I Can't Believe This

“Well, here we are. Home sweet home,” I said, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

“Thank God,” Billie commented, maneuvering himself through the doorway. He was finally beginning to get the hang of his crutches, which I was relieved to see. He’d already fallen twice and he really didn’t need anymore injuries.

“I’ll go get the rest of the stuff out of the car.” I turned to walk back out the door when Billie Joe caught me by the hand and pulled me back.

His lips captured mine as one of his arms wound itself around my waist. He pulled back for just a moment. “Leave it.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I don’t know how he did it, but somehow he pressed my back to the wall, trailing kisses down my neck, and lightly kissing my collarbone.

“Billie,” I murmured. “Wait,” I pulled back, trying to catch my breath.

“What?”

I eyed his crutches critically. He was holding on to one while balancing the other under his arm.

He grinned. “Don’t worry so much. I’ve got it down.” He leaned in once more and pressed a kiss onto my lips. “But,” he mumbled against my mouth. “If you’re really worried, I’ll stop.” He pulled back and smiled.

Smiling, I picked up the suitcase I’d had with me at the hospital. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face. “But, this does mean that you owe me. And as soon as I’m off of these crutches, I expect you to pay up.”

“Don’t worry,” I assured him, my voice husky. “I always repay my debts. And I always include interest.”

I winked at him and he grinned.

***

“Here, I’ll get it,” I reached forward to grab the remote for Billie Joe. We were on the couch, enjoying the time we finally had to ourselves.

Billie had been home for almost a week and it seemed like we hadn’t had a moment alone. Each day people came to visit, which was great, but I was glad to finally have Billie Joe alone. I still hadn’t told him that I was pregnant, and I figured now was my chance.

“I can get it!” he snapped, snatching the remote out of my hand.

“I was just trying to help,” I said, a lump forming in my throat. Billie had been snapping at me a lot lately. Every time I tried to do something nice for him or help him he’d get pissed. It wouldn’t have bugged me if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was only me he was getting angry at. Any time anyone else had offered him help he’d taken it without complaint.

“Well, I’m not fucking crippled! I think I can handle picking up the remote control,” he retorted. “You know what? I’m tired. Here, watch whatever you want.” He dropped the controller in my lap and made his way up the stairs.

I heard the door to the bedroom slam a couple of minutes later. Sighing, I turned off the T.V. and pulled my feet up under me. Why the hell was getting pissed at me? And only me? Someone else helps him, they get a ‘thank you’. I help him and get my fucking head ripped off, I thought bitterly to myself.

I hadn’t tried to talk to him about what was going on, I was too afraid of the reaction I’d get. So instead, I’d kept quiet and just apologized. It wasn’t usually the way I handled things, but in this case I figured it was better than confronting him, given the circumstances. But I was getting tired of being passive.

The more I thought about Billie Joe getting pissed at me, the more pissed I became. After another few minutes of just sitting worthlessly on the couch I decided to get up and figure out what the hell Billie’s problem was. I reached our bedroom, the door tightly closed, and twisted the doorknob. He was standing in front of the closet looking through his various ties.

“I like the checkered one,” I said, coming up to stand beside him.

He grunted and threw it back into the closet.

“I guess you don’t though,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “What the hell is your problem?” Why beat around the bush?

“What do you mean?” He limped away from me and into the master bathroom.

I scanned the room for his crutches, finally spotting them discarded on the floor near the door. “I mean. Why the hell are you getting pissed at me so much?” I leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom and raised my eyebrows.

“I wasn’t pissed. I just didn’t need your help.”

He still hadn’t looked at me.

“Oh, so you won’t accept my help, but anyone else’s is fine, right?”

This time he looked at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Billie Joe, for the past week people have been in and out of here and helping you the entire time. When Tré handed you your guitar you said ‘thanks, man’, when Emilie poured you some coffee you acted like it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you., but I hand you the remote and you fucking yell at me!” My eyes narrowed. “What the fuck is that about?” I hadn’t meant to yell, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

He rolled his eyes. “Being a little dramatic, aren’t you?”

“Dammit, Billie!”

“All right!” he yelled suddenly, making me jump. “You wanna know why I’m getting mad all the time?” He whirled around to face me. “Because you’re treating me like I can’t fucking do anything for myself! But, believe it or not, that actually isn’t the case! So you don’t have to hover over me, ready to intervene every time I want to do something! Jesus Christ! I don’t need your Goddamn help!”

I flinched and backed up a step. “So it’s just my help you don’t need? Right? Everyone else? What about them? I suppose you’re fine with their help?”

He glared and threw the towel in his hands into the sink. “Yeah! That’s exactly right. Are you happy? That’s what you wanted to hear right? It better be, because it’s the truth. I don’t need nor want any help, especially from you. Just leave me the fuck alone.” He pushed past me and limped out of the bedroom.

“Fuck you, Billie,” I whispered.

***

“Lisa?” Tré stood in the doorway of his house, rapidly blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

Maybe 1AM wasn’t the best time to randomly show up at someone’s door, but I needed someone to talk to. After the fight in the bathroom Billie Joe and I had sat down to a somewhat tense dinner. Twenty minutes of silenced had passed until he had mumbled that he was done and gone back to the living room to watch more T.V. I’d been washing our plates when Billie had come back into the kitchen, saw me doing the dishes and gotten pissed all over again. Instead of arguing with him some more, I’d just left. And after walking aimlessly for close to six hours I’d found myself knocking on Tré’s door.

“Hey. Mind if I come in?” I smiled tightly.

His eyes focused on me for another moment before he stepped back and opened the door further. “What happened?”

I hung up my coat and smiled at. “What makes you think anything happened? Can’t I just drop by and say hi?” I knew he wouldn’t buy it, especially at one in the morning.

He rolled his eyes and ushered me to the couch. “Tell me.”

I explained everything and waited for a reaction. “Tré?” I asked, nudging him after a few minutes.

“Well, you both have reasons to be annoyed with one another,” he concluded. “But Billie’s annoyance isn’t important because he’s a dumb ass and has a bruised male ego.” He grinned and pulled me into a quick hug. “You, on the other hand, have very legitimate reasons to want to knock off Billie Joe’s head.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Nah, I don’t want to knock his head off, maybe just knock some sense into it,” I replied. “But, I can see his point. I wouldn’t want people treating me like a cripple.”

“No, but you aren’t. So far you’re just doing what you’d normally do. But because he’s on crutches, he thinks that’s what’s making you help him. Like I said, he’s a dumb ass. I love the guy, but he has a way of letting his pride get in the way of common sense,” he said, shaking his head. Tré opened his mouth like he was going to add something more, but then closed it again. He sighed and looked at me. “I can’t believe he’s acting this way when you’re pregnant though.”

“Um, yeah. Well, that’s not his fault,” I said, looking down at my hands. “I, uh, haven’t exactly told him yet,” I confessed. I looked up, frowning.

Tré raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “You have to tell him. Hell, maybe it would straighten him out.”

“Yeah, or he’d get even more pissed that I hid it from him. He’d probably think I hadn’t told him because of everything that’s been going on.” I paused and shrugged. “That may be why I haven’t told him. Why would he want to deal with my being pregnant after he just got out of the hospital? I mean, fuck, he was in a coma. Who wants to wake up to, ‘Hey! You’re gonna be a daddy!’?” I bit my lip. “Tré?” I whispered. “What if he doesn’t want the baby?”

I felt the couch sink next to me as Tré sat down. He took my hands in his, his thumbs gently grazing the backs of my hands. “He’ll be happy. I know he will. He’ll be surprised, but happy. You just have to tell him. Trust me. I’ve known Billie Joe for a long time, there’s no way he won’t be thrilled. It’s just the type of guy he is. And the fact that he loves you won’t hurt either.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, which made me feel a little better. I looked up and nodded. “How should–”

Tré’s phone rang, cutting me off.

Tré reached around me to grab the phone off of the end table and answered it. “Hello?”

There was a muffled sound on the other end before Tré spoke again. “Yeah man. She’s here, relax.”

“It’s Billie?” I whispered.

He nodded then turned his attention back to the conversation. “No, she needed someone to talk to. Preferably someone who hasn’t been drinking. How much have you had? I can barely understand your slurring,” he said, an edge of anger present in tone now. He listened for another minute or so and sighed. “You’ve got to knock this off Bill. You can’t keep getting pissed at her for helping you. She loves you. That’s the only reason she’s doing it. She’d do it even if you weren’t on crutches. So quit being such an egotistical bastard.”

There was another few minutes of muffled speech that I couldn’t understand, then Tré cut Billie Joe off. His anger becoming more evident. “No! Every time she does you bitch at her and make her feel like she’s doing something wrong. So you know what? Why don’t you just grab another drink and pass out?” He slammed the phone down and dropped his head into his hands. “Jesus Christ he pisses me off sometimes.”

“What did he say?” I asked, still deciding if I wanted to know or not.

“He asked why you left.” Tré laughed, but it was clearly a sarcastic laugh. “As if he didn’t know why.”

“I should probably go and talk to him,” I said, standing up.

“He drunk,” he stated flatly. “He’ll probably be passed out when you get there.”

I shrugged. “Probably. Still, I should get home.”

“I’ll drive you,” he offered, grabbing his keys and striding to the door.

***

All of the lights were still on when we pulled into the driveway. Which either meant that Billie Joe was still awake or passed out cold. I opened the car door and made my way up to the front door. I turned to say goodnight to Tré but he was already beside me, pushing open the door. “Why–” I began.

“Because I want to make sure things go smoothly.” Tré grinned and nudged my shoulder. “I’m your bodyguard.”

I rolled my eyes and followed him inside. “You’re a weirdo,” I countered.

He laughed and nodded. “Fuck yeah. And you love it.”

He walked into the living room while I pulled off my sweater. “Found him,” he called out.

I could only see Billie’s feet stickin off the end of the couch from where I was, so I moved closer. Tré was right. He was passed out on the couch, a beer can lying on the floor. “Dammit, Billie.” I picked up the beer can and set it on the table before sitting next to Billie’s sleeping form.

“Well, all seems well, so I shall leave you to wake him up. Unless you want me to get him upstairs?” Tré asked, nodding towards the staircase.

“Nah, I got it. He’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Atta girl, make him sleep on the couch,” Tré said, nodding in approval. “Alright, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“See you,” I said, just before he left the room.

The door closed with a quiet click. There was no sound in the house but the wall clock and Billie Joe’s even breathing. I was tempted to wake him, but decided at last to just let him sleep it off. I went upstairs to bed and quickly changed and slid under the covers, my eyes drifting closed as soon as my head hit the pillow.

A loud crash from downstairs made my eyes pop open. I looked around the dark bedroom for a moment, trying to wake up. Another loud crash from downstairs, followed by a ‘shit’. I groaned and rolled out of bed. Billie Joe had woken up. That or there was a very clumsy burglar in our home. I trudged down the stairs and flipped on the light in the living room. No sign of Billie Joe. I peered over to the kitchen door, noticing some light spilling out from under it. I tiptoed as quietly as I could and swung open the door just enough to look inside.

Billie Joe was at the stove stirring something that looked vaguely like Top Ramen. I wondered if he knew you didn’t have to stir that stuff, but quickly forgot the thought when Billie Joe slammed the wooden spoon down. A muffled sound came from him that almost sounded like a groan and he picked up the beer can on the counter and took a long drink. After setting the can down again, he turned around to sit at the table but stopped when he saw me.

We stayed like that for a moment. He was still drunk, so I didn’t want to do anything to upset him. Instead I just smiled a little and made my way over to the table, then sat down. Billie Joe just stood there, so I finally patted the table with my hand.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the chair. “Why are you up?”

“I just heard you down here; wanted to see what you were up to.”

Billie Joe sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ah,” was all he said. He stood up, grabbed his beer, and settled back into his chair.

I tried to ignore the thoughts going around in my head. I didn’t like that he was drinking, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it right now. “Yeah, so, um, Top Ramen?” I asked not really knowing what else to say.

God, why was this so hard? I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I just didn’t know how to get the words out. I also wanted to tell him that I was pregnant. And that he better quit feeling sorry for himself pretty damn quick. But the words just wouldn’t come out my mouth. I usually didn’t have trouble telling people what was on my mind. Maybe I was already becoming more emotional. I glanced down at my stomach, and realized that my hand had been resting there the entire time. I flinched and jerked my hand back up onto the table.

“What was that?” Billie Joe asked eyeing my hand. His eyes weren’t focused by I could see that they were a little anxious.

“Nothing, just twitching. I’m fine,” I said. “So, why are you drinking?” I’d meant to be more subtle, but I wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible.

He glanced up at me, then back at the can in his hands. “Dunno.” He took another swig then tossed the can into the garbage. “Nothing else to do. After all, I need help to do everything right?”

Sighing, I took his hands in mine. “Please, don’t start this again,” I pleaded, trying to get him to look at me.

“Start what? I’m not starting anything,” he stated, his words surprisingly clear for being drunk.

I pulled my hands away from his and stood up. He looked at me like I’d slapped him, but I really didn’t care at that moment. Maybe it was insensitive of me, but I was sick of listening to this over and over. “Listen, you can stop feeling sorry for yourself, okay? Because I’m sick of listening to it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel like a cripple when I was helping you. I was just doing what I normally do. And if it really bugs you, then I’ll stop. But get over yourself.” I walked out of the kitchen and made my way to the stairs.

I felt horrible for snapping at him like that, especially when he was drunk and probably didn’t understand half of what I’d said. But I was just so tired of it. Of everything. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard a crash behind me.

“Fuck!” Billie yelled, kicking the couch.

I ignored that and kept climbing the staircase.

“Lisa, hold on.”

I could hear Billie Joe’s footsteps behind me as he began climbing the stairs. A hand closed around my arm a moment later and pulled me to a stop. “Lisa, please.”

I sighed and turned around. “What? Are you ready to actually talk to me about what’s going on with you? Or are you just going to yell at me?” I regretted the slight as soon as it left my lips.

He dropped my arm and glared. “Yeah, actually I was, but since you’re being so fucking pleasant, forget it. Just go to bed. Or better yet, I’ll go to bed,” he snapped, shoving past me.

“Shit,” I whispered. “Billie Joe, I’m sorry, okay? Please. I really do want to talk.” I reached up and grabbed hold of his arm, trying to stop him from walking away.

He whirled around to face me. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so angry. Or hurt. “I don’t want to talk. I want you to leave me alone.” He shrugged my hand off easily and pivoted around again.

I saw him stumble and instinctively reached out to steady him. He’d just been in the hospital…no need to go back so soon. My arms wound around his torso, trying to steady him.

“I don’t need help!” he screamed, shoving me off him.

I backed up trying to balance my weight, but I was too late. My body lurched backwards and before I knew what happening I was falling back down the stairs.

The last thing I remembered was Billie Joe’s face over mine; his eyes and voice frantic, before everything went silent and I slipped into unconsciousness.