The Softer Side of Unbearable

Bailey knew a bit more about meth than she was letting on. When she was twenty, her parents had attempted to force her into a safe job for the last time. They had taken it upon themselves to apply her to a post-secondary institution. That Christmas, they had wrapped up her acceptance letter and set it carefully under the tree. Bailey had taken one semester of psychology courses before dropping out to focus on the band.

In the course of her schooling, she had learned that prolonged use of meth always led to schizophrenia. Always. Unfortunately, she hadn't stayed in school long enough to learn the types and symptoms of the condition. All she knew was that it was viewed in a negative way.

But if Angel became schizophrenic, would she be beyond reason? And how long would it take before that happened?

She hopped up onto the counter top in her kitchen, biting into an apple. She had lost a noticeable amount of weight over the past few months. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was always too busy or worried to eat. If Spencer had seen her like this, she knew that he would have forced her to eat a few meals of fast food. He always told her that he found super-skinny girls unattractive. She would usually be ready with some snappy comeback about the fact that he didn't find any girls attractive.

"How are you doing today?" Matt asked, pulling a carton of milk from the fridge.

Bailey shrugged. "As good as can be expected."

"Look," he paused, pouring the milk into a glass and putting the carton back into the refrigerator. "I've been doing some thinking-"

"Haven't we all?"

Matt looked at her with hesitant eyes. He pushed his hair back off of his forehead. "What if you give in?" He didn't sound concerned. On the contrary, the words came out sounding like a proposition.

Bailey swallowed the chunk of apple that was in her mouth. "What do you mean?"

Matt shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to break it gently. He knew that she wasn't going to react well to what he had to say. The last thing that he wanted to do was to upset her. He finished off his milk, then set the empty glass in the kitchen sink.

"What if you let her play a few shows?"

Bailey choked on a piece of apple skin. She coughed loudly, trying to dislodge the blockage. When she recovered a moment later, she gaped at Matt wordlessly. Her eyes bulged in disbelief.

"What? If I let her play, then what was everything else for? Why did I storm out of her house and lose all faith in her?"

"I'm not saying that all of that wasn't valid," he argued.

"Then what are you saying? I thought you were on my side here, Matt," Bailey couldn't stop the betrayal that she felt from leaking into her voice.

"You know that I'm on your side," Matt's voice was gentle. "On hardcore drug use, of all things, I'm on your side. But clearly the intervention didn't faze her. We've got to look at other options here."

Bailey climbed down from the counter and tossed her half-eaten apple in the trash. Suddenly, she wasn't hungry. Actually, she felt slightly ill.

"How is giving in to her going to accomplish anything? It'll only make me look spineless. That's the last thing that I want to do. Angel and I have enough issues right now; I can't let her think that I'm a pushover. I can't just retract my threat. That's not the kind of person that I want to be."

Matt listened patiently. He knew better than to interrupt her when she felt that she had a point to make. The last thing that he wanted to do was to start another fight. Little did he know, he'd already lit the match. The fire was sure to follow.

"Bailey, Angel isn't going to get better this way. She's stubborn. Maybe if we get her back on stage, she'll figure out for herself that she can't have the best of both worlds. You don't really expect her to rub it in your face for trying to help, do you? Even Angel isn't that conniving."

"But that's exactly what she's expecting us to do! Don't you get it? She doesn't have to wait out the effects of the meth, she only has to wait out us! She knows that! Angel is crafty, and she is counting down the days until we let her have her way. I refuse to look weak in front of her!"

"So what do you want to do then? What's your big idea?" Despite his best efforts, his patience was wearing thin.

"I'm not going to do anything. I need a break from this. Can't I just have a stress-free life for a few days?"

"It's not going to be stress-free, don't you see that? Unless you take some kind of action, you're going to dwell on this even more than you do now."

Bailey's jaw tightened. She was holding herself together as well as she possibly could, but she knew that she was nearing her boiling point. She took a few slow, deliberate breaths. "If I go through with an action that I don't believe in, I'll feel even worse. What if your little plan doesn't work?"

Matt was beginning to regret bringing up the subject at all. He knew that it was too late to turn back now. "But what if it does? And even if it doesn't, you'll be right back where you are now. What will it hurt to try?"

"At this point in my life, I don't have much. But I have my self respect. And giving in to Angel's demands right now would jeopardize that."

"You're being over dramatic."

"Am I? You don't know what this is like for me!"

"I was in a very similar situation once, remember? I know exactly what it's like for you," Matt pointed a finger toward Bailey's chest. "Don't act all high and mighty over this. I might not have known what you were going through when Spencer died, but I understand exactly what it's like to watch someone that you care about spiral out of control. If you don't want to take my advice, that's fine, but don't you dare pretend that you're the only victim here."

With a snarl on her lips, Bailey slapped his hand away. "You want me to give in to her? Fine. We'll play some shows. Why not? What could possibly go wrong?" Her voice was sharp and mocking. "If she dies on the road, her blood is on your hands."

"Seriously, could you be any more over the top right now?"

"Could you be any more insensitive?"

"Yes, I could. I could have left you here alone when you needed me. I could have left you after you found out about Angel. I could have went home any one of those nights that you woke up screaming. And I could have left you to your own devices when you were at your worst. But I didn't."

Bailey faltered. She was in the mood to fight. She wanted to yell and scream and throw a glass against the wall. But Matt's words left her with no more verbal weapons. She stared at him for a long moment, feeling her face get hot. She blinked as if she were fighting back tears, even though she could not yet feel them coming.

"You win, Matt," she sounded defeated.

"I didn't mean it like that," he sighed. His shoulders slumped.

"No, you're right. I need to go and see if I can get us booked somewhere anytime soon."

"Bailey, I-"

She shook her head to silence him. "Don't. You made a good point. I'm going to go and make some calls. I'm, um," she cleared her throat loudly. "I'm sorry I blew up at you. You don't deserve that. You've been nothing but good to me."

She stepped around him and disappeared into her bedroom. Matt leaned back against the counter. He felt as though he'd broken her. She didn't need someone to pick fights with her right now, no matter how thick she was being. Maybe it was time for him to go home; he knew he had probably worn out his welcome by now. The glimpse of happiness that he seemed to have given her in her dreams the night before had faded. He didn't want to stay if it would result in the two of them constantly being at one another's throats.

"It's done," she said, re-entering the kitchen and folding her arms across her chest. "I've got to call Jeff and Angel, but we've got some gigs if we want them."

Matt's eyebrows shot up in shock. "That was fast."

"Yeah, well, I was offered a spot on a tour awhile back, remember?"

"The Billy Talent tour?"

Bailey nodded. "I just called Ben."

Matt looked away, and Bailey felt a pang of remorse. She knew that Matt had meant for her to take baby steps. He had probably intended for Antagonist Theory to play a local show. Bailey, on the other hand, had thought that it might be best to take the golden opportunity that had been laid at her feet.

The pair stood in silence for a long moment. Finally, Matt gave her a half smile. "I'm glad that you came around."

Bailey picked at a hangnail, trying to avoid Matt's eyes. "We leave in two days."

"Wow. You'd better have a rehearsal. You guys are probably getting pretty rusty. I mean, I haven't seen you pick up your bass once in the whole time that I've been here."

"Yeah, I guess we've got our work cut out for us."

After another small pause, Matt stood up straight. "I think I'm going to head home. You're going to be pretty busy until you go. I don't want to get in your way."

Bailey's head snapped up. "Oh," she said simply, trying to hide how let down she felt. What had she expected?

"So, uh, I guess I should get my stuff together."

"I should call Jeff."

They dispersed from the kitchen, each heading in a different direction. Jeff agreed to call Angel and tell her about the tour, and they agreed to meet up a few hours later for a band practice. Bailey was actually starting to believe that it might be an alright plan. She returned to the living room just as Matt zipped up his duffel bag.

"You're really leaving?"

He threw the bag over his shoulder. "You're going to have to get used to being without me if you're going on tour. You can call if you need me. I'll be back here in a heartbeat."

Bailey nodded, but she knew that she wouldn't call him if she had a nightmare. She took his departure as a sign that he needed a break. She didn't want to ruin that for him.

"Maybe you can actually get a whole night's sleep tonight," she cracked a smile.

"Keep me up to date on everything, okay? Good luck, Bailey. I really hope that this works out."

After a quick hug, Matt left. Bailey sunk down into the couch. She looked around the apartment, then reached over the back of the sofa and picked up her bass guitar.

She felt the sudden need to make some noise, as if that would make her empty home feel less lonely.