loved him." The end of the sentence was clipped and I knew it was because of the tightening in my chest. I didn't want to go back here. "So then what?" she asked, fingers still in my hair, massaging my scalp.

"I flipped out. I raced home. I was so blindingly angry that I busted my piano bench, ripped apart my living room. And then she came over a few hours later. We talked about things. Well, I yelled some, she cried some. We hugged. I told her that she would always have my heart..." My mom sucked in a breath at hearing that one and I looked up to see the hint of tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, baby." She said quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice just barely above a whisper.

"I wasn't sure it was anything serious. She never made it sound like it when I talked to her." She replied, matching her tone with mine. "But you still knew something. Regardless of how serious you thought it was, you still should have told me." I took a sip of the coffee and let it burn its way down my throat.

"Honey..." she started, "you were still so fragile when we talked. I didn't want to undo what progress you had made by dropping that on you. You have to understand that I thought I was helping you. You know I never want to hurt you, baby." She said gently, patting my knee.

"I know, I just...when she told me I felt like everyone knew but me and felt so angry and hurt by it. I feel like my heart is breaking all over again, mom. It hurts so much. I thought that maybe if I got my life back together, that things with her would sort of just...fall back into place. But there doesn't seem to be any chance of that happening. Not with him in the picture. She said he makes her happy and that she's finally in a good place again." Her hand moved its way down to my shoulders and she rubbed the tight knots under my skin. I hissed when she pressed into one too hard. "I can't take that away from her. I can't fault her for moving on. It was selfish thinking that she'd wait around for me. But...without her, I don't know if I can do this."

"Do what baby?"

"Get back into this whole music scene again. I don't think I want any of it if I can't have her." I said honestly, taking another sip of my coffee to wet my throat. I was growing hoarse from all the talking and singing that I'd done all day.

"You did it before. Why can't you do it now? She's happy Justin. You said it yourself that you don't want to take that away from her. Now you've got to make yourself happy. Lose yourself in your passion for your music. Find your happiness again. If she's the right one for you, things will fall back into place with her if they're supposed to." She advised.

I supposed she was right. If Madi really was the one then things would work themselves out. Somehow. They just had to.

"You're right. I just needed to hear someone else say it." I told her, letting a small smile spread across my face.

"I'm always right." She said teasingly, getting up from her spot on the couch. "I'm going to bed. There's a number by the phone that may come in handy over the next couple days. Why don't you go get it and put it in your wallet so it doesn't get lost?" She bent to press a kiss to my forehead and then left the room, leaving me to think about our talk.

I stretched on the couch again, my long legs dangling over the end of it. I was exhausted and didn't even want to move. Even though my bed upstairs would be much more comfortable than the couch.

"Do you think you were angry at her for being so successful in her career?"

"I guess so? Maybe I was mad that she wasn't sacrificing like I was to start our life together. I don't know. All I can tell you about that time was that I was just...angry. All the time. Everything around this time is so fuzzy for me because I was in such an angry haze...

‘And you blamed her' my head screamed at me. I blamed her for everything. I chose to walk away from my career for her. She never forced me into it. It was my fault that everything happened, no matter how it went down. And now I had to pick up the broken pieces of my life and put it all back together, with or without her.

I twisted on the couch and my back shouted at me that it was not comfortable being there. I guess I needed to move to my bed or my body would hate me in the morning. Grabbing the coffee mug from the coffee table, I made my way into the kitchen to drop it off in the sink, and glanced at the phone. What had my mom said about there being a phone number there that would come in handy? What number could I possibly want right now?

Curious, I wandered over to it and picked up the piece of paper sitting there, a familiar number scrawled across the little post-it. I glanced at the clock, deciding if it was too late to call. It was only 9:30. They'd probably still be up; they never slept normal hours in all the years I'd known them. Picking up the house phone, I dialed the familiar numbers, pressing with unsteady fingers. I held the phone to my ear, my breath held in my throat as I waited for them to pick up.

"Hey Lynn!" the voice said happily when they picked up.

"Actually, it's Justin..." I said with a shaky voice. Why was I so nervous talking to them? Hadn't my mom said that they'd be happy to hear from me?

"Justin! How are ya man? I definitely wasn't expecting to hear from you!" they replied, a little more enthusiastically. I blew out a breath at hearing the tone of their voice, my nerves somewhat more at ease from their words. "Uhh...pretty good. Listen, do you have some time to talk? I think I may have a few things to say that you'll wanna hear."

"For you? Of course. Shoot."

"I'm ready to put out another album, Johnny."