Words I Might Have Ate

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The clock on the wall chimes six o’clock and Rilla stirs next to me, twisting about so that she can look at the numbers. Her brow wrinkles and she sighs a tiny bit, pushing off of the back of the sofa and stretching.

“I have to go.”

I set my beer onto the coffee table and glance back up at the clock myself. “Alright. Did you take the bus here or—“

“I walked,” Rilla’s cheeks color. “I left in the middle of my lecture and I was so flustered that I didn’t even think about taking the bus.”

I don’t say anything to that, because the mental image of her rushing through the streets of Berkeley with only me on her mind is adorable to me. Instead I run my palms across the thighs of my jeans and nod my head. “I’ll put you on the bus; the streets aren’t exactly safe, especially around here.”

She nods, gathering together her bag and pulling her beanie back on. She seems to be lingering, waiting for something to happen. I know that she’s waiting for me to say something about our relationship, about where we stand now. Are we a couple or are we just two friends who have strong feelings for each other? I can’t bring myself to say anything. I’m too nervous.

I pick up my keys and open the door, offering her a small smile. The smile on her own face is tiny and a bit confused, but she walks past me and I follow after her, closing my front door tightly.

We walk down the hallway and then down the stairs to the lobby silently. Her bag hits her thigh lightly with every step that she takes and it creates a comforting rhythm. As we walk across the room to the exit, the door opens and Mike steps through, his arms suspiciously void of any groceries, despite the fact that he claimed to be heading to the store when he left hours before.

His face brightens up noticeably once he realizes that Rilla is still with me. “Hey. You’re still here.”

“Just leaving now,” Rilla looks up at him. “I have school work to do once I get back to the dorm.”

Mike is busy staring over her head at me and we’re having a silent exchange. I know he’s asking if I’d made a move on her yet, but I shake my head slightly and I witness the brief dart of disappoint fly across his face before he masks it expertly. “That sucks. You should stay over. There’s a party we might be hitting up later.”

I know that’s a lie. We were heading back into the studio once Tré got off work to work on mixing the album. But I also realize that Mike is making a valiant effort to buy me more time to ask Rilla out.

She glances back at me and then tucks a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “That sounds like a lot of fun. But I have class at nine tomorrow morning. It’s music appreciation and the professor is really strict about attendance.”

My ears perk up at that and I smile widely. “You didn’t tell me you were taking music appreciation. What are you learning about?”

“Right now we’re on music from the twenties,” She laughs, looking up at me from under her eyelashes. “So not the most exciting type of music, but I find it interesting. I love history.”

I nod, trying to think of a song or an artist from the twenties but failing miserably. My musical expertise doesn’t extend much past the sixties, thanks to my parents. “Well I guess I won’t keep you away from your studies any longer.”

“Stop by again, Rilla. Maybe next time I won’t be so busy,” Mike shoots me a look over her head. “And we can finish our conversation about San Diego.”

She laughs, the whites of her teeth sparkling. “Absolutely. Thanks for keeping me company while I waited for Billie to come home.”

“No problem,” Mike waves her words away before he starts for the stairs, treading on my toe heavily, a not so subtle hint on his behalf. As he takes the stairs up two at a time to our apartment, I glare darkly at his back with my toe still throbbing in my shoe.

I turn back to Rilla, who’s watching me closely, and smile. “The next bus should be here any minute now and you don’t want to miss it.”

“Right,” She nods, opening the door and stepping outside. She doesn’t bother to hold the door open for me and I watch her walk down the porch steps from behind the glass.

I know she’s upset with me. I’d have to be an idiot to not see it. But I’m hesitant to make a move, to take the next step with her. This afternoon was amazing. Rilla and I never ran out of things to talk about—I couldn’t even remember specifically what we spoke about, but I know I had a huge smile on my face the entire time.

I tug open the door and hurry after her, leaping off of the porch and landing on the concrete sidewalk with a resounding thud before I take off after her, rushing to fall back in step with her. She glances at me from the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t say anything and I realize that she’s waiting for me to make the first move.

“I’m glad you came over today,” I admit quietly, pushing my hands into my pockets and staring down at the sidewalk. I take in the cracks on the pavement and the spaces between where the hot sun has melted the tar and the black stick has bubbled over and then hardened once again. “I really am.”

Rilla doesn’t say anything for a moment and I’m worried that I’ve ruined my chance once again to win her over. But then she smiles and looks up at me so I can see those gorgeous green eyes clearly. “I’m glad I came over too. I hated that we were both angry with each other. You’re one of the first—you’re the only person here in Berkeley that makes me feel at home.”

We’re at the bus stop and I know that the bus is going to come rumbling around the corner at any moment. So I have to act quickly if I want to get everything that’s on my mind out in the open so that we’re on the same page.

I’m looking down into her eyes and she’s waiting, studying me closely. I can feel the tension rolling off of the both of us in waves and I want nothing more than to feel her soft lips pressed up against my own again. But I realize that kissing won’t solve everything, that we need to talk things out if we ever expect this to work out.

“Do you trust me?” I ask suddenly, staring deep into her eyes.

Confusion clouds her vision and she opens her mouth, looking completely bewildered. “With what?”

I reach out and grab her at the elbows just as the bus comes around the corner, the brakes squealing obnoxiously. “Do you trust me with us?”

There’s hesitation across her face before she nods slowly, a strand of her hair falling into her eyes. Neither of us make a move to brush it away as we look at each other closely. I’m well aware of the fact that the bus driver has opened the doors and is staring at us pointedly, waiting for one of us to board.

I nod slowly, licking my lips and reaching up to cup her chin with my one hand. “I have to take care of something first before I can-before I can ask you—just trust me, okay?”

“One of you getting on my bus?” The driver calls out gruffly.

I glance over at him and smile pleadingly. “She is, just give us a moment.”

He grumbles angrily, leaning back in his seat huffily. “I don’t got all day, boy.”

“I know,” The grin on my face is tight as I turn back to Rilla and then it melts away into one of pure happiness and contentment once I realize that she’s smiling back up at me, like she knows exactly what’s going on.

I lean down and capture her lips up against my own. She closes her eyes, slipping her one arm around my neck and pulling me closer so our chests bump lightly. She bites down on my lower lip teasingly before she pulls away, giggling a bit.

I rest my forehead against her own and smile, trying my best to ignore the way my heart is hammering in my chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Promise?” She whispers, running her fingertips across the stubble on my cheeks.

I nod, laughing a bit and dropping one last sweet kiss on her mouth. “Promise. Now get on the bus; you have homework to do.”

She wrinkles her nose before she untangles herself and takes one last look into my eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. I get out of my last class at two.”

“I’ll be there,” I vow, watching carefully as she steps up into the bus without looking back.

I stay where I am on the sidewalk as she deposits her fare in the token box before she walks to the back of the bus with her head held high. She sinks down into an open seat by the window and looks back at me before she gives me one last smile and a wave just as the doors close and the bus pulls away from the curb.

I watch until the public transit turns around the corner and I’m left standing by myself with swells of exhaust washing over me, making my stomach contract painfully. It’s only then that I push my hands back into my pockets and start to walk back to the apartment, chewing on my lower lip thoughtlessly.

A prideful burst of delight blooms over me as I realize that I can still taste her on my lips.

Tonight we were going to the studio, but I was going to make the effort to see Abigail. I feel like this is the first time I’ve actively sought her out, instead of the other way around. I need to end this on my own terms, not on hers. I want to start my relationship off with Rilla on the right foot and not without any secrets.

I step back into the apartment and take the stairs up to the third floor, still on an adrenaline rush. I don’t even notice that I’m at my own front door until I step inside and Mike looks up from the television expectantly.

He immediately presses mute and looks at me. “So?”

“So what?” I repeat obnoxiously, throwing myself onto the sofa and smiling softly. I know that I’m being a jackass at the moment, but a tiny part of me wants to savor the past few hours by myself for just a while long before I tell my best friend about it.

Mike throws the remote at me and it jabs me in the ribs painfully. “You know what I’m talking about, dick. What happened with Rilla?”

“Can you tell me why you’re so obsessed with her?” I ask, sitting up and leaning on my elbow as I survey him. “You were never like this with Abigail.”

He pulls a face at the name and then shrugs, playing with the condensation on the side of his beer bottle for something to do with his hands. “I never got a chance to with Abigail—she exploded into your life and-and she never makes you smile like Rilla does.” I shoot him a confused look and he continues knowingly. “You get this smile when she’s around you that I haven’t seen in a long, long time. You walk around with this ridiculous love struck look on your face for days after you two speak.”

“I did not,” I object immediately, but he interrupts me quietly.

“Yes you do. Ask Tré, ask anyone. Rilla is better for you than Abigail. Trust me, I’m your best friend. If I can’t tell the difference, then who can?” He waits for me to process everything before he continues. “Tré is on his way so we can head into the studio. Is there anything or anyone you wanted to call? Like perhaps Abigail?”

“You want me to break it off with her over the phone?” I ask in disbelief. Mike was the last person I would expect to encourage that kind of behavior. I’m not brilliant when it comes to women, but even I know that dumping someone over the phone is a shit thing to do.

He shoots me a patronizing look. “No Billie. I mean call her and ask her to meet you somewhere tonight. You two have a lot of talking to do.”

“It’s not a lot of talking,” I mutter, my heart plummeting down into my stomach. This was one conversation I was not looking forward to at all. “It’s more like ‘hey, we can’t do this anymore. See ya.’”

“Somehow I don’t think it’s going to be quite that easy,” Mike nods, the look on his face knowing and wise.

I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him childishly before I heave myself off of the sofa and lumber into the kitchen where I pick up the phone and dial Abigail’s apartment phone. It rings for a while and I listen to the drone absentmindedly. I know that she’s at work right now, so she won’t answer. Which only means that I’m going to have to leave her a message and hope she checks her machine when she gets home later.

The beep rings in my ear and I jump, having not heard the automated greeting. “Err hi, Abigail, it’s Billie. Uhm, meet me on the pier tonight, would you? I’m going into the studio now, but I’ll meet you there at eleven, okay? We need to…talk.”

-X-

“Oh fuck,” Tré mutters from somewhere behind me. “I left my wallet in the studio. Someone unlock the door for me.”

“Where’s your key, Tré?” I ask into the dark, squinting even though I know I won’t see him because of the lack of lighting.

“In my wallet,” He replies matter-of-factly and I can almost see the look on his face in my head. “So I need one of you to unlock the door for me so I can get it.”

Mike sighs heavily from beside me and I hear his keys jingle before he feels his way towards the door. “And why do you keep your key inside your wallet, Tré?”

“Because,” Our drummer is starting to sound annoyed. “I don’t ever lose my wallet so I know exactly where my studio key is at all times.” He pauses and then realizes what he’s said. “I don’t ever lose my wallet often.”

“You two go back to get it, I’m going to put my stuff in the car and have a cigarette. I’m about to rip my face off if I don’t have one in the next thirty seconds,” I announce, adjusting the strap of my guitar case on my shoulder before I push open the steel door and step out into the cold Berkeley night air.

It was going on one in the morning. We’d been slaving away in the studio since a little before seven in the evening. We were finished writing and recording the record and we’d already mixed the album once entirely. But after listening to it, we decided, as a band, that it sucked and we couldn’t release it to our fans. So these late nights mixing sessions were all in the hopes that we’d like it the second time around.

The record label was breathing down our backs and it was stressing me out. I want this album to do well, I want Green Day to do well being with a major label. Not only to prove to everyone that we deserved this contract, but to prove to myself that we were worth it. I’d been working towards this my entire life and now that it was here before me, I had no idea what to do.

The door clicks shut softly behind me and I rustle through my pockets before I pull out my crushed pack of cigarettes and the last one rolls out into my hand. I’d have to buy some tomorrow if I wanted to make it through another night at the studio.

I cup the end of the cigarette with my free hand before I light it up and inhale deeply. Even my cheap lighter was running low on lighter fluid. I wince as I realize that this means I’ll have to take even more money out of my savings. I was already spending a good chunk of money on paying back Mike for all of those IOUs I had built up over the past year.

“So did you intentionally stand me up or did you honestly just forget?”

I jump at the sound of a voice and I whirl about, my heart in my throat and my body already tensed and ready to run. She’s sitting on the hood of Mike’s car calmly, a cigarette dangling from her dainty fingers as she surveys me coolly.

It’s only then that I realize that I was supposed to have met her at the pier to break things off with her over two hours ago. And I had completely forgotten about it. “Fuck Abigail,” I breath, clutching at my hair and sighing. “You scared the shit out of me.”

She takes an expert drag before she exhales, blowing the smoke away from her face. “So what happened?”

“I honestly got caught up here in the studio. I meant to leave early to meet you, but I got distracted. I didn’t mean to stand you up, I swear.” I take a few steps towards the car but then stop before I get too close. I know from experience that she has long nails and a red-hot cigarette in her mouth and I don’t want either one too close to my skin when I break the news to her.

She arches a thin eyebrow at me before she shrugs her thin shoulders and shakes her hair out of her face. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

I hesitate, completely blindsided by the fact that she let go of my standing her up so easily. Most girls I knew would be chewing my ass out for forgetting about them, but she was taking it all in stride. She didn’t even seem affected by it and it was a bit unnerving. “Well, I—uhm, obviously over the past couple of weeks, we’ve been—“ I stutter to a stop, trying to delicately phrase our relationship without coming off as crude and inconsiderate.

“Fucking,” Abigail supplies helpfully, examining her nails airily.

I nod slowly. I would have phrased it a bit more gently then that, but now that I knew we were both on the same page, I could carry on. “Yes, well—we’ve—it’s been good and I-I’ve liked—it was fun, but it needs to stop now. It can’t happen again; we can’t happen,” I add on meaningfully, hoping that she’d understand what I’m speaking towards.

For the longest moment of my life, she remains quiet. She takes another drag off of her cigarette before she slides off of the hood of the car and surveys me. I catch sight of a brief flash of hurt before it’s covered up expertly by that aloof steely attitude that had attracted me so much in the first place.

“Is this about that farm girl?” She asks pointblank, throwing the filter to the ground and tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

Immediately I tense when I realize that she’s speaking about Rilla. I’d told Abigail about her one day when we were both high. Honestly I didn’t think she’d remember in the morning, but obviously she has and she’s smart enough to make the connection in her head.

Again I nod slowly, watching her warily. I have no idea how she’s going to react and that calm detached look in her eye scares me much more than any anger or punches she could be throwing at me.

“At least you’re upfront about it,” She nods her head, closing the small gap between us. I can smell her perfume and the scent of cigarettes on her breath as she turns her face up to meet my own. “Just remember what you’re walking away from, Billie Joe. And know that I’ll be around to satisfy the things that she won’t be able to.”

Her lips are on mine suddenly before she turns on her heel and starts to walk out of the alleyway, her heels clicking quietly. I watch her retreating figure as she walks and then she turns the corner and she’s gone.

I exhale heavily, falling back against the brick wall of the studio and closing my eyes. That had gone much, much better than I ever expected. I had no idea she’d be so okay with me breaking our fucked relationship up.

A relieved swell of laughter bubbles up in my throat and I’m chuckling quietly to myself in the middle of a dark alley, running my hands down my sweaty face and savoring the new found sense of freedom that’s suddenly been thrust upon me.

“Billie’s finally lost it,” Tré announces solemnly.

I open my eyes and see both of my best friends watching me concernedly. I grin widely at them before I push myself off of the wall. “I’m free.”

“From what?” Mike asks slowly, moving towards the car.

I’m in such a good mood that I have half a mind to tell him that Abigail had been perched up on his beloved car for god knows how long just moments before, but I’m not about to ruin my moment with him freaking out about another dent in the already beat to shit hood.

“From Abigail. She was here—“ I begin, but he cuts me off hurriedly.

“Here?” He looks around like she’d magically reappear before us. “She was here?”

I nod, my smile wide and obnoxious. If I weren’t me, I’d be getting a bit annoyed with myself for being so cheerful. “She was waiting for me because I said that I was going to meet her at the pier but I didn’t because I forgot because we were busy in the studio. So she was waiting out here for me and I told her that we couldn’t be together anymore and she said okay and that was it!”

“That was it?” Tré asks slowly, wrinkling his nose. “That doesn’t sound like Abigail.”

Mike glances over at him before he looks at me. “As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. That doesn’t sound like her at all. Is there anything rolled up in that cigarette besides tobacco, BJ?” He takes a step towards me, like he was going to take my cigarette from me and examine it himself.

I shake my head, already mapping out tomorrow in my head. Rilla said she got out of class at two, so I could leave at 1:30 and arrive on campus just as she was getting out of her lecture. “Nope, I’m completely sober right now.”

“I think I like you better high,” Tré chimes in helpfully, clambering into the backseat of the car and making himself comfortable.

A look of amusement washes over Mike’s face before he looks back at me. “He’s right. You’re scaring me, dude. Why don’t you just get in the car? You need to go home and sleep. Maybe you’ll be more like… normal in the morning.”

I climb into the passenger’s seat and set Blue carefully down on the floor. Tré and Mike continue discussing my state of annoying cheerfulness as if I weren’t even there. And it doesn’t bother me at all.

Because all I can think about is what tomorrow is going to bring me and how her green eyes are going to sparkle.