Frontwards

Tuesday 6th February, 2006.

I somehow managed to sleep until 4pm yesterday so I didn’t have much of a chance to talk to Frank about the whole me-needing-to-marry-him thing. But thankfully I woke up well before him this morning.

There aren’t many feelings in the world that are better than waking up next to somebody who loves you, I don’t think. And that is coming from me; one of the least romantic people you could ever hope to meet. But it is true, in my opinion, and I don’t even care if people think it’s sad or soppy or whatever else. I’m slowly learning that I’m fine just the way I am. I don’t need to pretend to be something else or hide what I really think, or what I really feel, because there will still be people who won’t like it. As my grandma would have said, you can’t please everybody all the time. So it’s better to be honest, to look out at the world and say, ‘This is who I am, and I like it, so screw you if you don’t.’ At least I know there are some people in the world who love me. One of whom is all the way in England and another of whom is right beside me in this bed.

Frank is cute when he’s sleeping but after a couple of minutes watching him, I got a little bored, so I gave him a little nudge.

“Hey you,” I whispered, as his eyes flickered open.

He gave a small groan and a stretch, followed by a sleepy smile. “Hey yourself.”

He rested the tip of his nose onto mine and I felt overwhelmed with emotion. Which, you know, I’m getting pretty used to these days.

“I had a dream about peacocks,” he announced.

Ah, the dream conversations. Is there a more coupley activity in the whole of creation than lying in bed in a morning, discussing the images that haunt you in the night? It’s a coupley thing because nobody else ever gives a shit what you dream about, unless it involves them in some way. But when you’re in a relationship, you have to care about the other person’s dreams. Don’t ask me why. You just do. You lie there every morning and listen to them banter on about giant ladybugs, or airport security, or being chased by an angry can of hairspray, and in return they pretend to be interested in your own damaged psyche. It’s a truly unique experience and I can’t say I mind it all too much.

So as Frank was wittering on about peacocks, I was figuring out how exactly to approach the topic of citizenship. I thought a casual approach would be best, as if I had not even really thought about it. Sort of like a ‘oh by the way’ kind of thing. Maybe.

Anyway it doesn’t even fucking matter because not two minutes later, the phone was ringing, and Frank had sprung out of bed to answer it in the hallway. I lay my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes and tried to listen to what was being said, but sadly to no avail. So I just lay there and waited for Frank to come back and tell me.

“Daisy, you’re not going to believe this,” he announced from the doorway.

I opened my eyes, reached onto the nightstand for my glasses, and sat up, squinting at him. “What?” I asked inquisitively. I can imagine how horrifically unattractive my face must have looked from that angle. Such is life.

Frank was grinning so it must have been good news. “We’re going to California,” he said, simple as that.

I raised my eyebrows. “We?”

“You’re coming with us,” he told me, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Like I had questioned what colour the sky was. “We leave on Friday.”

I frowned. “What?” This really is a lot of information to process after only ten minutes of consciousness. Oh, what a beautiful new day for you, Daisy. And by the way you’re going to California in two days. What?

Frank chuckled and sat by my feet, taking my hands in his. “We have a meeting in Burbank with our producers,” he explained. “About the new album. They want us to go in and check out the studio and shit. The record company is putting us up in a hotel and they said I could bring you.”

Still, what? I blinked a little as I gave my brain a chance to catch up. “Right,” I said slowly. “But I can’t fly, Frank, that’s the whole reason I’m still here.”

Frank nodded. “And that’s why they’re sending a bus for us.”

“A bus?” For some reason I pictured the number 5 that drove past my house in Nottingham every morning.

“Yeah, our old tour bus from last year.” Oh. That makes more sense.

So there you go. One minute you’re talking about peacock ghosts and the next minute, bam, you’re packing your suitcase to go to California for a week.

And just as I thought my life couldn’t get any weirder.

Wednesday 7th February, 2006.

And so I find myself back at the fucking mall. There are far too many people in malls, if you ask me, which I realise you didn’t but you’re reading this so you must be somewhat interested in what I have to say about things. I’ve never particularly been a people person – quelle fucking surprise – so malls make me a little anxious, with all those bodies pushing past one another and everybody rushing to be somewhere. Where are you going, everyone? Why are you all running late?

“I fucking hate malls,” Alice muttered lowly from beside me. A woman after my very own heart.

But Daisy, you might be thinking, wasn’t it just the other week that you spent nearly $200 on clothes? And to you I say yes, yes it was. But those, my dear friends, were winter clothes. Because it is winter in New Jersey. In California, it is never winter. It is summer, always, and as such it calls for summery clothes. Fuck you, California. With your sunshine.

Finally, Alice and I battled our way into an American Eagle. Which is a shop, by the way, not a giant bird in the centre of a shopping mall. That would be alarming.

Alice looked plain ridiculous standing in the middle of American Eagle wearing her skull-print black vest top, with her tattooed arms visible, not to mention the seven – count them, seven – piercings in her face alone. She stuck out like a sore thumb in an ocean of neutral colours, god bless her.

To her credit, she looked like she didn’t even care. Which I’m sure she probably didn’t. She just drifted along beside me as I picked out pieces that I quite liked. If she noticed the weird looks she was getting, she didn’t mention it. But then I wouldn’t expect her to.

“I quite like this,” I said vaguely, fingering the material of a navy sundress.

Alice nodded. “It’s cute,” she said, but I didn’t quite believe her. My taste is worlds away from Alice’s, but I think she has a good eye for things. She will tell me if something doesn’t suit me. She knows my style better than I do, and although it is nothing like hers, I think she respects that it’s just how I do things, the same as I do with hers. I think Alice looks amazing all the time, but I personally wouldn’t dress as she does because I’d feel like a tit. And I think that’s mutual. And it’s definitely a good thing.

So anyways, we picked up a bunch of stuff that I liked and headed to the fitting rooms. To be careful, I picked everything out in one size bigger than my usual size (which in American sizes is still one size smaller than the clothes I wear in England, which is a little confusing even if you are a super maths geek like myself) and mostly they seemed to fit pretty well. So I left American Eagle feeling pretty accomplished with 4 new dresses, 2 skirts, and a pair of flip-flops.

Alice wanted to go to Hot Topic. Obviously. Which made me feel a little nervous but she assured me everything would be okay and I tried my hardest to believe her.

The attack I faced is still pretty fresh to me. It wasn’t so long ago and I certainly haven’t forgotten it. I still get nervous around crowds and I still can’t face going anywhere alone. Ultimately I’m still scared of it happening again. Alice knows this better than anybody, but Alice is a tough bitch and I’m a pussy. Which is exactly why I like having her around. I know that if anything were to happen right now, in the mall, Alice would kick some ass to make sure I didn’t get hurt again.

But understandably, I was nervous all the same.

Thankfully the shop was pretty empty so we were free to wander around as we pleased. The checkout girl did give us a bit of a double take as we walked in but otherwise there was nothing out of the ordinary to report.

“I think,” Alice announced, “that you should buy this.”

The ‘this’ she was referring to was a white tank top adorned with flowers and skulls. It was cute, actually. Very cute. Just, as I said, not very me. Before I could say this, though, she added, “I think it’ll look really good with that black skirt you just bought.”

As I said, she certainly has an eye for these things because, as I inspected myself in the whole ensemble, it looked great. It was just subtle enough so that it still looked like me. It wasn’t all in your face, like Alice, but it was cute with just the right amount of edgy. And it fit perfectly. It was loose enough for the California heat and skimmed right over my not-so-little belly. And it made my boobs look amazing. Bonus.

“I love it,” Alice grinned as I opened the curtain. “You have to buy it. If you don’t, I will buy it for you and blackmail you into wearing it.”

“Not necessary,” I grinned, twirling in front of the mirror. “I love it.”

So we left the mall victorious. Victorious but significantly poorer. Nice try, mall, but we win this round.

Thursday 8th February, 2006.

“Toothbrush?”

“Check.”

“Suntan lotion?”

“Check.”

“Pregnancy pills?”

“Check. Frank, I told you, I’ve packed everything,” I said, for the hundredth time.

“I’m just making sure,” he replied, for the hundredth time. “I don’t want to get halfway there before you realise you forgot your medicine. You know, the stuff that’s keeping you and our baby alive.”

I giggled and shook my head. “You’re so cute,” I said, walking across the room to kiss him. “But don’t worry, okay? It’s all packed. I’m one hundred percent ready to go.” Does he really not know me well enough to have realised that planning is the one thing I can be trusted to do?

“Okay,” Frank nodded. He took my hands and led me to the bed. “I’m so excited.”

“Me too,” I replied, and I wasn’t lying. After I’d gotten used to the fact that I was being taken to California I started to look forward to it. I always wanted to live there, because it all seems so relaxed and laid-back. Which is pretty much the exact opposite of me. It would probably do me some good if a little bit of Cali rubbed off on me.

“I’m gonna make sure we get at least a whole day to ourselves,” Frank said, kissing my forehead. “Okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” I said. Maybe I can ask you to marry me, I thought.