I Can't Believe This

“What are you doing?” I asked, walking into the master bathroom.

Billie Joe looked away from his reflection in the mirror and focused his eyes on me. “Trying to get this fucking eyelash out of my eye. Little fucker decided to lodge itself in the corner of my eye when I was washing my face.”

He moved his head closer to the mirror and dabbed at his eye with a tissue; an intense look of concentration on his face. A laugh escaped my throat and Billie looked at me.

“Why are you laughing?”

I shook my head and tried to control the smirk on my face. “I’m not laughing.”

He raised an eyebrow and began to say something else, but didn’t get it out. “Fuck!” he yelled. “Piece of shit eyelashes. I don’t know why we even have them, they’re just a pain in the ass. Obnoxious fuckers.” He blinked again, furiously, trying to dislodge the protruding eyelash.

Another laugh escaped my mouth, and I put my hand over my lips and looked at the floor.

“Oh, sure laugh at the guy in pain. I could go blind and you’re just standing their laughing.”

“For some reason I doubt you’ll go blind from having an eyelash in your eye.“

He looked at me and frowned. “Shut up.”

I walked over to him and turned him away from the mirror. “Aw, babe, I’m sorry. Here, let me take a look.” I tilted his head back and turned on more lights, then looked around his eye. I grabbed the tissue off the counter and folded it so that a corner was formed. Then I gently swiped over the area where the eyelash was. It came right out. “There you go.” I turned away from him and tossed the used tissue into the trash.

“How did you do that so easily? I’ve been up here forever and the little fucker wouldn’t come out.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know. I just…did. And you should stop referring to inanimate objects as ‘little fuckers‘. People might think your insane.” I shrugged and exited the bathroom, heading toward the closet.

“Well, thanks. And by the way, I am insane,” he called after me.

Laughing, I pulled a shirt off a hanger and slipped out of my pajama shirt, then slipped the new blue shirt over my head. “You’re welcome,” I said, pulling it down over my hips. “So what are we doing today?”

Billie Joe shrugged and grabbed a pair of shoes from under the bed. “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

I sat down on the bed and sighed. “We sound like two teenagers on their first date.”

“How so?” he asked, looking at me.

“’What do you want to do?’ ‘I don’t know, what do you want to do?’ ‘I don’t know,’” I quoted.

He rolled his eyes. “We don’t sound like that.”

“Yes, we do.” I smiled and shook my head. “I guess we’re just unimaginative.”

A grin appeared on Billie Joe’s face and he sat down next to me. “Come on. We’re imaginative,” he whispered, kissing my neck. “We’re very imaginative.” His lips trailed back up my neck and found my lips. His arm wove around me and pulled me closer. My arms responded by winding around his neck; my body molding to his.

“I guess we do have our creative moments,” I mused, breaking the kiss. “But what are we going to do today?”

He smirked and kissed me again, more deeply this time. “I’m sure we can think of something,” he hinted.

I pulled back again. “I’m serious, we’ve been staying in the house all day, everyday, for a month. We need to go out and do things.”

“Way to kill the mood,” he grumbled, pulling away.

I smiled and shook my head. “Always thinking about sex.”

“Only because we were apart for such a long time. We had some catching up to do. And it’s not just about the sex. I’ve liked staying in the house, being close to you all day. Going to bed without you beside me for so long was miserable.” He paused and looked down. “I don’t want to ever go through that again.”

I bit my lip and wrapped my arms around his frame. “It was terrible for me too, and I don’t want it to happen again either. And it’s not going to.” I kissed his cheek and pulled back a little so I could see his face. “I love you.”

His mood changed in an instant and he smiled at me, then grabbed my hand and pulled us up. “I love you, too. With all my heart. Now, let’s figure out what we’re going to do today.”

***

“Tré, you’re going to kill yourself, you crazy bastard!” Mike yelled, watching Tré do a back flip off of a parked car.

“That or he’ll get arrested,” I added.

“Or both.” Mike and I said at the same time. We laughed and caught up to Tré just as he was going to climb up onto another car.

“Don’t even,” Mike warned, grabbing a fistful of Tré’s shirt and hauling him a few feet from the car.

Tré struggled against Mike. “Aw, man. Just one more. I’m not hurting anybody.”

“No, just their cars,” Billie commented, coming up to stand beside me. “We have some recording to do later this week, so we need you to stay out of jail, all right?”

Tré pouted and looked at me. “Lisa? Tell the mean men to go away.”

I laughed. “Sorry Tré, no can do.”

“Oh great! You’ve corrupted her too!” He glared at Billie and Mike for a moment, then shrugged. “Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted.”

Mike rolled his eyes and pushed Tré forward. “Let’s go, Dude. Before someone sees you and calls the cops.”

Mike and Tré started forward and Billie and I hung back a couple of paces.

“Tré is nuts.”

“Yeah, he is,” Billie agreed. “But that’s why we love him.”

“True.”

“Come on, lovebirds! We don’t have all day!” Tré yelled, turning around to look at us.

“We’re right behind you, so you don’t have to yell, fucktard,” Billie pointed out, cuffing him on the back of the head. “And what do you mean, ‘we don’t have all day?’ We have no idea where we’re going, we’re just walking around.”

“So?” he answered, rolling his eyes. “We still don’t have all day.”

“All right then,” I concluded, nodding my head. “Better get a move on!” I exclaimed, mocking him.

“Exactly!” He ran ahead a little ways, not noticing my sarcasm.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Billie agreed.

We walked for a few more minutes, stopping at a vintage record store.

“Dude! This place is fucking awesome! How come we’ve never come here before?” Tré asked, looking through some records.

“I don’t know, but it’s cool. Most of the bands I’ve never even heard of,” Mike commented.

“Same. Hey, who are the Flatheads?” Billie asked, turning over the record he had to look at the song list on the back.

“No idea,” I said, checking out the back cover. “Awesome artwork though.”

“Garage band circa 1979 - 1981. Put out two LP’s; one record. Never went anywhere though,” the clerk told us. He pushed his glasses back up onto his nose and pulled out some nasal spray. “Cool band though, saw ‘em once when I was 23. Wicked chord progressions.” He squeezed some nasal spray into his nose then and sniffed. “Too bad they’re gone.” He shook his head then wandered back over to his cash register.

Billie, Mike, Tré, and I looked at each other.

“Okay then,” Mike said.

We all nodded slowly and went back to looking at the records.

I moved away from the records and went over to another section of the store that was devoted to different styles of lighters. They had a bunch of guitar shaped ones, and ones made to look like a jukebox. But the coolest one was the one shaped like a piano. I picked up and tried it out. I pressed down on the keys and the top of it opened up, letting the fire escape.

“That’s cool. I used to have one kind of like it, but you pressed the foot peddle instead of the keys. Don’t let Tré see it, or any of these for that matter, he’d probably burn the entire place down,” Billie said.

“Most likely. He’s definitely a pyro,” I stated, laughing. “Hey, I’m going to go to the restroom, I’ll be back.”

“All right.” Billie pecked my lips and went back to checking out the lighters.

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” I asked the clerk, Dave, as his nametag read.

“Don’t have one. You’ll have to go across the street to the restaurant.”

“Perfect,” I muttered. “Thanks,” I said a little bit louder, then exited the store and made my way to the cross walk a few feet away. After a few excruciating moments of waiting, the signal changed.

The restaurant was incredibly crowded; a line of at least 15 people were waiting to be seated. Which seemed completely ridiculous to me. When there are that many people waiting in front of you, go find somewhere else to eat.

I pushed my way through the throng of people, heading toward the large restroom sign painted on the wall about thirty feet away from me. But at the rate I was going, I’d be lucky if I got there before the sun went down.

“Hey! Watch it bitch. Don’t you dare try to cut in front of me. We’ve been waiting for forty-five minutes, so get in the back of the fucking line!” a women screamed at me, her eyes narrowing.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Relax, I’m not cutting in front of you. I’m not even going to eat here, not with this many people waiting,” I assured her. My smile grew wider. “Only a total moron would actually want to eat in a place this crowded,” I finished, then turned around and kept walking toward my destination.

Finally, after being called a bitch once more and being told that if I tried to cut in front of anyone I get the shit beat out of me, I made it to the ladies room.

When I was finished I opened the door and looked at the angry mob before me. People were beginning to yell at the servers and ‘demand they be seated before they took their business elsewhere’. Personally, if I had been a server I would have told them to either leave or shut the fuck up and wait, but I wasn’t a server, so I didn’t. I pushed my way back to the entrance and stepped out into the sun, taking deep breathes of fresh air. One more minute in there and I would have become claustrophobic.

I started down the sidewalk, heading back to the record store, when my cell vibrated. I pulled it and opened it, reading the new text I’d just gotten.

d’you fall in?

I rolled my eyes and quickly typed a message back.

you’re hilarious.
no, i’m across the street, at the restaurant.
record store didn’t have a bathroom.

I sent the message to Tré and looked up, crashing into someone.

“Wow, Lisa. Been walking long?” Emilie asked, grinning at me.

“Ha ha. You know, you should be holding a microphone when you say something that witty,” I countered.

“I tried stand up comedy for awhile. It didn’t agree with me.”

“What do you mean ‘it didn’t agree with you’? I asked, smirking.

“Well, not so much it, as the audience hated me,” she corrected.

“Ah, gotcha. Bummer.”

“Eh, win some, lose some,” she reasoned. “So what are you doing?”

“Hanging out with Billie, Mike, and Tré. They’re across the street. I had to use the bathroom in the restaurant.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Yep. So what are you up to today? You want to hang out with us?” I offered.

She bit her lip and looked down at the pavement. “Normally, I would. But I don’t think it would be a good idea today,” she said quietly.

“Why not?” I asked, confused by the tone of her voice. “What’s different about today?”

“Nothing much.” She looked up again and sighed. “All right. The difference is that I’m hanging out with Ethan today. He’s on his way right now.”

I could feel myself nodding. “Okay,” I said, slowly.

Shrugging, she smiled slightly. “I don’t think a certain someone would like it.” She nervously brushed her fingers through her hair a couple of times. “You know?”

Still nodding I said, “Yeah, yeah. That wouldn’t be a good idea. With the history and everything.” I looked across the street at the record store and sighed. “I wish it didn’t have to be like that between them,” I whispered. “I love Billie Joe. So much. But Ethan’s my friend and I just feel like I’m being pulled in two different directions,” I confessed. I looked up at Emilie, searching for some sign that she knew what I meant.

“I know,” was all she said.

But that was all I needed to hear.

“I guess I better get back. Tell Ethan I say hi. And that I’ll call him soon to catch up.”

She nodded once more and smiled. “I will. See you later.” She leaned forward and wrapped me in a hug, then turned and left.

I crossed the street and opened the door to the record store. I had barely taken one step over the threshold when I heard the shouting.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think!” Billie shouted. “So keep your Goddamn opinions to yourself!”

“What the hell?” I whispered, stepping forward.

“Well I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want my opinion! I’m telling you anyway, you bastard! And the only reason you don’t want to hear it, is because I’m right! You’re full of shit, and you know it!” Ethan retorted, his voice just as loud and angry as Billie Joe’s.

Jesus Christ, I thought to myself. Following the yelling I found them at the back of the store. The phrase ‘if looks could kill’ came to mind. Mike and Tré were behind Billie Joe, glaring at Ethan and trying to get Billie to calm down.

“What’s going on?” I asked, storming up to them.

I may as well have been invisible. Neither of them so much as even glanced in my direction, they were still shouting at each other.

“All I know is that you’ve been after her ever since you first saw her in that shit coffee shop you work at! You’ve tried to get her to break up with me numerable times, and I swear to God if you don’t leave her and I the hell alone, I will beat the shit out of you! Understand, coffee grinder?”

“Better to be a coffee grinder than some miserable excuse for a rock star.” Ethan put his hand on his chin and looked at the ceiling. “When’s the last time you put out an album again?” he mocked.

“Hey, fuck you, asshole,” Mike said, taking a step toward Ethan.

Tré did the same thing, his eyes throwing daggers at Ethan. “Fuck off.”

“Hey, why don’t you and Tré wait outside?” I suggested, placing my hand on Mike’s chest and pushing him back a little.

He looked at me for a moment, then back to Billie and Ethan. “No.”

“Mike, please,” I pleaded.

His expression softened instantly. After a moment of deliberation he nodded slightly and motioned for Tré to follow him.

Tré hung back for a moment and looked at me. “How can you still be friends with him?” He shook his head disgustedly and walked out behind Mike.

I bit my lip, feeling like I was going to cry.

“Don’t even go there! I have a successful career, which is more than I can say for you! You spend your time cleaning up after slobs and being at the beck and call of some asshole manager!” Billie countered. “Which I guess is fitting since you’re an asshole too!” Billie Joe stepped closer to him, his face the angriest I had ever seen. His voice went deadly calm. “Stay away from her.”

It was terrifying; hearing that coldness come from Billie Joe’s mouth. Just fifteen minutes ago his voice had been tender and full of love.

Slipping my arm between them I pushed them back, looking back and forth at both of them. “Stop,” I said. “All right? Just stop.”

“No, I’m not going to stop, Lisa,” Ethan stated, turning his gaze toward me.

The intensity of it made me feel uncomfortable. “Damn it, I’m serious!” I screamed. “I’m so sick of this! I’m with Billie Joe. I love him. You’re my friend, so of course, I care about you too, but you guys need to knock off all of this bullshit!”

“I know you love him, and that’s exactly why I’m saying all of this,” Ethan continued. “You love him, and he loves you, but he doesn’t deserve you. He’s fucked up your relationship more times than I can count, and you keep going back to him.” Ethan shook his head, grimacing. “And I just don’t understand it!”

His frustration turned to animosity. “How can she stay with someone like you? Someone who treats her like shit!” He shouted.

Billie started to say something but I beat him to the punch. “Fuck you, Ethan!” I stepped in front of Billie Joe, glaring at Ethan. “Fuck. You. Billie Joe does not treat me like shit! And don’t you ever fucking say that again! I couldn’t ask for a better man to love me. I don’t want another man! Just butt the hell out of my life if you’re going to act this way. I didn’t ask for your opinions, so just shut the hell up. I don’t care what you have to say, so stop!”

I turned to Billie and grabbed his hand. “Let’s get out of here,” I said, turning to leave.

Billie Joe slipped his hand out of mine. “No, I’m not leaving. You go ahead and leave, but I have a few more things to say to this prick.”

I shook my head. “No, come on. You have nothing to prove to him. He’s a jerk. You’ve never treated me badly. Ever.”

His face contorted with pain for a moment, then disbelief. “How can you say that?” He took me by the shoulders and pulled me closer. “How can you say that after we just spent four months apart because of me?” He looked down momentarily, then back at me, his gaze smoldering, but not with desire this time. It was anger. “I kiss another women and you say I haven’t ever treated you badly?” One of his hands moved from my shoulder to my face, cupping my cheek.

“We went over that already. It was a mistake,” I told him, tears brimming in my eyes. “You got carried away, but it doesn’t matter anymore, we’ve been back together for a month now. I know you love me.”

Billie Joe shook his head vigorously. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I know you know that I love you. But my point is that…” he trailed off, his eyes focusing behind me for a split second before they returned to me again. “My point is, Ethan’s right,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “He’s absolutely right.”

“No! He’s not! Don’t let him get into your head!” I argued.

“I can’t help it. Not this time. He right.” He dropped his hands from my body and stepped back. “Lisa, I need to think, I’ll meet you back at the house in awhile, okay?”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes and that worried me. Why did he have to think? He had nothing to think about. At that moment I wanted to strangle Ethan, and if I hadn’t been scared to death of what Billie Joe was saying, I would have. But I couldn’t concentrate on anything else but those words. What if he decided he wanted to break up?

“Billie, please. Don’t.” The tears finally overflowed and rolled silently down my cheeks. “Please don’t do this,” I whispered. My eyes dropped to the floor, and involuntarily I wiped the salt water from my face.

Billie Joe’s finger lifted my chin. “I’m not going to do anything drastic, I just have to have some time to myself.” He leaned forward and kissed me softly. “I’m not leaving you again. I swear. Nothing could make me do that, especially not comments from that douche-bag,” he whispered against my cheek, his lips vibrating against my skin. “Okay?”

I nodded slightly and pulled back. “I just,” I couldn’t finish what I wanted to say.

He nodded then turned and walked toward the exit, one of his hands repeatedly running through his hair.

The bell over the door jingled behind him.

I couldn’t believe it. As I watched him walk out I was suddenly furious. I whirled around and before I knew what was happening my fist connected with Ethan’s jaw.

Ethan stumbled back, but caught himself on the shelf behind him. He regained his balance and began rubbing his jaw, shock plain on his face.

“You fucking asshole! Why can’t you just leave me alone? You’re ruining my life! You say you keep interfering because you care, but I don’t believe that. You’re just doing it to piss Billie Joe off. To make him doubt himself; make me doubt him, and I’m tired of it. I tried to be your friend, but I’m through with that! Don’t ever talk to me again, don’t even come near me. Just go to hell!”

With one last glare I turned and started for the door, but he caught my arm. “Don’t touch me.”

“Lisa, wait. Just listen to me,” he said, stepping around me to block the door. “Just listen for a minute.”

“No, I’m not going to listen to you,” I stated, sounding surprisingly calm. “And you’re never going to talk to me again.” I shrugged out of his grasp.

“Just one minute. Please. “

I opened my mouth, preparing to tell him to fuck off again, but a scream from outside cut me off.

“Someone get help!” a man shouted outside a second later.

I ran to the door and out onto the sidewalk. Down at the next intersection a group of people were crowding around something. People were screaming. I ran down there, well aware of who was following me.

When I reached the scene I caught a glimpse of someone lying next to the maroon SUV in the middle of the road, and there was a woman who kept repeating ‘he came out of nowhere, I didn’t mean to hit him’.

Suddenly something clicked in my brain. The shoes. I stared back at the unconscious body lying limply in the now crowded street.

“Someone call 911! Now!” I rushed over to the victim and threw myself to the ground. He looked so pale. Was he breathing? My head was spinning. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” Tears spilled down my cheeks for the second time that day. I felt as though my insides were being ripped apart. “Billie,” I whispered.