Faded Memories on the Wall

December 1997

I reached forward, turning the volume dial on the car stereo down while leaning over the steering wheel, eyes scanning the numbers on the houses as I drove. I slowed down as the numbers increased, eventually pulling into the driveway at number 34. Switching off the engine, I reached for my handbag, chucking the keys inside and checking that I had everything.

My parents had called a couple of weeks prior, saying that they had finally gotten around to cleaning out that attic of theirs, and had come across a couple of boxes of my things that they thought I might like. I knew what boxes they were referring to; it was all the stuff from my teenage years and early twenties that I had purposefully left behind when I had permanently moved out, not wanting to take those particular memories with me. And that was the reason that I had ignored their call for as long as possible. It wasn’t till someone from my past happened across the store I worked in that I was prompted to even come here. This person, didn’t see me there – thank god – but it was hardly a coincidence that the main character in my box of memories would show up that week.

Climbing from my car, I smiled at my son as I made my way around to the correct door to pull him from his car seat.

”I get to see Grandpa!” He had been exclaiming for the last few minutes and he grinned at me as I lifted him up and then placed him down onto the ground.

He tore off up the walk, me walking at a more respectable pace behind him, mentally preparing myself for what lay ahead; both the contents of the boxes and the whole seeing my parents thing. I hadn’t visited them in a while, due to the fact that they didn’t approve of many of the decisions I had made in the last 10 years.

When I reached the door, it was already open, my mother already holding Drake in the air, clearly happy to see her only grandchild.

“Hello dear,” she said as she placed Drake on the ground and he immediately set off inside the house in search of my Dad.

“Hey Mum,” I said, leaning forward to hug her and place a kiss to her cheek. “How have you been?”

“Oh I’m all right,” she said, pulling me gently inside. “Just plodding along as per usual.”

When we stepped into the kitchen, Dad was just placing Drake down onto the floor at the end of what appeared to be a giant bear hug. He smiled over at me, reaching over to pull me into a quick embrace.

“How was the drive?” he asked.

“Oh it was fine,” I assured them. “It’s not that far.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Mum said, already making her way to the machine. “And perhaps a cookie for Drake?”

“Oh no, thank you, I had one before I left. And just one cookie for this little rascal, he doesn’t need anymore sugar.”

“Very well,” she began to fetch the jar. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“No, no I’m fine. We actually can’t stay too long,” I said, quickly trying to come up with some plausible excuses for getting out of there as soon as possible. “Drake’s got swimming class in the morning so he needs an early night.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, he did have lessons. They just happened to be in the afternoon, but I ignored this and the fact that he could very well take a nap here if I had wanted to stay and spend a few more awkward moments with my parents.

“Oh well,” my mother said after she handed Drake a cookie and sent him off into the backyard to play with Dad for a few moments. “Well we’ll just get you those things shall we?”

With a forced smile she took me up to the attic, gesturing for me to follow as though this wasn’t my childhood home and I didn’t know where I was going.

Around half an hour later, after placing a couple of boxes in the trunk of the car and assuring Mum that we couldn’t stay for dinner but would see her the following week for Christmas, we were back on the road heading home. And I was terrified to get there because I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to open the boxes. What I really wanted to do was dump those boxes in the back of the closet, or preferably, a dumpster.

***

“Good night honey,” I murmured to my already half-asleep son, while switching off his bedroom light. After making sure the door was open to let in the right amount of light from the hallway, I smiled to myself at the luck I had to get such a good kid who was so easy to get to sleep.

When I reached the kitchen, I uncorked a bottle of my favourite red and poured a glass, my mind already moving to the boxes I had collected from Mum and Dad’s. There were some things in there I was almost excited about the prospect of seeing, some photos of happy times with good friends. It was all that heartache however that I didn’t want to look at.

Carrying my glass into the sitting room, I opened the box and gasped at the first thing I saw when I did so; my old diary from my late teens was resting atop a great variety of other items. This was the diary from the year I finished high school and started college, the first time I went to college anyways. I pulled it from the box, sinking back into the sofa and placing my glass of wine on the table beside me. I brushed the dust from the cover of the book with the back of my hand, smiling at the familiar feel of the leather binding.

I flipped through the pages until an entry caught my eye, the date at the top allowing my mind to already begin to sail back to the beginning of the ‘90s.

14th of November, 1990
Met an extremely cut guy today.The entry read. Was in the new record store a couple of blocks away from my house, browsing the Clash albums and he sidles up to me and flashes me this adorable little smirk and starts talking to me. It was so cheeky. It turns out his name is Tré Cool who used to play in The Lookouts! He asked me out and we’re going to go see Green Day at Gilman Street tomorrow. Apparently he’s pretty good friends with them. I must say I am quite excited!

The next few pages of the diary didn’t include any details on the “date” and I remembered that I had never been very good at regularly writing entries. Some days I would simply scribble drawings or lyrics down on the pages instead. But I didn’t need an entry to know how things had gone with Tré, the instant I had read the words my mind recalled every moment of those first few days in that world – the world of Green Day and Gilman Street and music that I lived in for the few years that followed.

***

November 1990

“Take warning, take warning” I mumbled along to the song playing over the store’s speakers, bobbing my head slightly as I flicked through the records in front of me. I pulled out a copy of The Clash’s Give ‘Em Enough Rope, flipping it over to read the back cover, glad that I had finally found a copy of the album, it being the last Clash album that I needed to complete my collection.

The speed of my head bobbing and foot tapping increased as the song on the player changed from Take Warning to The Crowd. I heard a chuckle from beside me and turned my head to spy a cute green haired guy browsing the records a few bins over.

“You a fan of Op Ivy then?” He asked, giving me a cheeky smirk.

I grinned, looking back at the record in my hand casually. “Yes I am, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” he said, taking a step closer to me. “You have a lovely singing voice.”

The wink that accompanied this statement caused me to laugh. “Why thank you, I greatly appreciate the compliment.”

“You are most welcome,” he nonchalantly reached over to take Give ‘Em Enough Rope out of my hands to have a read for himself. “So you like the Clash too? You have good taste.”

“As do you,”

“Thank you my lady,” He handed back the record and looked up, catching my eye with a confidant smile. “Want to go on a date?”

“Excuse me?” I giggled, completely surprised by his forwardness and yet still totally at ease in his company.

“A band that I’m friends with is playing at 924 tomorrow night; I thought you would like to go with me.”

“Oh I don’t know, that’s a pretty difficult decision to make,” I teased, not wanting to make it too easy for the guy or appear too eager. “What band is it? Maybe I’ve heard of them.”

“Green Day.”

“No shit,” I was impressed and I motioned for him to follow me to the counter so I could pay for the record. “They are pretty good, I’ve seen them a couple of times actually. And how did you get to be such good friends with the boys of Green Day?”

“Well I’m pretty much a Gilman veteran so we’ve met quite a few times at shows and the like.”

“So you play in a band too?” I asked as I paid for my purchase, inwardly cursing myself for being so obviously curious, hopefully I wasn’t asking too many questions.

“We haven’t been playing much lately,” He said, clearly disappointed about that fact. “But technically, yes I do. Have you heard of the Lookouts? I’m their drummer.”

“Wow, I am officially more impressed than I was about you knowing Green Day,” I said, nodding my thanks as he held the door of the store open for me and we stepped out into the sun. “I mean, they don’t even have an album out yet and I think I might have one of yours lying around my room somewhere.”

The cute guy smirked yet again and I realised I didn’t even know his name.

“Oh god, listen to me, I’m rambling on like a groupie loser and we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet,” I held out my hand for him to shake. “My name’s Evie.”

He reached out and grasped my hand in his, grinning. “They call me Tré Cool.”

“Excited?” Tré grinned at me as we strolled across the road to the entrance of 924 Gilman Street.

“Um, I guess?” I laughed nervously. “You make it sound as though we’re doing more than just going and seeing a band Mr Cool. Are you planning on making a move on me?”

He quickly covered his look of shock with a smirk as we joined the small quickly moving cue at the front of the venue. “Maybe I am,” he said. “Would that be okay with you Miss Evie?”

“It might just be,” I said, attempting to sound mysterious although I wasn’t even too sure what I had meant by my response. Apparently my confusion was displayed on my face because Tré laughed loudly and slipped his hand into mine.

“You’re cute,” he smirked yet again.

I had an excellent time at the show; Green Day were incredible, as they had been the other couple of times that I had seen them, the other bands that played were okay and Tré definitely was a lot of fun to be around. He jumped up and down like a crazy person, clearly enjoying the music, and made hundreds of jokes – some genuinely amusing and others just downright ridiculous.

When the guys from Green Day, who were the last band of the night, eventually bid their goodbyes to the crowd and left the stage, I felt Tré tug on my hand and I was turned to face him.

“Would you like to go and meet the guys?”

“Are you sure that’d be cool?” I said. “They won’t be draped in groupies or anything will they?”

“Oh please,” Tré laughed. “They aren’t that good.”

I giggled appropriately and nodded my agreement. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Actually,” Tré said, looking slightly nervous for the first time. “There’s something I’d like to do first.”

He took a step closer to me and there was no doubt in my mind what he was thinking. I felt myself move in closer as well as I inclined my head slightly, letting him know that it was okay. The small smile on his face was absolutely adorable in that second before I closed my eyes and felt his lips upon mine.

A moment later, we broke apart and Tré was the first to speak. “Well, that was weird,” he said.

“Yep,” I began bluntly. “That felt completely wrong.”

“Like kissing my sister,” he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as though wiping away something disgusting. “Or at least how I imagine kissing my sister would feel like.”

I burst out laughing, finding the whole situation extremely hilarious.

“Friends?” I said hopefully, holding my hand out to Tré.

“Of course,” he grinned, taking my hand and pulling me into a bear hug.