Frontwards

Wednesday, January 11th, 2006

“Oh well fuck you Helen.” But she was already gone. I slammed the phone back onto the stand and let out several long, deep breaths. This is what the pregnancy book I read on the plane suggested I do to relieve stress. Well, I don’t want to sound arrogant or anything but I have been breathing my whole life and I like to think I am pretty good at it. I need something much stronger than oxygen to calm me down but of course I’m not allowed to partake in the consumption of anything that might make me actually feel better because of the stupid child inside of my womb.

“Who was that?” Kate called blandly from the bathroom. The way she was layering on mascara you’d think she was going for dinner with a couple of rockstars. Oh wait.

“Work,” I called back, slumping down onto my lumpy small bed.

“What did they want?” she asked, stepping back into the room. She had curled her hair for some reason. We were only going for dinner with Gerard and Mikey. At times like this I often wonder if she is really a lesbian or if it is all a clever ruse to entrap boys with a false sense of security and then snare them in some kind of weird sexual trap. I’d rather not think about it. She walked over to the dresser and pouted into the mirror, messing her hair around a little. I rolled my eyes.

“They fired me,” I sighed.

Kate turned to face me with wide eyes. “What?!”

I shrugged offhandedly. “Yeah, turns out they frown upon new employees getting knocked up and fleeing the country for indefinite periods of time without telling them.” I sighed again. “It’s a mystery.”

Great. Pregnant and unemployed. I might as well start smoking and apply for the Jeremy Kyle show now. A lot of my time recently has been spent feeling sorry for myself. And crying. God Kate must hate me. Well with the exception that she was going to meet My Chemical Romance I suppose. How amusing that I hadn’t even heard of the band just two and a half short months ago. But how long ago it all seems now.

I rummaged through my suitcase for something to wear, eventually settling on a plain black skirt that would hopefully still fit around my fat ass, and a lacy pink top. “How do I look?” I asked Kate, giving her a little twirl. She dutifully tore her eyes from her own perfect reflection to glance at me, but continued to stare as I stood awkwardly in front of her. “What?” I asked nervously.

She snapped out of it pretty sharpish and shook her head. “Nothing,” she said quickly, turning back to the mirror. “Your boobs are just popping out a bit.”

I pushed her to the side to inspect myself in the mirror, and sadly she was right. I mean they were never small before. They were always ample. But now they just looked huge. Like comically large. I felt like some sort of superhero; Ridiculously Large Breasted Woman and her sidekick, Annoyingly Hot Girl.

As I searched for something else to wear, Kate continued to pout into the mirror and I glared at the back of her head. Sometimes I forget how goddamn beautiful she is. And tall. And thin. It’s sickening, really. It is in my best interest to kind of forget about her astonishingly pleasant features because it angers me slightly but she is so irritatingly nice and sweet that I can’t even hate her for it. I guess we couldn’t really look less alike for two blood relatives. Her hair is long and dark, tumbling in soft waves down her back; mine is mousey and seems to constantly be in that in-between stage of short and long, just below my shoulders. Her eyes are sparkling green and almond-shaped; mine are a grey-blue and one of them is lazy but they’re hidden behind thick glasses almost all the time anyway. Her skin is a creamy olive colour, unmarked by any imperfections; my skin is pale and I have freckles everywhere and I still seem to get the occasional blemish. I could go on and on about how my cousin is superior to me in every single way but it’s probably best that I don’t because I might just shoot myself.

Anyway, at least I have the massive jugs. So fuck you Kate.

Eventually I settled for a demure chiffon blouse that miraculously still buttoned up. I felt very mumsy all of a sudden. This is my life from now on.

I glanced enviously over at Kate again, still primping. She was wearing a stupidly tight white dress and a pair of black pumps which had little bows on them. Because you don’t need to wear heels when your legs stretch all the way up to infinity.

“You know we’re only going to Olive Garden,” I muttered, stuffing my giant feet into a pair of black boots.

She rolled her immacutely-lined eyes at me and finally dragged herself away from herself. “Okay. Let’s go, Stalin.”



I had told Mikey and Gerard that I would be bringing Kate along for dinner, of course, but what I failed to tell them is how gorgeous/embarrassing/homosexual/charming she was. It astonished me that one could be such a bizarre mixture of these characteristics and still have people like you, but she is almost undeniable. Ever since we were kids she has made friends so easily. Life is just so fucking perfect for her. Just another example of how far along you can get in life when you have long legs and white teeth.

She had them eating out of the palm of her hands as soon as we arrived at the restaurant. I could practically hear the crack as the boys’ jaws hit the floor, as if to say, “Who is that slamming hottie next to plain old pregnant Daisy? There’s no way they are related.”

Sucks for you, boys, because she’s a raving lesbian. This was the one thing I could take comfort in; that no matter how much guys would prefer to sleep with her over me, it just won’t happen.

“Mikey, Gerard,” I said as Kate and I took our seats, “this is Kate.” I didn’t feel the need to introduce her to them, as she was already gazing at them with an adoring wonderment. There was a strange atmosphere around the table. I set to work on a breadstick and perused the menu as they exchanged idle banter which didn’t concern me, and then finally we all remembered why we were here.

“How are you feeling, Daisy?” Gerard asked me softly. So softly that I just wanted to cry because he was being so nice to me. Damn hormones. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t want to cry.

Of course I didn’t mention any of this. I just closed the menu and slumped back in my chair, touching a hand to my stomach protectively. “Sucky,” I replied honestly, and Mikey gave a short chortle. Gerard shot him a blank stare and his expression turned to one of sympathy. I sighed. “Frank know you’re here?”

Mikey shook his head. “We told him we were going for dinner with our parents,” the younger brother told me.

“Oh.” Surely Frank isn’t that stupid? Maybe I over-estimated his intelligence, so blinded by love and lust that I failed to notice that he is in fact a moron. I took a deep breath and leant forwards onto my elbows. I was about to ask a question but before I could, we were approached by an overly chirpy blonde waitress.

“Are we ready to order here?” she asked breezily, all smiles. What are you so happy about? Can’t you see I am living in misery? Leave me alone. Get your cheer out of my face.
A round of nodding ensued from the rest of the group as I tried my best not to let my face show that I wanted to slap the stupid grin off of her face. Her nametag read ‘Delilah.’ What a pretentious name.

“Um,” Kate began, as the boys silently articulated for her to order first. “I’ll have the tomato and goat’s cheese tortellini, please,” she said in her best voice. I snorted a little inwardly at her efforts, and then realised that Delilah was looked expectantly at me.

“Yeah, could I have the fillet mignon, medium rare, but instead of the creamy mushroom sauce, could I have the red wine jus that comes with the pigeon? And also instead of new potatoes can I have it with fries?” I paused as she jotted this all down. “And instead of the salad garnish can I have extra fries?”

She frowned as she furiously scribbled away at her notepad, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she struggled to get down my ridiculously complicated order. If anything is wrong with my meal I am going to kick off. That’ll show her. Thinks she’s so good. I could tell she wanted to hit me. Pregnant or not, I'd kick her scrawny ass. Little bitch. “Very good,” she lied, plastering on another fake smile as she turned to the boys. Shut up smiling. "Gentlemen?”

They both ordered chicken and I called them, and this is a direct quote, “fucking pussies.” Mikey and Kate also got a bottle of wine to share. Lucky bastards. Gerard and I sipped at water.

“So,” I said finally, cutting through what had been a reasonably uncomfortable silence. “What happened after I left last night?”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Oh, right.” As if he had forgotten that anything had actually happened. He took a deep breath. “Before I begin, I want to ask you – all of you-” He cast a glance sideways at his brother, “-not to interrupt me, okay?”

We all nodded obediently, even Kate.

“Okay. Well when you and Mikey left, I stood in the kitchen for a while, trying to hear what was going on inside the living room. But they were having a very hushed argument so I only caught a few words, one of which was ‘pregnant’, so presumably Frank had confessed everything to Saskia.”

I scoffed. Saskia. What was it with pretentious names in this place?

Gerard shot me a glare and I zipped it.

“Anyway, so after a couple minutes she stormed into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her and telling me to drop dead, which I thought was especially nice. Then she just walked out. Left all her stuff, just went. After a few seconds Frank emerged sheepishly from the living room, too, holding a sonogram in one hand and Saskia’s engagement ring in the other. He asked me where you had gone and I said Mikey was taking you back to your hotel. He was doing that annoying thing where he like ruffles the hair at the back of his head, for ages.” I smiled because I know it all to well and it’s adorable. “Then eventually I asked what happened. He said Saskia had asked who the other girl was and what she was doing here, so he told her everything. About the week in London, about the baby, everything. Obviously she was pretty pissed, so she threw her ring at him, told him to go to hell, and then she left. Then he asked me what you had said to me. So I told him you were crying, a lot, and how you knew about Saskia, and that you had thought it would be best if you left.”

The four of us sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Did he say what he was going to do?” Kate asked eventually.

Gerard shook his head. “Nah. He just went upstairs. After a while I followed him and he was in his room, going through all of Saskia’s stuff and shoving it in bags. I just left him to it.” He turned to me. “He still not called you?”

I slowly shook my head.

“How long are you staying?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Haven’t really thought about it. I haven’t got a job or anything to get home for. Just Atticus really.” I looked up at the boys’ blank faces. “The cat.”

“Ahhhh,” they nodded.

What I really wanted to ask was why Gerard and Mikey had failed to mention Saskia to me before, and why they turned a blind eye as Frank so ruthlessly cheated on her. I wanted to ask if this was normal behaviour, sort of a ‘what goes on tour stays on tour’ type of thing. But in the interest of not spoiling the night, I kept it shut. I figured there would be plenty of opportunity in the coming days/weeks/months for me to bring it up again.

So we passed the rest of the time with idle chit-chat as we ate (my meal was perfect, which disappointed me a little) and I actually had a pretty good time. Gerard wasn’t drinking either, so we had a more intellectual discussion as Kate and Mikey conversed tipsily about their favourite MTV shows (Room Raiders and My Super Sweet Sixteen, respectively) after their second bottle of wine.

Just as the bill was on its way, my phone started ringing. “Oh, sorry,” I mumbled as I fished around in my bag for it. When I eventually got it, I stared at the screen for a couple of seconds. “It’s Frank,” I announced, silencing everyone’s conversation.

“Answer it, you moron,” Kate slurred. Gerard and Mikey agreed, so I pressed the green button and held the phone to my ear.

“H-hello?” I stuttered.

“Daisy,” came a voice. He sounded almost relieved. “I didn’t think you would pick up.”

I was suddenly very aware that I had six eyes boring into my head as I spoke, so I politely excused myself and went to stand outside. They seemed almost disappointed. “I thought about it,” I replied as I weaved through the busy restaurant.

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

I didn’t reply. He sure had a lot of explaining to do.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally said. It sounded like he was sighing. “I just really... I really need to talk to you about this, about everything.”

“I don’t see why I should let you,” I whispered, tears gathering in my eyes for about the fourth time today.

“Daisy, I know I don’t even deserve your time,” he said quietly. “But I would really like the chance to explain myself, I mean, I think we should try and work this out. Not just for us, but for...” He tailed off. Then after a lengthy pause and another sigh he added; “...for the baby.”

I shook my head, smiling in a way that did not express happiness, even though he couldn’t see me. “Don’t do that, Frank. Don’t use the baby against me. I’m very aware that we need to talk. You don’t need to guilt me out.”

“I’m sorry.” I heard him exhale. I bet he was doing that neck-rubbing thing again. “So can I meet you? Tonight?”

“I’m busy tonight,” I said. “I’m having dinner with my cousin.” Not a lie, technically.

“Well, when you get back to your hotel, then. Please, Daisy, I want to make this right. We can open a bottle of wine, and...” He hesitated again. Idiot. “Sorry. That was stupid of me to say. But I mean the rest of it. Where are you staying?”

“It’s not that simple, Frank,” I replied, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket. “What about Kate? I can’t very well kick her out of her own hotel room.”

“Well we can drive somewhere. Please?”

I didn’t really have an argument for this.

“Fine,” I agreed. “We’re just getting the bill now. Pick me up from the Marriot in half an hour.”

“Great!” He sounded actually quite happy. “I’ll see you then.”

Once again I did my deep breathing and threw my phone back into my bag. Then I went back inside and sat down with my companions.

“Apologies,” I breathed as I sat back down.

All three of them were staring at me expectantly. I could tell they had been gossiping about me whilst I was gone, but it was difficult to be angry with them. Somewhere in the restaurant a child was crying. I know how you feel, kid.

“He’s picking me up from the hotel in half an hour,” I told them, before anyone asked. I then realised that I was still a bit weepy, but deduced that it didn’t really matter.

Kate nodded, and carefully stood up. She was drunk. She was a mean drunk. Funny, but mean. She could be brutally frank at the best of times. Oh. Frank. Arghhhh.

“I’ll drive you back,” Gerard offered, also rising to his feet.

“Don’t we have to pay?” I laughed.

“Done,” Kate said, slipping into her faux fur coat and fanning her hair behind her. Before I could argue, she spoke up again. “Shush. Put your coat on. I’m sacrificing a dessert for you, you bitch.”

Charming.