To Love/Hate the Spotlight

That morning was less than cozy. Somehow I had made it on a bed, which I'm not going to question. That couch is less than ideal for a restful sleepover; the ache in my neck could attest to that. Billie was up with coffee when I emerged. His face tightened into a cloudy expression, absently watching the view stream by. He looked to be thinking hard, and I didn't want to interrupt---- but then again, my mind went to the night before and how he blew me off. Naturally, I saw no reason to be so quiet, so I yanked the curtain opened and (not exactly) stomped to the fridge and riffled through it for something -anything- yet all the while I could feel his eyes drilling into my back. Nothing I saw was to my liking, and I couldn't help but scowl at the selection of liquor bottles calling out to me.

And damn it, it's not even noon.

"... are you still going today?" he asked quietly, almost a whisper afraid to disturb the tense silence.

I bet he loved my noncommittal grunt. Yes, how ladylike. To be honest, I wasn't sure I could handle going today. Showing attitude now though does cover up uncertainty really, really well.

"Er... do you want me to come too?"

My eyes traced the white curves of a bottle. When did we get Malibu? Throw that in with some OJ... quite a breakfast right there.

"Babe?"

"What?!" I snapped, slamming the fridge shut. Annoyed by the probing, but break neck enraged that he'd have the audacity to use pet names when we have this between us.

"Do you want me to come with you?" His chin jutted forward, indignant, as his emerald eyes flared at the slammed door.

A rueful grin pulled at the corners of my red-blotched lips.

"Well?" A strain of impatience hid under his gentle prodding.

Why answer when this was just too much fun? Just hum a little tune in my head. So blatantly ignoring him was, yes, a bitch thing to do, but last night he was being a huge bitch.

"I'm talking to you, y'know."

Yes, yes you are, and I am well aware. Thank you. The opening of Fur Elise trickled fluidly into my thoughts.

"Rebecca Brittany!" That sudden sharp exclaim sprayed a ninety nine proof alcohol at the steady flame of fathomless rage deep in my core and oh how it flared in outrageous glory. The split second pull from my sense, and all I wanted to do was scream at him till blood coated my throat.

My muscles seized in abject terror which thankfully extinguished what would be a disaster, blinking away the glaze my eyes took on without notice and prying my nails from the sharp digs in my palm. Dizzy on my feet.

Maybe---
Maybe this wouldn't be fun after all, ignoring him that is.

I heard the sharp intake of impending snark and quickly mumbled, "No, I'm not going," before he could say anymore. Did I always sound so... small?

"Why not?" I didn't have to turn to know his face had softened: Lips pinched in remorse for losing his temper so fast.

"If only he knew how close we were," the Voice crooned. I suppressed a shudder at its sickly sweet tone.

A shrug was really the best I could do, not sure who I was responding to. Without anything further, I gently pressed the fridge closed and retreated to bed with Mike and Tre quietly dreaming for once.

What was happening to me, I wondered with a drained expression as I slipped underneath the covers. They were cool but the smell of tide, musk, and stale cigarette smoke that makes me melt into Billie's arms clung stubbornly to them. I snuggled deeper into that comforting aroma. But then again he's only ten feet away and I rather burrow into his scent than be physically with him was very sad to think about. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head of those thoughts. Every time that blank feeling smoothed over my frontal lobes, something skittered on the outskirts of that nothingness, catching my attention and throwing me back in a maze maudlin ideas. It was quite irking when I wasn't entirely sure why I felt so lost and hurt and so angry all of the sudden.

I wanted to beat the shit out of him, laughing yet at the same time crying while I did it. My brain pulsed with every impulsive twitch my body made to do so.

And when a familiar weight settled behind me -the curtain rings whispering a privacy I didn't think to set- and Billie curled around me, not saying a word, a burning wetness stained my eyelashes.

All the fight left me then.

*

Some time later when the bus groaned to a stop to refill on fuel, I was just about on the verge of sleep -being so warm and as comfortable as one could get on a thin mattress bunk-bed- when Billie's hushed voice murmured inside my ear, jerking me from such sweet but brief oblivion.

"What happened yesterday?"

How did he know I was still awake? But then we've shared the same bed for over three years. Instead of a litany of perfectly chosen words that would explain exactly what happened yesterday even though I really couldn't with maybe a week's worth of reflection, a large yawn stretched my jaw uncomfortably. "That was yesterday."

"But that doesn't--"

"I could easily ask you the same thing."

A weary sigh brushed my cheek and rustled loose, tickling strands. "I didn't know where you were."

"Walking--"

"Yeah, I know that now, but I didn't then."

A lazy grin parted to drawl, "Billie Joe Armstrong, were you worried? How very rock 'n roll..."

"Shut up, brat," he said with a dry chuckle as he nudged me onto my back. I complied with a whine, squinting through cool gray daylight to make out a messy shock of black hair and brilliant bottle green eyes peering down at me. His crooked smile dissolved into a stern line. "But yes, I was---just to clarify."

In my hazy state I hardly heard what he said, so caught up in the niggling desire to kiss away the tension around those thinned, too pink lips.

"Next time, just let me know when you're going somewhere. I can understand how this can all be a bit--" He glared at the hangings when Tre wailed for some unfathomable reason out in the main area. "Stifling." His expression lost its disdain when it landed back on me. "We're traveling though. This isn't home. You could easily get lost--"

Heat flared inside my cheeks. My eyes shot to a spot just over his shoulder on the underside of the top bunk so he wouldn't be able to read my decent-sized cock up yesterday in them. I like to think when he carried on, he hadn't noticed.

"I should look into getting you a cell. Before we didn't have the money but--" His face rippled with boyish mischief. "I think we can swing that now, given the rather lucrative shift in our financial situation."

I didn't care about the cell phone. I wanted to ask if he was so worried then why did he ignore me when I did come back.

"Maybe it was because you were safe and sound?" the Voice, for once, offered helpfully.

Not looking at his mouth, I could think clearer, and that clarity brought back simmering anger. It didn't show on my face, oh no, it remained a blank mask with the barest wrinkle of my brow, contorting to attentive interest, as he went on about calling later today and adding me to the phone plan. "Maybe we can have it overnighted since we'll be in Charlotte for a couple days..."

"Are we fine then?" I asked though my better sense said we most certainly were not. I had to ask though. I could forget about my anger if I really had to, and I'm just so tired--

He smiled softly, a bright twinkle in his eyes, and pressed a delicate kiss to my lips. "Yeah, Babe, of course."

We laid there awhile after until I could no longer take the insistent itch of dried sweat and shuffled to the shower.

**

Narrowed hazel eyes burned a hole into the small black print at the tip of his finger. His legs ached, eventually leaning against the mounted public payphone. It took no more than a minute to flip through the phone book and find the correct last name -it matched with the address he's visited once upon a time- and even less to procure the correct amount of coins. It was the dialing that plagued him.

Normal people called first, right?
Instead of just running to the listed address and knocking on the door?

Not like last time. Don't do anything like last time.

Slick dimes and nickels clinked in his sweaty palm. Every time he moved to feed them in, his entire arm would shake and he'd recoil, squeezing his fist tighter than the previous, failed, attempt.

Reflections of passing cars flickered in the shiny metal plate. His blurred image pale and gaunt amongst the sun shimmers, yet he couldn't but a crack a grin that he was out in the daytime; he did it.

Reviewing the number once more, though he could probably remember it perfectly on the worst of days now from staring at it for so long, he took a quick breath, shoved the money into the slot, dialed, then waited: Face screwed up and body tensed for an impending blow. Well all that just depended, didn't it?

The line rang once, twice, three times; and for a moment everything felt a bit lighter because maybe for now he could just leave a message -or not- and save this for another day when he wasn't feeling so jittery from the coffee or so nauseous before his job interview in an hour.

But like any time it came to Her, life just wasn't that merciful to him.

"Hello?"

His forced calm tore from his hunched frame, and his breathing cut off at a sharp hiss.

"Hello, anyone there?"

Eyes wide, staring at the buttons blurring before him. He really had hoped that, at this early on a weekday, no one would answer. Just a test run, he supposed. His reasoning was baffling, even to him.

But this should still be okay, right? This voice was female but deeper, so it wasn't Her. It was too soon for that. He was still so weak. Why am I calling? Why am I doing this then? He thought back to what his therapist said the other day and his whole long-winded hypothesis basically chalked up to him being an emotional masochist, which sounded right given his past--

"Fine. Hanging up in three, two, o--"

"Yes, uh, hi--" He coughed to clear the forming lump in his throat, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. "Is -er- is Be- Becky there?" His heart thumped steadily in his ears. Stomach shivering and curling into itself.

"Um... no... she doesn't live here anymore." The woman sounded confused. "Who's calling" she ventured, pensive.

Idiot! He should have remembered that. His palm absently rubbed at his sweat-shined forehead as he squinted up at the blue, blue sky and tried to think. "... is, um, do you----- could you tell me where she lives now?"

"Sure, right after you tell me who you are and why I should tell you that." She easily deflected with a defensive edge in her voice.

"Uh..." First time in a long time that he actually looked at the clouds and they were just fluffs of condensed mist in his eyes: No dragons, no lopsided spatulas, no smiling faces, and definitely no spelled out response. "Uh..."

Click.

Listening to the drone of the dial tone for a few seconds, he muttered, "Shit," and slammed the phone back on its cradle. He stood very still -hands braced on the phone book's small ledge- with his itching eyes clasped shut. Nostrils flared. Mouth twisted ugly in distaste.

This was the first step -something that would be so easy for anyone else- and he messed it up fantastically. He should have thought of the possibility he would have to give his name and a reason; no sane person would just divulge that information to a stranger over the phone----- and the caller ID would say said stranger was calling from an unknown number. Yeah, nothing suspicious about that, Ger-- Jason.

As for the reason...

He may be naive and a touch emotionally unstable, but he wasn't stupid. He did the math. "If you won't do it for yourself or for me, at least-- at least do it for our child." Nine months have come and gone, and he just had to know, had to see...

A surge of hot acid flared in his chest, and he kicked the pay phone's foundation hard enough to hear bones pop and grind. One split second of vicious rage.

Then he took a deep breath and continued on his way down the sidewalk, stiff-backed, chin up, and determined to do well on this interview.

She had to see he could be normal and was finally out in the sun. See that he was free.
She had to see that he was trying just not for Her and their baby, but for himself too.
And he knew She would care about that the most.

**

"Leave your name and number after the beep."

"... uh hey Ma, it's me, Becky. You're probably at work by now and I--" really don't have the balls to call your cell, because I know you'll pick up then. "I just wanted to-- would you be mad if I----- I'm... not going to see them today. I know I promised, but I just----- can't." I'm not ready. "Things are so hectic and--" I rather perform a stunning rendition of "Defying Gravity" at a Metallica concert than go see them. "And I would rather visit you guys all together--" One lump sum to deal with once. "Maybe Christmas--" So far off I don't have to think about now. "Let Gran- your father and Julie know-- Aunt Betty too and you know, the rest. Tell them whatever--" Certainly not the truth, that would embarrass you. "I'll talk to you soon... love you."

I heaved a breath, placing Billie's cell on the mattress. Hopefully she won't call back. I can't deal with her too.