Ever So Slightly

After the tour manager checks us in, we all make our way up the stairs to the first floor, where the majority of us were roomed. We’d approached the elevator just a few minutes earlier to find it ‘temporarily out of order’, which I’d found quietly amusing due to the fact that almost everyone was carrying ten tonne suitcases.

We eventually reached our room, after having realised it was on the ground floor after all, and it was to say the least, a little more simplistic than our last. Over on the left side was the bed, covered in a sparse white duvet, and to the right was a small desk - the only other things in the room were a small sofa underneath the window, and a telephone. As I enter, another door comes into view which leads to a small en suite, covered ceiling to floor in the same bland décor as the rest of the room.

‘Well…’ begins William, taking a look around. ‘It’s not much but it’s our home for the next two days.

‘I thought you were only playing one show here?’ I say.

‘We are, but we had a Liverpool show cancelled, giving us another day off. I swear this has been more like a holiday than a tour.’

He lets himself fall back onto the bed and I walk over to inspect the phone, for lack of anything better to do. It’s one of those old-school ones, where the receiver is cradled on the top, above the buttons.

‘Do they even sell these sorts anymore? I muse, not really to anyone.

Will chuckles. ‘Stop bitching about the phones and come here,’ he says. I oblige, lying next to him and shuffling to get comfy on the starch-stiff sheets.

‘…So,’ I say, wanting to know more about him. ‘When’d you start the band up?’

‘I dunno - a long time ago.’

‘So it was all practicing in basements and touring garages then?’

‘Something like that,’ he smiles

‘I bet your parents got pretty pissy huh? All the noise.’

‘Not really.’

This is getting awkward. Why is him talking about himself awkward? He’s probably just tired is all - I am.

I breeze past it. ‘Me and my friends were psyched to set up a band once. Had to write a shitty song for Music in school so we thought what the hell-

But a knock on the door cuts in.

He grunts, rolling his eyes and getting off the bed as he heads towards the door.

I hear Will pull it open and then everything’s silent for a few moments.

‘Bill,’ I eventually hear a female voice simper.

And just from hearing that one voice, my heart drops into my stomach. And just from hearing that one voice, this dread comes over me to swallow my happiness, and I don’t know why.

I don’t even recognise the voice. But it’s the way it sounds, the way it’s so sugary and sweet…

His voice grates back, like broken glass. ‘What do you want. How did you find me here?’

‘That’s not very nice, aren’t you going to invite me in?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Billy…’

‘No Samantha. I don’t know how you found the nerve to come down here, but you’d better find enough to get back, or fucking else.’

Her voice falters a little. ‘But you love me - I know you still do Billy…’

‘I fucking don’t. I don’t - so you can leave me the fuck alone again now.’

‘Stop. Swearing,’ she grits through her teeth.

‘Fuck off telling me what to do - fuck off! Why are you even here?’ I’m feeling worse and worse as his voice cracks. I’ve learned from experience that it’s a tell tale sign of emotion - I do it enough.

‘…I’m pregnant.’