Always There

Everyone in the house was gathered around the television set in the basement apartment, holding bottles of beer, smoking the occasional joint while munching down Cheetos. Curled up beside Billie Joe on the right side of the couch, Maria watched the news coverage of the presidential election as the final votes from around the country were coming in. They were all curious on whether or not Bush would get reelected or if Bill Clinton would claim the throne, so to speak.

Yet, self-made billionaire Ross Perot was a wild card candidate.

But as the night of November 3, 1992 came to a close, everyone in the basement was cheering when the announcement came in that William Jefferson Clinton, the governor from Arkansas, was the 42nd president of the United States of America. Billie Joe, as liberal as he considered himself, hadn't gotten that into the election process. He'd voted for Clinton because the guy promised change and admitted to smoking pot, even though he said he didn't inhale. Bullshit. Either way, just watching Maria's happy reaction was a better result than knowing the country would be in good hands.

After the announcement came in, and all was said and done, the couple retreated back upstairs and walked outside to sit on the wooden front steps. They each had a cigarette and began to pick lamely at the chipped paint on the railings on their respective sides of the steps. When Billie Joe scooted over on purpose, Maria smiled. He linked his arm around her waist and she rested her head sideways onto his shoulder.

Blowing a puff of smoke from her lips, she sighed.

"Happy or sad?"

"Huh?"

"That sigh. Was it a happy one because you're glad Clinton's president now, or because there's something else?" Billie Joe wondered.

Maria lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him carefully, but in a way that suggested there actually was something more behind the sigh.

"I was thinking."

"About..."

"About us. Like, this is nice. Just the two of us. I wanna say that I couldn't be happier than living like this with you for the rest of my life, but..." She brought her cigarette back to her lips and took a delayed drag before looking down. "Are we holding each other back?"

"Are we---what? What do you mean?" He was starting to feel a little nervous about where this conversation was gonna go.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I love you, but...are we holding each other back? Like, I wanna somehow get my foot into the political door. I've always wanted to do that. And you with the band...we're kinda headed in opposite directions. A life of politics is a life of structure and presenting a certain image that will get the people vote for you. To make them like you so you can make a difference. You...you and the guys...all you hafta do is play the music you like, and don't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks. Except what you think. And, trust me, I'm not knockin' that."

"So, you're pretty much trying to say that your leaning toward maturity and I'm always gonna be stuck as the immature fuck who likes to play his music? You don't think I care about what people think?" He pulled back from her and narrowed his eyes. "How...how fucking...condescending!"

Billie Joe stood up and threw his cigarette to the ground.

"That's not what I mean, Billie. Don't twist my words."

"How am I twisting your words?"

"I didn't say you were immature and that you don't---urgh," she groaned, placing a hand to her forehead in aggravation. "I'm just saying, if I'm gonna be doing anything close to politics in the future, do you honestly think I'll get anywhere associated with a punk rocker from the East Bay?"

"Oh, but you'll get somewhere with some yuppie from Cal Berkeley who owns a yacht and vacations at Martha's Vineyard?" Billie Joe snipped. "If people care at all about the person you are and how you can represent them, who you choose to love shouldn't be a problem. If you wanted to run for fucking president someday it shouldn't matter if the guy you're with likes to smoke pot and mosh with a bunch of punks in a shithole club on Gillman Street!"

"Why are you yelling at me? I'm only trying to---"

"To what? Get to the point in the conversation where you say, 'Hey Billie Joe, it was fun while it lasted but I have to be serious now. See ya'?" He shook his head. "No, I don't want to be your fool. If you wanna break up with me, then do it. Don't drag me into this...fucking retarded conversation about who's mature and 'our directions'. If you fucking cared about this relationship at all, you'd wanna work at it."

Without another word, Billie Joe stormed up the steps and slammed the front door as he walked into the house, just as Mike was walking out, a cigarette in his hand.

"What the fuck was that all about?" he asked Maria who was sitting hunched with her head in her hands, her own cigarette still stuck between her fingers.

"Nothing."

"Well...that looked like one hell of a nothing," he commented amusedly. When he got no reaction out of Maria, he headed down the steps and walked over to his truck which was parked in front. He stuck his hand into the passenger seat window which was already rolled down and pulled out his bass. "I was gonna restring my bass if you wanted to join me for company. Or, not. You know...whatever."

Maria shook her head. "No thanks. I'm just gonna..." she stood up looking between the front door and her cigarette. "I'm just gonna go upstairs and study for a little bit before I go to bed."

"Alright."

Maria and Mike bid each other goodnight as she went back inside. As she passed through the living room, she saw Billie Joe standing in the kitchen, at the fridge, pulling out a beer. He glanced over at her, and she looked away, heading up the stairs to her bedroom, closing the door quietly.

About two hours later, Maria was lying in bed, just bordering falling into a deep sleep when she felt the bed move from weight shifting around. Opening her eyes and turning her head to look over her shoulder, she saw Billie Joe slipping in beside her and immediately wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her back up against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder and kissed her jawline.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"S'okay. Just forget it." She felt his head nod as he laid down.

"I will tonight. But I can't forever," he replied, still in a whisper. "I can't forget anything having to do with you. I love you."

Maria turned her whole body so that they were facing each other. She stared through the darkness until her eyes adjusted and she could study the green of his eyes. "I love you too, Billie."

He smiled lightly and placed a kiss on her nose, then on her lips. "Go to sleep. You got class tomorrow, I just have...well, nothing, 'cause I'm just a punk rocker," he teased.

"Not funny," she commented, closing her eyes and snuggling close to him.

"Well, it had to be, even if just a little," he mumbled in return as they slowly fell asleep together.