a work of art

chapter 21: spring

It was spring in the Midwest, and all the trees in my backyard were flowering. White and purple petals floated down onto the blanket under me. The sun was bright, and warm, and waking up my skin without burning it. It was heaven.

I sneezed, and Billie passed me another tissue.

"Is there anything you're not allergic to?" My darling held back a laugh at my expense, and rolled onto her back, stretching her limbs.

"Shellfish," I said, pressing the tissue to my watery, swollen eyelids.

"You're a vegetarian," Billie snorted.

"Yep," I sighed. "Also shellfish is gross."

"Never had it. Never will."

I laid down beside her on my stomach. I sighed and nuzzled my face into her arm. I kissed and bit her inner elbow, and she closed it lightly around my face, tugging at me. I laughed into her skin.

"Come snuggle," she murmured, and I did. I tucked in tight to her side, half on top of her, and kissed her neck.

The American tour had ended two nights ago, with a show in LA. I'd missed most of the party, taking a red eye home that night. I had work I needed to get home for. We'd left off with a slightly tearful, "We'll figure it out, see you soon."

This morning, she'd shown up unannounced at my door at 8 am, a huge grin on her face. I'd only been home alone for 24 hours. I shouldn't have even had time to miss her... but I had. Desperately.

And I was already thinking about the fact she'd have to leave soon.

"Stay here," I said softly. "Rest here for a few weeks."

"Mmm," she murmured in response. "I want to."

"Stay, and I'll cook breakfast for you every morning," I whispered, painting a picture in her ear. "We'll grow a little garden, and I'll work in my office with the doors wide open, and you'll lay in the grass nearby and rest. And at night we'll drink wine and cook naked and take baths, and then go to bed..."

"And what then?" she muttered back, her lips in my hair.

"Then I'll touch you like only I can touch you," I said, my voice little more than a sigh. "And you'll do the same to me..."

Billie shifted to her side, and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me to face her. She pressed her lips to mine, so softly, so lazily, just how I wanted to be kissed in that moment. "It sounds perfect in every way..."

"But?" I sighed, already knowing the answer.

"But..." she murmured, resentment creeping into her voice. "I have interviews. And photo shoots, and meetings..."

"So you won't rest then," I grumbled and rolled away from her onto my back. I stared up at the puffy clouds, the little petals falling on the breeze. Glared at them, for being lovely and not being able to enjoy them. I felt petulant, childish.

It was impossible to explain what it felt like to watch her go through what she went through on a daily basis. When we'd first met, everything seemed exciting, and interesting. A flurry of activity followed her around, and she seemed to be having the time of her life.

But I saw the toll. And it devastated me.

She was exhausted all the time. She got touched out, talked out. Her tics acted up and exhausted her further. I watched her and couldn't fathom why on earth she continued to do it.

Because she loved it, deeply. She loved her fans more. But she was tired. And I wanted her to love herself first for a while.

That seemed like an impossible ask.