Sequel: Upwards

Frontwards

Seven days.

Monday 25th February, 2006.

So guess who managed to leave her diary on the fucking tour bus? Genius Daisy Montague of course.

I realised it was missing on Monday night. We got back to New Jersey at around 5pm, all tired and gross from travelling for two days in a cramped bus with one shower. First thing I did was have a nice long bath because my back was aching like fuck. The next thing I did was go into my bag to find my diary so that I could moan all about my back hurting and fill you in on all the other truly exciting things that had happened while we were coming home (nothing) but of course my diary wasn’t in there. And I racked my brain for several minutes trying to remember when I last had it and of course it was Sunday night and then I guess it fell down the gap between the bed and the wall or some shit and I had just forgotten all about it because I was too tired and grumpy and all I wanted was to be back in a proper bed.

So yeah, the tour bus company FINALLY returned it to me today, like a week later. Thankfully, nothing of any interest has really happened this week so you’re not missing out on much, but here’s a quick summary:

Monday – I just told you that. I had a bath and then realised my diary was missing. Frank was all ‘hey calm down, Dais, it’s only a diary, I’ll get you a new one’ and I nearly slapped him around the face but it’s not his fault he doesn’t understand. I mean I know it’s not that normal for a grown-ass woman to have a diary, but I like feeling as if I have SOME control over my life. And besides, sometimes I need reminding about certain things and it’s kind of cool to have your life documented, even if it’s just boring stuff like getting pregnant after having sex with a rock star and then following him across the Atlantic to realise that he’s engaged but then he breaks up with his fiancée and you become his new fiancée and go on trips across the country and stuff. Even standard stuff like that is probably interesting to someone.

Tuesday – Called the tour bus people telling them I left my diary on one of their buses. Hoped against all hell that they would find it but also that they wouldn’t read it before handing it back to me. That would be embarrassing.

Wednesday – Started getting really fidgety. I guess I’m so used to writing down my every thought that not being able to do that meant that they were all swimming around in my brain and getting all jumbled up. I don’t know. So anyway I projected some of my energy into playing the guitar and Frank helped me learn a few more songs and gave me ‘homework’ to compose my own piece of music which sounded quite cool but is actually really hard.

Thursday – Played my song to Frank, written by my own fair hand. He said it was pretty good for a beginner and gave me a big kiss and when he kissed me I felt weird in my stomach but sometimes I do get butterflies when he kisses me so I thought it was no big deal. But then I felt it again and I pulled away because I realised that it was the baby kicking me but it wasn’t like a kick, it was all fluttery. God it’s weird. I can’t even explain how it feels. Just so, so strange but also really cool. So I put Frank’s hand on my belly but he said he couldn't feel it from the outside which was kind of a shame because I wanted to share it with him but I couldn't yet.

Friday – Went for lunch with Frank and his mum. Linda claimed that I would have a girl because apparently my hair looks dull and flat. I wasn’t sure whether I should take offence at this. Being the logical and scientific thinker that I am, I obviously didn’t believe all the old wives’ tale nonsense anyway, but far be it from me to argue with my baby’s grandmother and anyway, she was on my side. Plus I really liked being able to gloat in Frank’s face. Anyway, after that we talked about wedding plans and Linda said she would help me with organising stuff because we’re having it so soon and it’s not as if I have a ton of friends and family to help me. I think she feels sorry for me because of it but it was still really nice of her so I graciously accepted her offer.

Saturday – Frank and I went shopping for our rings. We decided on these really plain but really cool white gold bands. Like I said, I’m not a particularly fussy person and Frank said he wanted something simple so we got something simple and I can’t wait to be wearing them and be all married and shit.

Sunday – Wrote some more of my composition but I didn’t play it to anybody. I was considering writing some lyrics, too, but I don’t think I’m capable to be honest, so I just kept practising the chords until it flowed perfectly like an actual song and I was really proud of myself. Then Gerard walked in as I was playing and seemed really surprised to see that it was me. He said he thought I was Frank but I didn’t quite believe him until he said; “No seriously, Dais. That song is awesome. I might even steal it.” And then he just walked out of the room, as calm as anything.

So I guess that brings us to today. Everyone was gone when I woke up, and I found a note on the kitchen table informing me that they had gone shopping. I assumed that this meant music shopping and not clothes shopping but then you never do know with those crazy guys. Either way it said they would be back at around 4pm and it was currently 10am so I had six whole hours of loneliness to kill.

It’s times like these that I miss old Atticus. He was always good company when I was having one of those days where I want to just stay in and watch cartoons and eat chocolate and cuddle something that won’t wriggle away.

Which seems to be just about every day recently.

And usually I have Frank but right now all I have to put my arms around is this bump.

It wriggles around a lot, these days, but it’s still very faint movements. I probably only feel them because I’m always doing fuck all. Just lying on the sofa or something. Usually the flutteriness is when Frank is around, which is very sweet, but also sometimes when I’m on the toilet, which is not quite so adorable. But hey ho. It’s nice to know that we’re doing alright. I take the kicks to mean something along the lines of ‘hey mum, I’m still here, by the way’ and not as an act of physical aggression. Mikey doesn’t understand this. He has a very black and white thought process, bless him, so as far as he’s concerned, when you’re being kicked, it’s because somebody wants to hurt you.

I wonder what it’s like to be so simple.