Queen Bee

December 2002 (3)/January 2003 (1)

Swiping the glossy, glitter-coated applicator over my bottom lip a few times, I was careful to avoid getting any on the surrounding skin. Standing back, I slid my lips together as I tried my best to disperse the gloss evenly. Hm. Not bad. Pushing the wand back into its tube, I tightened it closed and laid it back down on the counter. As I watched the gloss roll a few inches, my eyes took notice of the folded up piece of paper Marshall had given me a few nights ago. Knowing full well it was his itinerary for the Asian and European legs of Anger Management, I had chosen specifically not to look at it. Instead I just decided to leave it mindlessly scattered, hoping that maybe if I just ignored it, it wouldn't be real. 

Reluctantly, I reached for it. Slowly unravelling the creased paper, my eyes fell upon big bolded font, and date, after date, after date. 

The Anger Management Tour: Asia and Europe, May - June, 2003 

Asia: Eminem, 50 Cent, D12, Obie Trice 

Europe: Eminem, 50 Cent, Cypress Hill, Xzibit, D12

Chiba, Japan - May 23 & 24, 2003 (Makuhari Event Hall) 

Essen, Germany - June 13, 2003 (Georg-Melches-Stadion) 

Hamburg, Germany - June 15, 2003 (AOL Arena) 

Amsterdam, Netherlands - June 17 & 18, 2003 (Amsterdam Arena)

Paris, France - June 19, 2003 (Palais Omnisports de Paris-Bercy) 

Milton Keynes, England - June 21 & 22 & 23, 2003 (National Bowl) 

Glasgow, Scotland - June 24, 2003 (Hampden Park)

County Kildare, Ireland - June 26 & 27, 2003 (Punchestown Racecourse) 

Sighing to myself, I realized logically it was only a month. To any other person, a month is nothing. A month is a month. But to me, a month is a fuckin' lifetime. A month is thirty days of uncertainty, thirty days of being left alone yet again, and thirty days of being a single parent. Which I understand sounds not too bad, I should be able to do it, right? I'm strong enough. I have all the will power in the world. But when I barely get to see my own husband even when he is home, when I barely get to see him sober, this shit could honestly be the end of me. 

"Yo, ya almost ready?" I heard Marshall ask from the doorway, yanking me away from my thoughts. 

Quickly looking up at him, I folded the paper back to its original size. "Hm? Yeah. I'm good." 

"You lookin' at the itinerary?" He jutted his chin out towards my hands. 

"Yeah, well..." I shrugged, placing the paper back down onto the counter. "I hadn't looked at it yet, so figured I probably should eventually." 

"You okay? How ya feelin' 'bout it?" 

"Uhm," I chuckled nervously. "Not great, I guess. It's just... Kinda scary, doin' this again." 

"Yeah? Whatchu scared 'bout?" 

"Nothin' really in particular-" 

"Angel, don't lie to me, aight? I wanna avoid fightin' with ya on this as much as I can, and I know this shit makes ya upset, so tell me what's goin' on."

A deep sigh rolled from my lips. "Why don't you ever just wanna slow down for a second?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked semi defensively. 

"It means I've been askin' you since I first told ya I was pregnant to slow down with work for a bit, but you haven't! You never have! Not once! Ya even told me that you wanted to stop tourin', which I knew was bullshit and would never happen, but still ya said that! You tell me time and time again that ya wanna be home more, ya wanna make more time for us, but you never do!" Without even trying, my voice quickly became raised. Shit, maybe I did have a lot more on chest than I thought I did.