It's Easier Than It Seems

“That flight attendant is totally checking you out,” I whispered, glancing over to a tall blonde hostess handing out a drink to an elderly man on the opposite side of the plane.

Billie looked to me slowly; a cheesy grin forming on his face, and proceeded to roll his eyes. “Who wouldn't?”

“Your head is too big for this plane, Billie,” I joked, peering over to see the woman looking in our direction again. “What is her problem?”

The singer raised his eyebrow at me in confusion. “What's yours?”

I guess he was right; was I being jealous? She could look at Billie if she wanted to, and at the end of the day Billie and I weren't a couple so I had no reason to feel protective and jealous. But who was I kidding? Of course I would be; I wanted us to be together, for obvious reasons.

“Just saying,” was all I replied with as I sighed and turned to look out of the little window. I heard Billie mumbling to my right and turned around slowly. “Hm?”

He looked to me with a face of dismay. “I thought we weren't keeping secrets.”

My face flushed and turned beetroot red. “I'm not keeping secrets, I'm just winding you up.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds before I awkwardly had to look away. “Sorry,” I mumbled, looking back out of the window. “This is awkward, I know, there's a lot to catch up on still.”

“For now we'll deal with one problem at a time, and we'll sort the rest out later,” He replied, taking my hand in his.

Later sounded good. But how late could we leave all our problems?

**

I fidgeted, I shifted in my seat, I took long deep breaths from the crappy air conditioning above me, but nothing seemed to work. From the bottom of my stomach up to my neck I felt sick, and it wasn't the bug or the food type of sickness, it was the one I had come to know all too well.

Morning sickness that apparently lasted throughout the day.

I glanced to Billie, buried deep under his blanket as he somehow managed to sleep on the plane and sighed. I had the window seat, of course, and had to somehow get past him without waking him up.

But by the time I contemplated how to get around him I felt my food coming up and grabbed onto the sick bag below my chair and threw up into it. I felt embarrassed as a few people glanced towards me as I heaved into the plastic bag and slowly looked up to see them all looking either disgusting or concerned.

“Jeez, are you okay?!” I heard Billie say which made me jump a mile. “Come on let's get you to the toilet.”

“I'm fine... I feel better,” I smiled, standing up to find out where to dispose of the bag. “I'll get rid of this.”

“Jen, seriously, are you okay?” He questioned me, putting his hand on my arm.

I looked slowly down to his hand and then back to his face and nodded. “Yeah, just travel sickness,” I brushed his arm off and walked off down the aisle to find an attendant to speak to.

Well if that wasn't embarrassing...

“Are you okay?” Billie’s not-so-secret admirer asked, walking over to me with her trolley. “I have some ginger ale if it will help settle your stomach, and some travel sickness medication.”

“I’m fine,” I said abruptly, before realising I was being rude for all the wrong reasons. “No, but thanks,” I forced a smile, disposing of the sick bag in a bin and glancing at her trolley. “But I’ll take a chocolate cookie.”

Once I sat back down in my seat with my snack I glanced to Billie, buried once again under his blanket, like he was hiding away from the world. I smiled to myself, wanting to snuggle up to him but instead I was restricted to my own seat where I struggled to fall asleep at all.

I sighed, finishing off the cookie and closing my eyes in hopes of sleeping at least for an hour…

Before we knew it we had touched down in Heathrow and were ready to travel up to Cannock by taxi, despite not even getting that precious one hour sleep I had almost dreamt about.

The sickness had gone but was soon replaced by my anxiety, fretting over my father. Was he awake? Would he want to talk? What would we even talk about? Would I apologise or would he? Would he forgive me if I forgave him?

I sighed heavily into my hand as I stared glumly out of the taxi window. I watched the sun rise slowly, as field by field we drew closer to my mother’s house where we’d be dropping off our luggage. I didn’t know what to do or say and I started to panic in my seat.

“What do I say?” I said, half shocking Billie and half shocking me, saying something completely out of the blue and breaking the calm silence in the cab.
“You’ll know once you’re there,” He replied, peeling himself from the window to look at me.

I looked back to him, my face a mix of sorrow and regret, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl over to Billie and bury myself in his chest. “You sure?” I managed to let out, feeling yet another sobbing fit come on.

He nodded and smiled softly, knowing what I was going through even though his situation was completely different. His was worse—he actually got along with his dad, whereas I didn’t.

We pulled up my mom’s house—my old home, and paid the taxi driver. I felt sorry for his trek back down to London but as I handed over the hefty bill I’m sure he was more than happy.

“Well what do I say to her?” I asked Billie again, almost like I couldn’t speak for myself anymore.

Billie laugh half-heartedly and pulled both his and my own luggage up the front garden. “You’ll know once you see her.”

I walked at a fast pace to catch up to him, confused as to his reply. “Well that doesn’t help!”

He stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Look Jen, I can’t tell you what to do or say, it just has to be from you and you only.”

“When did you turn all Buddha on me?” I joked, folding my arms like a child. “Fine, whatever spews out from my frozen heart.”

I knocked on the door furiously, knowing my mother was in from calling her as we touched down on the flight.

“Jen, Billie,” She smiled warmly. “Come on in,” She said, stepping aside to invite us in. “You didn’t have to knock, y’know,” she closed the door behind us and walked over towards the living room. “I have one of those sofa bed things now so you don’t have to worry about space again like last time.”

“Thanks,” I replied, remaining quiet otherwise.

“Where can I leave these?” Billie asked, pointing towards the suitcases he had trailing behind himself.

“Dump them anywhere it doesn’t matter,” She replied, flapping her hand away. “When do you want to go to the hospital then?” She continued, looking to me.
I stared wide eyed, not having a single word in my head. I looked to Billie like he’d reply on my behalf but he was too busy dumping the suitcases in the corner of the living room to do so.

I sighed and scratched the back of my neck. “Any time, I dunno, now?” I mumbled out quietly. “Now is fine if you want to.”

She shrugged. “I don’t mind, I was there yesterday but got kicked out early because his girlfriend arrived.”

I raised my brow. “Girlfriend? I think I know who you mean.”

“Yeah, the one who didn’t exist suddenly does and is dating him,” She said bitterly. “But oh well,” She shrugged. “Good luck to her and all.”

I smiled softly, she seemed to handle it so well. She always did; she was a rock. Nothing could break her wall, she was the strongest out of us three.

“Let’s go then,” I spoke, looking to Billie who walked over to join us. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, we’re not here for me,” He replied, causing my mom to smile.

I shot her a glance, having forewarned her already about not letting the pregnancy slip out.

“It’s nice to see you Jen,” She suddenly said out the blue, perhaps in reply to my look. She walked over to me and wrapped her arms around me softly. She was so warm that I immediately snuggled into her and felt safe, like nothing could go wrong in my life, when everything was crashing down around me. “You look well.”

“I’ve gained weight,” I replied, pulling out of the embrace, “and don’t bother saying I haven’t because I know I have.”

“You look healthy, and beautiful,” My mother smiled, brushing my hair behind my ears. “As you should.”

I bit my lip, realising the conversation was taking a dangerous turn. “I’m dieting as soon as we step back onto American soil.”

Billie rolled his eyes, having stayed quiet in the conversation for too long. “You look fine, Jen, listen to your mother.”

“See!” She giggled. “Listen to us both, hm?”

I frowned, feeling ganged up.

Way to go mom, turn Billie against me, why don’t you?

Who would think pregnancy would turn me into a teenager?

**

The hospital was large and daunting, the halls were filled with bad memories, and a smell that made me want to run a mile. The sounds of eerie bleeps from machines every now and again was enough to raise just about every hair on my body on end.

I hated hospitals.

I found and grasped onto my mother’s hand. Half wanting to take Billie’s, but half being too scared to go that far just yet.

I felt bad for him; he hated hospitals. He hated hospitals almost more than anything in the world, and he had good reasons to. But he pushed all of that aside and travelled half way around the world to support me, the girl who broke his heart.

I sighed deeply and took Billie’s hand, too, slowly looking up to his face to see his reaction, but he wasn’t fazed. Good sign, I guess.

When we finally reached my father’s ward the nerves grew, and as we approached his bed, settled between two other patients’, it finally sunk in that this was really happening.

I slowly walked up to him, placing my hand on his shoulder as he was faced the other way. “Dad,” I spoke quietly. “It’s me.”

He rolled over to face us three, not expecting to see my face, let alone my mother’s or Billie’s.

“Hi,” He replied with his shocked face, sitting up. “What are you doing here?”

“Just, you know, visiting,” I said nervously. “How are you?”

“How’d you think?”

I didn’t know whether to smile or look upset, a mixture of trying to stay strong for him and trying to be somewhat compassionate. It was harder than it sounded.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” I smiled, sitting down next to him. “There’s a lot to say.”

Some time passed and we caught up a lot on what had happened over the past year, my mother had left to go back home, said something about having to get up early in the morning so she needed her sleep.

It was like nothing had ever happened between my father and I, like we had both pushed aside all the drama between us because we both knew we couldn’t be childish anymore, and it was so nice. I just wish we could have done it sooner.

But there was still something I had to tell my father, he deserved every right to know, and if his days were numbered there was no better time to tell him.

“Billie could you excuse us for a minute?” I asked politely.

“Sure,” He said, not asking any question as he left the ward.

“Dad, I have to tell you something,” I spat out, gripping onto the metal bars of the bed.

He raised his brow at me; wondering what was so important it was making me shuffle about on my feet. “Go on,” He said, eager to find out.

“I'm... I'm pregnant,” I finally let out. I hadn't told many people; in fact I had now told three. My mother, the nurse in the hospital, and now my father (Mike and Tre had simply overheard). It felt so good to tell someone else, but I felt terribly guilty.

Here lay my father, dying from a weak heart, and wouldn't last a month, let alone six. He'd never see the child I was carrying, so it was almost like offering candy to a baby, only to take it away before they even grasped it.

But he just smiled, his face read no pain or remorse, only pure happiness. “I'm a grandfather, eh? How far gone are you?”

“Three... maybe four months gone now,” I replied, glancing out the window of the room to see Billie pacing up and down. I looked back to my father and smiled softly. “Billie's the father, but he doesn't know.”

“Doesn't know?” My father asked, arching his eyebrow. “What? Why?”

I groaned; it really was a long story. “He's been through a lot... I've been through a lot... never is really a good time to just announce something like this.”

“Well you're kind of running out of time,” He replied, pointing towards Billie. “He deserves a right to know.”

“I know,” I nodded. “And I am planning on telling him—just not yet, but soon. I mean... I think I'm starting to show,” I said, looking down towards my stomach, seemingly looking a bit more swollen than normal to me. “I mean that's kind of a giveaway, that and the vomiting.”

“You don't want him finding out before you get a chance to tell him,” He said, sitting up slowly in his bed. “That's the worst possible scenario, not you telling him—you not telling him.”

I sighed and ran my hand along my forehead—he was right. I had been putting this off for too long. “You're right, I'll do it when we're back in America.”

“Do you promise?” He said sternly.

I nodded. “Yes, I promise.”

**

“So what did you talk about in the end?” Billie asked, squeezing all that he could out of a tomato ketchup sachet.

“Life,” I replied, shovelling fries into my mouth like there was no tomorrow. My mother had replied a dozen times for not stocking any food whilst she had been so busy, I didn’t care—it was food, and it tasted good. That was good enough for me. “Y'know...” I said, slowly looking up to Billie sat opposite me at the table.

Billie licked his index and his thumb clean of any ketchup that had managed to find its way out of the sachet and just nodded in reply. “Mhm.”

He had been suspiciously quiet, like I had said or done something wrong. But what? Since we got back to my mother’s home I never really had a chance to speak, I had been talking to my mother over how we would handle everything to do with my father, and bitching about his girlfriend.

Maybe he wanted more attention, or maybe he was feeling more depressed than normal. The hospital might have brought back unwanted memories and feelings, I was perhaps just being paranoid.

“Have you taken your medication?” It was a cold and cruel question, but one I felt like I must ask.

Billie stopped half way lifting a burger to his mouth and slowly put it back down on the plate. “Of course.”

“Just checking,” I smiled, looking back down to my plate before my stomach gurgled.

Shit.

On the airplane it was travel sickness, but did I really have an excuse now?

“Excuse me,” I quickly said, standing up and walking into the toilet. If I had ran it might have rang alarm bells, this time... I 'just needed the loo.'

Just needing the loo would have been so much better than throwing up all the food I had eaten since lunchtime. Albeit it wasn't an awful lot of food, but it was enough to keep the baby and I going.

I sighed, wiping my mouth on a towel and flushing the loo. Thankfully there was one of those automated air fresheners in the room that sprayed at random intervals, which would hopefully cover the smell of vomit in the room.

After washing my hands, I glanced at myself in the mirror, curious, I lifted up my top and stared at my belly in the mirror.

Okay so I wasn't stick thin to start off with, but I certainly wasn't now. My stomach was definitely bigger than before, and it scared me that it was only going to get bigger in the next 6 months, and holy crap that I was carrying life in there.

That was just terrifying.

It didn't help that I had only been craving junk food. Salads had made my nausea worse so the only foods I had managed to keep down were laced with fat and salt.

I sighed and pulled down my top, now feeling self-conscious as hell, and walked back into the kitchen where I sat back opposite Billie.

Thankfully he didn't know any better.

“You really think I look fine? That I haven’t gained weight?” I asked out of curiosity, attempting to get some food down my neck I ate a few more fries. “These aren't really helping my cause are they?” I smiled.

Billie tilted his head at me; still too quiet for my liking. “Yeah.”

“Okay, what is up? You've been quiet since we left the hospital,” I badgered.

Billie leant back in his chair and looked straight at me. “I'm tired, I think I'll call it a night,” He replied quietly, standing up out of his chair and heading towards the bathroom.

What was his problem? It could have been anything, but I thought he was the one to promise not to keep secrets.

He had been fine till I told him to wait outside the room whilst I talked to my dad...

...he didn't?

No, he couldn't.

He didn't overhear me tell my father I was pregnant? Surely?!

I slowly looked towards the bathroom door; I was screwed. If I asked if he knew he'd find out, and if he knew and I didn't tell him he'd be mad or upset I never told him.

I prayed to every single God I had ever heard about in religious studies and stared at the ceiling in hopes that the worst scenario my father talked about hadn't already come true.

But karma is a bitch, and I was due punishment.