Baby I've Got My Eye On You

In the most unlikely of situations, Beth and I suffered a personality reverse, or at least to some degree, a personality exchange. My thoughts were a recipe of all sorts of things, yet over all the tension and the atmosphere of resentment, I kept thinking of the film ‘Freaky Friday’, where the kid swaps bodies with her mother. Now I’m not saying that Beth was a mother figure for me, infact, until Helen did her disappearing act we barely spoke of anything that wasn’t a product of sibling rivalry. On top of that, our bodies certainly hadn’t switched (unfortunately for me), but there was something definitely eerie about our current positions. Beth was perched awkwardly on the edge of the sofa as though it was a cliff, whilst I stared intently at the couple opposite us, completely determined to rip them to pieces. I suppose you could say I was taking the alpha-female role for once. She fiddled with her bracelets and set her gaze off course towards the window, looking much like the passive face of a renaissance portrait rather than her usual up front self. I wondered why, she normally loved drama like this. It gave her an excuse to throw punches; it seemed as though she wasn’t even aware or just didn’t care about what was going on. Then again, it wasn’t her boyfriend who was stuck in a jail cell…

When the talking began, I suppose I became unaware of even her presence, despite the fact I’d asked her to come along for moral support.
We had arranged to meet with Helen and her pet moustache the afternoon following the fight. Things needed to be discussed; there was no way in hell that I was allowing Richard to press charges for this.

She manoeuvred her way around the sitting area of Richard’s house, setting four china cups of tea on the oak table that – fortunately for her – divided us. The cups squeaked as they scrapped the surface, splashing a dribble of the contents on to the tabletop. I stared at the spillage. I hoped it stained.
“So” Richard began, “I make the assumption that things need to be discussed.”
I slowly turned my head towards him. Even without the fresh bruise that now circled him left eye, he would still be an ugly man. I suppose my silence uneased him, as he looked to my mother for means of help. She cleared her throat and pushed forward two of the teacups towards my sister and me. What’s that? A poor excuse of a piece offering in my book.
“I don’t even like tea. I never have.” I stated dismissively. It was a hard blow; I hope she understood I meant she didn’t know me at all.
“Of course not…” she said with a false smile, “Rosie, listen…” she began.
“Go ahead”
“You’re my daughters…you’re very important to me…”
“Not that important.”
“Just listen, Rosie. I really would like it if this decision didn’t affect our relationship.”
“What decision?” I queried, as far as I was aware, the ‘discussion’ had only began!
“Richard wants to press charges.”

Beth’s eyes suddenly bulged in horror as she sprang into semi-animation. I on the other had, nearly wet myself laughing. Who was she kidding?
“Are you serious?!” I laughed, “It was Richard who hit me! Maybe I should press fucking charges. How naïve can you get? Don’t you realise a hundred or more Avenged Sevenfold fans witnessed everything happen? Don’t you realise none of them would stand by and let the two of you even try to make Syn the bad one? If this went to court the witness stand wouldn’t fucking hold the amount of people who would love to testify on his behalf.”
Her face went white and she looked to Richard for what to do; he looked even more worried than she did.
“…we’ll drop the charges.” Richard nodded, accepting defeat.

Later that day, all I could think about was seeing Brian. I wasn’t used to sleeping without him; last night felt strange. I wanted to go down to the station as soon as he’d been arrested, but Matt and Jimmy wouldn’t let me. I’m pretty certain Brian told them to keep me away – I imagine the thought of me visiting jail disturbed him. The night of the cancelled concert would have been the last show of the tour as we were well on our way to being home sweet home; as soon as word of the charges on Syn been dropped aired, a new date was scheduled so fans didn’t miss out – but that wasn’t for another month. And boy was I pleased. All I wanted to do was be at home, with Brian, and forget about all the drama that could have been avoided. I was guilt-ridden with the thought that my family grievances had tarnished what would have been a pretty enjoyable tour. Despite my anticipation to get home, Richard’s house was a good couple of hours away, meaning I’d be stuck with Beth and her current state of weirdness for quite some time. She’d barely spoken a word all day. Zacky had rung earlier and even without the knowledge of what was said on the other end, the conversation sounded rather…tense. We were meeting at his house for what Jimmy described as “the jailbird’s freedom shindig / end of tour orgy”.

“What time we s’posed to be at Zack’s?” I asked, trying to break the ice. Beth shrugged, continuing to stare at the road again. Feeling my gaze, her eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard and said “like half an hour ago.”
She’d purposely been driving slowly and I knew it.
“Everything okay?” I asked
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“I dunno… you just seem a little quiet.”
“So what Roz? You spent half your life being quiet” she snapped back.
“Jeez, relax” I grumbled, thinking ‘time of the fucking month or what!?’

When we finally arrived, she slammed on the handbrake so fast I swear the bones in my toes suddenly became lodged in my throat. She got out the car with out speaking so I followed suit, thinking nothing more about it. Jimmy was stood on Zacky’s porch, shirtless and covered in a weird slime looking liquid...
“What happened to you?” I asked as we passed, soon finding that The Rev was already past the stage of being able to form coherent sentences.
“Why’s Jimmy covered in… whatever he’d covered in!?” I laughed as Matt approached and gave me a hug.
“Him and Zacky had a ‘let’s throw whatever’s in the bathroom’ fight. Or so they say. Apparently it’s toothpaste, but they spent that much time alone in there that I’m not unconvinced that they didn’t just have a synchronised masterba-”
“Don’t even want to know Sanders! Don’t even want to know!” He laughed and walked off to get us each a beer, leaving me alone in the living room, save for one person who sat quietly on the couch, reading a familiar newspaper.

“I don’t want you reading that” I whispered as I bent down to his sitting level, wrapping my arms around his neck from behind.
“It’s an interesting read” he laughed, before turning and looking at me. His face horrified me, he looked like he could kill someone. My heart started beating a million miles an hour. Was he mad at me? After all, wasn’t this all my fault? What would he say? Would he make a scene now, in front of everyone?
He continued to stare me out. It was torture. Say something! I thought, please just fucking say something!

“So, Rachel. You’re sleeping with the entire band are you? I thought it was just me.”
“What!?”
He pointed at the article, seeming to find the mistakes and very loosely based facts thoroughly amusing.
“It’s not funny!” I said, sinking in to his arms. He touched my face gently. There was a faint mark where Richard had slapped me, but nothing I couldn’t have covered up with make up; my lack of skill to apply even lipstick meant I didn’t even try.
“Does that sting?” he mumbled, looking hurt. I shook my head no.
“I’m hard as nails me” I smiled.
“Well if I knew that I wouldn’t have bothered!”
I kissed him.
“Thank you Brian” I whispered with a smile; he suddenly picked me up. “Where are we going?”
“Upstairs” He smirked, “So you can thank me properly.”