Do You Think You're Up For This?

”Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay, oh, I believe in yesterday.” – The Beatles

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Suzie, Seb, and pretty much everyone warned me not to, but of course, it only made me more curious and I couldn’t help myself.

Michael and the rest of TAI & crew have been away for a few weeks on a short world tour, and I’ve been bored, especially since Elliott’s taken to sleeping for longer periods of time and settled into routine.

I’ve held off as long as I could, and Michael’s returning at the end of the week, but I caved in today.

I don’t know what else could have possessed me to do this.

I’ve made the mistake of googling myself and the band, and happened to come upon a message board discussing the future of it.

Well, no one’s been able to get a picture yet, but as adorable as we’re sure this baby is, what will it mean for both bands?The Academy Is… plan on some vacation time before work on a new album, however, rumors say that Paint Me Perfect’s prolonged “time off” might turn into an indefinite hiatus. Drummer Jude Palermo and lead guitarist Sebastian Taylor refused to comment on the subject. Bassist Suzie Stratton (longtime girlfriend toThe Academy Is… rhythm guitarist Carden) waved off rumors of the band’s supposed break-up. No statement has been made by singer-

I can’t bring myself to finish it or even read the responses; it makes me sick to my stomach and I close the computer window.

I go to check on Elliott as a distraction. He’s calmly watching the mobile when I enter and starts making happy gurgling noises upon seeing my face. I immediately smile and reach down to pick him up.

After feeding him, I let him attempt to roll himself over on the carpet meanwhile I sit close by and check my email, avoiding messageboards and gossip sites at all costs.

A knock at the door startles me.

“Come in!” I call, knowing it can only be a small number of people.

Suzie walks in, followed by Seb, who’s been in town for the past two weeks, for no real reason.

“What’s that look on your face?” Suzie asks immediately.

“You read them, didn’t you?” Seb demands, bending over to pick Elliott up. He immediately latches his small hand onto a fistful of Seb’s hair.

“Rae-” Suzie groans.

“Damn, he’s got a grip, doesn’t he?” Seb winces a bit as Elliott gives a few good tugs.

“I know,” I laugh, but Suzie doesn’t join in.

“Don’t listen to what they say,” she continues instead.

“Suze, I’m fine,” I insist, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

And I’m not so sure I believe me, either.

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The realtor lets us wander the house alone while he takes a phone call on the first floor. It’s a decent-sized house; nicely decorated as well.

I head up the stairs with Michael trailing behind me. I suddenly feel very worn out while we explore the upstairs. It’s been the third house we’ve seen today.

“What do you think of this one, Rae? It’s nicer than the others, isn’t it?” he asks, arms snaking around my waist and head resting against mine as we pause to look around the master bedroom.

“I don’t know, Michael,” I sigh tiredly, turning in his arms. “I’m not in the mood for this. Can’t we just get the baby from my parents and go home?” He looks a bit surprised by my answer.

“Um, sure Rae. If that’s what you want.” He lets go of me and we go back downstairs.

Thankfully, we’re on our way to my parents’ house in Barrington not too long after. I’m curled up in the front passenger seat, feeling exhausted.

It’s just too much to think about in one day. What with worrying about Elliott all day and having Michael back home as well as us looking at houses, and also, as always, the future of the band is always in the back of my mind.

I feel a wave of relief as I carefully buckle the car seat and sleeping Elliott in and we’re finally on our way home.

I want nothing more than to put Elliott in his crib and fall asleep next to Michael.

He reaches over to run his fingers over my hand as we get back on the highway.

Next thing I know, he’s parking and I’m barely waking up.

He gets our sleeping baby from the backseat and I head up the walkway, unlocking the door and holding it open for him.

I take Elliott from Michael once we’re inside and take him to his room. He’s asleep, but starts stirring and whimpering as I’m about to try to place him in his crib. I rock him slowly for a few minutes, singing under my breath to calm him down.

When I’m sure he’s asleep, I put him down and cross the hall. Michael’s already in bed, so I shed my jeans, climbing in next to him and curling up in his arms.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks. “You seem a little off lately.” I shrug in response.

“I don’t know,” I sigh, tracing patterns on the bare skin of his chest with my fingertips.

I sigh again as Elliott begins to wail loudly out of nowhere.

“Don’t get up, I’ll get him,” Michael says, shifting under me.

“No, you got him last night,” I insist, ignoring his protests and climbing out of bed anyway, going back to Elliott’s room.

I look down at his little face, scrunched up and red as he cries and I suddenly feel overwhelmed. A bubble of fear bursts inside me, and I want to cry too, although I’m not entirely sure why.

I bite my lip, but my breathing starts coming irregularly along with my heart rate, and I know I can’t hold it in much longer. Elliott’s crying seems to abruptly escalate in volume and rings in my ears as I start to panic and freeze up.

“Rae?” I hear Michael ask from behind me, seeing as I’m frozen in my panic attack.

“I can’t do this right now,” I choke out tearfully, handing over Elliott to Michael and then walking off down the hall. I fall face-first onto the bed, pressing my face into the pillow so I won’t cry.

I don’t even know why.

I only notice that I’ve started crying when I raise my face for air, then it’s too late to stop the tears.

I hear the creak of Michael’s footsteps across the hall, putting Elliott back in his crib, and I realize he’s stopped crying, but I haven’t. I bury my face back in my pillow when I hear Michael’s footsteps coming in the direction of our bedroom. The pillowcase soaks up my tears, but I can’t hide the slight shaking of my shoulders with each sob.

I feel the mattress shift as he climbs in to lie down next to me. He scoots closer to me, slipping his hand under my shirt to massage my back soothingly, and I start to calm down. I manage to stop shaking, and he pulls me closer to him by the waist.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks quietly, running his fingers through my hair.

I don’t reply, mainly because I can’t, and also I don’t want him to see my tears, although it’s fairly obvious I’m crying.

He lets me get it out of my system, all the while humming softly as he alternates between rubbing my back and kissing my neck affectionately.

A headache invades my mind as soon as the tears stop and I wipe my face on my pillow. I finally roll over to look at Michael. He’s wearing a concerned expression as he studies me.

I know I look horrible; my head is aching painfully and my eyes hurt, too.

He pulls me into his arms regardless.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asks.

“If I knew, I’d tell you,” I reply. We fall silent for what feels like a long time before I speak again. “I’m thinking too much. I don’t know.”

Also, I realize those articles have been slowly getting to me, and I don’t know why I’m letting them.

Before Elliott was born, I hadn’t realized that I’d be able to focus so much of my life on things so unrelated to music and the band.

I had always thought they would be my priority.

These days I’m not so sure.