I Can't Remember a Word That You Were Saying...

They spent the day with each other, happy as can be. Sometimes he laughed. They had such a bipolar marriage. They fought last night, and now they're cuddling on the couch.

Group "aww" everyone.

He always thought she was beautiful, no matter what. She was gorgeous the first time he saw her, and she's gorgeous now, her head on his shoulder.

another group "aww."

He was always afraid of losing her. It took him four years to actually have her to call as his own, and lately it felt like one small remark would make her snap and she'd leave him.

He was always afraid of that. They had beautiful kids, he didn't want them to choose who they wanted to live with. He wanted to be a happy father and a happy husband.
He was most of the time...

He didn't feel like one at some points, feeling like a bad father for missing Joey's first homerun in a baseball game and Jakob's first goal in soccer.

Why?

Because he was on a stage somewhere in Europe.

He always praised his wife, not just for loving her, but for the fact that she had to raise two young boys all on her own because he was, as just stated, on a stage somewhere in Europe-

-dancing around in a thong.

Oh, yeah. very mature, no?

He shook his head, causing her to snuggle in closer to him. He put his arm around her. They've been watching television mindlessly for the past half hour or so.

She smiled contently. She was happy. He made her happy.
When they weren't fighting.

She cleared her thoughts, she didn't want to think about that now. She hated fighting with him and she hated admitting they were in a "rough patch" of their marriage right now. They had been married a very long time, not everything is gonna be peachy all the time.

Especially when your husband is in the biggest punk rock band in the world.

Yeah, they've had their happier times, and yeah, they've had the times where they wouldn't fight every night....

She hated the nighttime. Yes, it was beautiful outside, she loved that, but she knew, once it became night, they'd find something to fight about. And it killed her. The bad nights were just terrible.

A memory came into her head. They fought that night, so badly, they even resorted to hitting each other. She ran out of the room and he locked the door.

"Fucking bitch." He mumbled.

She had been crying, causing her mascara to run down her face. She was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.
She thought she was alone before she heard a tiny, sad voice pop up.

"Mommy, were you and daddy fighting again?"
"No, Joey, daddy is just a bit upset, it's alright."
"Then why are you crying, mommy?"
"It hurts to see daddy that way, honey. Now go back to bed, alright? You have school tomorrow."

Without another word, Joey bounced back up the stairs and went back to his room.

She shook her head. She hated lying to her own kids.

Daddy wasn't upset, Daddy was being a bastard.

But that wasn't happening now, and she prayed to god it wouldn't happen tonight.

She sighed and cuddled closer into him and they kept watching whatever they did.