Faded Memories on the Wall

August 1992

“Okay, okay, okay, everyone shhh,” Mike yelled into the microphone. “I said, shut the fuck up.” He laughed, taking a moment to look down and adjust his bass strap.

“So I’m going to be super cheesy here right now, but this is a song I wrote for my girl, and it’s our anniversary tonight or some shit.” His eyes found mine in the crowd at Gilman, and I grinned. “This songs for Evie and it’s called Only of You”

The band launched into the song and I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face, even as sweaty bodies bashed into me and the intensity of the mosh increased.

The band moved into the chorus and still Mike’s eyes never left mine as he mouthed along to the words. Even though Billie Joe’s singing filled the room, all I could hear in my mind was my boyfriend’s sweet voice.

The first time I caught a glimpse of you,
Then all my thoughts were only of you.

I swayed along as they two boys simultaneously rocked out and harmonized their voices perfectly; Tre’s drum beat strong in the background.

My grin was plastered to my face for the rest of their set that night, and as soon as they stepped off the stage I was throwing my arms around Mike’s neck and covering his face in kisses in a public display that was rather out of character for me but warranted given the circumstances.

There was a quiet cough to our right, followed by an obnoxious barfing sound before rough hands shaking my shoulders broke us from our affections.

I turned to see both Billie Joe and Tre grinning at us cheekily. Billie Joe passed the guitar case in his hands over to Mike with a classy comment about always “cleaning up Mike’s shit” before excusing himself to go get himself some water, patting me on the back as he walked away.

It was then that I noticed the couple of girls hovering beside Tre as the drummer casually slung his arm over the shorter and prettier of the two.

I raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for an introduction. When Mike slipped his hand into mine I turned to look at him, confused by the way his eyes seemed to be glued to the ground.

“This is Tina,” Tre spoke and I turned to see him pulling the girl under his arm closer to his chest, in way of indicating that he was speaking about her. “And this is Charlotte.”

He glanced to the girl standing to Tina’s left and gave her my name. I offered a small wave and a smile of acknowledgment but didn’t speak; I was used to being introduced to Tre’s latest girls and their friends that sulked quietly beside them. But this one – Charlotte – was rather unsettling for some reason.

I gave Mike’s hand a small squeeze as a reminder that we had planned to bail as soon as the gig was over, to celebrate our anniversary.

“I know you two are eager to go and screw each other,” Tre, ever the picture of eloquence, spoke loudly. “But if you could just give me a hand with my drums then you are free to go.”

***

It was ten minutes later, after helping the boys load their stuff into Tre’s van and promising to see the guys the next day, when we slipped out the door next to the stage, walking hand in hand down the laneway before coming out onto Gilman Street.

It was a chilly night, for August, but I know Mike didn’t put his arm around me and hold me close as we walked to protect me from the cold.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured into my ear.

“You’re silly,” I said. “I’ve just been in a moshpit for a couple of hours, at Gilman Street; I am scummy and look no different to what I normally do.”

“Exactly,” I felt him smirk as he pressed a kiss to me head. His train of thought seemed to run in a completely different direction as he removed his arm from my shoulders, entwined our fingers together and pulled me from the sidewalk and into a small park.

Mike quickly found a patch of grass he deemed appropriate and abruptly sat down, pulling me with him and into a horizontal position. We were lying next to each other, heads touching slightly, hands still together, both of us facing the sky.

“What are we doing here?” I asked quietly, not knowing why I felt compelled to whisper.

“Having a perfect, under-the-stars moment,” he whispered in response, squeezing my fingers slightly.

I giggled at his cheesiness. “Oh really?”

“Yes,” he said. “So shh, you’re ruining the stars with your questioning.” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing it softly before extending my arm out and running his fingers up and down it, as though playing a complicated bassline.

And it really was a perfect moment. So dorky and teenage love story inspired, but it was Mike. And he was singing under his breath, lyrics to the song Only of You.

April 1998

It was dusk by the time I pulled up to the boom gate of one of the more popular music venues in the area. I flashed the security guard in charge of letting people through my back stage pass and smiled in thanks as I entered the parking lot, pulling into the first available space I could see. I nervously checked my reflection in the rear view mirror, applying a small amount of lip balm and ruffling my hair a little bit in an attempt to make it sit nicer. Why the hell are you so nervous, Evie? I berated myself. This was stupid. It wasn’t even a proper date. It was just another Green Day show.

I climbed out of my car and locked the door before throwing my keys and phone in my handbag and putting the back stage pass lanyard around my neck.

I found myself to be more comfortable once I was inside the actual venue, surrounded by the shouts of crew and muffled sounds of the support band coming from the stage. I searched aimlessly for a few minutes, hoping to run into someone I recognized when the sound of someone yelling random swearwords came to my attention.

Turning the corner, I found Tre pacing up and down a deserted corridor, a beer in hand. Every few steps he would jump up and down and yell “Penis!” “Fuck!” or “Boobies!”

My giggling broke him from his strange form of a reverie and he turned to look at me, the over-the-top scandalized look on his face showed he wasn’t embarrassed at all to be caught.

“Still got the same pre-show ritual, I see?” I quirked an eyebrow at him as he stepped forward to pull me into a hug.

“Evieeeeeeee,” he squeeled, high pitched and long, before nuzzling his face into my neck with the obvious intention of blowing raspberries into my skin.

“Tre!” I laughed, squirming a way. “You are disgusting. Have you seen that bassist of yours?”

My long time friend stepped back and smirked in my general direction. “Always thinking about Mike, aren’t you?” He threw his arm around my shoulder, steering me down the corridor, clearly knowing his way around the building much better than me.

I’d been running a little bit late for the gig in the first place. So by the time we found Mike, Billie Joe, Adrienne and other familiar faces of the crew, we barely had time for one beer before Green Day were being ushered onto the stage to please the thousands of screaming teenagers ready to worship them.

I slipped into the comfortable routine of watching with Adrienne from the sidelines, beer in hand as we exchanged random comments between us. I couldn’t help the proud smile that I know made its way onto my face when I watched the boys perform live. My eyes found Mike and I grinned as he jumped around with as much energy as he’d had when we were teenagers.

Feeling someone watching me, Adrienne caught my eye and winked as though she knew exactly what I was thinking about.

The show was fast paced and fun and pure Green Day. We had a few more drinks after the encore but when the others decided to head out to a bar Mike and I opted to walk back to mine instead, him convincing me I had had too much to drink and that the walk would be nice. It wasn’t too far from the venue to my house; I’d only driven because I’m lazy and had thought I wouldn’t want to walk home after a long night.

But all Mike had to do was smile that smile that made his blue eyes twinkle and I became eager to spend some quiet time alone with the man that had been such a huge part in my life for so long. So we said goodbye to the others, Mike leaving all his equipment to the stage crew that the record label provided and we set off. We meandered along, casually discussing this and that, getting to know each other again.

The pace of our walking slowed to a halt about a block from my building, when Mike grabbed lightly onto my hand, turning his head to gaze at the sky.

“The stars are so bright,” he murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

“Careful Mike,” I warned. “Your cheesiness is showing.”

He chuckled in that geeky way that was so completely Mike and I felt the speed of my heart beat increase rapidly when his fingers entwined with mine and we began walking again.

We walked in silence until we reached my doorway and stood facing each other.

“This wasn’t exactly the date I had envisioned,” Mike murmured; his eyes apologetic.

“It’s okay; me watching you guys play live has always seemed to work in the past.” I winked at him to let him know that I really didn’t mind, even daring to take a small step closer.

Mike began to sing softly, making the gap between us even smaller as he moved a hand to my lower back.

I wish I could tell you,
But the words would come out wrong.

I wanted to be mad at him, for digging up the past like that, playing on my weakness and singing that song, our song. But I couldn’t bring myself to care enough as the hand that wasn’t on my back found its place on my cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth ever so slightly.

Oh if you only knew,
The way I felt for so long.

Whether or not he was planning on continuing the song further, I never found out. Ignoring all the reasons why this was a bad idea, I crashed my lips onto Mike’s, wrapping my arms around his neck and drawing him impossibly close.

My mind was spinning when we broke a part a minute later, lips raw and chests heaving.

“I should go,” Mike’s voice low and rough, almost a grunt. “We’re back on tour in the morning.”

“Stay.” I rested my forehead against his, speaking quietly. “Let me say goodbye properly.” I dove in for another kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip, not really knowing where this carefree attitude to our renewed relationship was coming from.

“Evie,” his voice was almost like a warning as he pulled his lips from mine. “You’re making it hard for me to leave.”

“So don’t.”

“I thought we were going to take this slow. I don’t want you to regret this.”

I tugged at the front of his shirt, leaning back against the door and pulling him closer. “I won’t.”

He didn’t see anything, but merely rested his forehead against mine, sighing deeply.

“I’ve missed you,” I murmured, locking my eyes onto his. “I want to know if it’s still the same.”

After one last kiss, I decided that Mike didn’t get a say in the matter. I unlocked the door and dragged him inside, leading him down the corridor to my bedroom. Kicking off my shoes and placing my bag on my dresser, the butterflies that I had been ignoring decided to kick it up a notch, dancing around in my stomach, reminding me of what I was about to do and with whom.

I turned to face Mike where he was standing quietly in the doorway, hands in pockets, eyes filled with an unnamed emotion. I took a few shaky steps forward, coming to rest right in front of the man I had once loved. Maybe I still did love him. Don’t they say that first loves last forever?

My fingers reached out for the hem at the bottom of his plain grey t-shirt, I couldn’t remember him removing his coat, and I didn’t really care. All I know is that once I lifted our arms above our heads, bringing the soft material with them before dropping the item to the floor, I was faced with the soft skin of Mike’s chest.

I felt his hands come to rest on my lower back as I slid my own fingers up his chest and around his shoulders, only stopping when they eventually found the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently. Reaching up on tip toes I managed to finally reclaim Mike’s lips in mine and feel that warm pressure pushing back against me. The familiar sparks and flutters filled my stomach, my mind and heart racing; it felt like my body was on fire, in all the right places.

The feeling of Mike sighing against my lips as he pushed me back, gently leading me towards the bed sent a jolt straight through me. Items of clothing were being removed by practiced hands while he pressed hot familiar kisses along my jaw line, seeking out the spot on my neck that he somehow still knew would make me go weak at the knees.

This was Mike. Michael. The man I’d done this with dozens of times before. Flashes of memory came back to me while his hands trailed down my side, unbuttoning my jeans and pealing them from my body.

“We can’t do this here,” I attempted to resist. “You’re crazy.”

I felt a chuckle against my neck where Mike was sucking gently, tongue darting out occasionally to soothe my now red skin. I knew this was insane, and even as I told him so, I didn’t make a move to remove the hand that was gliding over my hips and under the waistband of my skirt. I didn’t move to stop him from touching me there. The fact that the cold grass beneath me and the stars above were a constant reminder that we were in the middle of a public park didn’t stop me from reaching out and unbuttoning his jeans and sliding down the zipper.

“Evie,” the murmur of my name broke me from the past and crash landed me back in the present. I looked up into Mike’s eyes, filled with concern and lust and something else that I am sure I’ve seen there before.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked as he ran his hand from where it was holding my knee, all the way up my naked body, to gently cup my face, leaving my skin tingling in its wake.

His blue eyes sparkled. And once again I was 19. I was lying in the grass with the man I loved, reaching up for his lips because I craved the contact and hated the distance between us. I was grasping his hips with all that I had and bringing them forward, as close to mine as they could be, I wrapped my legs around him and then he was pushing roughly inside me.

My memories have somewhat faded since I was 19 and fooling around with my boyfriend in a park on our anniversary. But I can still remember how that felt, the adrenaline, the excitement and fear that we might get caught. I can remember being aware that neither of us really gave a fuck because we were together and it felt right and we fit together. No one in the world could make me feel that way.

In the present day, we weren’t fucking quickly on the grass, hoping to get away with that naughty deed without getting caught, clawing at each other and biting our lips so we didn’t scream out in pleasure. But we were getting to know each other again. Riding each other, building a new rhythm, gasping at the way it felt, simply being together in a way we hadn’t been in years. And it felt just as I remembered.