Do You Think You're Up For This?

“You'll be accepting my apology, for taking things too seriously. Sometimes I'm old enough to keep routines; sometimes I'm child enough to scream.” – The Get Up Kids

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“One more time, Rae,” Patrick says. I clear my throat, waiting for him to start the track so that I can get at least one decent take in the studio tonight.

It’s late, and I’m getting more and more frustrated with each one, and I can tell Patrick’s tired as well.

“Stop,” he says. “Again.”

I try to sing, but I can feel my voice straining itself and I don’t even want to hear how horrible I must sound on the playback.

“Hold on. This isn’t like you, Rae. What’s going on?” He sounds exhausted, and I know we all are.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” I mumble, hanging up the headphones and exiting the soundbooth.

He follows me back to the main room, where Seb, Jude, and Suzie are waiting. I gratefully catch a water bottle Jude tosses my way.

“It’s late. We’ll finish up in the morning,” Patrick informs them.

I drive back to the apartment in exhaustion, with thoughts only of being in bed.

I don’t even notice I’m crying until I’m parking in front of the apartment. I wipe the hot, frustrated tears from my eyes carelessly and head inside.

It’s late enough that the lights are off and Nicola must be asleep.

I slip quietly into Elliott’s room to kiss him goodnight as he sleeps in his crib.

I debate calling Michael to cheer myself up, or just to hear his voice, but I’m so exhausted that I can’t even compute the time difference and give up.

I eventually fall asleep hoping things will be better in the morning.

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Tonight, Nicola is out with Seb, Jude, Amy, Suzie, and Mike.

I lie in bed with Elliott, talking and singing to him because there’s no pressure. He babbles back, trying to imitate the sounds and making me smile.

Our peaceful moment is interrupted by my cell phone ringing and startling Elliott.

“Hey Pete,” I greet, handing Elliott a toy to distract him for a few minutes. He happily sticks it in his mouth to chew on.

“Rae,” he replies. By the tone of his voice I can tell it’s not a call just to see how I’m doing.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“Um…sort of. Patrick won’t be able to help you finish the record.”

I wait for him to tell me he’s messing with me.

“What?” I ask, still speechless and half-hoping it’s a joke.

“He thinks you should get a new producer,” he continues, regardless. “Someone you haven’t worked with yet.”

“So you’re saying we just wasted two weeks in the studio?” I ask flatly. “Why didn’t he say something earlier?”

“Look, he doesn’t have a choice, Rae. Something came up at home; he’s on a flight to Chicago right now. He’s going to call you himself. I just thought you should know sooner rather than later.” I give a long sigh, trying to think. “I’m sure you can use most of the material. It’s not a waste,” he adds.

“What are we going to do?” I sigh, tears pressing against my closed eyelids.

“I’ll find you someone. Don’t even worry about it yet.”

“Okay,” I say, through the knot in my throat. I rub my face with my free hand and he says a few other things that don’t process in my mind before I hang up.

I sigh for the third time, slumping down on the bed next to Elliott, tossing my cell phone aside. He gurgles curiously, as if questioning my odd behavior.

“What are we gonna do now, baby?” I whisper to him, kissing his soft head of sandy hair. He grabs my fingers to bite my hand with his teething gums.

I tickle him with my free hand, and he laughs his baby laugh, kicking his tiny feet in protest.

I find myself wishing that everything could come as easily as the way Elliott makes it seem.

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A smile spreads across his face when he sees me and starts making his way over. I’m so happy I’m rooted to the spot with an idiotic grin on my face that mirrors his.

A few seconds later, I’m enveloped in his arms, sighing in relief as he kisses the top of my head.

“How’s Elliott?” he mumbles into my hair.

“Fine. Great, actually,” I breathe back.

“And you?”

I don’t reply, only rest my face in his neck, kissing him there softly.

“How’s the record coming?” he asks eagerly. I shake my head and he pulls away to look at me. “What happened?”

“I don’t even want to talk about it now,” answer tiredly. He doesn’t pursue the subject and we make our way to the parking lot.

“Let me drive,” he offers. “You look tired.” I hand him the keys and climb into the passenger’s seat gratefully, closing my eyes and attempting to ignore the headache that’s been plaguing me since Pete’s call last night. He gets in the driver’s seat once he puts his luggage in the trunk.

He’s thankfully silent until halfway home in traffic, noticing my mood.

I feel his hand on my knee, giving a light squeeze. I open my eyes to look at him.

“I missed you, Rae,” he says, giving me a brief sideways glance.

“We don’t have a producer. Patrick can’t do it anymore,” I say abruptly a few minutes later, because I know I’ll have to tell him eventually.

“Rae…” he starts, glancing at me again in worry.

“Can we…not talk about it right now?” I ask tensely, looking out the window. “Please?”

“If that’s what you want,” he sighs, and we fall silent until we get back to the apartment.
Seb and Nicola are on the couch, watching tv in the living room, when we arrive.

Seb immediately takes his arm from around her shoulders and she jumps up to hug Michael.

“Hey Michael,” Seb greets awkwardly. I roll my eyes. Why he’s still intimidated by Michael just because he’s officially Nicola’s boyfriend now is beyond me.

“Hey,” Michael greets distractedly. “Is Elliott taking a nap?”

“He fell asleep about an hour ago,” Nicola replies, settling back down next to Seb. I follow Michael down the hall to Elliott’s room to give Nicola and Seb some privacy.

He’s awake when we walk in. I linger in the doorway, watching as Michael walks over to the crib and Elliott gurgles in excitement and starts babbling nonsensically when he sees his father’s face.

A smile spreads across my face as I watch him whisper to our baby and kiss his head.

It distracts me from everything I’m worrying about for the time being.

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After dinner, Nicola leaves with Seb to spend the night at his place. They’re out the door before Michael can protest or even question his younger sister.

I take a shower meanwhile Michael puts Elliott to bed.

For now, I’m just relieved Michael hasn’t had a chance to question me about the studio; I just don’t want to think about it until I have to, or until we have a permanent producer.

I dry myself off and pull on some clean underclothes and one of Michael’s t-shirts.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asks, when he comes back in the room, just as I’m about to get in bed.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want to think about it,” I groan, putting my hands over my face. “Would you stop asking about it?”

“I just want to help, Rae,” he says, back turned while he changes for bed.

“Well, you can’t,” I point out in frustration. “Okay?”

He turns to look at me, startled by the annoyance in my tone.

“The last few days in the studio were a waste. My voice was terrible,” I inform him flatly. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I’m sure you’re overreacting, Rae-” he starts.

“Why do you always say that?” I snap in irritation.

It’s just gets to me how easy he makes it seem. Everything with his career is going great, meanwhile mine can barely hold itself together.

“What’s wrong, Rae?” he asks, genuine concern swimming in his light eyes. “What can I do?”

“Nothing!” I exclaim. “You can leave me alone; there’s nothing else!” I shout at him. “I don’t want to talk to you right now!”

I hear Elliott across the hall, starting up a crying fit, because of my yelling.

Michael doesn’t yell back at me like he should. He just looks away and walks out the door.

“Michael-” I start apologetically, but by the time the words leave my mouth he’s in Elliott’s room, trying to calm him down again.

I sigh guiltily, crawling into bed and feeling terrible.

Of course, I have to start a fight with him and ruin his first night back.

An I didn't even ask him how the tour was.

I bury my face in my pillow, very much wanting to scream at myself.

I feel him slip under the covers beside me a few minutes later.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask quietly, rolling over to face him. It’s too dark for me to see his expression.

“No,” he assures me. His fingers begin to play with the ends of my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, scooting closer to him.

“It’s fine. I understand,” he says. “You’re stressed out. No worries.”

“I just don’t want to mess this up, and everything’s going wrong. What if we’re not meant to-”

“You can’t think like that,” he interrupts.

“It’s hard. Nothing’s the same anymore,” I continue.

“I know,” he sighs, pulling me closer to kiss my neck.

“Why don’t you ever get mad at me?”

“Because it doesn’t fix anything. And you don’t deserve it,” he replies.

“Why is everything so easy for you?” I sigh.

“It’s not,” he answers. “Do you think it’s easy to just leave you all here for a tour?” he breathes against my neck. “I feel guilty going on tours,” he whispers. “And I still feel bad for when I br-”

“Don’t,” I stop him softly. “I already forgave you. We’re together now, I don’t care about what happened in between,” I tell him. I don’t like to think about that bad time in my relatively short life.

It’s behind us now, as it should be.

“So you forgive me, and I forgive you,” he says.

“Good.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks.

“What?” I ask unsurely.

“I never got a welcome back kiss.”

I smile in spite of myself and pull his face closer to mine so our lips can meet.