A Ballad For Beulah

Several weeks later, everything in the world seemed to get back to normal in everyone's lives.

Or, at least, close to it.

Billie Joe and Mike were on speaking terms again, but just barely. Tre tended to still play mediator between the two older friends because they would tend to get in petty arguments over the most insignificant and stupid things. It was only because of the underlying anger and guilt that lie amongst their friendship.

In order to focus better on the good things in their lives, they still didn't spend as much time together, and instead with their families, which only postponed the majority of the studio time even more.

Billie Joe and Adrienne had since returned from their short stay together in Las Vegas, but despite the drunken reunion -- drunken on his part -- when he returned to the penthouse suite and they fell asleep together, things between husband and wife were far from perfect. There was, for good reason, a great deal amount of tension neither was willing to confront. However, love is a powerfully strong bond. And despite the tension, they also couldn't ignore how much they still cared and love each other, and that made each day a little easier to deal with.

The same pretty much went for Mike and Beulah. Sure, he wasn't as mad at her as he had been. A month had passed since she spilled the beans to him and since he'd forgiven her. Because, again, to reiterate, he was guilty of the same thing in his life and to call her a cheater would be calling himself a hypocrite and he wasn't one to be hypocritical at all.

The couple spent quite a bit of time together over the coming weeks, doing things with both of their kids, Estelle and Bailey; going to the beach, advance school shopping, and even a small vacation to Disney Land.

But things weren't perfect, of course. Like Billie Joe and Adrienne, there was still a sort of underlying tension between them and as much as Mike hated it because he knew the stress of it all might induce Beulah's labor prematurely, it just seemed like it couldn't be helped.

And he wanted to fix that. He wanted everything to be better between them and he knew that she wanted it too. It was just a matter of taking the initiative to bridge that gap. Cross that bridge when they got to it. Or, burn that bridge. Something like that.

So, taking that first step toward the whole bridge thing, Mike approached Beulah one day, asking her, while she was watching One Life To Live, if she wanted to go out to dinner that night.

He said he'd give Tre a call to see if Bailey could sleepover with Frankito, and even if Estelle could stay too for someone Ramona could hang with.

And that's what Mike did.

He gave his drummer friend a call, told him what he told Beulah and Tre agreed.

At quarter to seven, Mike and Beulah were both dressed and ready. Mike was in black slacks and a dark blue dress shirt he had unbuttoned slightly at the top as well as the sleeves rolled up three-forths of the way, and Beulah wore a simple black dress that came to her knees and was strapless. And she could pull it off, too, because due to her pregnancy, he breasts had swollen enough, as well as her stomach, to keep the top part of the dress from slipping down.

At half past seven, they had arrived to the restaurant in the city. A French place called Chez Panisse.

They'd eaten there before, and each time they'd snickered because the named always sounded like a fancy way of saying Chez Penis.

Once they were seated and had been poured glasses of white wine, they took the time to look over their menus in relative silence. Once they ordered, they sat there, holding their drinks and occasionally looking at each other.

Beulah looked down at her glass of wine and sloshed it around. "Should I be drinking this?" she wondered.

Mike stared at her wine, then up at her. "One glass of wine won't hurt the baby. They, whoever they are, always say a glass of wine with dinner is good for the heart."

"I thought that was red wine."

Mike paused, thinking about it. Then, "Do you want red wine instead?"

"I hate red wine." She shrugged. "I guess I'll drink this."

"Well, if you think white isn't healthy for the baby and you don't like red, you don't have to drink the white. You can get a Coke or just some water. They might have juice or milk..."

Beulah just stared across the table at Mike with amused eyes. "You sound like an overprotective parent."

"Sorry," he muttered, leaning back and bringing his own glass of white wine to his lips.

"Don't be sorry, Mike," she insisted. "I like it that you're always looking out for me."

* * *

Beulah was roller-skating up and down the driveway and along the sidewalk while Tom stacked boxes of his belongings into the backseat and trunk of his car. She wouldn't admit it in front of other people, but she didn't want him to move out. The thought of him moving 45 minutes away to Berkeley for college almost felt like he was moving to New York City.

Would she ever see him again? Would he visit?

As she twirled on her skates, arms flailing around her at her sides, Beulah glanced up the driveway.

Mike was there, complete with short, platinum blonde hair that practically mirrored her own color. He was helping Tom move, which only made it all the more real for ten-yea-old Beulah.

Mike was helping to take her brother away.

She frowned, trying to focus on skating up the sidewalk as she noticed Tom disappear into the house once again out the corner of her eye. Tears welling up in her eyes, she scowled slightly at what she viewed as impending abandonment, and her vision became blurry.

Without much warning, her front two skates snagged a crack in the sidewalk and sent her fumbling forward.

She landed on her bare knees and the flats of her palms, skidded to an abrupt stop as she cried out. She could feel the tiny, tiny stones digging into her soft skin and she could also hear heavy footsteps behind her.

Sinking onto her side, she looked down at her knees and saw they were bleeding.

"Ow," she whimpered.

"You okay?"

It was Mike.

She looked up to see him crouching down before her. He pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket and spit into it.

"Here," he spoke. "This might sting a little."

As he pressed the handkerchief down on her first knee, she grimaced from both the slight sting and the grossness that was spitting into the material he had on her skin.

"I get cuts all the time," he continued, wiping some gravel from her knee and then moving to the next one. "Spit works just as fine as water. 'Specially when you can't get to water, like, if you're, uh...nowhere near water."

Beulah stared at him, and he stared back.

"You're kind of a dork," she commented with a smile.

Mike nodded, raising his eyebrows and grinning at her with that tightlipped smile he tended to flash people. "In the flesh," he joked, pulling the handkerchief away and repocketing it in his pants. "Can you walk or are you damaged beyond all repair?"

"I can walk," Beulah insisted, pushing some of her light blonde hair behind an ear. "Thanks."

Mike shrugged it off and offered her a hand to help her up to her feet. "No problem," he replied. "Just watch where you're skating or you might, like, trip and fall into a moving vehicle or something..."

* * *

Dinner arrived and Mike watched as Beulah dove right in. He smirked. It was her pregnancy hormones which amplified her appetite, and to be honest, it was kind of hot.

A girl who could shovel her food like he could was a girl after his own heart.

"So," Beulah began as she washed some food down with a glass of water she gotten in place of the wine, after all. "I haven't really bothered to ask, but how's recording been going?"

Mike shrugged. "It's been mostly writing, actually. We haven't been able to get through a session, if you will, without something coming up to pull us all in opposite directions. So, we're kinda compiling our ideas separately and bringing them to the table when we meet up."

"That something wouldn't be petty fights, would it?" she questioned.

"How'd you know?" he retaliated with an expression that was a mix of impishness and shame.

"A little birdie told me."

"A birdie named Tre?"

"Maybe."

Mike shook his head. "I never knew that, if you through him into this kind of situation, Tre could be such a mediator and such a therapist type of person. Usually that part is played by me. He's the wild and crazy guy most of the time."

"People change. Maybe Tre's just now starting to. You know, that whole 'it's time to put away childish things' mantra," Beulah commented.

Mike rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands, watching how Beulah spoke and how shyly she looked down at her plate when she felt his eyes on her.

Even though she was such a beautiful woman now, in so many ways she was still very childlike to him.

* * *

Beulah giggled incessantly as she stared up at the big screen, holding a bag of Sour Patch Kids in her hand, as Mike Myers and Dana Carvey, as Wayne and Garth headbanged to Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody in the 'Garthmobile.'

Mike, who was sitting two seats down, turned his head to look at her profile, and smiled, before looking back at the movie. Wayne's World.

It was February 14th, 1992. Valentine's Day. And it was also the opening night of the movie.

All around the theater, there were couples there on dates. Some of which were barely concentrating on the movie because they were too busy sticking their tongues down each other's throats. But, for those unluckily single few, they were merely there to enjoy the comedic film.

Afterward, when everyone was filing out of the theater, Tom made sure he pulled his youngest brother, Nick, and his sister aside as Mike brought up the rear of this quartet.

The older guys were dateless this Valentine's while Billie Joe was off doing something with the girl he'd been dating since breaking up with Adrienne, and Tre was probably doing something or another with his new girlfriend Lisea.

So, here Mike and Tom were, babysitting. But not really. Nick and Beulah were cool kids to have around. Mike liked them and never complained about why Tom had to drag them everywhere with him on the weekends.

"Can I sit in the front?" Nick asked as they headed for the car.

"Ask Mike," Tom replied.

Nick turned to the skinny as all hell Mike who had his now dark brown hair down to a little bit past his ears. "Can I sit up front?"

Mike shrugged. "I don't care. It's your brother's car."

"Awesome."

Once they were inside, Mike piled into the backseat, beside Beulah. The radio was turned on and some Guns N Roses song was playing. The soon-to-be twelve-year-old Beulah didn't recognize which song it was because she was too busy staring out the window on Mike's side.

When her eyes shifted, he met her gaze and just smiled back at her as he returned to looking forward.

Beulah bit her lip and turned away as well.

What was that strange feeling in her gut? How come Mike looked kinda cute?

Oh, God? Do I actually think Mike is cute? she thought. Ew. Or...is it? No, no...definitely not right. He's Mike, for crying out loud! Mike!

However, Beulah still stole another glance at him.

* * *

Sitting back and feeling quite stuffed, Mike smiled over at Beulah and reached his hand out across the table.

She followed his gesture, bit her bottom lip, and then met his hand halfway.

Giving her hand a light squeeze, he asked, "How was the food?"

"As good as the last time we were here," she answered.

Mike still hadn't let go of her hand, and was instead entangling his fingers with hers.

* * *

"You got ice cream on your shirt," Mike remarked, pointing at Beulah. "And rainbow sprinkles on your shoe."

Beulah looked at her shirt and at her shoes, blushing slightly from embarrassment. "Damn," she mumbled.

"Hey, hey, hey. You just turned ten," he added. "Should you be swearing, little miss?"

Looking Mike in the eye, she smirked daringly at him as his apparent girlfriend, Ann, came up beside him and took his hand in hers.

"I can swear and not get in trouble if you don't tell."

Mike just grinned. "Good one," he complimented as Ann pulled him away, placing her lips to his ear.

Beulah looked away, licking a finger and trying to wipe the ice cream smudge from her shirt when a hand touched her shoulder. She turned and looked up to find Billie Joe staring down at her.

"You wear it well," he teased.

"I know."

"So, did you have a good birthday?"

"Yeah," she nodded shyly.

"Enjoy the ice cream?" She nodded again. "Good." After a pause, he added, "Happy birthday, Bee."

As he walked away and Beulah went off to join Tom in his car, she glance back over at her brother's friends she'd just met that night, just as she caught Mike's glance as he winked at her before hopping into the backseat of John's car.

* * *

As they arrived home, Mike turned off his car and looked at Beulah who sat on his right. Turning her head, she met his gaze and smiled.

"We needed this," she whispered.

He nodded. "I know."

Leaning over to her, Mike lifted one hand and cupped the right side of her face and pulled her closer to him as he kissed her lips gently at first, and then a little more hungrier.

She obliged, entangling her fingers with the collar of his dress shirt and biting down on his bottom lip, which caused him to groan slightly.

When he pulled back for a moment, he made sure their eyes locked.

"I forgive you of everything," he said to her softly. "I can't be mad anymore. I love you way too much."

Beulah smiled at him and kissed him briefly.

"That means the world to me..."