"Can you sayyyyy... HELLO?" Freddie asked his daughter eagerly. She was so small seating on his chest, she weighed like a feather to him.
"Yello..." Elle cried back. Alice leaned to the side of the door, a grin formed on her face. Freddie could comm...
It was a quarter to five in the morning. The sun is rising up, and Freddie had just arrived home smelling like a combination of beer and cigarettes attached to him, with a hint of vomit. Alice was still awake, waiting for him, reading Sense and Sensibility on the couch of the living room. Freddie came into the house with an old friend, Paul Prenter, helping him to walk with his arms around Paul's shoulder, trudging him across the room. Paul helped to sat Freddie down on the ottoman and with a quick glance towards Alice, he left, not saying a word. Alice's heart sank, it was Paul fucking Prenter, the toxic leech that would come into Freddie's life now and then. Seeing him that morning, she knew Freddie was most likely back to his hedonistic ways.
Alice stared at Freddie. He clearly would not even graze for an apology – had a few drinks with the boys– that would be the best-case scenario of an excuse except that Freddie came back with Paul. For all she knows he had came back from a night out at a gay night club. He'd always insist that is where all his friends hang out hence that's where he would go, that anything further would be absurd.
Freddie released a deep aggrieved moan as he buried his face into his palm, "Darling, I've had the crappiest day ever. Can we have our argument later." Freddie grew up without having a close relationship with his own family, getting sent to a boarding school at such a young age. Hence when he knows he had committed a mistake, he would become defensive. Alice knew about this, and she would tolerate his drunken behavior but not today. Not when Elle was down with a fever and yet he chose to hang with his friends for a "few hours" and end up neglecting his own daughter.
The couple sat in silent for a minute, she could feel her nerves in a knot. Freddie stood up and started, "How is Elle?"
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"She cried for her Dada all night long," Alice answered with a monotonous tone. "Why was Paul here? You two back together again?"
"Paul is back! And yes, we just came back from Cellar Bar. But its because all my friends are there, I just had a few beers, enjoyed myself." The same old excuse. Freddie resents that Alice was against him befriending Paul, despite of everything he had done, Freddie was convinced that Paul always had his best interest in mind. Alice would accuse him that it made him softer, vulnerable to other people who would take advantage of him.
"Freddie, I'm trying my best to be on your side here. Remember, it is us against the problem. But why, pray tell, did you bring him back into our life, our family?" her voice croaked.
"He was in town so we figured to have a quick catch up. With the other boys, Peter and Kenny."
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Alice could see from his guiltless expression that all the resentment was seeping back into him, it was as if his struggle with his past hedonistic lifestyle and his bisexuality had came back to haunt him. She had told him a few times, 'That if he ever fell out of love with her, she would accept her fate. That Alice accepted him regardless for who he is, and that they'd still co-parent Elle andthe new baby.'
Freddie stood up and walked over to the mini bar at the corner of the room, he loosened his belt and tossed it on the counter, unbuttoned his pants and took out some change from the pockets along with crumpled receipts and tossed it in the trash. He turned to open the cupboard and in his drunken state, sloppily poured himself a shot of whiskey.
"You're going to make yourself sick Fred," Alice muttered, blinking a tear and quickly wiping it away.
He raised his glass and started his rant, "Darling, you just don't understand. I've been struggling with people whom I can trust since I was a kid. More so growing up in a boarding school, away from my family. I didn't have parents who supported my musical interest, buying me a fucking drum and what-not like you did. I trust few people Alice, and sure Paul done me over that one time, but he's a great friend at the end of the day."
Alice bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh, to cackle. Freddie was definitely drunk, he would start ranting about how lucky Alice was growing up when he was drunk. Internally she had given up. Even with the small family they had built, Freddie would relapse in his drunken stupor and crawl back into his old toxic relationships. Paul always being in the wings, ready to take advantage of Freddie once his walls are off.
"With my career, I need people whom I can trust." Freddie continued.
"You know they only want you for your money Freddie," Alice uttered with a stern, unforgiving look.
"Fuck you Alice," he slurred to her while pouring another shot, most of it spilled to the floor.
Freddie dunked one last shot and then he drunkenly walked up the stairs and headed to the bedroom. Alice sat frozen on the couch, her legs curled up with her Jane Austen book on her lap, a tear fell down her cheeks. They'd sworn they would never go to bed angry, that they would compromise and yet lately it seemed as though she was the only one who had put an effort.
Alice glanced to the trash can, an urge came over her. Though it was none of her business and she trusted Freddie, and he would be furious if he knew, she picked up the trash cans and pulled out all the crumpled receipts he had thrown earlier. A receipt from Cellar Bar, the infamous gay bar in London, and she can picture him with his entourage; Paul Prenter, Kenny Everett and Peter Straker chatting up with each other, throwing innocent banter with the barman. She can see him drinking shots after shots, with obnoxious techno songs blaring so loud no one could talk, man in leather approaching and straddling him; in which Freddie would insist it was all in good fun and Alice is expected laugh it off and be a good sport about it.
She straightened out another separate crumpled piece of receipt and saw a name – Jim – with a phone number. Alice swallowed a lump in her throat. Freddie had never cheated on her, but she knows he had many opportunities with fans from both genders throwing themselves at him. She could pick a fight and ask him about Jim but she knew he'd say, He must have slipped his number in my pocket, I didn't notice. Alice's paranoia started to spiral, she knew Freddie could cheat on her if he wanted too and get away with it. She looked down and her gaze stopped by her stomach. Was the pregnancy hormones getting to her, creating a boys' night out into a possible marital infidelity. Alice wondered if she should bring Elle back home to see her mother, Agatha, making him worry about her instead.
One hand to her tummy, she took a deep breath and pulled herself together. She slipped herself silently into the bedroom and tucked herself quietly inside the covers. Freddie turned his body to face her, wrapped his arms around her warm body slowly settling himself on top of her and spreading her legs apart. Alice laid back emotionless as he buried his face to her neck and muttered, "I want you."
A demand disguised as an innocent request. She rolled her eyes and had one hand rummaging through his hair, her eyes glanced down observing him leaving trails of kisses from her chest up to her neck. Rough drunken sex was a habit he picked up when Alice was around after the concerts have ended during a tour. Under the sheets, Freddie began to undress her hastily while she modestly reached for his growing member under his boxers. Moments in and Freddie pushed himself inside her, pumping gently at the first few pumps before pounding her senseless. She grimaced over his shoulder as her body moved back and forth, his hand holding her down by her arms and with a few more thrusts, he came.
Freddie rolled off her body, panting, he said, "Thanks love, I needed that."
Alice took a deep breath and slowly turned her body to the side and rested on top of him pretending what had happened was normal. "I love you," she whispered looking up to him, stealing a quick kiss to his jaw. He looked down with closed eyes, kissed her by the forehead and mumbled his reply, later falling into a deep sleep.
