excuse me sir but who gave you the right to be so fucking cute? seriously though, what did we do to deserve Brian May? i love him so much. am i going to sit and watch his program on saving hedgehogs? you bet your ass i am.
||-||
Rebecca's starting to think that there's something wrong with her.
It's been almost six months since she and Roger decided to start trying for a baby and they'd had no luck.
The first month and the first negative test, that was fine. They just accepted the result and moved on, tried again
By the third month, she'd done everything she could to better the chances of her getting pregnant; she's cut out alcohol, switched certain foods in her diet, got Roger to stop smoking and she's even started taking folic acid - which she read about in some newspaper article but again, the rest comes back negative.
That's when she suggested that maybe they should go to a doctor but Roger, being ever the optimist, told her that it would happen.
No one in their small group of friends know that they're trying for a baby. They didn't tell them in fear of getting their hopes up. And Rebecca's glad that's the decision they made because by month six, it still hasn't happened and John and Hannah announce that they're expecting baby number two.
And it kills her and she knows that even though he's not saying anything, it's hurting Roger too because that's what they want. Rebecca sees how he is with Charlotte and she's starting to think that maybe, just maybe, she can't be the one who gives him what he wants.
"It's going to be negative."
"Don't say that."
"Why would it be positive, Roger? Hasn't been any other time."
And so here they are again; another pregnancy test in the bathroom while the two of them sit on their bed, waiting for Roger's watch to go off, signalling that it's time.
They sit in silence until the obnoxious beeping goes off and Rebecca wordlessly stands and goes into the bathroom to check the result.
Roger stays put, pleading silently that this is it.
But when his wife slams that bathroom door shut and he hears the turn of the lock, he knows that once again, they've been unsuccessful.
He wants to get angry. God, does he want to throw something but he knows he can't. One of them has to be strong and when he hears Rebecca's cries, he knows that right now, it has to be him.
"Rebecca?" he says softly, tapping on the door with his knuckle, "Becca, love,"
"Go away, Roger," comes her muffled reply, "'m having a bath."
He sighs, looking over his shoulder to the bedside table where his wallet is and after picking it up, he grabs the first card he comes across and crouches down in front o the door.
Drastic times call for drastic measures - he's just glad that they've got one of those turning locks and not the bolt ones.
Pushing the door open, he peers around it to see that she is in the bath but it doesn't have any water in it and she is fully clothed and Roger glances at the counter beside the sink, seeing the negative test.
"I told you to go away," Rebecca mutters from the bath and he looks at her before sitting down on the floor, leaning back against it.
"You and I both know I'm not going to do that, love."
It's silent for a bit and Roger just sits there and pulls at a loose thread on his shirt and Rebecca doesn't admit it, but him being in the room with her does comfort her a little bit.
And then finally, she speaks and when she does, her voice cracks, "We need to go to the doctor, Roger."
He closes his eyes and rests his head back. He knows that now.
"It's not supposed to be this hard," she continues, "Is it?"
"I don't think so, love."
"I'm failing you."
She says it so quietly that he barely hears her but when her words register in his brain, he gets onto his knees and looks at her, "Don't."
"It's true though," she keeps her gaze straight ahead.
"Don't," he repeats softly, "Don't go there, please."
She's upset. That's what he tells himself. She doesn't mean what she's saying. She's just upset and angry.
And he's right. Rebecca doesn't mean anything that she's saying but she didn't know that it could hurt this much.
She didn't know that she could want something so bad.
||-||
The next day at the studio, where the boys are just having a jam, it's shit; Roger messes up solos, breaks five drumsticks and almost trashes his drum kit before Brian calls for them to take five and he's making his escape outside for a breath of fresh air.
What he doesn't know, is that the young bassist follows him, finding him sitting on a bench with his head in his hands.
He's never wanted a cigarette more in his life.
"Rog," Deaky says, "Rog, what's going on?"
The blonde sighs, running a hand through his hair as he debates telling his friend what's wrong.
But he realises he has to. It's all becoming too much and he knows that if he doesn't, he's just going to keep lashing out.
"How long did it take for you guys to get pregnant this time around?"
John's surprised at his question but taps his knee as he thinks, "Around a month? Wasn't as quick this time as it was with Charlotte."
"Charlotte was an-"
"Surprise," John interrupts, "A surprise, Roger."
"Right."
"You're trying to have a baby?" John asks and he nods.
"Trying and failing. Spectacularly."
"Well, these things take time, Rog. I'm sure-"
"It's been six months," he says and Deaky stops talking.
"Six," he repeats, letting out a low whistle, "Okay. That's a lot of time."
"Yeah," he nods, "And Rebecca, it's killing her."
"Wait," John starts, "The other day, when Rebecca went home after we told you guys..."
Roger nods again.
"Rog, if Hannah and I had known...we wouldn't have-"
Roger gives him a weak smile, "I know, mate. I know."
"So what are you going to do?"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" he asks, "We're going to have to go see someone. I'm gonna ring up this place I've found when we finish up here. We want answers. Something isn't right somewhere."
Deaky rests a comforting hand on his shoulder as Freddie emerges to have a cigarette.
"Listen," Roger looks at him,m, "We...can this just stay between me and you? For now anyway."
His friend nods, silently promising to keep his mouth shut.
||-||
Obviously, Roger wanted to go to the best hospital to get the answers they needed and because they went private, it took them almost two weeks to get an appointment.
When the day came, Roger woke her up bright and early, made breakfast while she was in the shower and after they'd eaten (he had to insist she ate something else other than just a slice of toast), they were in the car and off into the city.
Rebecca's silent the whole way there, hands toying with the cuffs of a Queen hoodie that belongs to Roger and the smell of his aftershave that clings to the fabric calms her slightly.
For a Friday morning, the London traffic is practically non-existent and it takes them a little under an hour to get to the clinic.
Rebecca's not sure what to expect as Roger pulls into the closest space. The place is small but being a private practice, she guesses that it's supposed to be like that to feel less imposing to people, help them feel a little more at ease and she has to admit that it does - from the outside, it doesn't even look like a medical practice.
Roger takes her hand as she climbs out of the car and together, they walk into the building and are met with a receptionist with a kind face and warm smile and Rebecca feels herself relax even more.
She lets Roger speak to the woman (if she recognises him, she does the polite thing and doesn't stare) while she looks around the waiting room. She thought that it'd just be like any other waiting room but it's not.
While most are white, drab and are filled with the most uncomfortable of chairs, this one has plush couches, pictures on the walls - there's even a couple of vending machines for crying out loud.
The receptionist tells them to take a seat and that Dr Johnstone will be out in a few minutes and they do just that and she's somewhat relieved to see that they're the only couple in there.
They sit there silently; Roger's hand on her knee to stop its bouncing and she places her hand on his, clutching it tightly as they listen to the quiet music that's playing through the speaker overhead.
At the sound of a door opening, they both look down a narrow corridor and see a woman with dark hair and a clipboard heading their way and her hand grips Roger's tighter as she comes to a stop in front of them, a polite smile on her face, "Roger and Rebecca Taylor? Hi, I'm Katie Johnstone. If you'd like to follow me, please."
||-||
The next forty-five minutes were spent answering questions that could make even Roger blush.
It was clear that both of them were extremely uncomfortable with answering them but Dr Katie was very easy to talk to.
Eventually, another doctor came into her office and she told Roger that while she was going to be doing some routine tests on Rebecca; bloods, urine, stuff like that, he'd be down the hall getting his own tests (Rebecca didn't want to know what he'd have to be doing) and so with a kiss being pressed to her forehead, he disappears out the door behind the other doctor and left Rebecca with Katherine.
While she's lying on the bed, the doctor chats away as if she hasn't got her hand up her skirt doing a pelvic examination, she talks as she draws blood and lets Rebecca lie there for fifteen minutes because she always feels faint when she gets blood taken and honestly, when she's in the small cubicle getting the urine sample for her, she's just a little bit relieved that she has a moment to herself.
The results will take at least a few days. That's what Katie tells her and that they'll ring when they're in and so Rebecca steps out of her office and into the waiting room, not entirely surprised to see Roger sitting waiting for her.
"Hey," he greets, pushing himself off the wall, "Good to go?"
She nods silently and after making sure that the receptionist has the correct contact number, they leave again and all Rebecca can think is I hope this is worth it.