Worry Rock

"Do you like potatoes?"

"I guess. Sure."

"Good," Billie Joe murmured, slowly walking two fingers up my arm, under the fabric of my sweatshirt, "Because we are them right now."

I giggled into his chest, feeling his other hand run slowly through my damp hair, caressing the back of my neck. He placed his lips against my forehead, resting his cold hands underneath my sweater and on my stomach.

The door to the bedroom slowly creaked open, both of us propping ourselves up to see who was coming in, to find Sydney closing the door behind her. "Hi," she said simply, walking over to the end of the bed and draping her body on it.

"Hi Shidney," Billie Joe murmured, sitting up slowly in the bed, prodding his daughter with his foot, making her giggle and swat at it.

"Hi dad," she paused, looking over at us, "What are you doing?"

"Being bed potatoes," Billie Joe announced proudly.

"Bed potatoes?"

"Yeah huh. Staying in bed all day and watching tv no matter who dies or is in a life threatening position."

Sydney arched an eyebrow slowly at her father's explanation, before laughing. "Okay. You do that."

Billie Joe grinned, taking his hands from underneath my sweater, sitting up on the bed. "Plus, your mom is cold from falling in the pool before, so we're trying to warm her up. She's a penguin."

I lifted my head from where it lay, buried in his neck, wacking his leg lightly making him laugh, tightening his grip around my body.

"That's what Chris and I heard earlier?"

The older man bit his lip, looking back to his daughter, shrugging, "That depends. What did you hear?"

"A splash and someone yelling."

"Yeah, that was probably us."

She laughed, wacking her dad's foot again, shifting the way she lay to her side. "Speaking of him, where is he?"

"Who?"

"Chris."

"Oh," she shrugged, "His mom came to pick him up. We finished the project, and his mom doesn't like him out for too long. He said she's weird. But he wants to go skateboarding tomorrow, if that's okay."

"Does every boy you know skateboard?" Billie Joe asked slowly.

"Only the cool ones."

He nodded slowly, "Do any girls in your school know how to skateboard?"

I rolled my eyes, pushing Billie Joe gently, making Sydney laugh. "Only one," she mumbled, "She's okay. I haven't spoken to her much. She's nice. But the rest of the girls annoy me."

"Oh. How do you know she skates?"

"I've seen her at the skate park. Eddie and her are friends...I think. Her name is Tiff."

Billie Joe nodded his head, humming 'Mhmm' before he dropped his body back on the mattress, looking over at me, who was still curled up, my hood pulled down over my face thanks to the man himself. Sydney looked over at the tv, laughing. "You're watching South Park?"

Billie nodded, sitting back up again, not being able to make up his mind if he wanted to continue laying down, or to sit up. "Cha," he said in a snotty girl's voice, "That is like, by far the best cartoon to be invented. Don't go dissin' my show."

"Family guy is better."

"Psht. No."

"Uh huh. Stewie is by far the coolest talking baby. Nothing beats that, dad."

"Uh...yah. Little round guys that has voices more high-pitched than my own. Cartman could kick Stewie's ass any day."

"Nuh-uh," Sydney protested.

"Yeah-huh."

"No."

"Cha."

I groaned, sitting up, adjusting the sweater on me, taking my arms from being inside folded up under the sweater, pulling the hood back from over my eyes. "Which one of you is thirteen, here?" I asked, looking from Billie Joe to Sydney.

"Her," he said, pointing to his daughter.

"Good!" I clapped my hands together, as if I were talking to a five year old, "Now that that was accomplished, agree with Sydney because Family Guy is better."

I pushed myself off the bed, stumbling into the bathroom, pulling a tissue from the box, feeling my nose start to run. "You know," Billie Joe mumbled to Sydney, "She had to beg me to marry her. She can't take the fact that I'm better than her."

Sydney snorted as I re-appeared back into the bedroom, arching an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I love you."

I laughed softly, nodding my head slowly, "I thought so."

***

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

"Uhuh."

The were a comfortable silence in the house, before Travis spoke. "So you've got a cold?"

"No, I'm just sneezin-" I cut myself off, as a slightly high-pitched sneeze echoed throughout the large house, me groaning, wiping my nose with a tissue.

"You've got a cold," he confirmed.

"Shut up, Travis. I know."

He chuckled, "I'm just saying so, darling. Where's your husband at?"

"Store. He's trying to get me to stay in bed, so he asked me what I wanted, and whatever I said he wrote down and he went to Shaws to get."

"That's sweet- you're not in bed, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Mandy, get your ass in bed." I stuck my tongue out at the phone, that sat in it's stand, having Travis on speaker. "Why are you sick, by the way?"

"I'm not sick," I protested, "I've got a slight cold. And it's because Billie Joe dumped me in the pool yesterday during the storm."

Travis snorted, "Why'd he do that?"

"Well," I shrugged, "We weren't supposed to fall in. But he carried me outside, put me on the edge of the pool, and he was going to make it like I was falling in, and he was going to catch me. But I fucked it all up and fell back in with him."

"That was clever."

"Shut up."

I turned to face the doorway, hearing a key being pushed into the lock. My eyes widened, knowing it was Billie Joe, who sat at home for an extra fifteen minutes to make sure I wouldn't get up with my cold. "Travis. Shut up. Don't talk until I tell you to."

"...Okay."

The front door was pushed open to reveal Billie Joe who was struggling, obviously trying to take everything he bought inside at once, too lazy to go out for another trip. He looked up, groaning as he noticed me standing there. "Hi baby," I cooed innocently.

"I told you to stay in bed."

"The phone rang."

"Oh? And who was it?"

"...Salesman."

Billie Joe rolled his eyes, kicking the front door closed with the back of his foot, stumbling into the kitchen. "Hi Travis," he said simply, knowing who I was on the phone with, "The jig is up, man. Joe sucks at lying."

"I do not!"

"You kinda do," Travis admitted.

"Shut up Travis, no one asked you."

Billie Joe snorted, placing the bags on the counter, "Baby, your own best friend sold you out on that one."

I crossed my arms, looking torwards the floor, grumbling to myself. Billie Joe laughed, wrapping his arms around my waist, kissing my temple. "Am I going to have to wrestle you upstairs or are you just going to go by yourself?"

"Probably wrestle halfway up."

"I figured as much."

Travis chuckled, "Okay, well, I'll go and leave you two to fight the whole way upstairs into the bedroom. Feel better, hun."

"Thanks, Trav. I'll see you soon."

"Mmk, bye kid."

I pressed a button of the machine, turning off the speaker phone, turning back to face Billie Joe. "He calls you kid, too?"

I shrugged, "Sometimes. He calls me a lot of things."

"Oh. Right."

He turned around, taking items from the bags. "Wait," I placed an arm gently on his shoulder, "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No...why would it?"

I shrugged once again, taking my arm from his shoulder. "I'm not sure, but it just sort of seemed like it did for a moment."

"Oh. Oh...no, it doesn't-"

"Because it's not like you call me that. I mean, you did yesterday..." I rambled.

"It doesn't bother me, Joe."

I wasn't convinced in the least. "Yeah it does," I stated.

Billie Joe looked over at me, holding a loaf of bread in one hand and carton of orange juice in the other. "I just said it didn't."

"But I know you," I sad softly, resting my head on his shoulder, kissing his cheek, "You'll say something doesn't bother you when it does."

He kissed my nose sweetly, wrapping an arm around my neck. "Kid doesn't bother me. He doesn't call you Joe, does he?"

I thought for a moment, "No. You're the only one that calls me that."

He smiled gently, kissing the side of my mouth, "Then it doesn't bother me, kay?"

I hesitated, watching him pull open the fridge slightly roughly, placing the orange juice there, and the bread on the counter hastily. "You're lying."

Billie Joe groaned, running a hand over his forehead, "And why would you think that?"

"Because you're getting mad."

"No I'm not. I put the bread on the counter and orange juice in the fridge. How is that mad?"

"The way you put them in."

"The way I put them in? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"You threw the bread on the counter and if the orange juice wasn't spillable you would have thrown that, too."

"No I wouldn't have. Damnit, Joe, I'm not mad, okay? Let it go."

"Do you like Travis?"

"What?"

"Do you like Travis?" I repeated, watching him avoid eye contact as he put some other things away, "You seem like you do, but then you seem like you hate him."

Billie Joe shrugged, "I don't care. He's your friend."

"Then why do you make a fuss out of what he calls me?"

"I don't make a fuss out of it."

"Yeah you do. Like now, you're getting all pissy."

"How the fuck am I getting all pissy?" he snapped, not realizing the tone of voice he was using, "I'm not doing a goddamn thing. I'm putting away groceries. Okay? That is all I'm fucking doing."

I bowed my head, looking at my striped socks as he continued to put things away, now slamming cabinets and stomping as if he were a small kid not getting his way. I looked up at him from the top of my eyes, watching him throw out the plastic bags that everything had been in, pulling a Budweiser out of the fridge. He looked down at the alcoholic beverage, resting his palms on the counter, looking over at me. He sighed, leaning back on the counter as an awkward silence comes over the two of us. "I'll...uh...get back in bed," I mutter, avoiding eye contact as I turn out of the kitchen, leaving him to silently beat himself up.

***

The tv was the only source of light in the dark bedroom, having no lights turned on and the bedroom being shut. I closed my eyes slowly, pulling the duvet closer about my body, only to hear a knock at the door. I muttered a low "come in," to see the door being pushed open, Billie Joe's head slowly peaking around.

I looked away from the Tv that was playing 'Who's Line is it anyways?', and over to Billie Joe. "Hey," I croaked, not having talked much after the slight argument in the kitchen.

"Hey," he said softly, stepping into the dark room after hesitating slightly, closing the wooden door behind him, "I...brought you dinner...incase you were hungry."

"Oh. Thanks," I murmured, sitting up in the bed, the duvet slowly sliding down my body as he walked over to the bed, setting the tray of food he had made on the small table next to the bed, not knowing if he should invite himself on the bed or not. "You can lay down," I said lightly, "It's also your bed."

"Right...right...yeah." He picked up the tray, sitting himself of the bed, placing the tray on my lap, "Are you feeling any better?"

"I guess," I shrugged, "I've stopped sneezing twenty times a minute." Billie Joe smiled, looking over at me, still sitting on the bed. I sighed softly, giving him a peck on the cheek, "I don't know why you're so nervous," I murmured, "I'm not mad at you."

"I...uh...okay," he stuttered, standing up and quickly pulling off his shorts and t-shirt, climbing back onto the bed, hesitating before wrapping an arm around my shoulders, sinking lower under the duvet.

"I actually thought you were mad at me..."

Billie Joe looked over at me, running his tongue over his teeth, "No," he said quietly, "I was just in a bad mood...I'm sorry for snapping at you, baby." I nodded slowly, kissing his cheek as he smiled, snuggling his body up against my own, placing his hand on my leg. "I guess I just get kinda jealous," he admitted after a long moment of silence, "Well, not jealous...but I want to be the only one to call you something. No, I don't hate Travis. He's a nice kid...but he's a good looking kid with a good personality closer in your age group...and that gets to me."

"I don't like Travis like that, Billie," I mumbled, looking over at him, "I don't like any man like that other than you. I never will."

"I know..."

"Do you?" I asked, turning to face him, placing the tray on the table next to me, not having much of an apatite, "Because I don't think you do."

"I do know. But there's a difference between knowing and believing."

"So you don't believe me, then?" I asked, folding my arms.

"No. No, no, no, baby, that's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I mean that I love you and I will dislike every good-looking man you meet and like for the rest of our lives."

"That's stupid, because I love you, Billie."

"I know...I'm sorry."

I smiled, feeling his hand slowly slide over my waist and under my tanktop, resting on my lower back. I pressed my lips against his softly, running a hand through his dark hair, feeling him grin. "Better hope I don't get sick from that," he whispered against my lips with a playful smile.

I giggled, wrapping my arms around his body, "Sue me."