"We're both waiting for daddy."
She could tell by the look on Jackson's face that he missed the point. Maybe that wasn't the worst thing. He was recovering. Not only that, but he was in rehab. This was the worst possible time to talk about having a child. They hadn't even talked about the possibility - not seriously, anyway. They hadn't been trying, and she was of the understanding that neither of them were even thinking about it. This simply wasn't the time.
She decided not to press it. He was getting out in three weeks, which gave her that much time to figure out what she wanted to do. Instead, she shifted the conversation to something a bit less complex. Music. She had found a song of his while she was cleaning up the house, one of the few things that could keep her occupied on the rare occasions that she was home. The tour kept her out of the house for the most part, but there wasn't much to do when she didn't have anything scheduled, which left her subject to the intrusive thoughts and worries that she had grown accustomed to, not only in relation to him, but in relation to her father as well.
Addiction was an ongoing theme when it come to the men in her life, and she was always the one left to clean up the messes they left behind. Her father didn't have the same privileges Jackson did. He was a driver, making just enough money for them to live comfortably. Fancy rehabilitation programs with swimming pools and support groups were never an option for him. Alcoholics Anonymous was, but he never wanted to go. He just kept drinking: on the road, at the bar, at home. Ally was always the one to take care of him, always having some kind of dinner on the table to help him soak up the alcohol, and making sure he didn't hurt himself between the front door and his bedroom. He eventually learned the hard way, the hard way being loss of business, a night in jail, and a DWI on his record. Things changed drastically after that.
She wondered if things would be the same way with Jack. If the worst was already behind them. It would be difficult to top the incident that sent him to rehab in the first place: getting shitfaced before his performance and being so out of it that he peed himself on stage. Still, she knew how hard it would be to stay away. She knew how accessible drugs could be to someone like him. Alcohol was even worse. It was everywhere, available to anyone twenty-one or older. She could protect him from it when she was around, but when she wasn't? What would stop him from relapsing?
That wasn't the point though. The point was that he had written a beautiful song: one that she assumed was about herself. "You writing love songs?" she teased, laying the composition flat so that they could both look at it. She never doubted his feelings for her. Even when they were fighting, she always knew he loved her. The song only solidified that, lyrics painting a bleak picture of how he would feel if he lost her. The question now, was if he could extend his love to someone else.
"Well, I told him."
She was back at home now, curled up on the couch with Charlie at her feet and Ramon at her side. He was the only other person that knew she was pregnant.
"What did he say?" The male asked cautiously. He could tell there was something off—for all the time they spent together, he prided himself on being able to read his best friend like a book—but he didn't know what it was.
Ally sighed, shaking her head. "He didn't get it."
There was a pause, and then Ramon spoke again. "What?"
"He didn't get it. I called him daddy and he smiled and moved on."
"Ally..."
"I shouldn't have told him anyway."
She couldn't shake the fear that this would mess things up for him. That this would be the thing that undid all of his progress, destroyed what was left of his career, and took their relationship with it.
"Are you going to try again?"
She wasn't sure. Maybe this was a sign that it wasn't meant to be: that they weren't ready to be parents just yet.
"Not until he gets out... and not until I'm sure he can handle it."
"And if he can't?"
She couldn't give him a definitive answer. She wanted this baby, but they were nowhere near prepared for one. Jack would've understood if she decided not to have it. Jack didn't even have to know if she decided not to have it. Luckily, she didn't have to make the decision now. She still had three weeks. She would be nine weeks pregnant by then—well below the legal limit. She still had to answer Ramon's question though.
"We'll see," she replied, pursing her lips. There was a silence on her friend's end. She couldn't blame him. How was he supposed to respond to that? He supported her right to choose, but lying to Jack? It seemed like it would cause more problems than it would solve. It was ultimately up to her, but he hoped she would make the right choice... whatever it was.
"I support you either way," he reassured, offering her a small smile. "But if you do decide to keep it, I call dibs on being godfather."
The European tour was a pipe dream. With everything that was going on—Jack in rehab and their impending parenthood—Ally didn't know if they could make it work. Still, she hated the idea of letting the opportunity go to waste. This was her career, one that she was lucky to have in the first place. If she hadn't been at the drag bar that night, or if she hadn't performed, she would still be working at the restaurant, dreading each and every second between when she clocked in and when she clocked out. Letting all of her progress go to waste would've been exactly that: wasteful.
At the same time, she didn't want to undo Jack's progress. She couldn't leave him by himself on another continent, and she didn't have time to fly back and forth between performances. If she was going to Europe, he would be coming with her. That way, she could be there for him if he relapsed again, and she wouldn't be the reason why that happened. She loved her career, but he was her priority.
Rez had come over to discuss business and hear the new song she was working on, though their conversation was mostly about the former. That was just how he was. Everything was so calculated: dyeing her hair, hiring dancers, performing without Jack. It was hard to argue that any of those things were objectively bad, but she often found herself wondering if her input really mattered, or if she was just a cog in the machine: one of many moving parts, but of no real significance compared to the others. It definitely felt like that sometimes.
When she brought up the possibility of Jack joining her in Europe, that feeling returned. Rez wanted nothing to do with it. He wouldn't even consider the possibility. She knew she wasn't going to win this argument. He was the puppeteer, and she was his marionette. She couldn't do anything without him pulling the strings.
So, she gave up, both on the conversation and on the topic. If going to Europe meant leaving Jack, then she wouldn't go.
"If you can't make that happen, then fucking cancel the tour. I don't know what to tell you."
Rez left in a huff, slamming the door behind him and leaving Ally to cry at her piano.
She wished it hadn't come to this. She wished that she could go on tour without having to worry about her husband's health. She wished that she could take him with her. She wished something—anything—could be different.
The countdown to Jack's return had just passed the seven-day mark. He would be home within the week, and then she would have to talk about all of this with him. He didn't know about the baby, but he knew she was supposed to be going to Europe. He would know something was wrong if the supposed tour dates came around and she was still at home with him. This was a conversation she couldn't avoid—and she was going to have to lie.
Author's Note: I'm so glad to be writing again! I stayed as in line with canon as I could for this first chapter, but I'll be breaking away more and more as the story goes on. Please let me know what you think!