It's Easier Than It Seems

Whilst Billie spent his final night in the hospital, Ollie had encouraged me to go back to her house and get some rest. I was reluctant, but Ollie had proven to be very persuasive and so I had bunked in her spare bedroom for the night.

By the next morning, I woke up confused and foggy headed. At first I couldn't remember how I wound up in the room in the first place—I must have been so tired I walked like a zombie and flopped like a fish onto the bed. Eight hours later I was still tired, and whilst I could have stayed and slept for an entire day, I knew Billie was being discharged from hospital and that I had to be there for him.

Sitting up in the bed, I glanced around the room; taking all the details in. I noticed my suitcase was plonked into the middle of the room, I knew I had left it in Billie's place when I had found him on the floor, but I couldn't remember how I got it from a to b. So who had brought it here?

“You're awake,” A voice softly called out, as a figure slowly made their way into the spare room.

I looked up with blurred vision, but when my eyes focused properly I realised Billie was standing in front of me. Wasn't he supposed to still be in hospital?

“I brought your suitcase over, figured you'd need it,” He said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and placing a cup of coffee, and a slice of toast onto the bedside table. Steam rose from it and the aroma soon found it's way to me; causing my stomach to gurgle.

I looked slowly to Billie, my face blushing from my embarrassing stomach. “Aren't you supposed to be in hospital? What... what time is it?” I said, looking around for a source of time.

He smiled softly at my confused expression, clearly reading my mind as he left out a light laugh. “I discharged myself last night, but my mom insisted I stopped here the night,” He said, pausing to look at the suitcase and pointed over to it. “She told me you left it at my house so I went and picked it up for you.”

“Thank you,” I smiled, looking up at Billie. It had felt like ages since I last properly spoke to him, and it felt like so much had changed in the time that had passed.

“She also told me you were the one that found me on the floor,” Billie grimaced; scrunching up his face. “I'm sorry you had to see me like that.”

I shrugged and smiled. “It's okay, I'm glad I did, or... you know... you might not be here.”

He nodded in reply, his face a mixed bag of emotions as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Why were you there, though?”

I could have told him the truth, the moment was most likely perfect, but Billie's head wasn't in the right place; one wrong step and Billie's mind could spiral backwards into heavy depression.

“I was concerned,” I sighed. “The way you were acting... the way Mike was acting... something seemed off,” I said, in honesty it was still the truth... just not the whole truth. “So I came over to make sure you were okay, and... well... my hunch was right.”

He put his hand over the top of mine and lightly squeezed it. “I'm not jumping for joy over my life right now, but thank you for saving me.”

I smiled back at him. “You would have done the same for me.”

Billie grinned back and sighed, and then stood up from where he was sat and looked down at me again. “I have therapy in half an hour, do you want to come with me?”

“Sure,” I said, surprised that he had asked me, I stood up also. “Let me get ready quickly.”

The ride over there was quiet and long, the sun beaming down through the car's windscreen made me regret ever wearing a coat, figuring it'd be as cool as it was on the East coast. I glanced to my side, watching Billie drive calmly like nothing had ever happened.

My staring was enough to earn a look from Billie, who had felt my eyes upon him. I smiled and apologised, glancing out of the window instead.

It had gone from a romantic relationship to an awkward sort of friendship in just over four weeks. I knew telling him about the baby would be hard, but right now it seemed impossible. I couldn't see us getting back together, let alone raising a baby.

And that scared me more than anything.

Once we had reached the therapist's office I was told to wait outside in the corridor to give Billie some privacy in his one on one session with his therapist. I paced for awhile, then I read more magazines; I swear I had read more magazines in the past month than I had in my life.

My stomach gurgled again; I really needed to eat. Starving myself wasn't good for me or the baby, and that one slice at Ollie's house hadn't sufficed. Whilst the feeling of wanting to throw up threw off my appetite, I walked around the building in hopes of a canteen, eventually finding one and ordering a basic meal of a burger and fries--it was almost afternoon after all.

And boy, it tasted amazing.

Tearing me away from the amazing heart attack on a plate, my phone rang out loudly, causing a few people to glance over to me. The ID read international call so I immediately knew it was someone calling me from England, and that wasn't necessarily a good thing—it had to be urgent for them to make such an expensive call.

“Hello?” I greeted.

“Jen, it's your mom, do you mind calling me back?” She asked, almost greedily. Like hell I had enough money; I didn't even have a job!

“Uh, I can do, but it's gonna cost a bomb and I don't have a lot of money right now,” I replied, shovelling some more fries into my mouth.

I heard my mother sigh as she continued. “Fine, I'll be quick—your dad's in the hospital, and this time it's not good, he's not going to make it out I'm afraid.”

Damn, she was quick. I nearly choked on the remainder of food in my mouth, before I slowly swallowed it down.

Now I knew what it felt like when someone said to rip off a plaster fast and painfully.

I felt my heart palpitate as I put my hand to my mouth. I hated the guy, no, I despised him. He was the bane of my life, he prevented me from living it, and only when I had ran away did I have full control over it.

But if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be where I am today, and that has to mean something. At the end of the day he was my father, and I had to push all my anger aside because he was still another human about to lose their life—perhaps he deserved forgiveness for being over-bearing and controlling.

Perhaps he deserved one last chance.

I ran my hand through my hair, glancing to my plate of food. Suddenly everything made me feel sick and I could feel my throat clenching up. It was either grief or morning sickness, but I had to swallow the feeling down and get on with it.

“I... I... I'll come over, h-how long does he have?” I stuttered, failing to miserably regain my composure.

“Not long,” She replied. “But long enough for you to see him one last time—that's what he wants; to see you.”

My eyes watered, the feeling in my throat choking me. “O-Okay,” I managed to get out. “I'll phone you when I land.”

“Have a safe flight, love you,” She said, ending the phone conversation quickly.

I couldn't tell from the phone call what she was feeling, I knew my parents had finally split up, but she most likely still loved him, and he mostly likely still loved her in their own weird way.

She must have felt like crap, and she was all alone.

I suddenly felt so home sick. I suddenly felt like every choice I had made in life was the wrong one.

I literally felt like all the walls around me were crumbling, that my life was falling to pieces and their was nothing I could do to save it.

It felt like it was all my fault.

I slowly put the phone down onto the table and pushed the plate of food out of my sight before laying my head in my hands.

My gut was burning, my throat clenched, my eyes stung. I was trying to hold it all back in a canteen full of people but it started to hurt so much.

When I felt a hand on my back I jumped out of my chair and looked behind me; it was Billie.

Oh God, I had to tell Billie. I had to tell him my father was dying and that I had to fly back to England. I didn't know how he'd take it, and I didn't want to know how.

I sucked in every emotion as fast as I could; trying to rebuild all the barriers that had started to crumble so Billie couldn't tell that anything was wrong.

“You okay?” He asked, a concerned expression spread across his face.

I nodded and smiled through the pain. “Indigestion, jet lag, insomnia...” I grinned up at him, lying through my teeth.

Billie tilted his head and looked away from me, I think he knew I was lying and I knew that had to hurt. “Alright, let's get you back to mine—you could do with better food and some more sleep.”

I nodded. “You're right,” I said, standing up from the chair and grabbing my phone off the table. “Let's go.”

**

The ride to Billie's was silent, eerily silent. It cut past awkward into tension, and it sliced through the air enough for us to both feel it.

I was digging myself into a crater.

“How'd it go?” I asked, looking to my side at Billie.

He kept his eyes on the road; driving with too much concentration. “Fine,” He mumbled. “I've been put on some proper medication, hopefully sort out my emotions, y'know.”

I nodded, “That's good,” I replied.

Then the silence cut through us again.

We finally arrived at Billie's and the house felt so cold and empty, whether or not it was his central heating or just the atmosphere between us... I wasn't quite sure.

We sat at opposite ends of the sofa, not quite sure what to do until Billie turned on the TV to drown out the sorrow amongst us.

“So when are you heading home?” Billie asked, sparking a conversation. Albeit, a big one.

I looked to him slowly. “Home?”

“New York.”

My eyes widened, had I not even told him that much? “I left New York,” I said quietly. “I'm moving back to California.”

Billie's brow raised, his eyes wide open. “What about your job, though?” He asked.

“I can get another,” I simply replied, still holding back from telling Billie the truth--it was just easier. “I just want to be here right now.”

Billie tilted his head and looked me over—almost trying to figure out what was going on in my head.

Oh if only he knew.

“What's wrong?” He asked, shifting along the sofa closer to me. “Something's up, come on, tell me,” He demanded.

I glanced to my side to look at him but hadn't realised how close he had shifted towards me. I smiled softly at his concerned face, taking in every detail I could.

I missed him... I missed his silly face, I missed his goofy grin and his eyes that could make me do whatever he wanted.

I bit my lip and looked away, he had won.

“My dad's in the hospital,” I finally let out. “He's not gonna make it,” I continued, looking back to Billie. I felt my eyes burning again, but I wanted to stay strong in front of an already weak Billie.

“Oh geez,” He replied, moving even closer and wrapping his arms around me. “I'm so sorry, Jen, that sucks.”

I smiled at how he phrased it, I missed that part of him, too. “It does,” I closed my eyes and leant into Billie's hug, almost wanting it to never end. “I have to go see him,” I mumbled into Billie's shoulder. “I have to go back to Cannock.”

He pulled out of the hug and looked to me, his hand grazing my face to brush my fringe out of my eyes. “Do you want me to go with you?” He asked in an ever so caring tone. He was almost being fatherly himself. I had not expected to see this side of him, nor this reaction. I thought it might bring up painful memories of his father, and it'd maybe affect his depression.

I guess I was wrong.

I shook my head and smiled in return. “No, I couldn't ask for that, you should stay here, you know,” I paused, not wanting to say it. “So you can... get better.”

“I'm sure I can take my medication on the plane with me,” He joked, grinning like a little boy.

I rolled my eyes at him and playfully slapped his arm. “You know what I mean.”

Billie sighed and sat back into the sofa. “I know,” He said, running his hand through his hair. “But you've already done so much for me, I guess I owe you one for saving my life or something.”

“I think I owe you a dozen favours already, Billie.”

“Do you want me to blackmail you?” He asked sternly, but jokingly.

I raised my brows at the older man. “Blackmail? What are you? Five?”

He pouted back which made me giggle. “Look, I'll come with you, I know you want me to deep down.”

Of course I did, and that face of his pulled on my heart strings more than they should have.

“Fine, you can come,” I replied, instantly making him smile like a goon.

“Okay!” He said, lifting himself off the sofa eagerly. “On one condition!”

I raised my brow at him, was he turning this back around on me? “Excuse me?”

“You heard,” He grinned. “You have to stop telling secrets, and I will be as open about how I feel to you as well.”

My heart screamed in agony, my brain wanted to jump ship out of my body... I couldn't promise anything like that, that would mean I'd have to tell him everything! I'd have to tell him the reason why I quit my job, why I left New York, why I came back—that I was pregnant.

My brain decided not to jump ship, instead it happily built a fortress around it. “O-Okay,” I said. Liar. “I will, if you will,” I continued. Liar, liar, liar.

“I promise,” He smiled sweetly at me, naïve to what was going on inside my head, and inside my body.

I felt like such a terrible person. I was lying with every inch of my moral fibre being, and it hurt to know that if he knew... he'd hate me, because I hated myself for doing it.

The crater I had dug myself was only growing larger, and I was now struggling to find a way out...