Worry Rock

Billie Joe had gotten dressed, brushed his teeth, gone out to the pharmacy, gotten three pregnancy tests and arrived back at the house before either one of the teenage girls in the other room had woken up.

Most of the time he had gone I sat on the bed, my eyes closed with my forehead resting in the palm of my hand. I had gotten up a few times, feeling and becoming nauseous. This was my fault. But really, what was I supposed to do? Deny my husband sex?

Oh no, no Billie. We can’t have sex because I’m trying to not get pregnant.

That sentence would crush the mid-forty year old in more ways than one.

Billie Joe had quickly yet quietly made his way up the stairs and into the master bedroom, holding the small bag in his hand as he made his way over to the bed. He sat down next to me, the feeling of his presence and the sound of the bed creaking breaking me out of thought. I looked up at him slowly and he smiled.

I wanted to cry. I desperately wanted to cry. I didn’t want to use the test, I just wanted to collapse into my husbands arms and cry.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t because Billie Joe wanted a baby. He was desperate for a baby.

If I had cried into his chest like I was so desperate to do he would know that I didn’t want the baby at the moment and his heart would be broken.

Instead of crying, I forced a smile back at him and slowly picked up the bag as I stood up. He stood up next to me and leant in to kiss me. As soon as his lips were a few centimeters from my own I pulled back. Billie Joe stared at me, a hint of pain showing in his eyes. I apologized immediately. “I’m nervous,” I admitted. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m just nervous.”

Billie Joe smiled softly at me, and nodded, leaning in to kiss my cheek now. I turned my head so that this time, his lips were placed softly against my own. I hesitated and then pulled away and smiled nervously before he ushered me into the bathroom. I closed the door behind me slowly and opened the bag.

I opened the door slowly, my eyes crawling across Billie Joe’s figure that lay sprawled out on the bed face down. “Billie?”

His head shot up and he looked over at me, immediately lifting him up so that he sat on all fours. He crawled off the bed and walked over to me, wrapping his tattooed arms around me. “What did it say?”

I smirked. “Five minute wait.”

Billie Joe sighed, burying his head into the side of my neck. “Piece of shits.”

I laughed despite my mood as he picked me up and carried me over to the bed. Billie Joe placed me on it softly and then crawled over to me. “Hey, you know what?” He asked softly.

“Hmmm?”

“The last time you thought you were pregnant like this, you were with Tre and I was in a bar in New York.”

The corners of my lips were pulled into a smile as I kept my head buried into his chest. “Yeah.”

A silence swept the bedroom for the rest of the time until Billie Joe sat up, pulling me into his lap for the second time that day. “Billie,” I mumbled, pushing his arms from around me. “Billie – I’m going to be sick.”

I pushed myself away from my husband and into the large bathroom, collapsing where I had just been only a matter of minutes ago. Billie Joe followed me in slowly and settled himself down next to me, rubbing my back while cooing comforting words. He kissed my temple softly, holding my hair back with his free hand as he looked around for plastic cups to fill with water for me.

I flushed the toiler slowly as I wiped my mouth on the back of my arm, being comforted by Billie Joe rubbing my back as he began to let my hair go. He kissed the side of my cheek sweetly, telling me to hold on for a second as he stood up to get me a small cup of water.

When he returned, he placed himself on the cool tiled floor next to me, handing me the cup of water as he held onto me. I placed my head on his tattooed chest, taking in a deep breath. Billie Joe twisted around slightly to look outside, trying to find the clock with just his eyes. He hesitated, not wanting to bother me. “Joe—it’s uh, it’s been five minutes.”

I nodded simply, not saying anything until I could feel him shift awkwardly underneath me. “Could you get it?” I asked lightly, playing with the wedding band that sat on his finger.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“But don’t look at it,” I mumbled.

He chuckled softly, leaning to kiss my forehead. “Alright, darling.”

He stood up and looked around quickly before grabbing the small white stick off of the sink and then sat down next to me without looking at it. We both closed our eyes slowly as I placed my hand over his.

“On three, we open our eyes and look.”

“I feel like a teenager.”

My husband snorted at that and gently patted my shoulder. “Okay, ready? One—two—three.” Both of our eyes snapped open and Billie Joe’s hand slowly uncurled its self. “Blue. What the hell does blue mean?” He snarled at the small thing as If expecting an answer.

I went to stand up, but Billie Joe pushed me back down. He got up and picked up the box that it came in and threw it to me, not wanting to look. I looked down at it, curled up on the floor. “Blue?” I asked.

He nodded, the smallest piece of hope showing in his eyes as he came back over to me. I nodded slowly to myself and stood up, going over to him. Billie Joe looked down at me as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry,” I admitted.

“What?” He asked. I don’t think it was that he was confused -- it was just that he didn’t want to know.

I kissed him softly, containing my emotions for the sake of our relationship.

“It was a false alarm.”

+++

Billie Joe lay with me for a few hours in bed, occasionally getting up when I became sick. Otherwise, we both lay with our eyes closed; slowly drifting as he gently stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. Both of the girls were still asleep, or still in Sydney’s room.

Billie Joe hadn’t said much to me after hearing that I wasn’t pregnant. He pretty much made me get back in bed and then that was it. Ever since then it had been silent.

I shifted next to my husband, causing him to lift his head from where it rested with his chin on the top of my head, to look at me. “You alright?” He asked.

I nodded slowly and then turned so that my back was facing him, pressing firmly against his bare chest so that we were in a spooning position. “I’m sorry,” I apologized into his tattooed arm that had cushioned my head instead of the white pillows.

“What? For what?”

I could feel the tears pricking my eyes as I sniffled, choking them back although I had no idea why they had surfaced in the first place. “I’m so sorry. I knew you wanted it – and, and I just couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

Billie Joe removed himself from the comfortable position we were in, gently taking his arm out from underneath my head and slowly climbed on top of me, straddling my weeping body. “Joe, baby, I’m not mad at you. Please don’t apologize.”

I lifted my hands to my face to wipe my tears away, but Billie Joe pushed them out of the way and back onto the bed before wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “No tears,” he murmured as he replaced his thumbs with his lips. “I’m not mad, so there’s no reason for you to cry.”

“But you’re disappointed in me.”

“No,” he countered, “I’m disappointed in myself. Never in you. Why would I be disappointed in you? You didn’t prevent this from happening. I’m not mad or disappointed in you because you’re not pregnant. You’re trying as hard as I am.”

I looked up at my husband, a confused look now scrawling across my face. “Why are you disappointed in yourself?”

He chuckled, leaning down so that our noses were touching, still straddling me as he lay his body on top of mine. “It’s my dick that’s failing. My sperm that’s failing.”

I laughed slightly at that and he smiled, leaning to kiss the bottom of my chin. “Sweetheart, I’ve been quiet because I thought you would want this rest. You’re suffering from food poisoning from the dinner that I took you to last night, hell, if anything you should be pissed at me.”

“Oh right,” I returned sarcastically. “I should be mad at you because you were thoughtful enough to take our family plus Sydney’s friend to dinner last night.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s perfectly reasonable.”

Billie Joe scowled. “It doesn’t matter where I took you all, it matters that you got sick from it.” He sighed and lifted himself from over me and sat down at my side. “Someone in heaven fucking hates me, because I can’t do a damned good thing.”

I lifted myself up from where I lay and sat like that for a moment, nervous about getting nauseas and having to rush into the bathroom before crawling closer to my husband and wrapping two arms around his necks, kissing him softly when I was positive that I was alright at the moment.

However, I was alright only for a moment. Within two seconds of our lips being connected I had to tear myself away from my husband and dash into the bathroom. Billie Joe scowled, angry at himself as he slowly lifted himself from the bed and followed me in, gently pulling my hair back.

I was finally able to sit back in his arms that seemed to wrap themselves around me as we both sat on the bathroom floor. “Still not convinced that this shit is my fault?”

“Still not convinced that this is your fault,” I murmured into his arm.

Billie Joe muttered a few angry words under his breath and I chose to ignore them as I heard the sound of a knock at the bedroom door, followed by Sydney’s young voice calling out to us. “Mom? Dad?”

I pulled myself up from the floor and poked my head out of the bathroom while Billie Joe continued to sit on the ground, sulking. “We’re in here, Sydney,” I called out.

The door to the bedroom opened and Sydney slowly entered, closing the door behind her gently. She arched an eyebrow when she saw me leaning on the door to the built-on bathroom. “Should I come back later?” She asked slowly.

“No, no it’s fine. Where’s Tiff?”

“Asleep,” Sydney answered as she walked over to our bed and sat down. “I got tired of laying there and I heard dad before so I knew you were up.”

At the mention of his name, Billie Joe appeared next to me from the bathroom. He placed his hand on my back and rubbed it gently. Sydney quirked an eyebrow again. “Are you alright?” She asked me.

“I got your mother sick,” Billie Joe admitted as he left my side and went to sit down next to his daughter.

I scowled at my husband. “No you didn’t, damnit,” I spat, crossing my arms. “The restaurant did.”

“The restaurant that I brought you to.”

“Oh please, that doesn’t make it your fault. I didn’t see you telling me to get what I did. You didn’t force it down my throat.”

“I could have picked a different place to eat.”

Sydney sat on the bed looking between Billie Joe and I, confused. “Mom has food poisoning?”

“Yes,” Billie Joe replied icily. “Thanks to me.”

“Stop looking for something to blame on yourself,” I snarled. “My god, no one is perfect. And damnit, Billie, you didn’t poison me. If anything you should go down and yell at the chef but get over it. Not all things that go wrong in life are because of you.”

I knew if our daughter hadn’t been in our presence that my husband would have come back with a rude and vile comment, but he instead kept his mouth shut and only rolled his eyes. “I’d appreciate being sick without your bitching,” I added simply after.

“I’d appreciate you being healthy,” I heard him mutter.

It took me all the willpower in the world not to slap the man in front of me. Instead, however, I stormed off to the door of the bedroom, pulled it open and stormed out. However, I only got down the hallway and to the next bathroom when my hand flew to my mouth and I found myself back to how I had been only a few moments before.

+++

I wrapped my arms around Billie Joe’s neck, pulling him as close to me as possible. He smirked and sighed, his lips gently crawling up my neck. I pushed my face into his neck, smiling. “Please don’t leave me,” I murmured.

Billie Joe chuckled and lifted his head from my neck, kissing underneath my chin now. “Of course not. What kind of husband would I be if I left my wife in whom I got sick?”

I rolled my eyes whilst whacking Billie Joe’s tattooed arms. “You didn’t get me sick.”

“I did, I--,”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his own. He grinned against my lips before pulling away. “You’re just trying to shut me up.”

I giggled. “Damn straight.”

I sighed softly and moved from lying on my side so that I lay on my back. “How come whenever you and I spend most of a day together in bed, it usually revolves around me being sick?”

“Because your asshole of a husband gets you sick a lot,” Billie Joe mumbled, shifting closer to me.

“Oh, so you mean polygamy is legal now?” I asked, turning to face him. Billie Joe cocked an eyebrow, not understanding. “Well, I must be married to more than one man considering you had nothing to do with my food poisoning.” I shrugged slowly. “It really is the chef’s fault.”

“No, it was my fault.”

“Oh right,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes. “It was your fault because during the time between us ordering the food and it coming you slipped into the kitchen and dropped some shit into my food.” I gasped dramatically while Billie Joe glared at me. “You did get up because you had to pee, so during that time you pissed in my food.” I hit his arm, causing him to scowl. “Billie Joe, you bastard! I can’t believe you pissed in my food!”

“I seriously hate you at the moment,” Billie Joe muttered.

“I’m not too happy with you, either. You know how wrong it is to piss in people’s food? Your wife’s food?!”

Billie Joe groaned angrily and pulled away. “Is everything a joke with you?”

I nodded slowly and grinned, shuffling closer. “When my husband is saying how he poisoned my food and mysteriously excused himself during the time the meal was cooking because he needed the bathroom, I do think that it is not only a coincidence.”

“Joe, I didn’t piss in your food.”

I rolled my eyes. “Either you poisoned my food with that or you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

I grinned as he frowned, furrowing his brow in confusion. I leant closer to my husband and kissed him softly, a smile dancing on my lips. “That’s what I have been trying to tell you.”

Billie Joe growled at me, causing me to laugh as he locked his arms around my waist. He leant in to kiss me but paused with his lips a few centimeters away from my own. “You’re not going to puke, are you?”

I grinned and shook my head. Earlier, when Billie Joe had stopped acting like a small child not getting his way he had leant in to kiss me. As soon as his lips touched mine I had pushed him away from me and ran into the bathroom. He had just sighed and followed me in.

“If I kiss you, you’re not going to puke in my mouth?” He asked.

“That would be disgusting.”

“You say that, yet I’m on the receiving end, sweetheart.”

I laughed while burying my head into his chest. He sighed deeply, keeping his arms wrapped around me as we lay in bed. “We lay here a lot,” Billie Joe admitted.

“I told you that earlier.”

“Mmm, I know, but I just realized how much.”

I sat up more and threw the duvet off of me. Billie Joe watched me for a moment, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. I sat on the side of the bed and turned to look at him over my shoulder. “But, from what I’m gathering, you’re saying you want to get up. I’m already half way there.”

Billie Joe sighed and turned so that he lay on his back now. “Joe, get your ass back in bed.”

“No, I get the message. We’re lazy. Now, let’s get up and do something. How about we--,”

Billie Joe scowled and sat up, leaning over to grab me. I screamed and twisted in his arms, causing him to let go of me as if I had been on fire and throw his hands over his ears. “My god, why do girls scream like that?” Billie Joe snarled. Not particularly at me, but at the high-pitched scream that had killed the peaceful feeling in the bedroom.

I narrowed my eyes, taking a hand from his ear and wrapping his arm around my waist as I stood in front of him while he sat on the bed. Billie Joe slid his other arm around me after taking it from his ear. He smiled lightly and pulled me closer to him, in-between his legs. I looked down at him as he placed his ear against my still-flat stomach. He smiled sadly. “I really thought that there was something in there.”

I nodded slowly, running a hand through his brown hair. “I did, too.”

He hesitated. “I really wish something was in there.”

I don’t. Not now.

“Me too,” I lied, my voice only a soft whisper.

Billie Joe stood up slowly and pressed his forehead against my own. “I have faith, though,” he murmured. “That you and I will succeed in making another beautiful baby. Even if that means I’m sixty by the time that we do so.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Honny, if it takes fifteen more years to have a child then I’m afraid that my services are off limits to you.”

My husband laughed, his lips caressing my cheek. He moved them down to my neck and then stopped. I opened my eyes slowly. He grinned. “What?” I asked slowly.

“Despite the fact that you’ve got food poisoning, you’re beautiful.”

I grinned back at him and buried my head into his neck. “DAD?”

Billie Joe sighed, pulling away from our grip. “Yeah, Sid. I’m with your mom,” he called back.

Sydney appeared in the doorway only a few seconds later. She smiled as she entered it, already feeling that the tension in the room from before had disappeared. “Can I go over Tiff’s?” She asked.

Billie Joe and I both nodded. Sydney grinned and clapped as she turned to leave the room. As soon as she got to the door she spun back around and came back in. Billie Joe arched an eyebrow slowly. “Dad, can you take us there?” She asked with a grin.

Billie Joe sighed and sat down next to me. “How did I not see that coming?” He asked me.

I laughed. “I saw it coming.”

Sydney rolled her eyes playfully and stepped closer. “I’d ask you, mom, but you’re sick.”

I stood up. “No, I’ll take--,”

“Sit down, Goddamnit,” Billie Joe muttered, pulling me back onto the bed. He stood up. “Yeah, I’ll take you; just let me change, alright?”

Sydney nodded and kissed her dad on the cheek before leaving the room, yelling her friend’s name as loud as she could. Billie Joe looked over at me. “You gonna be alright while I’m gone?”

I collapsed on the bed, sprawling myself over it. I closed my eyes and threw my head back in mock agony while pressing a hand to my forehead. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to last the next half hour without you. I may just crumble right here. I may choke on air and just never wake up.”

Billie Joe sighed and stood up, picking up a pair of tan shorts and slipping them on. “You really are a bitch, y’know that?”

I grinned widely as I sat back up, watching as my husband pulled a green t-shirt over his head. He grabbed his car keys, cigarettes and lighter from the dresser and shoved them in his pocket. “That’s only because I married such an asshole,” I returned with a smile still dancing on my lips.

Billie Joe chuckled as he pressed his lips against my own before pulling away. “I’ll be back soon, alright?”

“Mmkay,” I murmured. “I walk you to the do--,”

Before I could bother to finish my sentence the older man had lifted me up and placed me back on the bed. He pulled the duvet up and over me and smiled sarcastically. “When I get back, I want to see you in the same position, watching that television.” He pointed to the large television that was mounted on the wall on the other side of the large bedroom. “Kapeeche?”

I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest in a pout as he laughed and exited the bedroom. Sydney came up once more to say goodbye to me and then within a few minutes I could hear Billie Joe’s Mercedes pull out of the driveway, the gates in front of the house closing after him.

I pulled the duvet off of me and got up slowly; smirking at the fact that Billie Joe probably knew that I was already up. I paused as I stood next to the bed for a few minutes, waiting for a small wave of nausea to subside. But it didn’t.

This wasn’t Billie’s fault, but it still sucked.

I flicked off the light to the bathroom and slowly walked into the bedroom, wanting desperately to kill the sound of silence around me. I sat down on my side of the bed, my hands resting limply on my legs as I looked down in thought. Billie Joe still wanted a baby.

Of course he did. You got food poisoning and you thought it was because you were pregnant at first. The fact that you’re not pregnant will only make him want it more.

The more he wanted a baby, the more he would try. The more he would try, the easier it would be to get pregnant. I stood back up, pressing a hand to my stomach as I felt as if I were to be sick again, but the small wave of nausea subsided this time. I pulled open the drawer of my dresser on my side of the bed and rummaged through it quickly before I found exactly what I wanted.

Without any hesitation I popped a pill into my hand and slid into the large bathroom, filling up a small cup with cold water. I rolled the pill around in my hand for a moment, almost feeling as if there was a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other.

Its obvious you two aren’t ready for another child. You’d never want to have this baby and then immediately have problems. Take the goddamn pill.

Billie’s going to hate you. You’re lying to him. You’re a hypocrite. You get upset at him for doing something shitty and then you go and do the same thing behind his back.

Oh shut up. Are you drinking behind his back? No.

No, yes you are killing his chances of having a child. You know how bad he wants it.

I shook my head slowly and popped it into my mouth, tipping the cup back as I felt the pill and water slide down my throat. I stood at the bathroom mirror for a few more minutes before I heard the gates to the driveway open and I ran for the bed, climbing in and tucking myself in as Billie Joe had done before he left.

My husband entered the room only a few moments later…holding a bouquet of flowers.

I arched an eyebrow and laughed as he got over to the bed and smiled, handing them to me as he crawled in next to me, pulling off his shorts before he did so and discarding them back on the floor. “What are these for?”

Billie Joe grinned sheepishly. “To say I’m sorry.”

I sighed, burying my head into his chest. The familiar scent of cigarettes and cologne filled and shut down my senses as I cuddled against his body. “And why are you sorry?” I asked softly.

And it wasn’t until my husband shifted so that he was eye level at me and placed his head onto my pillow next to mine that my gut dropped and I began to feel nauseous. Not nauseous because of the bug I was getting over, but nauseous because I had just made a mistake.

Since I had been eighteen and practically stumbled into Billie Joe’s arms and home, he had given me everything I had truly wanted – including a family.

He fucked up many times during the time, a perfect example being the lying and drinking for months, but he had always made up for it one way or another.

How the hell would I ever make up taking birth control pills when he was desperately trying to get me pregnant to him?

“For making you lie in bed today,” he murmured.

I kissed him softly before pulling away to look at the beautiful flowers he had just gotten for me. “Does that mean you’ll let me get up?” I questioned with a grin.

Billie Joe laughed while rubbing his nose against my own. “No, darling.”

I scowled playfully at him and he grinned, taking the flowers from me and getting up to put them in something before placing them next to us on the dresser next to the bed. “Well,” I murmured. “Thank you, baby. But I told you, I don’t think this is your fault because it’s not.”

“It is,” he insisted. “My god, I feel as if I’m trying to kill you lately.”

I stared at my husband, my brow furrowed in confusion. “Trying to what me?” I asked slowly.

Billie Joe smirked, nuzzling his nose into my neck. “Ever since your birthday whatever I do harms you in some way. I feel like I’m trying to kill you. Jesus, with my fucking luck the flowers I got you will give you hives and we’ll have to rush you to the hospital.”

I burst into a fit of giggles as Billie Joe sighed and frowned, obviously not feeling well about what he was saying. “Awww, baby,” I cooed, sitting up more. “I’m not allergic to flowers.” I kissed his cheek softly.

“We’ll find out that there’s some secret shit in them,” he mumbled shamefully.

I laughed softly, trying my hardest to stop. Billie Joe looked up at me, obviously not finding the humor to what was going on. I smiled sympathetically. “You’re not perfect, Billie Joe,” I told him softly.

He arched an eyebrow as he watched me. “I know.”

“So stop thinking that every mistake you make is going to kill me or us.”

Billie Joe went to speak but I cut him off. “We are not perfect,” I repeated slowly.

“You are,” Billie Joe murmured.

A sickening feeling washed over me as it had before. Guilt. “Hardly,” I murmured.

“I’ve known you for fifteen years, Joe,” Billie Joe stated.

“And I’ve known myself for over thirty. I’m not perfect and neither are you. You need to realize that because if you don’t.”

Because if you don’t what I’ve done will kill our relationship.

Billie Joe continued to stare at me, waiting for me to continue.

“Because if you don’t, we’ll never get past this.” I smiled lopsidedly. “And we need to, in order to move on.”

There was a silence in the bedroom as I straddled my husband. I threw my head back slightly and snorted. “That sounded so disgustingly cheesy, didn’t it?” I asked with a grin.

For the first time since Billie Joe had presented me with the flowers, he grinned and laughed. “Just a little.”