Communion

Isn't it a drag?
Isn't it a drag?
It's pretty bloody sad.
But isn't it a drag?

"He's crying."

"Adie you think I can't hear him?" Tre snipped.

"Well I want to know what the fuck you said to him! I know he's upset over his mother but why the hell is he shooting his mouth off about Mike every two seconds?" a fatigued forty-three-year-old Adrienne Armstrong huffed.

"You should know, he's your husband! It seems I'm the only person who doesn't fucking know anything!" Tre retorted. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared up to the tall ceilings of Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong's home. Taking in a greedy breath of air, he sat down on the chesterfield and exhaled with thought.

"Tre..." Adrienne spoke, soothing and calm. It was like a manner she had never addressed the drummer in before and it was to let him know she felt no anger.

"Adie, what's it like to have your line of work shadowed by your husband's success?" Tre asked suddenly, referring to Adie's fashion career.

"I don't mind," Adrienne said, swallowing back a lump in her throat. "Why? How is that relevent?"

"I've just always been curious," Tre said, pausing briefly before he continued, "I suppose I consider you in the same vote as Rose. I'm looking to understand her and I don't know how."

"Tre, why didn't you tell me sooner?" Adie said, smiling nonchalantly.

"I don't know. I didn't know I was supposed to or should have," Tre said.

"Well, I am a woman. You do know that, right?"

"Oh, of course," Tre replied, raising his eyebrows with a smile.

"I do know a lot about what goes on inside a woman's mind, Tre Cool."

"Well, what do you suggest I do?" Tre asked.

"Let me hope you've done the most obvious, which is talking to her," Adie said.

"Yes, I have already. She pushes me away when I try to talk but always initiates sex like there's nothing wrong in our marriage," Tre grinned.

"Okay, I don't need to know about your sex life," Adrienne grimaced. "It sounds like whatever she has going on upstairs in her brain though, she'll let you in on it when she feels comfortable and has come to terms...'

"Come to terms...see? That's what I mean Adrienne...nevermind. I don't know..." Tre said, trailing off.

"Go home to Rose and Michelle, Tre. You haven't seen them in over a month. They miss you," Adrienne said softly.

"They do?"

Adrienne simply nodded.

"Thanks Adie." Tre stood up from the couch and initiated a hug with the middle aged hispanic woman. The two embraced briefly before Tre pulled away and turned to walk towards the front door.

"Tre?"

"Yeah?" he replied, stopping and turning back to face her.

"Let her know what's going on with you and she'll let you know what's going on with her. And don't forget to make these days the happiest days of your life," she said. "I have to go comfort Billie now. I'll talk to you later."

With that, Tre watched his friend's wife disappear from the room; leaving him with an awed and clueless expression on his face.

* * *

Tre clammered into his Escalade and drove off from the Armstrong's residence. The night was still, yet the trees rustled like his thoughts.

Why hadn't Billie shared anything with him? Why was he still feeling in a state of confusion? The drummer pondered as the rubber of his Cadillac's wheels strolled along the Californian cement. He yawned with fatigue as he drew his eyes down to check the vehicle's clock.

It was very early in the morning. 5 A.M. to be exact. Tre knew as soon as he walked in the door of his Oakland home he'd be greeted by a dimlit house. His wife and daughter would be in bed and he'd have to either go through the hassle of hauling his suitcases all the way upstairs or leave them in the car.

He choose the latter.

After arriving home, Tre removed his jacket, throwing it on the foyer floor; he went upstairs hurridly. Although his step was light, the brawny drummer did manage to make the stairs creak as he climbed and eventually found himself standing as a silhoutte in his bedroom doorway. He took in a shallow breath, thereafter tiptoeing into the veil of the room. The attractive man scratched his lengthly brown hair as he walked from memory over to the left side of the bed. His wife could be heard stirring as he kicked off his shoes with laziness and instinctively sat down.

"Ah! Fuck!"

"AH!"

"Rose? Oh god. Where the fuck's the bed?"

"Oh my god, Frank!" Rose yelped as she turned on her bedside lamp and drew groggy eyes down at the floor.

"Uh fuck, sorry I scared you honey," Tre said. He began to sit up. "The bed? Ow, my back. Shit. Why....Why didn't you tell me you rearranged the furniture?" he laughed in pain.

"I'm sorry, I should have. God damn it, you scared me," Rose said, climbing out of bed. "Aw, my poor baby. Let me help you up."

"Yes, please do," Tre groaned, holding a single hand to his lower back. "I'm starting to feel old."

"Come on Frank, upzy dazy," Rose giggled as she held her husband's arm over her shoulder and helped him up.

"Oh..." Tre groaned again as his wife sat him up. She placed him on the bed and he let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you."

"Here hon," Rose offered, pulling off his t-shirt. "Hmm, someone's been tanning." The woman of her late twenties gave an enthralled smile.

"Well, they lock me out of interviews and crap because they claim I'm misbehaven. Then I cook while Billie and Mike sit in an air conditioned room," Tre said.

"Aw, you're not making any sense. You're either being yourself or you're just so shweepy," Rose said as though talking to a child.

"I'm shweepy," Tre replied. His wife sat at the top of the bed, resting against the headboard. He looked at her briefly before gently lowering his head down on her soft breasts. He lay like that for several minutes just listening to her heart beat in an entrancing rhytym.

"Welcome home. I'm glad you're here," Rose said softly, lowering her head to meet his lips.

"Thanks honey. Crap, I'm so tired. Oh, my back."

"Sorry honey," Rose giggled. "You'll be fine."

"Rosie?"

"Mhmm?"

"Have I ever told you how perfect you are?" Tre whispered.

"Hmm...not perfect."

"Yes perfect. If I forgot to say it sometimes, I mean it. I mean it. You're perfect, Rose Cool."

Rose began to stroke her husband's hair soothingly. She opened her mouth, her lips tremored as she began to speak. "I'm such an idiot."

"No..." Tre groaned tiredly into her breast.

"Yes I am."

"Why do you say that? Honey?"

"Because....Because I'm the only one who's blind to your love for me," Rose sighed. "Sometimes I can't see it. I mean, I know how much you mean to me but most of the time I can't see how much I mean to you. I'm just delusional I suppose."

Tre sat up of his wife's chest to look her in her cooled green eyes. He raised his eyebrows as the rims of his undereyes began to sting. The drummer opened his arms and placed them around her. "You're not delusional Rose. It's me. I've been so ignorant towards you. I don't mean to, but I've been ignorant towards myself as well."

"Frank, don't cry," Rose said, watching as a tear fell freely down his cheek.

"I'm not crying for me. I'm crying for you, Rose," Tre said. "There's so many things I should have told you and I just didn't."

"What do you mean honey?"

"I love you and trust you. I should have told you about how traumatic prison was for me. I should have told you afterwards that I knew that asshole was going to come back to our house and try to hurt you," Tre cried.

"What asshole?" Rose questioned.

"I was in prison with those guys who broke into our house a few years ago, Rose," Tre admitted.

"Oh."

"They victimized me like they victimized you. There was nothing I could do except just go utterly crazy," Tre finished.

"Frank. Oh my god," Rose said, embracing him closer as she began to cry. "Oh god, why didn't you tell me..."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Tre said, crying into her shoulder.

"I don't blame you, honey. I don't blame you. I don't..."

"I love you Rose."

"I love you too, Frank."

Few minutes passed of the couple crying in each other's arms. Rose rested her head atop her husband's thinned head of hair.

"Honey, I'm dieing to know you're secrets. What is it that eats you inside?" Tre asked.

Rose gasped slightly before settling to a normal breathing pattern. "Frank, I've always been under this belief that you don't think I'm good enough for you."

"Rose that's not tru-"

"I know. I know. I know that now. But for so long, it's been my belief. And in a way, it's actually been very mentally ill of me," Rose said.

"Rose, what are you trying to say?"

"That...umm....That for the past six or seven years, I've been trying to be this perfect image. Umm, female ideal if you will. I've really thought about it a lot while we've been apart. And I always thought about it when we were together. I just, I felt like a burden to you kind of. I remember you once saying that you felt like you were carrying my ass financially and I wasn't doing anything for you. I mean, you realized afterwards that I'd given you a daughter but I still felt like maybe it was a bit true."

"No. Oh god sweetie, no, that's not true. I'm so sorry I said that to you."

"It's okay, it just...confused me I guess. It got me thinking that you didn't think I was anything special to you. So I started...umm this is so hard, fuck I can't say it," Rose said with frustration.

"It's okay baby. Just take you're time," Tre said, raising her from the headboard and holding her close to his chest.

"Oh god, you don't know how good it feels to be held by you," Rose weeped, now burying her face into Tre's shoulder. "And you smell so familiar to me."

"That's because I love you," Tre said softly with a smile. "You know me. And now you know me more..."

"Frank. I've been bulimic."

"Bulimic? What's that?"

Rose sat away from her husband to look into his piercing blue eyes. She swallowed back a lump in her throat before she began to speak again. "It's an eating disorder. It started, and then when you went to prison I thought it would stop. It didn't. It got worse, I think Billie noticed for awhile. He never mentioned anything though. Perhaps it was paranoia but I swore he knew at times. And then, someone did find out."

"What? Whoa...umm who?"

"Mike. He caught me throwing up in the bathroom on his fortieth birthday."

"Wait, what? Mike knew you were sick and he didn't tell me?"

"I told him not to tell you or anyone. He had a reason not to tell you but I think that reason is nonexistent anymore," Rose said, referring to the bassist's love for her.

"Holy fuck, I'm going to shoot him."

"No, Frank please. This is my fault. Don't be mad at Mike. Please don't be mad at him. He did try to help me but I refused his help," Rose muttered. "This is really all my fault."

"Rose. How in the hell did I drive you to that? Oh god, that's horrible," Tre said, pausing. "Fuck. What, were you doing this while you were pregnant too?"

"Yes," Mrs. Cool cried shamefully.

"God, that's horrible. That's horrible," Tre said, raising his voice as he squeezed his wife against his body tightly as though releasing his hurt and subconsciously trying to hurt her all at once. "I love you," he repeated and kissed her forehead.

"Frank," Rose said, "you're hurting me."

"No. No, I'm not," he cried. "This is why....This is why we lost him."

"Frank, who? You're hurt-"

"Michael. Michael, Rose. This is why," Tre cried, squeezing her even harder against himself, before letting go and sitting back on the bed. "I'm sorry."

Rose inhaled the room's stale air as her husband released her from his strong grasp. "I'm sorry too, Frank. I didn't want to hurt our son. Just like I never wanted to hurt you. I did it for you. You must understand that."

"That makes it so much worse for me Rose. It makes it unbearable for me," Tre cried. "This is because I've hurt you. And in turn, you've scarred me."

"Frank, please don't be upset. It's okay. I'm sorry, you know that," Rose said, extending her hand out to graze the stubble of his unshaven cheek.

Tre closed his eyes as she brushed his cheek tenderly. He let out an innocent sigh, knowing how much his wife loved him. He could feel it in her soft touch.

"Don't grieve over your dead son, Frank."

"How can I not?" Tre said, opening his eyes to look into hers.

"Because we're going to have another one."