A Trade Off

Bianca tossed and turned in her sleep some nights later, her conscious not entirely slipping away into the slumber that she yearned. She felt a sudden rush of fatigue overcome her limbs as she lay in bed this particularly night. James was positioned beside her, passed out from a party earlier that night with kegs among kegs of beer. A warm draft of air hit her closed eyes as she continued to squirm underneath the crisp yellow sheets, until finally her conscious dissipated and sleep came.

“Ughhnnn,” Biance groaned, her conscious awakening again to a new day. Her entire body felt odd, unnatural even. Her eyes were barely open when she felt the sun and its golden heat spritzing hey eyelids. This Wednesday morning she knew she had a class at 7 in the morning, which meant only darkness would encase her eyelids.

‘Whatever,’ she thought to herself. Her mind and body felt odd, probably by the alcohol she took in last night, so this was a valid reason to skip class.

“It’s just Literature anyway,” she said aloud to no one in particular, her voice still deep and scratchy with sleep, her eyes still closed and pressed against the pillow.

She heard a yawn from next to her, James awakening now too, about to realize that he just missed his Calculus class. And it was just then that she realized that his arm was slung over her waist. She smiled into her pillow, never before noticing how comfortable it was, it felt like she was sleeping on at least three of them.

Cracking her left eye open, and with skeptical eyebrows she lifted her head and noticed that she in fact WAS sleeping on three exceptionally fluffy pillows.

“What the f—“

“Adie…” the person next to her hummed in a sleepy voice. And this voice was most certainly NOT James’.

Her heartbeat sped to immeasurable speeds and her eyes were popping out of her skull. Did she get so wasted last night that she lost her virginity to some random guy?!

Suddenly, the mystery man’s hand traveled to her bare ass underneath the sheets and she couldn’t help but squeal. She shot up out of the bed and leaned against the headboard, looking around the room.

This was NOT her bedroom in her tiny ass apartment.

The mystery man quickly sat up, worried about the woman next to him. And suddenly, he wasn’t a mystery to Bianca anymore.

“Oh My God!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, wrapping the black linen sheets around her nude body.

“Adie? What’s wrong?” Billie Joe panicked, surprised by his wife’s irate behavior. He began to crawl towards her on the bed, but she quickly jumped out of the bed, dragging the sheet with her.

Bianca couldn’t speak, her lungs had long collapsed. Why in the world of fuck was she in Billie Joe Armstrong’s bed and naked?

She continued to stare between him and the bedroom with frightful eyes, not believing this for one second. She didn’t recognize the large antique dresser on the side of the beautifully painted wall.

She didn’t recognize the luminescent light fixtures hanging on the ceiling and pressed against the wall.

She couldn’t even recognize the yellow and brown colored guitars lying on a neatly dressed desk in the corner. The walls in the bedroom were a sleek and gorgeous ruby red, and the carpet which her feet stood above were a velvety shade of black.

“Honey…..?” Billie Joe slowly questioned once more, slowly and cautiously getting out of the bed, stark naked to get a hold of her.

Bianca eyes popped out. She was still a virgin, and wasn’t quite comfortable with viewing a naked man, yet. She retreated from his advances slowly, remembering to revert her eyes elsewhere than his manhood.

“Are you playing a game or somethin’?” he asked, bushy eyebrows curved in confusion at his wife.

“I –I” she tried to speak, but her voice box was clamped shut and locked with a key of fright.

She turned around, only to find a maze behind her. There were three doors behind her, presumable a bathroom, an entrance to the living room, and third was probably a vortex of some sort.

“You feeling alright? Why’d you scream?” Billie Joe whispered in her ear, suddenly appearing beside her, placing a hand on her sheeted hip in affection. She looked at his hand on her hip, the tips of her ears burning as she accidentally glimpsed at his dick. She would have thought she would enjoy looking at her favorite musician’s jewels, but in actuality she was a little repulsed by it.

“I- um, where’s t—“ and Bianca stopped mid sentence as her voice reverberated in her ear. Her voice had completely changed. Instead of a sexy deep/high pitched tone her voice melted with a petite air, serious yet nicely faint.

And she couldn’t control the urge she had to let out a piercing scream, her legs dashing out of the room and through one of the mystery doors.

Luckily she ran straight into the lavish bathroom, making sure to lock the door. No sooner had she turned the locking device than she heard the abrupt and slightly upset knockings of Billie Joe at the door.

“Adrienne? Open the door,” he stated in his stern voice

She ignored him, before looking around the bathroom. The entire thing was decorated with marble, porcelain, antique this and antique that. The shower was gorgeous, a thin glass door with a sparkling silver showerhead and two body blasters. A small oval tub stood next to it, its white gleam shining in her eyes. This was nothing compared to the bathroom that she owned. It only had a white toilet and one snug shower with butterfly shower curtains and a sink of course.

She then spotted the mirror she had been looking for, not believing what she saw peering back at her.

“Adie!” Billie barked, “Open up this door right now,” he demanded, tightened fist still banging on the door. “Don’t let me break this shit down,” he warned.

Bianca continued to ignore his bantering, pressing a hand to her milky white cheeks. Threading her fingers into the soft locked hair, she wanted to cry. Sure Adrienne was beautiful, but this was not her body; she was trapped inside this shell. Her hair was really a set of wavy black tendrils, skin a dark caramel complexion.

“What the hell is happening?!” she shrieked, the sheet still wrapped securely around her figure. She didn’t even want to look at her new shaped body, her new breasts or anything.

Sure she had a small B cup and small hips, but she loved her body and was comfortable in it.

Suddenly, Billie Joe’s knocking and threatening shouts ceased. She took a quick glance at the door, already knowing she would be staying in here for the day. She took a seat atop the closed toilet, placing her new head in her new hands, and cried.

What happened to attending South University? What happened to James and the rest of her friends? What happened to her tiny apartment that she shared with two other roommates? And what the hell happened to her?!

She heard a key slide into the door several moments later and panicked. It would be Billie Joe, hopefully clothed anyway. Bianca didn’t even bother to get up from her stupor on the toilet to keep the door locked, she just let him come inside and kneel beside his wife’s body.

He was dressed at least, dawning a pair of skinny black jeans, slightly flooded at the bottom. He wore a plain black shirt that made a bit of his stomach appear when his arms were raised.

“What the hell is going on with you?” he said with panic in his voice. He was worried deeply about his wife, his other half. He saw that she had been crying, and stroked her cheek.

“Tell me, Adie” he said desperately, his green eyes sad with her silence.

“I had- I h- I had a really bad nightmare, Billie” she finally responded, not knowing what else to say to this stranger. He peered into her wet eyes, nodding his head for her to continue.

“Y-you were killed,” she whispered, “and um, my mom d—“
“It’s okay sweetheart,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her neck. “It wasn’t real,”

“But it felt so, so—“
He interrupted his distraught wife once more, “it wasn’t” he restated, this time a bit more firmly. Standing up, he dipped his back and placed one arm under her legs, the other against her back as he carried her sweetly out of the bathroom and laid her on the bed.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, sitting himself Indian style next to her.

Bianca shook her head, another lie at the tip of her tongue.
“No, I don’t ever want to think about that again,”

Her new husband smiled at her, before she heard the loud thudding of feett charge into the bedroom.

“Mom,” a little boy whined, pulling at the sheet at her legs. “Tell Joey to let me feed Speedy!”
“The last time he fed him he put too much fish food inside,” the presumably older boy replied for her.

“Didn’t Speedy get fed last night?” Billie Joe asked his sons, his eyes slipping to mine for approval. “Leave the damned fish alone until this afternoon, and that goes for the both of you,” he sneered to his two sons.

Bianca looked at the boys and they continued to look at her. A staring match had begun, and a sudden feeling of the creeps took hold of Billie Joe.

“Are you ok, mom?” Joey asked, darting his eyes away from his mother.

Bianca suddenly realized that she had been staring, and quickly dropped her head to the bed she was sitting on. “I’m fine um….Joey” she uttered, quickly looking to Billie to see if he caught this naming error. He only looked at her oddly before rustling the hair on his boys’ heads.

“Alright you two,” he grinned. “Who wants to help me make breakfast?”
Both kids raced out of the room, causing an unexpected giggle to burst from Bianca’s lips.

“Finally a smile,” Billie Joe whispered in her ear. She blushed. She had always dreamed or at least fantasized about Billie Joe from Green Day kissing her lips, and now it was happening.

He snuck a hand behind her head and pressed those imaginary lips against hers. The sudden realization that she was kissing one of her most beloved musician overwhelmed her, and she jumped in surprise.

Billie Joe only smirked as he got up off the bed and walked towards the door.
“Um, Billie?” she managed to ask
“Hmm?”

“Are you sure you can make breakfast?”
“Yeah, it’s ok.” He responded

After everyone had breakfast, excluding Adrienne, well, Bianca, who barely managed to consume a grapefruit, Bianca went around the house, giving herself a tour.

Billie Joe and the kids were currently outside, playing around with an almost flattened basketball. She went into the kitchen, opening drawers of silverware, china, and other tools of the cooking trade. She waltzed into the living room, where a large screened television stood in the center, followed by black couches and two recliners. The décor was amazing, nothing compared to the shabby blinds and cheap $5 portraits in her apartment.

Then she went upstairs and found Joey and Jake’s rooms’. Inside she found family portraits of everyone smiling or photos of one child crying. After this adventure she found about three empty bedrooms, guest rooms, she supposed, for friends or family who crashed here.

And while her hand traced the railing of upstairs, she really missed home. She missed James, her neat bed, her roommates, her best friend Danielle. She even missed the $5 portraits on the walls, and the drooping flowers inside the bathroom.

“Hey,” Billie Joe suddenly stood behind her careful figure. “We’re still going to Kathy’s shower thing tonight, right?” he questioned, small droplets of sweat marring his forehead.

Bianca paused, not knowing what the hell he was talking about.
“If you want, I guess” she shrugged timidly.

Billie Joe looked at her questioningly, a hand on his narrow hip. “If I want?” he reiterated. Bianca was speechless, who in God’s name was Kathy?

“Um, I’m gonna go make some tea.” She said, drifting away from the topic. She earned an odd glance from her husband. Wait, did she, well Adrienne, even drink tea?

“Is there any tea left?” she asked, her eyes not able to stare directly into his.
“Uh, I don’t know. There should be” he answered. “You just usually drink it at night,”

Bianca only nodded before quickly speeding down the stairs and sighing as she entered the kitchen. But that feeling of relief only lasted a few seconds before Joseph and Jakob Armstrong entered the kitchen.

She eyed them mysteriously as they continued to laugh with each other, opening the refrigerator for a snack.
“Mom, can I have a sandwich,” Jakob asked her, his head bobbing up at her stomach.
“Me too,” Joey seconded, and then “are you ok mom?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart” she answered with a smile. And then she went into the fridge, and it nearly took Bianca 6 whole minutes to find the contents for a sandwich inside that damned fridge.

“Um, where’s the bread?” she asked the boys shyly. Joey pointed to the pantry that she didn’t even notice, giving his mother an odd look.

She ignored it and continued to make sandwiches for her, well, Billie’s kids. All of a sudden, she felt that maybe she didn’t know so much about the Armstrong household as she thought she had. She imagined that they lived nicely, with bratty but good kids. She imagined Billie Joe and Adrienne scarcely fighting, and when they did they would make up that entire night. She imagined Billie Joe to be this debonair man, filled with spunk and sexuality.

And her imaginations were sort of right, but not so. Bille Joe was just a normal guy, well, maybe a bit sexier, but still normal. Joey and Jake were, lets face it, annoying but loved. She could imagine herself with kids one day, being annoyed to death by them, but still loving them to death at the end of the day. And the house was too big, she had to walk what seemed like miles to get somewhere.

“Um, here you guys go,” she called out after several minutes. Both boys went to the small table in the kitchen and gave their meals weird looks. Didn’t their mother know what they preferred on their sandwiches?

“What’s wrong?” she asked
“I’m allergic to Mayonnaise,” Joey stated rather dubiously.

Bianca only rolled her eyes, fed up with this life and it wasn’t even a full day yet. She grabbed up the plates and set them on the counter. “I’m sorry guys,” she sighed. “Just go get chips or something, I’m not feeling good at all,”

And then she walked outside onto the patio. She found a comfortable looking lawn chair, and lay on it, letting the sun hit her skin.

‘At least this fucking city has some sun’ she thought to herself, remembering the sunny days back in Palm Beach, Florida.

She didn’t see that Billie Joe was on the balcony of their bedroom though, peering down at her in confusion, while his lips moved against his cell phone. He knew something was wrong with her, probably something more than a nightmare, and he was determined to find out.

When Bianca felt that she had enough sun, she went back inside. And that’s when the thought hit her. Her phone number!

She would call her phone number, and someone, probably Adrienne would pick up, and this whole situation could be resolved!

She sprinted up the stairs and into the bedroom, but where the hell did this woman keep her phone? Bianca was so excited at her new idea at this point that she didn’t care whether asking Billie where the device was, would earn her more suspicion from the man.

“Billie!” she yelled. And he popped his head in from the balcony, a cigarette still stuck to his lips. She loathed smoking…

“Have you seen my phone?” she asked.
“Aint it on the desk?” he asked as if this answer should have been more than obvious.
“Ooops,” she smiled, running towards the wanted object.

Billie only looked at her strangely for the millionth time today, one thought invading his mind. ‘Is she bipolar?’

Bianca dialed the numbers to her phone, all of a sudden loving the area code of her city. She put the Motorola device to her, hoping and praying that someone would answer to her T-mobile device.

“Who are you calling?” her husband asked curiously, just coming back inside from his hit of nicotine.

“You’ll see…hopefully,” she replied.

And finally, a voice picked up.
“Hello? Hello?” she greeted in a rush of panic.
“Uh, hi. Who is this?” the other person asked, and the male’s voice sounded just like James’.

“James, is that you?!” she nearly squealed in glee.
“Naw, you got the wrong number,” the man replied.

“What?” she shrieked. “James, stop fucking around, this is serious!”
“Um, I’m sorry lady, but you got the wrong number,” the man said once more, before hanging up.

Bianca stood there, on the verge of tears, not knowing what else to do.
“Who’s James?” Billie asked

But she couldn’t even answer, and before she knew it, she was on his shoulder and crying.

“Adie,” her husband begged, “what’s wrong? Tell me,”

Should she tell him the truth? Tell him that her real name was Bianca Hades… That she was a college student in Florida? That she somehow got trapped inside his wife’s body, and she didn’t know where the hell she was?

“I – I think I might have amnesia or something,” she whimpered through small tears.
“Amnesia?” he asked for verification. “Did you fall or something?”

She nodded. Sure she wasn’t telling the exact truth, but maybe a doctor in the psych ward could help her out, literally.
“Are you lying to me?” he asked, not believing this, but then it would explain her odd behaviors.

“No,” she moaned, tears still leaking from her soft eyes.

A week later, and Bianca was seated with Billie Joe holding her hand in the psych ward of a private hospital. Billie didn’t need the press getting any whiff that his wife was going mental.

“Mrs. Armstrong, may I speak to you in private?” the doctor finally asked, coming out of the lab with a yellow manila envelope in his hand.
“What’s wrong with her? Why cant I come in wi—“ Billie began protesting
“Its just standard privacy policy, unless she wants you to come inside,”

Bianca hesitated, she really wanted to speak to the doctor in private, not with the prying ears of the stranger Billie Joe. He was such an amazing husband, but he was still a stranger to her. She knew all that he did was out of love and support.

“Um, it’s ok Billie, I’ll be alright,” she said as nicely as possible, letting go of his hand.
She entered the room with the doctor and immediately sighed.
“How are you Mrs. Armstrong?” the doctor greeted, nodding for her to sit in the seat opposite him.

But she was in no mood for sitting.
“Look, first of all, I’m not Adrienne Armstrong, ok?” she rambled. “My name is Bianca Hades, and I live in Florida. I can even give my social security number and everything, ok. I don’t know how the hell I got stuck in thi—“

“Wait, wait, wait” Dr. Lansig replied, not believing his ears. “I got back your test results. We don’t see any signs of Amnesia,”

“Because I don’t fucking have amnesia. I just told you, I’m not Adrienne, I got trapped in her fucking body. And I know I sound like a psycho, but it’s true!” she begged, pacing the floor with nerves.

“Um,” he replied. “There are other causes for forgetfulness ms…, uh, Armstro—“
“I don’t have fucking Amnesia!” she whispered loudly.

She stormed out of the room, anger in her eyes.
“What happened?” Billie Joe asked, concern in his expression

“I don’t even know. Can we just go Billie,” she pleaded, tugging on his shoulders.

The doctor came out of the room at that point.
“Mr. Armstrong,” he called. Billie looked passed his wife, and to the doctor. The doctor was speechless, handing over the test results to him, but not saying another word.

“It seems I don’t have amnesia,” I said slowly, giving him sad eyes as he looked up from the papers.