Best Man

"Only a life lived for others is a life worth while."
-Albert Einstein



At first, there was no sound. There was no light. Everything was silent and dark. It was calm and inviting.

It was...peaceful.

But then, for no apparent reason, life came back into focus as a pair of blue eyes fluttered open; staring up at the crux of a taupe-colored wall and a white ceiling.

Blinking several times, Mike Dirnt flicked his tongue out and licked his dry lips, mumbling to no one in particular and slurring the words together, "Isthisheaven?"

"Not quite," came a soothingly familiar voice that brought a smile to Mike's lips.

Turning his head to the left, the 37-year-old bassist found himself staring at his wife, who was lying in a hospital bed; a blanket covering her legs and draping over her lap.

Smacking his lips and yawning slightly, Mike narrowed his eyes as he then looked around and realized he was lying in his own hospital bed parallel to Caroline's.

"What the fuck happened?" he wondered. "How come we're here?"

"You panicked like a woman and blacked out."

"Huh? You lost me." Mike sat up a little and raised an eyebrow at her.

Sighing, Caroline turned just enough to face him; her hospital gown wrinkling as she twisted. "In the delivery room, I passed out from straining. Apparently you started to freak out and bitch at the doctor to do something when he had you go outside the room to calm down. Then you got so worked up, you passed out."

Mike looked toward the end of his bed and frowned. "I didn't have a heart attack, right?"

"No. You lucked out there," Caroline responded thankfully. "You were completely out cold though. I guess Billie suggested throwing cold water on you."

Mike smirked, but the smirk quickly faded. "Wait! What about the baby? Did you--?"

Caroline nodded. "Already gave birth. We're officially parents now."

Mike's frown deepened at the thought of having missed the birth of his second child. It felt as if his heart was breaking at the thought of not being there and, especially, conscious. "I missed it," he pouted.

Smiling sympathetically and leaning to her right, Caroline tried reaching her arm across to Mike so that he could take her hand, but in the process, she was interrupted by the door to their private room opening up and Estelle, the heavyset black nurse, walked in wheeling a cart with an infant moving its arms around as it appeared to be building up to a good, hearty cry.

"Looks like Daddy is finally up," Estelle the nurse commented, throwing Mike a gentle smile as she wheeled the cart in between Mike and Caroline's hospital beds.

"Is that our--?" he began.

"Would you like to hold your son, Mr. Pritchard?"

Mike's eyes widened right away. "A son?" he repeated. "I got a son?" Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he leaned forward enough to look down in to the cart and get a better look at his child.

His son.

Estelle simply nodded as Caroline watched Mike's face light up like a million watt bulb.

"Hand him over," Mike spoke greedily.

Slowly and carefully, Estelle lifted the infant boy up as his skinny arms escaped from his swaddling cloth and seemed to be fighting the air. His little chin began to quiver and his tiny, thin lips parted as he started to put up a fuss; little whimpers, grunts and gurgles here and there.

As his son was placed softly into his arms, Mike reveled in how small and light he was. "Oh, God. Oh...wow. He's tiny."

"Six pounds, twelve ounces," Caroline muttered. "Which surprised me, let me tell you, because with all the weight I gained, I was shooting for him being at least a ten pounder."

Mike laughed a little, but kept his eyes glued to his son. Cradling him with one arm, he moved the other in front of his child so that the little boy could grasp onto his father's finger and hold as tightly as he could.

"He's got your hands," Caroline quipped. "I think he might grow up to play the bass."

"I can't wait to teach him how." Mike's eyes scoured the entire small expanse of his son's face until he let out a gasp of pleasant surprise as the boy opened his eyes and tried focusing on his daddy. "Hey, there, buddy," Mike muttered soothingly. "It's me; your daddy. The one who's been talking to you through mommy's belly ever since we found out we were gonna be having you." Mike moved his finger around which in turn caused his son's hand to move back and forth; bringing a small, noticeable smile to the baby's lips. "Yes...yes, I was...you're such a good boy. You never gave your mama no trouble. No you didn't, no you didn't."

Biting her bottom lip as she watched Mike talk in a baby voice to their son, she leaned back slightly and looked over to Estelle, who seemed to catch message.

"I'll leave you three alone," Estelle the nurse smiled just as Mike got to his feet slowly, with his son.

Closing the distance between both hospital beds and stepping around the cart, Mike nodded his head at Caroline. "Move over, babe."

Without hesitation or protestation, Caroline moved to the left as Mike sat on her bed and then leaned back against the pillow with her as he cradled their son; the two of them placing their lips on top of the small, soft head at the same time.

And, at that moment, Estelle ducked quietly out of the room; allowing both Tre and Giselle a quick glimpse of the happy parents cuddling their newborn as the door closed entirely.

When the nurse walked by with an acknowledging smile, Tre looked over his shoulder, into the waiting room, where Billie Joe, Adrienne and several other of Mike and Caroline's friends and family had shown up and were partaking in rounds of blue, bubble gum cigars, compliments of Tre.

"So, what are you gonna do with those pink cigars?" Giselle inquired; her arms folded under her chest.

"Well, Mike and Care are bound to have more kids. So I'll save 'em and we'll see what they have next."

"And if they have nothing but a slew of boys together until Mike's semen turns to dust?"

Shaking off the mental picture in stride, Tre shrugged. "Then I'll sell 'em on eBay."

Giselle laughed as she looked precariously at the wall behind Tre, then down to the floor; twisting her lips in contemplation.

"I got really scared for my sister and Mike today."

"I hear ya."

"We could've lost them both. Or all three. The baby, too."

Tre nodded, glumly.

"When I think about how much they went through in such a short time together, and to stay together no matter what...that's love. And...and to see them completely gaga over the idea of becoming parents, despite some of their initial feelings of doubt, to see them solider on, suck it up and deal..." Giselle trailed. "They've got balls."

"Big brass ones."

"The size of Texas," she added with a small smile sparkling in her eyes.

"I really thought Mike was having a third heart attack," Tre muttered. "And I knew that if he were, he would've died. No ifs, ands or buts. His heart can't take another attack. It would kill him on the spot. And thinking that this coulda been it, that he coulda died on the day his first son was born..."

"I know," Giselle agreed, knowing how the man that she still loved felt. "Ars longa, vita brevis."

Tre held her eyes and raised a confused eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Ars longa, vita brevis," she repeated. "It's Latin. It means: Art is long, life is short."

"Ah..." Tre nodded, but not understanding how the adage related to the moment.

Giselle caught on to his uncertainty as to what she'd said and rolled her eyes. "What you do -- creating music; art -- it'll last for perhaps centuries. You're a notable part of history; you and the guys. But, even though art will last forever, we won't. We're born to live on this earth for only a short while. Compared to how the hundreds, thousands and even millions of years that have passed and are yet to come, our average amount of seventy to eighty years are nothing."

"I gotcha now," he assured. "We gotta appreciate what time we got left and make the most of it; not waste it on petty shit that won't mean a flying fuck when we're rotting, six feet under, with worms crawling up our decaying assholes."

"That's what I meant; but minus the insane detail."

Tre smirked and looked away as he moved his hands to shove them in his pants pockets. The movement caught Giselle's attention as she stepped closer to him and tilted her head to smile serenely at him.

Looking up and holding eye contact with her, both pairs of blue eyes studied each other for what felt like several minutes before Giselle reached out her hands and grabbed his wrists.

"Wha--?" he began lamely.

"C'mon," she muttered, nodding to their left; toward another hallway.

"Huh? Come where?"

Successfully taking his hands out of his pockets, Giselle proceeded in leading down aforementioned hallway; Tre trailing behind her like a confused puppy dog.

"Just c'mon," she replied in a 'never you mind' tone.

"But where are we going?" he persisted, but honestly not caring in the least.

Casually, Giselle began checking doors that had charts in holders on the wall beside the door frame, and when she came upon a room without a folder, she clicked the door open and pushed Tre inside.

Before he could protest, Giselle had the door shut and locked behind them, followed by her lips claiming his.