Do You Think You're Up For This?

“Become a recluse, and I blame myself, ‘cause I make things hard and you’re just trying to help.” – Brand New

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I wake up feeling exhausted from another bad night’s sleep, noticing that I’m alone in bed.

I groan, pulling myself into a sitting position and slowly easing myself off the bed. I stand up straight with some difficulty; my back’s been bothering me lately. I look down at my swollen stomach that sticks out strangely from my thin hips. And I’ll only get bigger.

I cross the room to get socks out of the dresser; the floor is freezing. I sit down on the cold floor since I can’t bend over to put them on.

I manage to do so and then realize that I can’t stand up, either.

“Michael?” I whimper loudly. I try to get up while hearing his footsteps in the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” he asks from the doorway, looking worried.

I look at him from the floor with tears in my eyes.

“I can’t get up.”

For a few seconds, he looks as if he’s about to smile or laugh, until he sees the watery look on my face and then comes to help me up as I continue to ramble tearfully.

“And I can’t play guitar, or bend down, or drink coffee-”

“It’s okay, Rae…” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. “We’re mostly there.”

“That doesn’t help, I’m going to get fatter!” I whine, as leads me to the kitchen with an arm around me.

“I’ll still love you,” he offers, pouring himself a glad of orange juice after wiping my eyes for me. “I’ll be with you the entire time.” I sigh, feeling reassured until I remember something.

“But don’t you have tour in a few weeks?” I ask, frowning in confusion. He takes a long drink from his orange juice before replying.

“I’m not going on tour,” he states, looking up from his glass and waiting for my reaction.

“Michael!” I start to protest, but he stops me with a brief kiss to my lips and his hands on my shoulders.

“Rae. I want to be here with you. I don’t want you to be alone. It’s really no big deal. I already talked to the guys and Seb. He’s going to fill in for me since you four are on break. It’s all set. There’s nothing you can do about it,” he informs me, crossing his arms somewhat smugly.

“Fine,” I narrow my eyes at him, scowling and crossing my arms right back at him. He smiles, seemingly pleased with his self, walking past me to open the fridge and put the orange juice away.

“Unless you don’t want me here,” he murmurs into my ear from behind me, making me shiver. He wraps his arms around me and rests his head against mine, kissing me softly on the cheek.

“You still shouldn’t have given up tour,” I reply stubbornly. He chuckles, his warm breath hitting my neck and giving me goose bumps.

“There will be other tours. This is more important right now,” he insists, his hands now resting on my rounded belly.

“Well…”I try, but his lips on my neck are very distracting. “You could have talked to me first,” I finish.

“You tend to overreact to things, sweetheart,” he points out calmly, as I turn around to face him. I open my mouth to retort, but I stop when I realize he’s right.

“But what if your next tour isn’t for a long time?” I ask, pulling away from his arms to look at him. “It’s not fair to you,” I insist. “I went on my tour, you should go on yours.”

“That’s not the same; you’re on break now,” he argues, sounding hurt. “Don’t you want me to be here?”

“I want you to be here but I don’t want you to give up tour in order to do it!” I exclaim unreasonably.

“You do know that doesn’t make any sense, don’t you?” he points out, confusion wrinkling his forehead.

“I know and I don’t care!”

I also know I’m only being crazy because I’m pregnant, but I can’t seem to shut myself up regardless.

“What does that even mean? Why are you mad at me?” he asks, deflated.

“I’ll stop being mad if you say you’re going on tour!” I insist stubbornly.

“I’m not going on tour, Rae!” he exclaims, voice rising to match mine. “Please stop arguing with me about it, it’s done!”

“Why?” I demand. “You can’t do this!”

“I already did! I don’t understand what you want from me, Rae! I’m just trying to help!” he exclaims in frustration, rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m trying to be patient.”

I don’t reply for fear that I’ll start crying like a baby and then he’ll really think I’m completely insane.

He suddenly leaves the kitchen. I hesitantly follow and he unexpectedly grabs his jacket and slips on his shoes.

“I’m going out, I need to think.”

I don’t ask him where he’s going, I just watch him leave while the hot tears collect in my eyes.

I collapse on the couch, tired with my head aching from arguing.

I just feel frustrated that I’m holding him back, and I’m taking it out on him.

I know I’m being unreasonable in my expectations, and I realize I’m actually mad at him.

And not the stupid kind of mad, like when he turns the air conditioning off in the summer, or when he accidentally bleached my favorite hoodie.

I’m mad at him because he puts me before his own wants.

…so I guess I’m really mad at myself.