Billie Joe's Third Son
Part eight
December 1988
"C'mon, be a good boy," I said, trying to feed Billie porridge. He looked at it in disgust.
"I know ya don't want it, but you have to try eating real food, you can't live on milk for the rest of your life."
"Dadda," he said. "Dadda."
"Yes, dadda want's you to eat your porridge."
"No-o," he said. He'd learned some few easy words like yes, no, and dadda. Last mentioned was probably his favorite, 'cause he kept on saying it all the time.
"Yes," I said, giving him the spoon. He took it, and splashed it in the porridge, then started playing with it.
"Dadda," he spoke again. I sighed, and got up. Mum was standing in the doorway, watching.
"Who'd known you'd be such a good dad, being so young?" she said. We both watched Billie as he played with his porridge. I tugged my shoulders.
"Am I really that good at being a father?"
"Well, Regina doesn't really seem to teach him a lot. He learned to speak in this house, and he almost learned to eat porridge. By you," she replied. I nodded.
"I didn't think I was able to be a father. Now I just can't wait and see what he grow up to be like."
"He looks like you, you know," Mum said. I nodded. She was right.
"Alright buddy, you have to eat properly now, not just throw the porridge around in every random corner of this kitchen," I said, sitting down again. I took the spoon out of his little hands, and started feeing him.
*
"Where are you going?" Mike said. I was taking Billie for a walk, when I met Mike in the door.
"Just for a walk, why? Wanna come?"
"Yeah, can you wait up? Just wanna write a letter first."
'That English chick,' I thought, then smiled.
"Of course."
*
"It's quiet here, for being California," Mike said. We were sitting on the wall (some random place we used to go) in the middle of Christie Road.
"Yeah, well," I said to Mike, then spoke to my son. "Sit tight on dadda's lap, or you'll fall down and die." Mike chuckled.
"What's so funny about that?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "You're a good father Billie."
"Wonder how many times I've heard that today," I replied, looking down at Billie.
"Andy would've been proud," Mike spoke again. I didn't reply. I didn't want to open that wound again.
"What do you think, Billie? Is daddy being nice to ya?" I asked my son instead. He looked up on me.
"Dadda," he said.
"God, can't he speak any other words than 'dadda'?" Mike asked.
"He said no this morning."
"Oh. Y'know, I don't think I could handle being a dad in such an early age."
"I didn't think so either," I replied. "But it's not that hard really. Billie always does as I tell him."
"He'll grow up being 'dadda's' little angel," Mike said and laughed. I laughed too.
"Probably. Regina always complains that he listens to me, and not her."
"That's probably because he's so used to you. You have him five days a week, she two." I thought of that, and figured it was kind off weird. First she didn't seem too happy about me being the father to her son, then she let me have him five days a week.
"Yeah," I replied after thinking. We remained speechless until Mike started singing some random song.
*
2003
Working on 7/11 wasn't the funniest job in the world, so I had to call for reinforcements. I decided to call one of my soulmates, named James, which also played the bass in our, and some others's, band.
"Hello?" James's grandmother said, with her old, spiky voice.
"Hello ma'm, can I speak to Jay?" I said. Jay'd told me to treat her with good intent, or he'd kick me to the moon, and block all entraces to earth, so I'd have to stay there forever. Aliens scared the living piss out of me, so I tried my best being nice to her. Jay lived with his grandmum 'cause his parents were dead. I felt sorry for the guy.
"His name is James," she spoke in an angry tone. She was always angry.
"Uh, yeah, can I please speak to James?"
"Who is this."
"It's Joey."
"Who?"
"Joey," I said. Damn that woman. She really knew how to annoy the living piss out of me.
"No, wait, who?" I was about to scream the meanest words I could through the phone to silent her forever, but I knew I had to play mother in laws favorite son with her, so I kept my mouth shut, cursing to myself, before I finally calmed down, to speak once again.
"Sorry ma'm, but I've told you twice already."
"No mother with right brains would call her daughter Joey."
"Uh.. I'm not my mother's daughter, I'm her son," I said. She wasn't just angry, she sure as hell was mean too.
"Still the same," the old lady spoke.
"Look, can I just please speak to James?" I said, trying not to go insane.
"Not before you tell me your name." I sighed.
"J.. Billie Joe, I mean." I said in the nicest way I could.
"You that guy with the blonde hair on television right now?"
"What the..?"
"Grandma!" I heard Jay shout in the background. "Grandma, give me the phone."
"You're not gonna talk superstars young man," his grandmum said in her weird accent (she was from Italy, and had never really learned to speak proper English).
"Grandma, Joey's no superstar yet," Jay laughed.
"Yeah, well," his grandmum said. I heard a lot of "chritch cratch," and then Jay was on the phone.
"Sorry 'bout that," he said.
"Man, your grandmother's gonna kill me some day," I said. "How did you know it was me anyway?"
"I listened to you guys speaking through the other phone," he said and laughed again. He was always laughing, always smiling, always being happy. That's probably why everyone liked him.
"You motherfucker!" I screamed and laughed. "Well, I called because I'm working, and I need you to come over, 'cause I'm bored stiff."
"Fine. You have the latest number of Kerrang?"
"We'll see when ya get here, but I know we sell it," I replied, not bothering to start looking. He laughed.
"Right, se ya in a mome."
*
"What are you going to buy for the money mum and dad gave you Antonia?" Michael asked.
"Shut up, I'm watching TV," I replied. I'd just started to like this band named Green Day, after I'd seen their Longview video on MTV some weeks ago, and now their frontman was on TV, speaking of their album Cigarettes And Valentines, which seemed to have vanished into thin air. Michael sat down beside me.
"Who's that?" he said, and pointed a finger at him.
"The frontman of Green Day," I replied. I hadn't yet catched his name.
"He reminds me of someone I know," Michael said. "But I can't think of who it can be." I looked at him. Green eyes. Blonde hair. There wasn't much left to say than that, everyone knew how he looked. His lips, his nose, eyes, yes, he reminded me of someone too.
"You're right Mike, he looks like someone we know."
"Who?" Michael asked.
"Like you, I don't have a clue," I replied. The interview ended.
"Read more about Green Day's stolen record in Kerrang," said a male voice before Michael switched of the television.
"Hey, I was watching that," I said.
"Pretty boy was done speaking," he replied.
"Well, I know what I'm gonna buy now."
"What?"
"Kerrang. Come on. Joey works at 7/11, we can go there," I said. Michael tugged his shoulders, then nodded.
*
"Hey bro," I said as I entered 7/11 half an hour later. Jay was there too. I kinda had a thing for him, but I was twelve, and I think he had a girlfriend.
"Hey kids, whatcha' doin' here?" Joey said.
"I'm gonna.." I said, but Jay interrupted me.
"Happy birthday Antonia," he said and smiled. I blushed.
"Hey, what about me?" Michael spoke.
"Happy birthday you too. Teenagers soon, eh? How does that feel?"
"Mum doesn't like it," Michael said.
"Joey, do you sell Kerrang here?" I asked. I didn't really wanna speak about birthdays and teenagers anymore.
"Do you read Kerrang?" Jay asked me.
"Yes," I said.
"Cool. That actually reminds me that I'm suppose to be buying it as well. Where's the Kerrang's Joe?" he asked. Joey rolled his eyes, as he usually did.
"You can find it yourselves, it's right over there," he said and pointed his fingers to all of the band magazines. I ran over at once.
"Pick one for me too, kid," Jay said. I grabbed two Kerrang's from the bracket, and looked at the front page. 'Billie Joe Armstrong speaks of stolen record,' I read in silent. Billie Joe Armstrong. That rang a bell. Who was that again..
"Toni!" Jay shouted. "Wake up!" He laughed again. He always seemed to laugh, and being happy.
"Coming," I replied. I walked over to them, as I handed both of the magazines to Joey. I gave him money, but he pushed them back.
"Toni, it's your birthday, and I can't remember bying you a present," he said.
"Are you allowed doing this?" I asked. He laughed.
"It'll be fine as long as you don't tell my boss."
"Well, if we don't tell him about me either.." Jay said, but Joey interrupted him.
"No, no, no, Mr. Wilhelms. It's not your birthday." They both laughed. I looked at Michael. He looked angry. He always did. He was just like dad.
Always picking on people, always having something to complain about. I chuckled, and decided to read Kerrang. Billie Joe Armstrong. There it was again. I looked over to Joey and Jay, then down at the magazine again. I did that a few times more. There was no doubt Joey looked like Billie Joe. Oh wait. Billie Joe Armstrong? Not only did Joey look like the guy, he was also named the same.
"C'mon, be a good boy," I said, trying to feed Billie porridge. He looked at it in disgust.
"I know ya don't want it, but you have to try eating real food, you can't live on milk for the rest of your life."
"Dadda," he said. "Dadda."
"Yes, dadda want's you to eat your porridge."
"No-o," he said. He'd learned some few easy words like yes, no, and dadda. Last mentioned was probably his favorite, 'cause he kept on saying it all the time.
"Yes," I said, giving him the spoon. He took it, and splashed it in the porridge, then started playing with it.
"Dadda," he spoke again. I sighed, and got up. Mum was standing in the doorway, watching.
"Who'd known you'd be such a good dad, being so young?" she said. We both watched Billie as he played with his porridge. I tugged my shoulders.
"Am I really that good at being a father?"
"Well, Regina doesn't really seem to teach him a lot. He learned to speak in this house, and he almost learned to eat porridge. By you," she replied. I nodded.
"I didn't think I was able to be a father. Now I just can't wait and see what he grow up to be like."
"He looks like you, you know," Mum said. I nodded. She was right.
"Alright buddy, you have to eat properly now, not just throw the porridge around in every random corner of this kitchen," I said, sitting down again. I took the spoon out of his little hands, and started feeing him.
*
"Where are you going?" Mike said. I was taking Billie for a walk, when I met Mike in the door.
"Just for a walk, why? Wanna come?"
"Yeah, can you wait up? Just wanna write a letter first."
'That English chick,' I thought, then smiled.
"Of course."
*
"It's quiet here, for being California," Mike said. We were sitting on the wall (some random place we used to go) in the middle of Christie Road.
"Yeah, well," I said to Mike, then spoke to my son. "Sit tight on dadda's lap, or you'll fall down and die." Mike chuckled.
"What's so funny about that?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "You're a good father Billie."
"Wonder how many times I've heard that today," I replied, looking down at Billie.
"Andy would've been proud," Mike spoke again. I didn't reply. I didn't want to open that wound again.
"What do you think, Billie? Is daddy being nice to ya?" I asked my son instead. He looked up on me.
"Dadda," he said.
"God, can't he speak any other words than 'dadda'?" Mike asked.
"He said no this morning."
"Oh. Y'know, I don't think I could handle being a dad in such an early age."
"I didn't think so either," I replied. "But it's not that hard really. Billie always does as I tell him."
"He'll grow up being 'dadda's' little angel," Mike said and laughed. I laughed too.
"Probably. Regina always complains that he listens to me, and not her."
"That's probably because he's so used to you. You have him five days a week, she two." I thought of that, and figured it was kind off weird. First she didn't seem too happy about me being the father to her son, then she let me have him five days a week.
"Yeah," I replied after thinking. We remained speechless until Mike started singing some random song.
*
2003
Working on 7/11 wasn't the funniest job in the world, so I had to call for reinforcements. I decided to call one of my soulmates, named James, which also played the bass in our, and some others's, band.
"Hello?" James's grandmother said, with her old, spiky voice.
"Hello ma'm, can I speak to Jay?" I said. Jay'd told me to treat her with good intent, or he'd kick me to the moon, and block all entraces to earth, so I'd have to stay there forever. Aliens scared the living piss out of me, so I tried my best being nice to her. Jay lived with his grandmum 'cause his parents were dead. I felt sorry for the guy.
"His name is James," she spoke in an angry tone. She was always angry.
"Uh, yeah, can I please speak to James?"
"Who is this."
"It's Joey."
"Who?"
"Joey," I said. Damn that woman. She really knew how to annoy the living piss out of me.
"No, wait, who?" I was about to scream the meanest words I could through the phone to silent her forever, but I knew I had to play mother in laws favorite son with her, so I kept my mouth shut, cursing to myself, before I finally calmed down, to speak once again.
"Sorry ma'm, but I've told you twice already."
"No mother with right brains would call her daughter Joey."
"Uh.. I'm not my mother's daughter, I'm her son," I said. She wasn't just angry, she sure as hell was mean too.
"Still the same," the old lady spoke.
"Look, can I just please speak to James?" I said, trying not to go insane.
"Not before you tell me your name." I sighed.
"J.. Billie Joe, I mean." I said in the nicest way I could.
"You that guy with the blonde hair on television right now?"
"What the..?"
"Grandma!" I heard Jay shout in the background. "Grandma, give me the phone."
"You're not gonna talk superstars young man," his grandmum said in her weird accent (she was from Italy, and had never really learned to speak proper English).
"Grandma, Joey's no superstar yet," Jay laughed.
"Yeah, well," his grandmum said. I heard a lot of "chritch cratch," and then Jay was on the phone.
"Sorry 'bout that," he said.
"Man, your grandmother's gonna kill me some day," I said. "How did you know it was me anyway?"
"I listened to you guys speaking through the other phone," he said and laughed again. He was always laughing, always smiling, always being happy. That's probably why everyone liked him.
"You motherfucker!" I screamed and laughed. "Well, I called because I'm working, and I need you to come over, 'cause I'm bored stiff."
"Fine. You have the latest number of Kerrang?"
"We'll see when ya get here, but I know we sell it," I replied, not bothering to start looking. He laughed.
"Right, se ya in a mome."
*
"What are you going to buy for the money mum and dad gave you Antonia?" Michael asked.
"Shut up, I'm watching TV," I replied. I'd just started to like this band named Green Day, after I'd seen their Longview video on MTV some weeks ago, and now their frontman was on TV, speaking of their album Cigarettes And Valentines, which seemed to have vanished into thin air. Michael sat down beside me.
"Who's that?" he said, and pointed a finger at him.
"The frontman of Green Day," I replied. I hadn't yet catched his name.
"He reminds me of someone I know," Michael said. "But I can't think of who it can be." I looked at him. Green eyes. Blonde hair. There wasn't much left to say than that, everyone knew how he looked. His lips, his nose, eyes, yes, he reminded me of someone too.
"You're right Mike, he looks like someone we know."
"Who?" Michael asked.
"Like you, I don't have a clue," I replied. The interview ended.
"Read more about Green Day's stolen record in Kerrang," said a male voice before Michael switched of the television.
"Hey, I was watching that," I said.
"Pretty boy was done speaking," he replied.
"Well, I know what I'm gonna buy now."
"What?"
"Kerrang. Come on. Joey works at 7/11, we can go there," I said. Michael tugged his shoulders, then nodded.
*
"Hey bro," I said as I entered 7/11 half an hour later. Jay was there too. I kinda had a thing for him, but I was twelve, and I think he had a girlfriend.
"Hey kids, whatcha' doin' here?" Joey said.
"I'm gonna.." I said, but Jay interrupted me.
"Happy birthday Antonia," he said and smiled. I blushed.
"Hey, what about me?" Michael spoke.
"Happy birthday you too. Teenagers soon, eh? How does that feel?"
"Mum doesn't like it," Michael said.
"Joey, do you sell Kerrang here?" I asked. I didn't really wanna speak about birthdays and teenagers anymore.
"Do you read Kerrang?" Jay asked me.
"Yes," I said.
"Cool. That actually reminds me that I'm suppose to be buying it as well. Where's the Kerrang's Joe?" he asked. Joey rolled his eyes, as he usually did.
"You can find it yourselves, it's right over there," he said and pointed his fingers to all of the band magazines. I ran over at once.
"Pick one for me too, kid," Jay said. I grabbed two Kerrang's from the bracket, and looked at the front page. 'Billie Joe Armstrong speaks of stolen record,' I read in silent. Billie Joe Armstrong. That rang a bell. Who was that again..
"Toni!" Jay shouted. "Wake up!" He laughed again. He always seemed to laugh, and being happy.
"Coming," I replied. I walked over to them, as I handed both of the magazines to Joey. I gave him money, but he pushed them back.
"Toni, it's your birthday, and I can't remember bying you a present," he said.
"Are you allowed doing this?" I asked. He laughed.
"It'll be fine as long as you don't tell my boss."
"Well, if we don't tell him about me either.." Jay said, but Joey interrupted him.
"No, no, no, Mr. Wilhelms. It's not your birthday." They both laughed. I looked at Michael. He looked angry. He always did. He was just like dad.
Always picking on people, always having something to complain about. I chuckled, and decided to read Kerrang. Billie Joe Armstrong. There it was again. I looked over to Joey and Jay, then down at the magazine again. I did that a few times more. There was no doubt Joey looked like Billie Joe. Oh wait. Billie Joe Armstrong? Not only did Joey look like the guy, he was also named the same.