Bastards of Young

“Mail for you, bitch,” Tracy called out into the apartment as she walked through the door. I put the spoon I was using to stir Ramen down and walked into the living room half smirking.

“Who from,” I asked already knowing.

“Who do you think,” Tracy gave me a playful smack on the ass as she handed me my letter and headed for the couch. “Dinner almost ready?”

“Almost,” I said absent-mindedly as I looked down, smiling from ear to ear at the post card Billie had sent. Really it was a picture of him in front of a brick wall with a huge pair of sunglasses on, grinning with a cigarette dangling from his lips. On the picture he had circled his crotch with an arrow pointing to it and Wish you were here scribbled under it. “He’s such a dork,” I said biting back whatever feelings of glee I had rushing through me.

“Have you said the L word back to him yet?” Tracy was flipping through the channels, but I could sense how interested she was in my answer.

“No,” I put my elbows on the back of the couch and rested my chin in my hands.

“Are you going to,” she asked eyeing me from the side.

“Yep.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

Turning off the TV she turned to face me with the look she always gets when something amazingly romantically cheesie is about to spew from her mouth. “You should surprise him in North Carolina and tell him there.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “You want to eat next month?”

“Oh c’mon how perfect would that be?”

“It’d be the most perfect thing I could ever imagine. It’d also be expensive as hell.” I stood up straight and began walking to my room.

“Psh, I’d cover next month’s shit if it meant I’d get to hear the stories from this!”

I chuckled while pausing in my doorway and looking at her. “Do you even make that kind of cash?”

“No,” she stood and did a little dance towards me as she said, “But I could dip into my savings account a bit,” in a sing song voice.

I shook my head, “No way, Trace.”

“Oh, come one, Jean!”

“No,” I exclaimed annoyed, despite my smile. “Now, go make sure the noodles don’t burn!”

“Spoil sport,” she said turning towards the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, amused and touched as I sat on my bed to read what Billie had written me.

Hey Pretty Lady,

I miss you, but I won’t go into that ‘cause it’ll only make us both sad. I have a cool record to give you when I get home – I’m not going to tell you anything about it because I want you to have no idea and be completely blown away like I was. We met a guy yesterday that took us to these old tunnels they used to smuggle alcohol back in the day. Now they ride dirt bikes in them. It was awesome!! Playing has been a lot of fun too. People actually know the lyrics! Crrrrraaaazzzzyyy! Anyway, I can’t wait to hear what you’re up to! Hopefully, wild and crazy things… but not too wild and crazy.

You’re my favorite thing,
Billie

My revelry at reading more good things from my boy abroad was cut short by yelling from the kitchen.

“Jean? Jean! The noodles are all stuck to the pot!”

After scraping noodles out of a pot and preparing a only slightly less glamorous dinner of peanut butter sandwiches, Tracy and I sat facing each other on the couch sipping at coffee with Nevermind playing softly from the boom box. This had become an almost nightly ritual since Billie left and honestly I was hoping it’d stick around once he returned too.

“So, what’s the deal with the Bartender,” I asked still laughing at the story she had just told about them getting caught midnight swimming at a local high end hotel.

“I dunno,” she said biting her lip, “he’s a great guy and I like being around him a lot.” She shrugged, “I just get antsy if things start going too well.”

I nodded, “I’m like that too, but you just have to fight through if it’s worth it.”

“Mm,” she said in agreement. After taking a sip of her coffee she asked, “Did you and Billie fuck in my bed?”

“Why do you ask,” I was shit at acting innocent.

“I found a condom wrapper under my bed and I never use those things, thank you BC.” She had her head tilted down, giving me an accusing look.

“I love you?”

“Son of a bitch,” she exclaimed with laughter as she kicked me in the shins. We were both laughing when the phone started to ring. “I got it,” Tracy announced as she got up and strolled towards the kitchen. “Who the fuck is calling now?”

I looked at the clock and she had a point – it was nearly three in the morning. Leaning forward I was straining my ears to hear the conversation, expecting the worse.

“Hello,” came Tracy’s voice from the other side of the wall. “Oh, hey fucker – I just found out what you did in my bed!” My stomach flipped and I scrambled to the kitchen door, leaning in so that I was next to Tracy as she talked. “Yeah, she’s right here.” I held out my hand, but Tracy pulled back, frowning. “Are you okay? You sound like shit… okay, okay, here she is.” Tracy handed me the phone with a shrug as she pulled up a chair to listen in.

“Hey, what’s wrong,” I asked worriedly, putting the receiver to my ear.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” Billie sounded completely defeated on the other end of the line.

“What happened?”

“We picked up a dude in New York to give him a lift to Philadelphia and he fucking stole half of our goddamn money.”

“Oh, shit… do I need to wire you some?”

“No, Tre’s dad had a friend in town that gave us a few… at least enough for gas to the next show,” I started to notice how stuffy his voice was the more he spoke.

“Are you sick?”

“A little. I just want to come home,” he said wearily. “I miss you and I’m horny as fuck.”

“God, you’re a romantic,” I said in an unamused monotone.

“You don’t understand,” he said in a serious attempt to defend himself.

“You’re right, Pedro the pool boy is keeping me satisfied.”

I heard a small laugh on the other end of the line. “Did you get any of my post cards?”

“Mhmm, I wish I was there too,” Tracy giggled next to me as I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, I need some one to nurse me back to health,” the way he said it lead me to believe he meant it in other ways than making chicken soup and rubbing Vicks on his chest.

“I’d like that,” I said before adding, “Maybe I can send a care package to Mom,” quickly.

“Be sure to include a picture of you in that outfit I like,” he said proving my attempts at keeping the conversation steered away from the phone sex path futile.

I smiled despite myself. “Okay, hoss.”

There was a loud bang on Billie’s end. “Shit! Tre! You fucker,” there was some muffled talking that sound like Tre and then a loud greeting directed at me. “I gotta go,” Billie said sadly into the phone.

“Okay, tell the guys I said hey.”

“I will.”

“And stop being miserable, okay? I’m so proud you’re out there doing what you love and really going for it, you know? Live it up for me at least, okay,” I tried to sound as comforting as possible in hopes that he’d feel how bad I wanted him to be happy.

“Only for you, babe,” I could hear his grin over the phone. “You’re perfect and I love you.”

Everything in me started screaming for me to go for it. My throat still tightened and my head went a bit wobbly, but repeating those three little words seemed like my calling at that moment. Opening my mouth I got an “I” out before two stubby fingers shot out of nowhere and pushed down on the hang-up switch, leaving nothing, but the droning beep of the dead line as a soundtrack for my shock.

“What the fuck, Tracy,” I yelled angrily. “I have no fucking way to call him back until he gets to my parents in five days!”

“I couldn’t let you say that over the phone,” she said simply.

“He probably thinks I’m fucking freaking out again!”

“You are!”

“Yeah! Over the fact that you’re a bitch that can’t keep her nose out of anything!”

“Fuck you,” she said slightly stung. I immediately regretted most of what had just spewed from my mouth.

“I’m sorry… you’re not a bitch. But, shit, Trace! He’s probably thinking I’m mad now!”

“Then go,” the evil whore had planned this.

“I can’t!”

“I said I didn’t mind.”

“But --.”

“No, go. If you love him then you’ll go,” she stood with her arms folded.

“That’s not fair,” I said shaking my head and escaping her gaze by stepping into the living room. She didn’t let me off the hook as she followed me still hounding.

“No, it’s how it is, Jean.”

“No. Trace, it’s not,” exclaimed throwing my hands into the air. “In real life you don’t go across country to tell a guy you love him when you can barely afford Ramen noodles for dinner!”

“Jean, you fucking came out here to live it up and so far you’ve been working a shitty job day in and day out. Remember at the squat you kept going on about how you’d like to be living by the seat of your pants your whole life? Never tied down and living by the pen or some poetic shit like that. Well, fucking go be that girl! You could write about it for that zine.”

“It’s more of a music thing,” I said meekly.

“Fuck. Make a book out of it then. Just fucking do it,” she stood there giving me a hard look as I bit my lip in agitation and thought.

“Alright,” I said finally as Tracy’s eyes widened with delight. “I’ll go pack