Chapter 34 - Turdbubble

Sunday, August 6th, 2006.

JC quietly snuck over to the bedside table, clicking on the lamp.

"There's a naked pregnant woman in my bed." He chuckled as he saw Ellie's sweaty body tied up in a singular bedsheet.

She grunted, covering her eyes as they adjusted to the light. "I don't feel fat and sweaty when I'm naked." She sat up. "How was your party?"

"Cool." He handed her a bundle of napkins. "I brought home birthday cake."

Ellie unwrapped the bundle, finding a collapsed slice of chocolate mud cake. She started picking at it as he undressed.

"Everyone was asking where you were."

"What did you tell them?"

"Just that you were feeling a little too exhausted to come." He paused for a moment. "Do you ever get sick of constantly having to defend yourself and your worth?"

She made a confused look. "What?"

"Just something I was thinking about on the way home." He crawled into bed next to her. "Justin and Lance were there. It kind of felt like everyone was going on about how great Justin's new single was or how brave Lance is for coming out."

"Is there an issue with that?"

"No...at least I don't think there is. It's not even that. It's just that they seemed to be getting all the positive attention whilst everyone was giving me shit for getting old and having a baby or whatever. Other than that, no one even remembered I was there until the cake came out." He paused. "I don't think anyone knows who I am anymore."

She bundled up the napkin, throwing it into the bin. She lay down beside him. "I know who you are."

"I don't think you do."

"I think you're someone who thought that 30 was getting old and who thought that little people strippers were entertaining and in no way exploitative and now you're trying to figure out if you're really that person or somebody else."

"OK, but those girls want to do that. They could be whatever they want and they chose that."

"Fine, but if you don't want to acknowledge what's wrong with the idea of 'little people strippers' and how that's a thing is a swirling vortex of the sexual objectification of women and the fact that our society is only willing to acknowledge people with disabilities either to pity them or gawk at them in a freak show sense, then that's your problem."

He reached over, turning the lamp off. "I didn't hire them." He lay back, staring at the ceiling.

"That didn't stop you from saying, 'This is gross,' to whoever did."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No...no...never."

He turned over, facing away from her. "The single's dropped out of the top 10. It's at 15 now."

"OK."

"Alex wants to know if there's any way we could maybe boost it. Maybe try another radio push or something."

"That could work."

"I guess..." He pushed, his breathing becoming more laboured. "Justin pretty much spent all night bragging about how much money Jive’s putting into his single and album campaign. He wants to hold the number one spot on Billboard album charts exactly 39 years after Sgt. Pepper’s."

"I want to kick him in the face," Ellie muttered.

She moved closer to him, kissing him between his shoulder blades. "Are you OK?"

"I hate this. I hate being here. I didn't ask to be born; I didn't ask to do this. I wanted to be an architect or something. I wanted to be a writer, but my parents thought I should sing because I could. I'm getting sick of expecting to succeed when all I do is fail. I'm getting sick of trying to fix everything when I can't and I'm getting sick of nothing going right. I'm getting sick of feeling like a piece of shit. I'm getting sick of being forced to say yes to everything but having everyone question when I make a decision purely for my own happiness. I'm getting sick of not being allowed to just be happy for myself. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Are you crying?"

He didn't respond.

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"I just want everything to be OK."

She paused. "I'm not sure can do that." She kissed his shoulder. "Sorry."

"It's OK." He sniffed.

They lay in the dark for a moment, while she gently held him. She softly started to sing:

"Baby mine, don't you cry

Baby mine, dry your eyes

Rest your head close to my heart

Never to part

Baby of mine

Little one when you play

Don't you mind, what they say

Let those eyes sparkle and shine

Never a tear

Baby of mine

From your head to your toes,

You're so sweet, goodness knows

You are so precious to me

Cute as can be

Baby of mine

Baby mine, baby mine.”

Tuesday, August 8th, 2006.

Ellie carefully used a spatula to transfer her pan of biscuits to a cooling tray as a knock sounded at the front door of her and JC’s apartment. JC emerged from his office to answer the door.

“Hey buddy.” He pulled Justin into a hug, leading him into the living area.

“Are you two OK alone for a sec?” JC asked as he pointed towards his office. “I need to send off some emails and update some stuff on my hard drive.”

“We’re cool.” Justin looked around the kitchen as JC went back into his office. “Are those from scratch?” He gestured at the cooling pan.

“Uh, yeah. My daddy makes incredible homemade biscuits every morning. I can’t stand to have anything other than fresh ones from scratch.”

Justin nodded. “I guess. It’s nice to have little reminders of home here and there.” He sat down at the kitchen table.

“Yeah, I guess.”

The two of them sat together in an awkward silence.

“Why weren't you at JC’s party on Sunday? I thought you would want to celebrate his birthday.” asked Justin.

“The last few days have been exhausting for me. Since he was OK with it, I thought it wouldn’t matter if I sat out of the festivities or whatever. I was also kind of under the impression that I would at least have this morning alone with him,” she mumbled, picking at her blouse. She tried to take a deep breath. “Why are you even here?”

“We’re going to work on some of the tracks for his album this morning before I have some business stuff this afternoon and evening. I was going to pick him up after breakfast. I guess I arrived a little early.” He chuckled.

She angled her jaw. “Yeah…you did.”

“I mean, I didn’t mean to.” He shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter.” She sighed. “I don’t really get that much time alone with him anymore. We’ve barely been alone over the last few weeks and the only time I can get with him is in the mornings, if I’m lucky enough for him to even be awake before I leave for work.”

“I mean, that’s what it like to date a celebrity. You don’t get that much time together. You have to make time, you know?”

“I made time,” she said tensely. “I made time. I literally got up at six o’clock this morning to literally make a handmade breakfast for my husband until some dickhead waltzes in at eight o’clock on the fucking dot to literally take away the only alone time I’m going to have with my husband for nearly a week. But that’s fine. I guess I just need to make time.”

“I was just saying—“

She cut him off, spitting through clenched teeth, “I made time. You just took it away from me.”

“Look, I was just saying—”

“Get out.”

“But I—“

“You can wait in the hallway.” She waited in bated air for his response.

“I don’t think you have the right to throw me out. You don’t own the apartment.”

Ellie stormed into JC’s office. “Get him the fuck out of my house.”

JC swung around on his chair, leaving the files he was transferring to his external hard drive to themselves. “What..?”

“I want him out of my house.”

“Why?”

“This isn’t a journalism class. This is me telling you to get your turd of a friend out of my house and I have the right to do that without having to give a ‘what, who, where, how and why.’” She glared at him.

He sighed. “You know, I just don’t understand why you two can’t get along. I’ve never had this problem with any other of the girls—“

“I don’t even want you to finish that sentence.” She walked into the living area, collecting together her work things and a pair of ballet flats. “I just forgot, I need to rush out to the office to rush a very important bulletin about how this is Justin Timberlake’s universe and tough shit to anyone who doesn't like it to print.” She stormed out of the apartment before anyone could respond.

Amber perked up as Ellie entered the unoccupied office. “Hey, you’re in early.”

Ellie checked her watch, sniffing. “I’m only a little bit early.”

“You’re never here before Maurice and Craig. Are you doing OK?”

Ellie took a compact mirror out of her briefcase. “Is it that obvious that at least half of the city now recognises me as the pregnant woman crying in between Columbus Circle and 52nd Street?”

“I wouldn’t say half of the city, but a fair few.” Amber made room for Ellie in her cubicle. “What happened?”

“My apartment is currently infested with Justin Timberlake.” She sighed. “I had this romantic breakfast planned for Josh’s birthday and he just shows up unannounced before I can even put the bacon on.” Ellie sniffed. “I just…I just feel like…I don’t know…”

“Look, you’re pregnant. You’re super irrational right now as well as majorly protective of everything now. I remember when I was pregnant with Hunter and I did not want anyone within 50 feet of my apartment door. Everything was a threat to my baby, even the tiny little 70-year-old Iranian woman across the way, the one who I mentioned was eavesdropping on me every second of my pregnancy to the extent where she arrived at my door the very moment I went into labour.”

“I get what you’re saying, but that’s not it. I feel like Justin’s a constant reminder of how much Josh doesn’t believe he’s ever going to be good enough and whenever he sees Justin, even if he tries to be happy and all of those things, he comes home and starts feeling depressed about how he feels like he’ll never be as good as Justin and I just hate seeing him like that. No matter how hard you try and fix things, it is so difficult to sit around and see someone you love so much try to have a relationship with someone who makes him feel completely worthless.” She sighed through tears. “And what’s worse is that they’re supposedly best friends. How do you tell someone that their surrogate little brother is a toxic influence on their life?”

Amber pulled a few tissues from the box behind her computer screen. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

Ellie returned home from work late, JC lying on the couch watching a movie.

"Hey, you're home late." He sat up. "It's nearly 9pm."

She placed her work bag and shoes underneath the little table by the entrance to the living area. "We got caught up trying to decipher an interview with a Turkish designer."

"That's cool. Have you eaten?"

"We got some take-out just after six. You know how irritable Craig gets if he doesn't eat by 6:30." She made her way to the stairs.

"Is there anything you want to—"

"Look, I know it's your birthday, but I really just need some alone time for a while, maybe take a bath or something. OK? I've been sitting in an office chair all day and she's been head butting me in the lungs it feels like and..." She paused. "Whatever that was happened this morning. I need a little time to just breathe and then I can do the whole happy wife bullshit." She went upstairs, leaving him as she found him.

Ellie slowly lowered herself into the bath, resting a towel underneath her shoulders and neck, her hair tied into a messier than usual bun on top her head. She took the deepest breaths she could as she caressed her belly, trying to calm the wriggling baby inside of her.

"Charley, please. Mama's trying to relax," she moaned. She zoned out as she traced the stretch marks on her stomach, taken by surprise as JC knocked on the door.

"Hey. You OK?" He poked his head through the door.

She sighed. "I'm uncomfortable; everything's uncomfortable. If it's not legitimate pain, it's some tiny little thing that never goes away like my feet being swollen. If it's not that, it's one of the laundry list of ailments I'm now prone to. Like, I want to eat everything, everything, but I have no room to properly digest it, so I have the most insane heartburn or whatever, and if it's not that, it's the fact that I haven't pooped in God knows how long and, AND, I can now proudly say that I have definitely had haemorrhoids." She groaned. "I want to get a t-shirt made: 'I survived haemorrhoids and all I got was this lousy baby.’"

He walked over and sat on the edge of the tub. "I guess you're now in your 'angry and tired' stage of your pregnancy."

"I guess. I'm sorry I'm not the cute ray of sunshine you fell in love with."

He leaned down to kiss her. "It's OK. It would be shitty of me if I expected you to be perfect all the time."

"Yeah."

She thought for a moment. "Do you think it would be different if we had been trying for a baby or something. Like, do you think we would be more excited?"

"What do you mean?"

"I feel so shitty feeling this way, but don't you think we, or at least I, should feel like this is the best thing to ever happen to me? I just feel so...empty. On top of that, I feel so incredibly selfish that I'm not happier about this. I feel like a walking postpartum depression case just waiting to happen."

He kneeled onto the floor, leaning his chin on the side of the bath. "The thing is, we're both incredibly exhausted. You can't sleep properly ‘cause you haven't been able to find a comfortable sleeping position since June, meaning you would be on the verge of going on a murderous rampage if you could muster the energy."

"Oh, stop it."

"And I'm trying to topple Buttboy with a marketing budget one sixteenth of his, a marketing team and label one eighth of his and a single without a decent hook."

"Buttboy?"

"It's like Batman, only his superpowers are off-key singing and the ability to ruin my career with one group email." He sighed.

She curled his hair between her fingers. "Do you know what I miss most, you know, since getting pregnant? Well, except for ham, and cheap champagne, and strong coffee, and missionary sex, and rough sex, like intentionally rough sex, and good bourbon...I miss just being able to cuddle. Just being able to lay on top of you and not have a laundry basket full of baby in between us. Just being able to lie in your arms and just listen to you breathe."

"I miss that, too."

"That and being able to lay on my back...and stomach."

Friday, August 11th, 2006.

Ellie and JC sat holding hands in the VIP section of a club in downtown New York, Ellie playfully kissing JC as he nervously bounced his knee as he waited to be called on stage for his set.

“OK, so what’s my set list again?”

“OK, ‘All Day Long,’ ‘Some Girls’…” She paused as her mind drew a blank. “Um…it’s literally on the tip of my tongue. ‘Blowin’ Me Up’..?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Eh, of course. Sorry, pregnancy brain. Then ‘Dear Goodbye’ and ‘Until Yesterday.’”

“Yep.”

“Yay.” She kissed him on the cheek, wiping the deep, wine-coloured mark of her lipstick off.

“Hey, guys.”

“Oh, fuck.” Ellie flopped in her seat as Justin emerged from behind the velvet rope. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well”—Justin sat across from them—“I couldn’t miss my best buddy’s first show of his promo cycle.”

“I thought that Trace fellow was your best friend. That is why you created the fashion line with him, or was it Cameron ‘cause you’ve never gelled with a girl like you gel with her?” Ellie inquired in a pointed tone.

Justin shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I’m such a nice guy that I have…hundreds of best friends.”

Justin fussed around in his jacket pocket, taking out a money clip holding a few bills. “Can I get you guys a drink or something?” He flipped through the stack, taking out three. “Do you have enough time before your set to have a drink?”

“We’ll see. I could just leave it here with you if I don’t. I’m only going to be up there for 25 minutes,” JC explained.

“Just a beer, then?” Justin asked. “I really know what you drink, Ellie. Do you want a coke or something?”

“Just a bottle of water will be fine.” She tried to look nonchalant as she played with her ponytail.

“Like Evian or Fiji or something?”

She shook her head. “Anything will do.”

Justin placed the drinks order with a waitress, attempting to strike up a conversation. “My mom wanted to know if you were going the traditional Southern route with baby clothes and such. We were down home a while back and she found a dressmaker that makes the cutest smocked dresses for little ones. She was wondering if you were accepting those kinds of things for your baby.”

“She’s OK with the smocked stuff, just not the monogrammed,” JC answered.

“Why not monogramming? How do you know what’s yours and stuff?”

Ellie sharply exhaled. “My middle name’s Rosemary.”

“OK…”

“My full name before I got married was Elizabeth Rosemary Argyle. You do first initial, last initial, then middle initial where you’re from?”

“Yeah.” Justin took the drinks from the waitress, handing her the tray after he had set all three onto a coaster each.

“Elizabeth Argyle Rosemary - E.A.R. Everything I had monogrammed as a child was monogrammed with the word ‘ear’ in capital letters,” Ellie explained.

JC checked his watch, standing up. “I should get going, call’s in 15 minutes.” He kissed Ellie on the cheek.

“Break a leg, man.” Justin lifted his beer in a silent toast. He picked at the label on the bottle as the air thickened with tension. “Why don’t you like me?”

Ellie turned to face him. “What?”

“Why don’t you like me? I mean, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’ve tried to be nothing but friendly with you: I try to be friendly with everyone, but for some reason you don’t wanna be friendly back and it really cuts me, you know?”

Ellie opened her mouth to respond, sighing when she couldn’t quite think of the right answer. “OK, three reasons. Firstly, there was this guy...I don’t know if Josh told you, but I was engaged before I moved up here. He wasn’t a good guy. I don’t know what it is, something about your aura or face or something reminds me of him.”

“You know I’m not him, right?”

“I know, it’s just that…” She shrugged. “Something in my gut tells me not to trust you.”

“I get that.”

“Secondly, this guy, I trusted him way too quickly and I got burnt really badly because of that. It’s not just you, I like to keep my space with everyone so I can scope them out until I’m comfortable with them. Most people get that. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like you do and it makes me uncomfortable. You keep pushing for a rapport that I’m not quite ready to have with you and even though I’m trying to just say ‘Hey, back off. Let me have my space.’ You just keep pushing it and pushing it.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t expect you to. Finally, and I fucking hate this ‘cause it’s so petty, but for some reason I feel like we have to compete for Josh. Like, you want to win cause you’ve been friends for 16 years or whatever and I want to win ‘cause this is the first time I’ve ever truly been in love and...I…” She paused. “I just feel like you’re going to win and I resent the fuck out of that.”

They sat in silence, Justin speaking up, “I never meant for you to feel that way.”

“I know.”

Ellie and JC entered their apartment, having left the club soon after his set had ended.

“But seriously, was I really that good?” JC asked as he started to peel off his vest, shirt and tie.

“Seriously, you were amazing.”

“Seriously?”

She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Seriously, you were amazing.”

He kissed her again, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “Why are you so good to me?”

“‘Cause you’re good to me.”