Hopefully this is okay. It really broke my heart to write. It wasn’t supposed to be sad, but then it just went there. I’d love to know what you guys think. Song title is from one of my favorite Nicki Minaj songs.
He wanted to be busy. It wasn’t that he had songs inside of that were dying to come out, Michael just needed a distraction. He had too much time on his hands to think about everything and he was beginning to go mad. He was completely alone in his giant house, lying on the leather sectional with his feet kicked up and crossed. There was absolutely nothing pressing to do. Michael rolled his thumb over the streaky screen of his phone, tutoring himself with gossip articles. The most recent ones all reported that he and his wife were separated, claiming Michael was looking at luxury condominiums in England’s Battersea neighborhood. Some even went as far as to say that he had taken up with 19 year old pop star, Candis McBride, from a brand new Australian girl group. Michael had never even met her before and he wouldn’t have known what she looked like had their not been an accompanying picture of the pixie haired singer. It was true that he and his wife had drifted apart, but everything else in the article was false. They had been co-existing for a long time, but for all intents and purposes, they were still together and married. There had been talk of them splitting up since before Emmeline was born. The two of them had come close to divorcing twice, but somehow they moved on and kept trying.
It crossed Michael’s mind to go visit his wife this afternoon. He wondered if it would help if he surprised her at the store where she was chaperoning Emmeline’s fitting for an upcoming runway show. Iden wasn’t going to be home for an hour from his therapy session, so he did have a smidgen of time to pop in. He opted against visiting though simply because Emmeline was terribly bothered by all the new articles claiming the demise of her parent’s marriage was coming. The rumors were always there, but something about the new gossip really crawled under her already sensitive skin. Maybe, it was because the silence her parents shared was deafening. She could hear it even when she was in her room and they were elsewhere in the house. The night before, Emmeline had stood at the top of the stairs and screamed at the top of her lungs at Michael, claiming that she would fling herself off Chifley Tower if he really was ‘dipping it in’ Candis McBride or any pop star for that matter. Michael figured because of that episode that it was best he just give the girls some space.
He put down his phone and laid the back of his head against the couch arm, wondering to himself when the last time he had sex was. It couldn’t have been any time recently as he struggled to even recall the last time his wife took off her clothes around him. They used to be unreasonably sexually charged, unable to keep their hands to themselves, but that died out some time and Michael wished he knew when and, more importantly, why. Slowly, Michael slid his hands around the waist of his jeans, ready to remove them and enjoy himself, but the doorbell sang out suddenly in the key of F, frightening him to the point of sitting up straight as a sewing needle.
Michael hadn’t the slightest clue who would be on the other side of the door. Most people texted him before coming over and since they lived in a prestigious neighborhood, he never had to deal with canvassers. With his blue eyes scrunched, he tried to make out the car outside the window, but he couldn’t place it mentally.
“Daphne.” Short of Captain Hook, Daphne Hood was the last person that he expected to see when he swung his front door open. Michael fumbled back on his heels at the sight of her.
Fresh from her dance class, she was dressed just like she belonged in a beloved 80s movie. Her tight black leggings clung to her curves while an old ROWYSO sweatshirt fell far enough off of her shoulder to reveal the white strap of her sports bra. Michael only wished she was wearing tube socks to complete the ensemble.
“Hi. Is Iden home?” Daphne flexed the toes of her purple Keds, trying to glance over her favorite Uncle’s shoulders as if the moody boy would be standing there behind him. “He said I could come by and pick up a sketch."
In an effort to curb Iden’s depression, Michael had been encouraging his son’s artistic talents. The kid had a real knack when it came to putting pencil to paper or paint to canvas. Whenever Michael offered Iden lessons or suggest he participate in a local art show, the teenager merely grumbled that he didn’t have anything to draw so Michael enlisted Emmeline to advertise her brother’s services. So far, he had sold two paintings and, including Daphne’s sketch of worn out ballet slippers, six sketchers. Iden had made just over four hundred and fifty bucks, but more importantly, it made him happy and that was worth way more to Michael.
"Oh yeah!” Michael moved back to allow Daphne to come all the way in. “One second.” He disappeared deeper into the house, going to the sun room where Iden chose to work over his dark bedroom these days, and collected the framed black and white pencil sketch with Daphne’s name and a price taped to it. Michael admired the picture in both of his hands and carried it back to Daphne who was still standing in the doorway. She was fishing out money from her wallet, counting it slowly in her head. “Here you go."
"Thanks.” She reached out with fifty dollars cash, exchanging it for the sketch.
“Thank you.” He grinned, proud of his son. Michael tried not to pick up on the obvious sadness controlling Daphne’s own smile. “You know you don’t have to ring the doorbell, Daph. You can just come in.” She was always welcomed.
“I know.” She had been told that a hundred times by almost everyone she was close to.
“It’s nice to see you actually. Since Emme began modelling more and you took up with March, I rarely see you."
Michael and Daphne always had a strange closeness. Calum just chalked it up to the simple fact that they both grew up as only children, no siblings to speak of. It was deeper than that though. They were completely opposite to one another. They had innate traits that each other wanted for themselves desperately. They felt an easy calmness with one another because of that fact. Daphne wished she could roar like her Uncle effortlessly did, that she could make demands, stand up for herself, fight back, and live life bombastically. Michael, on the other hand, envied Daphne’s delicate demeanor. She seemed to only speak when it would improve the situation. She had always been small and gentle, nothing like him.
"Well, it’s weird with you not around the house either.” Whenever they toured, promoted, or worked on new music, Daphne saw Michael far more often. Sometimes all four families were together daily like a miniature cult. After one particularly heated fight with his wife, Michael had crashed on Calum’s couch. He didn’t want his kids to see him snuggled up in the basement sofa or black out drunk in the kitchen. They would know something was up. It had been a nice break though, waking up to Daphne quietly setting a plate of eggs and turkey bacon in front of him in her school uniform, “Anyway, I just came for the picture.”
“Daphne - ” Once her hair was whipping around, he called out sternly. Michael should have known that she wasn’t going to open up to him voluntarily. Her lips were what gave her away. From the moment he opened the door, they were quietly quivering under her fuchsia gloss. He could tell that she was struggling to keep something contained. Michael could not care less about other people’s problems, especially with the stress in his life currently, but Daphne was of the utmost importance to him. She was his best friend’s kid.
Eyes as wide and dark as a spoonful of chocolate icing, she turned in a circle to face him again, hugging the picture to her ample chest.
“What’s going on?” his tone left no room for bullshit. He already knew that she wasn’t okay, so he just cared about the why.
In an instant, Daphne moved her big eyes to the floor between Michael’s hairy toes and the ends of her sneakers. She worried if she spoke, she might cry and Daphne like that would be the most embarrassing thing she could do at the moment.
“Daphne."
She hated how well he could read her. He always had been able to from the time she barely came up to his knees. She didn’t utter a single word, but Michael had known she was scared of going on the little boat to tour around Florida on a day off, so he sat down to talk her into it when everyone else just piled into the tourist attraction.
"It’s nothing.” Finally, she looked up, pushing hair behind her ears, and spoke.
“Then it should be easy to tell me."
"I don’t want to, Uncle Mike…"
"Fine.” He supposed that he couldn’t force her. “But I’m going to worry all day.” He exaggerated.
Just for one more moment, Daphne stayed silence before leaning up against the closed door and giving up.
“How do you know if someone doesn’t love you anymore?” As if she had been carrying the question around inside of her for days too long, Daphne sounded exhausted.
It caught Michael off guard. He had been anticipating something easy like school woes or, maybe, a complaint about her Dad being a hard ass and overbearing. Michael had to take a seat on the bottom of the staircase and scratch at his dirty blond hair just like he did last night after Emmeline shouted at him for nearly fifteen minutes. He was sure that Daphne was referring to her own relationship, but it forced him to look at his own. Did his wife stop loving him? When? Had he stopped loving her somewhere along the way? Michael thought he did, but now he wasn’t as clear. They could be pretty vile to each other sometimes. Other ties, they were just cold and distant. When they were good, it was electric. They had been fire before, but they were barely steam these days.
“Wow, um…” Michael gave his temple a hard rub with both palms. “Jeez, Daphne…I guess, you just sense it?” He wished he knew, but the question just proved to him how little he actually did know. “But March is nuts about you.” Shaking his head, Michael stopped thinking about his marriage and focused on Calum’s daughter again. She looked so distraught, hurt by her own thoughts.
Michael had seen the two teens together countless times. It was beyond evident that March Hemmings believed Daphne was the moon. Bright, beautiful, and necessary to his life. He had been drawn to her when they were toddlers, like a moth to light, and it made sense that he would grow to become absolutely enamored with her.
“I don’t know. I think, maybe, he’s kind of over it.” She shrugged, not very good at opening up. “We’ve both been busy lately, studying for finals, but he doesn’t really text or come by or invite me over anymore…"
"Ask him about it.” Michael had been a teenager once. Hell, he was a grown man now and he still didn’t always know that the way he behaved was hurtful to his wife. Michael assumed March was probably in the dark to how Daphne was feeling. He probably thought they were just peachy. “I’m sure it’s fine.” His marriage though was a totally different story. He almost wished he could trade places with the teenagers.
“What if I’m right? I don’t want to be."
"If you’re right,” Rising up from the steps, Michael took to his feet with a devious smile and approached the shy girl. “then you unfortunately have to deliver the news to March’s parents that he’s an invalid because you are very lovable.” He winked before rubbing his hand over top of her head like he always did when she was little. “Relationships aren’t easy, I know,” Did he ever. “But everyone knows March loves you, I wouldn’t sweat it.”
“Thanks, Uncle Mike. You always know what to say.” She knew that her Dad would have happily talked to her about it, but it felt safer to open up to Michael. She knew that her Dad thought she was too young to be in a serious relationship and that he wanted her to focus on pulling up her grades in order to graduate on time anyway.
Once Daphne left with her picture, Michael was left to himself again. He didn’t want to masturbate now though. Daphne’s question had left his brain stirring and a feeling in his stomach that mimicked sinking. He headed back to his phone on the couch, opening up the screen again and reading the articles over again, plaguing his brain with ugly thoughts and dark doubts.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Daphne only stopped at her house to change out of her dance clothes. She felt like she smelled too much like feet to go and see her boyfriend at the moment. Plus, she was wearing an old sweatshirt from one of her Dad’s tours. It just didn’t feel like the kind of thing you wear if you wanted to feel confident in yourself. Daphne was in constant need of extra self-esteem. She was hard on herself and always too scared to stand up to people who liked to keep her in a corner. She was quick to reapply deodorant and brush her teeth before fixing her lip gloss and wiping off any black stains from dancing with eye makeup on, but Daphne took her time in her room when changing. She looked herself over and over in the mirror, suddenly doubting that March liked every part of her body that he told her he did. His hands always liked to rest on her hips, he told her that he loved to touch them a dozen times, but she wondered now if he was bored with them. Maybe, they just felt like cold concrete to him now. He always told her that she had the most kissable lips, but Daphne was starting to doubt that he ever liked their flavor. She wanted to just wear a paper bag, but she knew that wasn’t going to look very good either. All she wanted to do was shake how anxious she felt, but no matter how loud she played the music on her tablet, she couldn’t cover the insecurities screaming through a megaphone inside of her. She was pulling a dress out of her closet, a long sleeved cotton white one that March absolutely loved. Crudely, he told her it looked good on the basement floor, but he also had told her liked how it looked, that it wasn’t as tight as everything else she liked. He said it was nice to see her looking so comfortable. She was wearing it the first time he introduced her to his grandparents even though she had met Mr. Hemmings’s parents a thousand times before that.
Before she could pull the dress over herself though, Daphne’s phone buzzed loudly from her night stand and she rushed to answer it. Her heart skipped inside of her chest, hoping that it would be March looking to spend some time together, but much to her disappointment it was just one of her friends from school, sending her a photo.
Absentmindedly, Daphne tapped on the thumb sized picture to blow it up. Her friend had accompanied it with a series of question marks, but it wasn’t until it was her full screen that Daphne understood. It was March, grinning from ear to ear, his lip ring shining in the sun while he held a paper coffee cup, most likely full of hot chocolate, in front of himself. She didn’t want to admit it, but he looked really good. He looked delicious actually. It was the other person in the picture that made her lose control of her emotions. Daphne’s lips weren’t quivering because she had her free hand over her painted lips, but her tears were flowing freely. Raquel Coin had her head knocked against March’s, her teeth on display from her wide grin and a coffee cup that matched his in her hand as well. The caption below the photo that Raquel had clearly posted on a social media account read, 'COFFEE DATE x March Hemmings’ followed by two hearts. If she was a bigger personality, she would had chucked her cell phone across the room towards her full length mirror, but Daphne wasn’t. She was meek and she instantly forgot about the dress and curled up on top of her made bed sheets, clutching her knees to her bare chest and sobbed silently into them.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
At the edge of his bed, Michael held his hands at his hips and proudly observed his job well done. He debated even taking a picture of the room he had cleaned all by himself, but decided that he wouldn’t have anyone to show it to as all of his friends would make fun of him. He was a grown man after all, making a bed and doing laundry should not have been such a big deal. He had decided to surprise his wife with a totally spotless bedroom, hoping they could spend the night cuddling under the covers and watching English comedies like they used to while their legs were intertwined and his head was on her bare chest. He left the room to put the vacuum away, dragging it behind himself with the handle, but before he reached the closet, he could hear a noise coming from Emmeline’s bedroom. He took a sharp right down the hall and walked right in, surprised to see his wife there, hanging up dry cleaning bags in the spacious closet.
“When did you get home?” He asked to earn her attention, but she didn’t turn to acknowledge him at all.
“I don’t know. Forty five minutes ago.” She shrugged and then ran both palms down the front of her jeans, flexing them after carrying all the hangers up by herself. Michael couldn’t believe that she had been home that long and didn’t find him to say 'hello’. It sort of hurt his feelings, but he puffed out his chest in order to not let it show. “Where’s Iden?”
“He went to this little photography gallery. Said he was meeting some friends.” Michael had wanted to pry since his son so rarely went out with anyone or wanted to do anything outside of listen to dreary music in his bedroom, he just encouraged Iden and told him to have a good time.
“Oh.” His wife nodded and shut off the closet light, walking right past Michael and into the bright hallway. “Emme went to the gym. She said she’d probably go out with Penelope later.” Michael hadn’t moved at all since his wife walked by, he was still staring at a wall in his daughter’s room, trying to feel anything besides a chill between himself and the woman he had promised to love forever. He wanted to make it work, he wanted to keep trying.
Michael coached himself in his head, forcing himself to turn around and fake a smile.
“Since it’s just us, we could, maybe, watch a movie in bed?”
“What?” Her face contorted with confusion, eyebrows scrunching together while her mouth hung open. Michael leaned all his weight onto the vacuum, worried he was growing a third arm by the way she was examining him. “Why?”
“We haven’t done that in forever and it used to be our go-to thing.” They spent nights in so many different hotels, curled up and bathing in the blue glow of the television screen, exploring each other’s skin and stealing kisses in between bites of room service French fries. Honestly, Michael really missed it.
The silence that slid between them like it was stealing home plate was frozen. Michael checked one of his arms for goosebumps while his wife looked around awkwardly as if she had never seen the hallway before let alone had decorated it multiple times.
“Michael,” Finally, after what felt like eons even though it was barely thirty seconds, she sighed and stepped closer to him. In fact, she knew it was the closest they had been outside of the bed they shared that whole week. “I think we need to talk."
Just like that, his wish was granted. He was a teenager again and felt completely insecure and afraid.
* * * * * * ** * * * * *
The sky was the kind of red that was only seen in flames by the time Daphne found herself parked in front of the Hemmings’s house. She hadn’t even texted her boyfriend to see if he was home, but his favorite skateboard tossed on the lawn was a clear indication that he was. She took ten deep breaths in and out before sliding out from behind the steering wheel of her car and heading up to the door. The house had always been large as it housed a rockstar’s large family, but tonight it felt much bigger to Daphne. It seemed like it might consume her if she stepped inside. When she finally found it inside herself to knock on the door, she lifted up a loose fist and stopped. Michael was right. She didn’t have to knock or ring, she could just walk in. Licking her lips, she tried to be brave and wrapped her hand around the black knob and turned it to the right to let herself inside. As soon as she was on their front carpet, she gasped and wanted to run away, but it was too late. The door had made a loud bang when it shut behind her and Miles had already emerged from the kitchen to stand in front of her, his boyfriend’s beautifully sculpted hands gripping his shoulders.
"Daphne, hey, I didn’t know you were coming over.” Tilting his head to side, he said before reaching up with one hand to hold one of his boyfriend’s hands on him. “March is in his room. Are you okay?” The puffy red pillows under her eyes were a giveaway that she had been crying earlier.
Daphne just nodded at Miles and waved at his boyfriend before running up the stairs to March’s room, a place she had spent so much time in over the course of nearly a year. Loud punk music was shouting from behind the the closed wooden door, covered in different skate brand stickers. At first, Daphne just knocked on it, but it wasn’t loud enough, so after a minute, she just threw it open, catching March on his bed with the novel he was reading open on his chest, but his cell phone in his hands above his head.
“Fuck - ” He shouted, startled, expecting to see his parents, but not his girlfriend. He used his phone to shut off the music and darted over to her, the book falling to the floor, still open. “Daffy, hey.” He smiled at her, happy to have her near after almost a week of only seeing one another in the halls at school and in the one class they had together. He wrapped her tightly in his arms, but she didn’t move her own limbs at all. He slid his mouth over hers, but still she stayed like a statue. As soon as the moisture on his lips was on hers, though, she started to cry silently again. March felt a wet drop on his cheeks and curiously pulled back before looking horrified. He didn’t know what he did. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Worried, he hugged her again before pulling her into his room completely, rubbing her back as her crying grew a little bit louder, but still seemed respectfully low. “Daffy, talk to me…” He sat down with her on the edge of his very dirty bed, keeping her close to his hoodie covered chest. “Should I be nervous, Daffy?” He certainly felt nervous.
“Why did you say you couldn’t hang out tonight?” Through her tears, she asked into his chest.
“I told you, I have to finish my homework.” He hated doing it, but it was the truth.
“Then why did Raquel Coin post a picture of you two getting coffee!?” Daphne almost screamed into his stomach, completely startling him. She so rarely raised her voice that March was stunned speechless. He had felt guilty all evening, but now he knew that he had messed up. Daphne felt his arms loosen around her, so she leaned back and studied his face, but it didn’t give her any answer. It was a blank stare. “I’m never going to tell you who to be friends with, but she’s so mean! You know I don’t like her. She calls me 'stupid’ and 'fat’ and, like, obviously I’m uncomfortable with you two spending time together when you guys used to hook up all the time…” She rambled while gasping over her cries. March didn’t know what to say, so he just kept wiping at her tears with his shaking fingers while she continued. “Like, why would you tell me you couldn’t hang out and then go see her? We haven’t hung out in almost a week. That’s not us. What’s going on? I feel crazy!” He was making her crazy and she hated it. Daphne did not want to be the sad mess on his bed that she was, but he had pushed her to explode and now she was all over the place.
“Please, don’t be mad at me…” Under his breath, March asked her, looking down with shame as he rested his hands in his lap. They were shaking and, somehow, that made Daphne shake. “Please know that I love you so much….” He started, his own voice cracking as he realized how much he he had already hurt her. He reached for her hand, but it only made her cry harder. “Just hear me out..”
TO BE CONTINUED.