A Not So Sweet Fairytale

The next morning Tre` got up before noon for the fist time in ages and walked the length of Mike’s house. He also hadn’t been there in ages. Whenever they’d come back from a tour they usually split up so that things like this didn’t happen, so they didn’t get into fights and distance themselves from each other even though they were confined to the same room most of the tour anyways. It was nice to have a break from all that when you came home. Suddenly, a knock came from the door and Tre` walked over to it, but when he looked out he couldn’t spot anyone. He opened the door and peered around a bit more, but whoever had been there had gone and left nothing but a bright orange post-it on the door.

“Now what do they want this time?” Tre` muttered to himself grabbing the note and expecting yet another obsessed fan letter. He got them on occasion as well, but Billie Joe got the most by far, but Adrienne was usually the first to find them and most of the time she burned them. He unfolded the note carefully and felt his heart skip a beat. The message was simple and direct, but it stilled carried an alarming message: “You can’t hide from me,” Tre` sighed, figuring the note was still from a fan. A very obsessive fan at that.

“I suppose it’s a good thing we’re getting out of town,” he muttered to himself and tucked the note into his pocket out of habit. He had an entire book of all the little letters for the late nights where they were so bored even the letters were entertaining.

Tre` decided that waiting for time to go by was taking too long, so he hopped into Billie Joe’s car which was still in the driveway from the night before. He jumped in and realized he could smell the lingering scent of vanilla that accompanied Torrie’s hair. He breathed it in because he liked the smell, but put the AC on high to try to get it out of the car in case Mike found the need to jump in and realize that it was his daughter’s smell, which open up a whole new line of arguments. Leaving his thoughts of Torrie behind on the porch, he put the pedal to the metal.

“I’m coming already,” Billie Joe called out to me since Tre` had just called to confirm that Billie Joe was up, which I had dutifully lied and said that he was.

“You said that half an hour ago so forgive me for not taking your word for it. So get your ass down here NOW mister,” I said, more maternal than I realized.

“See, I’m here,” he exclaimed, finally stepping out of his room and waving to me from the top of the stairs since I was waiting by the kitchen at the bottom.

“I made you some Eggo Waffles so just eat them and don’t give me any crap about the black stuff. Pretend it’s candy, alright?” I informed him, offering two waffles wrapped up in a clean white paper towel.

“Thanks. Remember to call Adrienne later,” he reminded me, racing down the stairs like a little kid and grabbing the waffles then running to the front door just in time to hear a horn blare. I followed him out the door and waved to Tre` to let him know I was doing a bit better than the night before.

“She seems better,” Tre` commented as soon as Billie Joe was safely in the car.

“Yeah. Adrienne’s coming out next week to stay with her,” Billie Joe said quietly.

“Oh dude, I’m sorry you didn’t get to see her,” Tre` apologized, realizing immediately that Torrie’s pregnancy had disrupted Billie Joe’s plans.

“Ah, no big. I’ll catch her next time,” Billie Joe shrugged deceivingly. He had really been looking forward to the night with Adrienne, even if it was only a night because he missed her so. The last time he’d seen her they’d had another fight and so he was going to use the single night to try to make it up to her, but so much for that.

“So what happened last night then?” Tre` asked, sensing what Billie Joe wasn’t saying and wanting to steer the subject out of the mud.

“She successfully kicked my ass at pool, I told her that she needed to move on, and I told Adrienne what was going on with Torrie so she offered to some down. And there was this thing at the grocery store, but nothing to worry about,” Billie Joe summed up.

“Alright. Did she seriously kick you ass?” Tre` asked with a trace of a smile passing through his face.

“Twelve-Love as the British like to say,” Billie Joe sighed.

“Geeze. You guys didn’t play for money did you?”

“Yeah, actually we did. I think I ended up losing over ten thousand last night,” Tre` laughed so hard he cried.

“Well I had to cheer her up somehow,” Billie Joe amended, not wanting to be made fun of for this for the duration of the tour.

“Sure you did buddy, sure you did,” Tre` said, still glowing, patting Billie Joe on the back.

The guys had just made it to their hotel in Houston, the first stop on the tour of the states when Tre` saw the suitcase Mike had grabbed for him and realized it wasn’t his.

“Uhhh… Mike, this isn’t my suitcase,” Tre` told him silently.

“Sure it is. It was in Torrie’s room and you spent the night in there, remember?” Mike sighed.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that I brought my luggage into the room as well,” Tre` pointed out.

“Well, then whose is it?” Billie Joe piped in since he wanted to be included in the excitement.

“Let’s see,” Tre` said, unzipping the stuffed bag and throwing off the top.

“Oh geeze,” Mike muttered as a pregnancy test and a pile of photographs fell out of the overstuffed pile of clothes among other things, including a bright red thong and matching bra.

“Well you said you wanted to know about your daughter so here you are. The perfect opportunity buddy. You may want to take advantage of this. Think I'd look good in these?” Tre` asked, taking off his shirt and putting the bra and thong on and Billie Joe just barely contained his laughter.

"Of course buddy,” Billie Joe nodded.

“Fine, but you go call Torrie and let her know about the mix up,” Mike sighed, getting down on his knees to search through the disorganized nightmare of a pile.

***

I was tired, so I went upstairs to get ready for bed, but I got my first real good look at the luggage and sighed. I had to have grabbed one of the guy’s luggage. Sighing, I opened it anyway and braced myself for the worst, but found that the clothes smelled tolerable, but with a comfy sort of masculine smell so I grabbed a t-shit and a pair of clean boxers (I made sure they were clean) and pulled them on. I lied down on the bed, but found the mattress to be filled with what felt like broken springs, so I went to the next room, which happened to be Tre`s and found the mattress very rewarding. Just as I was about to drift the telephone rang unwarranted.

“What?” I croaked.

“You have my clothes, right?” Tre` asked.

“Yeah. Then you’ve got mine?” I asked.

“Yeah. Anything you want me to send. I won’t send the whole thing because the shipping would be a bitch to pay,” Tre` sighed.

“Fair enough and yeah. I would like my journal and I’ll kill anyone of you guys who are able to break that lock and read it.

“Why?”

“Cause that detail the most personal details of my life, the good… and the bad.”

“Like really detailed?”

“Yeah. Just send it okay?”

“Sure thing,” Tre` agreed, then hung up and watched in horror as Billie Joe smashed the lock on the journal that Mike was beginning to read aloud.

"Today I met Mike for the first time, you know that guy who is supposed to be my father…" He started, then stopped as Tre` slammed it closed.

"No Mike. This is hers. Not yours. You have no right to read it. Now, I'm gonna go to the post office and try to send this to her,” Tre` snapped, snatching the journal from Mike and walking towards the door.

***

A week later, I sat in the comfy chair nearest the window, playing with my old house keys as I waited for the newest form of torture to arrive, already knowing there was no way I was gonna be able to get through this. I’d enjoyed my precious solitude for over a week and it was going to be hard to see it go.

The only time I'd disrupted it was when I'd tried calling my friend Jane. After telling her everything that had happened she insitied on coming down and seeing it all for herself. Since Tre` had said it was okay, I said fine. She came down for just the weekend, Friday night, Saturday and Sunday afternoon. It had been good to see her again, but when she pulled out the pot I asked her leave. There was no point in being tempted when it could endanger my baby… She understood where I was coming from, said she was sorry, and that she would keep in touch. A harsh knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

“Coming,” I yelled oh so enthusiastically and silently, opened the door and saw a woman clad in an expensive suit and donning an old briefcase.

“Adrienne?” I asked, not wanting to wait forever for the strange woman to speak. She nodded carefully, seemingly confused and I moved out of the way to let her in. After taking a second to understand, I spoke.

“Well are you coming in or what?” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, sure,” The woman realized, donning a forced smile.

“Anything to drink?” I asked, cordially enough, hoping for a good first impression.

“Uhhh… sure,” she replied, unsure of something.

“Well what?” I asked, not believing how naïve she seemed for someone who was willing to take care for a pregnant teenager. Damn, I didn’t even look very pregnant yet, just a bit chubby maybe…

“Water please?” she responded, sounding more like a question of a typical child than a request. I went to the kitchen, rummaged around until I found a clean glass and filled it with ice and water from the front of the fridge. That water was even nastier than the tap water.

“Here you go,” I muttered as I came into the dining room, where I’d left her and was surprised to find her examining the contents of her briefcase with interest, then grabbing two things to give to me.

“If those are pregnancy pamphlets fat lot of good they’ll do me. Nothing like first hand experience,” I reasoned without looking at the pamphlets. The woman froze and stared at me as her face drained.

“How dare you say such a thing in the presence of the Lord, Jesus Christ?” she scolded me in her question asking voice.

“Excuse me? Who put you in charge of telling me what not to say and what to say in the presence of something I don’t believe in?” I asked, offended. This woman might as well learn her place right this minute.

“So you haven’t embraced him yet? Well you better because if you don’t you’re going to go to hell?” she reprimanded me in annoying questioning tone.

“Hell would be preferable to this. Come on, the only friend I had is gone, left me to be with his mother whose in a coma, I’m nearing three months pregnant with a kid who, like me, will never know their father!” I nearly shouted, but I sat back down feeling a lot better. Apparently ranting is the best medication.

“My word?!” She exclaimed.

“Besides who the hell are you to be trying to get me to believe in him?” I asked.

“God himself? I was called to him and he specifically asked me to go around and convert the masses?” she informed me proudly and I stifled a laugh.

“So you start with the pregnant girl living in a house that isn’t even hers?” I asked defensively.

“Everyone is a child of God dear? We have all fallen off the rocker at one time or another?” she smiled a creepy sort of smile that made me shiver.

“Fallen off the rocker? That’s what you call this? My god, I didn’t know how clueless you were. My mother committing suicide and my getting raped is simply falling off the rocker? Are you insane?” I asked, leaning away from her. This woman must be delusional, I didn't know what the hell Billie Joe saw in her.

“What? You poor dear? No wonder you’re so lost? Now, more than ever, you need to remember that the Lord is beside you always? He is your staff and your courage? And I’m not insane?” she responded.

“Look-” I started, but a knock erupted from the door and I stopped.

Who the hell is that?

“I’ll be back.”

Sighing heavily, I got out of the chair reluctantly to open the door.

“May I help you?” I asked politely enough to the woman in a back dress and her hair in a messy bun standing on the steel porch with a brand new looking black rolling piece of luggage trailing just behind her.

“Yeah. Hi. You must be Torrie. I’m Adrienne,” she commented without smiling, dragging her stuff inside.

“If you’re in here then, who…” I stopped and seethed on my way to the dining room to face her.

“Who are you?” I asked harshly.

“Adrian, a member of the Mormon Church of LA?” she tried and I sighed. Just my luck.

“Get out of this house,” she looked at me, perfectly stupefied.

“NOW!” I shouted seeing both her and the real Adrienne cringe at the sound of my voice. She didn’t say a word, just packed up her stuff, but left the pamphlets for my disposal and practically ran out of the house. I sighed as I slunk down onto the couch opposite the square looking chair Adrienne had claimed. I could tell she had been here before because that was the most comfortable chair in the entire house.

“Water?” she asked kindly.

“If you would,” I replied, still trying to catch my breath. She went to the kitchen and I heard her rummaging through the cupboards until she found two glasses and got the ice from the fridge and the water from the tap before returning.

“So how are you?” she asked, offering me the glass with the most ice.

“Not so well. I think I’m gonna barf again,” I admitted, holding my stomach.

“Yeah, pregnancy can do that to you. So who was that lady that you so elegantly kicked out of the house?” she asked with a smile and I grinned despite my stomach.

“I have no idea. She said her name was Adrienne, and well I assumed she was you.”

“That she was me. Well, I’m glad that’s over with then. Have you set up an appointment with some sort of doctor yet?” she asked. I almost choked on my water in response.

“Straight to the point much?” I asked.

“Sorry, I have that tendency. I don’t much like small talk, but if you insist. Nice whether we’re having, isn’t it?” she asked uninterested.

“No actually it’s been raining misery lately,” I told her, just to be a bitch.

“Hmmm… imagine that. Wonder why…” She said rolling her eyes.

“Because my mother committed suicide which just had to be the start of my bad luck,” I told her, though I knew she'd heard it all from Billie Joe.

“Ah. That would make sense I suppose. Now tell me, why did your mother commit suicide?” she asked and I shuffled my feet uncomfortably. “I know you’ve probably been asked that a thousand times, but please humor me. I want to get to know you,” she continued.

“Actually, that’s just it. No one’s asked me that yet, well except the police, but who ever gives them the full story?” I sighed.

“So why did your mother commit suicide?” she repeated.

“I have no idea. I keep thinking it over in my head and the only thing that happened that week was me telling her… was me telling her I had been raped,” I admitted.

“Well I’m sure that was only a small part of it. Someone who commits suicide often has many reasons, many contributing factors,” she told me and I wondered where she'd gotten her psychology degree.

“Yeah well, even if there were others, my telling her was a major factor,” I told her.

“It probably was, but if you hadn’t told her it probably would have been even worse because then eventually, if she hadn’t committed suicide, you still would have wound up pregnant. I know as a mother that if my child can’t tell me something and I have to find out the hard way, it’s a lot harder to handle than if my kid had just told me in the first place. So there’s nothing you do that was wrong,” she told me and I nodded in recognition.

“Now it’s my turn to ask you a personal question,” I told her before she could ask me another.

“Alright. A question for a question sounds fair enough to me.”

“Where you pregnant before you married Billie Joe?” she smiled deceivingly casually.

“Yeah, but it hadn’t been confirmed until after the wedding.”

“Wait so is that-” I started.

“Hey, question for a question, remember? My turn, why did Jeffrey leave?” she interrupted.

“He ran away with the idea that his mother was dead, because of his father, but he got a call that said that his mom was actually in a coma rather than in a coffin six feet under,” I narrated.

“Ah. Well then, what were you going to ask me?” she asked.

“I was going to ask if that’s why you married Billie Joe, but-” I started again, wanting to change my question.

“Easy answer. No. I thought I might be pregnant and I admit that it influenced my decision to marry him, but it didn’t dictate it and there’s a difference,” she answered as-a-matter-of-factly.

“That works. You know he talks about you and Jakob and Joey whenever he can, right?” she smiled knowingly.

“So I hear. So what’s your favorite band?”

“I have two, Breaking Benjamin and Three Days Grace,” I answered quickly. “Yours?” I asked out of habit.

“Madonna actually, but that doesn’t leave this room, alright?”

“As long as nothing else does,” I agreed.

“So, What do you think set Mike off enough to kick you out of the house?”

“Still trying to figure out that one myself. I didn’t tell him that I had been raped. I never got around to that, I was trying to when he started screaming his ass of at me and, well I let my emotions get the best of me,” I admitted, wanting to just go to sleep and completely skip this conversation.

“Understandable. Pregnancy also does that,” she commented before letting me continue my recollection.

“I called him uhhh… a sperm donor who didn’t even know he had a daughter,” I admitted.

“Ouch… How did he-” she began, but I cut in.

“My turn,” I reminded her, “Favorite memory?” I asked, in the distant hope of lightening the mood just a bit.

“Seeing Billie Joe onstage for the first time. He was so happy and he made me want to dance for no reason just by being there with his big ball of energy. Now, what did Mike say in response to the sperm donor reference?” she asked and I sighed.

“Called me a piece of shit and told me to get the fuck out his sight. I went downstairs and tried to get out unnoticed, but Tre` stopped me.”

“Did Tre`-”

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” she paused.

“Worst fight with Billie Joe?” I asked.

“Over his priorities in the summer of 2004,” she said briefly.

“Ah,” I commented.

“So, did Tre` know about what had happened?” she asked and I looked down.

“Yeah. He’d heard me screaming in my sleep the night before and so he came to comfort me. He stayed with me the whole night and Mike walked in that morning and called me a whore, which is what started the ball rolling. How long did the fight last?” I asked, abruptly changing the subject to something that seemed touchy to her. After all, it was only fair. She got to quiz me on a touchy subject too.

“Almost eight months, so did you graduate from high school?” she continued.

“Yeah, sort of I mean. I did get my diploma, but it’s only because my mother let me take the exit exam and since I passed and got a diploma I skipped half of junior and all of senior year,” I shrugged. Another reason I had loved my mother. She knew I couldn't take the preps every single day.

“Well, enough of these questions for now, but I do have to ask again, now that we know each other better, have you made an appointment with a doctor yet?”

“No,” I told her curtly.

“Do you want me to make one?” she asked with a sympathetic look on her face.

“Does that mean you’re coming with me?” I asked carefully.

“Yeah,” she stated, with no room for arguing.

“Sure,” I muttered, knowing there was nothing I could do to change her mind. “So how long are you here? Billie Joe never told me,” I recollected.

“All this week so you better get used to me,” I sighed, but I did like this woman. She reminded me an awful lot of my mother for some reason. Maybe it was simply because I'd been stuck with no one but guys the past three months.

“Well it’s just about dinner time. How many snacks have you had today?” she asked suddenly, glancing at the stainless steeled framed clock in the corner of the room that I had been studying the afternoon before.

“Five I think. I found a tub of the ice cream my mother used to get and so I kinda ate that all today,” I admitted.

“Well that’s a good sign anyways. Could you stomach dinner?” she asked.

“Depends of what there is,” I answered.

“How about some mac’n cheese? I know Tre` keeps that on hand,” she told me and I realized that maybe Tre` was also her fallback. He liked to help people I guess.

“Sure. Could you also get me some ketchup to go with it? It sounds so good right now,” I told her with a big smile.

“Sure thing dear,” she replied, getting up to go towards the kitchen.

“I’ll put your crap in your room. Do you have one you want?” I asked, starting up the cold, cement steps.

“Nah. Just the one next to yours I guess, if you want me to wake you if I hear you screaming,” she yelled from the kitchen as she was going through the cupboards until she found just what she was looking for.

“I’d appreciate it,” I admitted, more to myself than to her.

I grabbed the suitcase and slowly dragged it up the excruciatingly long flight of stairs. I had been sleeping in Tre`s room because he had the only comfortable bed and the sheets were the only ones that smelled like they’d actually been washed once upon a time. With a thud, I set Adrienne’s luggage on the bench at the foot of the uniform metal box of a bed. I made the journey back downstairs to wait for Adrienne to serve the first homemade dinner I’d had in two weeks.

***

The next day Adrienne woke me up early, at six or so and told me that we had a doctor’s appointment to get to. I sighed, but I did get up.

“Why so early?” I complained, rummaging through my bag of new clothes I’d bought since Tre` still had my stuff.

“Because that’s all I could do,” she muttered from the bed.

“How badly am I showing?” I asked her inquiringly as I slipped off my shirt.

“Normal. Just a bit chubby, but you can barely notice. Makes you look sexier than ever with the big boobs though,” she beamed.

“Sure,” I muttered, pulling on my generic baby blue t-shit that matched my eyes, as well as Mike’s eyes.

“Now come on. I’ll drive if you give me the keys,” she offered.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming, geeze,” I said defensively as I pulled on my new comfy maternity jeans that dragged on the ground just a bit.

Once we arrived there I breathed again. It was a small brick building tucked in a medical complex. It had a big sign on the front that told the names of all the doctors. But above all, it looked expensive.

“Go ahead, I’ll meet you in there. I just need to breathe a bit,” I told Adrienne, not yet ready for the smells that accompany hospitals or anything medical.

“Alright, but hurry. Your appointment's in ten minutes,” And with that she left me standing by myself on that cold morning. I looked down at my feet and tried to recall what that woman had said to get me here with her nonetheless. But I did like her because she reminded me of my mother so much. Then suddenly a blindfold was thrown over my head and I felt the blade of a knife touching the small of my back gently.

“If you scream, it’ll be with your last breath,” A male, scruffy voice told me before covering my mouth with a cloth that smelled like shit and then everything went black.