Wake Me Up

Close my eyes and move to the back of the back of my mind
Where worries are washed out to sea
Wake me up when September ends

Like my fathers come to pass
Seven years has gone so fast
See the changes, people’s faces blurred out
Like sunspots or raindrops

Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are

All those feelings, those yesterday’s feelings
Will all be lost in time
So wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed
Away from the light in my eyes
Holding tight and try not to hide how I feel
The innocent can never last
’Cause feelings mean nothing now
Wake me up when September ends…

~

“Hi, I’m Bert and I’m an addict,” he said, casting his eyes around the circle of people.

“Hi Bert,” the group chorused.

“Um, I’ve been clean for three years and eleven months. I’ve been working the program -- taking it one day at a time for a long time now. I-I don’t even want to think about where I’d be right now without NA but I’ve been avoiding an important step in my recovery.”

Bert glanced around the room again and shifted in his seat before continuing. “I’ve made amends with everyone I’ve known and hurt except, uh, except for one person.” He cast his gaze to the floor and ran a hand through his long dark hair. “I met Billie Joe at the start of high school. My mother and I had just moved to a new state and he was the first friend I made there. He stood by me through a lot of shit and well… I got a plane ticket and tonight I’m going home; going to make my peace with him.”

Bert reached down and picked up the styrofoam coffee cup at his feet. He took a sip and put it down again. “So, I don’t know. I’m just kind of… terrified. But I need to do this and it feels good to finally get the guts to see him again.”

* * *

The doorbell chimed. “One minute!” Billie Joe shouted, wondering who was at the door. He toweled his hair quickly, swung the towel over his shoulder and slipped on a pair of sweats before exiting the bathroom and going to answer the door. He yanked it open to see Bert McCracken standing there. The two of them stood there in silence.

“Bert?” Billie said softly, completely shocked by his sudden appearance. Bert bit his lip and gave a small nod. “W-What are you doing here?”

“I-I’ve come to make amends. I should have done this a long time ago but I… I couldn’t,” Bert whispered. He noticed Billie’s fingers tugging nervously at the frayed ends of his towel.

“Uh, well, um,” Billie stuttered, “C-Come in, I guess.” He pulled the door open wider to allow his old friend inside. Bert stepped in and once again the two men stood there awkwardly, the silence gnawing at them both. Billie closed the door with a snap and gestured towards the living room.

“Go and sit down. I’ll be in there in a minute,” he said. He ran down the hall and into his room, pulling on an old t-shirt before joining Bert in the living room. Billie took a seat on the far side of the couch, as far away from Bert as possible.

“So, making amends… You’re in the program?”

“Yeah, Narcotics Anonymous. Almost four years clean and sober,” Bert said.

“But you’re just making your amends now?” Billie asked skeptically.

“Well, no. I made amends to everyone else in my life a few years back but… I-I wasn’t ready to face you. I wanted to. But I just couldn’t yet.”

“Oh,” Billie said flatly. “So why did it take you so long to come talk to me? Why did you think you couldn’t face me?” he asked, his voice sounding colder than he had intended. Bert shifted on the edge of the couch and stared down at the carpeting before speaking.

“Because… Because I know I hurt you more than anyone else. You were there for me when no one else was. From the very beginning you were there. I was, I-I am ashamed of how I treated you.”

Billie shrugged. “You were using. I should’ve known better than to --”

“Don’t,” Bert cut him off. “Please just let me do this.” Billie shrugged again but remained silent. “I want to thank you for everything that you’ve done for me. And I’m so sorry for everything I did to you. When I started using and you reached out to me. You tried to help me and I just spat in your face. You fought so hard for me and I just let you down.”

“You didn’t just let me down, Bert. You beat me down,” Billie muttered.

- The small house was silent except for the two teens inside. Mrs. McCracken was rarely home and Bert took full advantage of that fact. Her absence left him free to drink himself into stupors and open the place up to his drug dealer for parties. One had just ended an hour ago and the house was a complete mess. Billie stepped around a sea of empty beer bottles and cups in order to reach his friend.

“Come on, this has to stop. Please let me help you!” Billie begged as he watched his best friend grip tightly to the kitchen counter to keep from falling.

“I don’t need your fucking help!” Bert shouted, slamming his fist down on the counter. “I’m fine. I’m better than fine! Better than you! You’re always so fucking miserable. Get over it! I’m happy so stop wallowing for me,” Bert said.

“You’re not fine. You’re high out of your mind,” Billie Joe whispered. Bert stumbled forward until his face was just an inch from Billie’s.

“I’m just having a little fun. You know you should really try it sometime.”

“Fun? Dropping out of school and getting wasted is not fun. It’s fucking pathetic. The rest of your class got their diplomas yesterday while you drank until you passed out. You need help!”

“I’m sick of you trying to help me so damn much. You’re not helping, you’re just being a pain in the ass. For, like, two years you’ve been on my case and I don’t need it. What happened to you?” Bert asked, jabbing a finger into Billie’s chest accusingly.

“Nothing happened to me,” Billie replied. “We were best friends but then junior year came and you lost it. You’re the one who changed, not me.” He shook his head sadly, staring into the bloodshot eyes of this best friend.

“Do you really think your dad would’ve wanted this for you. His addiction drove him to suicide. I honestly don’t think he would like the idea of his son following in his footsteps.”

Bert’s fist swung forward, connecting with Billie’s jaw. Another punch slammed into Billie’s nose and knocked him off his feet. Bert knelt down beside Billie. “Do you think I give a shit about what my dad would want?! Do you think he’d even actually care? You never even met the bastard. He offed himself and left my mom and me alone long before we moved here. Long before I made a ‘well-rounded’, uptight best friend like you,” Bert hissed, placing a hand against the floor to steady himself from tipping over.

Billie put a hand to his nose, slowing the blood flow. It felt like his nose was broken. “You’re barely eighteen. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t need the drugs to make you happy! Music used to do that,” Billie said as he struggled to his feet. He spat blood from his mouth and shook his head.

“Remember… ambitions of college? We were gonna study music together, start a band. We can still do that. Go to rehab, get cleaned up, get back on track!” Billie Joe pleaded.

“Fuck you! Don’t judge me just because you’re an uptight prick who can’t let loose and be free.” Bert shouted, trying and failing to stand up.

“Freedom? That’s what you think you have?” Billie whispered sadly. Bert finally managed to stand up again. This time Billie was ready for him; he blocked Bert’s punch, trapping his arm and twisting it behind his back. He forced him down to the floor and whispered into his ear, “You wanna be free? Fine. I’ll leave you alone and you can do whatever the fuck you want to.” Billie stood and made his way to the door.

“Oh, so you’re leaving too?” Bert called. Billie turned back to face his friend.

“I figured you wouldn’t want an ‘uptight prick’ like me around,” he said coldly. Bert shook his head and grabbed hold of a chair to hoist himself up.

“I need you. Y-You’re my best friend. I love you and I need you. But I don’t need your help.”

“Yeah, well sorry. But the best friend job description tends to entail helping your friend when he’s drowning.” Bert walked over to Billie Joe, wrapping him in a warm hug. Billie hated the strong smell of alcohol on his friend’s breath but he returned the hug. He felt his body shake and it took a moment for him to realize that he wasn’t the one trembling, it was Bert.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. Bert pulled out of the hug, shaking his head and wiping furiously at the tears forming in his eyes. “Let me drive you to the hospital, please,” Billie said. Bert just continued to shake his head. “Bert, come on!” Billie begged, reaching a hand out to steady his shaky friend.

“No. I’m not sick,” Bert insisted vehemently. “I’m not!” His hands lunged out, fingers wrapping tightly around Billie’s neck. “I’m not sick! I’m not my father! I don’t need anyone’s help!” he shouted as he tightened his grip on Billie’s neck.

Billie thrashed but couldn’t break away from Bert. They fell to the ground together, Bert still screaming and choking his best friend. The frantic thrashing slowed until Billie Joe lay limp beneath Bert.

“Billie?” Bert lifted himself off the slightly smaller boy. “C’mon, wake up,” he ordered as he shook Billie’s shoulder. The violent anger that had unleashed itself drained away as he stared at the still form of Billie Joe Armstrong. A childlike terror filled Bert. “Come on, man. You’re not dead. Wake up! Come on!” -

“Come on,” Billie said. “Why did it take this long for you to come to me? Why couldn’t you have accepted my help from the start?”

“I… I know. I’m sorry. Billie, I’m so sorry.” His voice was filled with such honest regret and sadness. “I’m so sorry, Billie,” he murmured again.

“I know,” Billie replied softly. He slowly stood from the couch and came to stand in front of his old friend. He held out his hand to Bert who took it and stood up as well. Billie Joe wrapped his arms around Bert. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted quietly. “And I’m sorry that I could never help you.”

“No. You did help me. Everything that you said that night… you woke me up.”