To Love/Hate the Spotlight

"I was alone
I was all by myself
No one was looking.....
I was thinking of you
Oh yeah, did I mention.....
I was all by my-"

"Tre, that is no song to be singing to a baby!" Someone snapped as I drifted slowly from the fog of sleep.

I whimpered, wanting nothing more but to return to a finally once dreamless slumber, but a small headache lived in its stead. That's better than waking up in a rapid breath and cold sweat because of another nightmare.

"Fine, I'll sing a different one... Chocolate Rain-"

"Tre, Tre, stop. Just give him to me. Don't interrupt the kid's first few hours on earth."

"Billie, he's not an alien. He's been on the earth the entire time."

He? Really a He? A joyful shiver ran down my spine; Selfish exhaustion forgotten. I didn't want to know the sex until He was born. I've always wanted a boy. (It's hell on earth when a little girl reaches her "Princess" stage.)

My eyes flew open in their excitement despite the shock of light. Not realizing I was somehow on my stomach, the first (most pleasant) sight for me to behold was my arm hanging over the edge decorated by a trail of red from below the elbow down to a drip drop bleed of rubies on my fingertips. A small puddle on the floor. It didn't particularly hurt, so I gave it no more thought. Seeing the result to the intense ache between my legs meant more.

I initially saw three backs nicely dressed in dark suits. I guess I should take a quick moment to explain: That album the band was working on, Cigarettes and Valentines, was finally released. At first, nothing really happened. The few critics that actually did review it liked it, but we figured oh well. Then to our astonishment, their first single, Welcome to Paradise, actually showed up on the charts and not at the bottom. We truly started to celebrate when we were heading off to see a flick, and we heard the song playing on the radio. We turned around, got all dressed up, and do what we do best, bar hopping; not me, of course.

I glanced down at my arm to check if the bleeding had stopped. Where my arm rested across my stomach, it seeped and soaked the material of the dull gown I had to change into; Better than that black dress, even though it was simple, huge, and embarrassing; Mainly because of that. My bloody finger stabbed the soft, swollen flesh clinging onto what I used to call, "My Torso." Sure it had gone down some but this? Ugh.

Small whimpering came from the huddle at the foot of the bed. All previous thoughts of my vanity faded. My frame tensed and straightened up.

"Shit, Billie do something!" Tre whispered, staring at Billie Joe with mounting panic in his eyes. Like me, Tre doesn't fair well around crying... anything.

Billie's head lowered to the infant; His hunched shoulders and gelled locks of hair was unfortunately all I could see. He exhaled his soft, steady shush so perfect to a mistaken melody. I remember it from the times he held me at my weakest. Defeating the tears and smothering the heartache. For a moment, I didn't hear a peep from the child. He'd done the trick; After all, Billie had gone through this twice before. He knows way more than me, but soon enough none of that would matter.

Eventually as I listened carefully along with Mike and Tre, my infant whined again, this time more agitated than before. Some kind of instinct I had no knowledge of possessing -mother's?- quickened my heart and put me on edge. The small rip in my arm wept tiny drops.

I think I have to hold him.

"Billie, what the fuck? You were supposed to fix this!" Tre whispered harshly. His anxiety obviously returned.

"Hey, calm down." Mike let out a small laugh, patting Tre on the back to ease him. "Babies cry. It happens. It isn't the dawn of the Apocalypse."

The baby shrieked.

"Except when it punctures your ear drums. Billie, do something," he quickly added, wincing and covering his ears.

"I don't know what else to do," Billie Joe murmured. His arms rocked gently. "I don't know what he wants."

"Maybe he wants his mother." It was time to speak anyways. As agonizing as a child crying is, it was my obligation to soothe him - no matter how uncomfortable I'd be.

All three of their backs stiffened -silent- but oddly enough the wailing had dropped an octave. Billie was the first to turn. A cloud of blue blanket cradled in his arms.

"You're finally awake." His eyes lit up, and he came towards me, smiling? The strangest thing happened though: My breath suddenly caught in my throat. I was sure finally seeing the result -sorry- my baby after carrying him for nine long, grueling, painful months would lack attachements. That played a roll, but I knew it was something more. Billie Joe was holding him. Billie smiling so bright, looking so much younger than usual. A first time dad, though it couldn't be true. He has Joey and Jakob, his two sons from a previous marriage. Joey was fifteen and Jakob was anxiously awaiting twelve; Somewhere in the middle I was to be nineteen. Even now at thirty seven, Billie illuminated to his early twenties. His raven hair -slightly longer now- was a tousled mess. Blades cut through his light tan around his face. Lean, strong, covered in tattoos -the most random of sorts- and surprisingly short. With his plump lips turned up at the corners, his cute little teeth with the one chipped tooth peeked through. It's so imperfect, that it's perfect. Basically perfect from every angle. I don't have enough time to talk about his eyes.

He just looked so excited and happy. I hated to ruin it for what was to come. I remember him saying a long time ago that Joey and Jakob were enough for him. I suppose deep down that's the real reason why I didn't abort. We couldn't have children together: Not with his mounting success and the boys. I guess I just wanted to have the experience of shortly being a mother since it didn't appear possible during our marriage.

If only I had been born earlier, before Adrienne. Maybe then things could have happened the way they're supposed to. We didn't have to suffer through the catastrophe of our Student/Teacher Relationship, and the baby in his arms would be his.

A pang of guilt struck me as he approached. So blinded by the birth. I forced a smile, resurrecting the initial emotions of my baby boy.

"It's about time you came to." He shifted the bundle to one arm and reached out to cup the side of my face.

"Came to? How long have I been out?"

"About eight- eight and half hours." Mike appeared over his shoulder.

My brows raised, and I scooted to sit up. "That must be a record."

"Record?" Billie's face twisted in disgust. "Don't you ever do that to me again. This guy's finally out and you decide to take a nap? You scared the hell out of me. It took like five doctors to haul me out of the room. Next time, don't ever faint again."

"Next time," I mumbled, nodding in agreement.

"Uh... Bec Bec?" Tre had come to my other side without my noticing.

I remained silent, still ashamed of the scolding I had to endure. It was something I wasn't used to.

"Bec, you're bleeding."

My eyes flickered to the wound. Nothing but apathy for it. It didn't even hurt.

"Maybe we should call the nurse..." Mike offered. Always so responsible. Very level-headed.

I was only afraid of Billie Joe's reaction. He didn't seem to trust me when it came to The Blood-and-Mysterious Wounds Department, even though that was old news.

"Mike, call the nurse." Out of my peripheral vision, Billie Joe knelt down and snatched something off the floor and sighed. "She ripped her IV out."

"Oooh, I thought Drac-u-la struck again," Tre mocked with a menacing voice a seven year-old could imitate. He then went into a motion I easily despised: His pointer fingers acting as fangs, probably making fun of my teeth.

An angry growl rumbled in my throat but quiet enough not to be heard. Anything in the department I mentioned above, Tre would resort to vampires -mainly one- being the cause with such enthusiasm it made me sick. I suppose it's my fault: I did try and turn it into a joke the last time I was in the hospital.

"I don't need a nurse. You know how much I move when I sleep. It's not a big deal. Now can I please see my kid?" I stared at the bundle emitting a soft whimper.

Whether my words held conviction or I just appeared completely pitiful, they receded, except Billie Joe who hesitated in his spot.

He bit his lip, more focused on the blood then Yours Truly. "... I really think you should get patched up first."

"I will after I spend some time alone with him."

He still didn't look completely convinced.

"Please. You know I don't have much time."

"... okay." Sympathizing, he came forward and gingerly placed the bundle in my arms. It was so light, I wondered if there was anything in it. With a crooked smile, he brushed his lips against my forehead. "He's beautiful," he whispered. Odd for him to say: I was expecting, "Repulsive."

It was like he read my mind and pulled the dividing curtain of medical yellow all around, even if he was going to wait out in the hall with Mike and Tre.

As soon as he disappeared, an unforeseen fear came over me. Before I was so sure that I could do this. That I was strong enough to carry him, finally meet him face-to-face, then just... give him away... The attachment was inevitable but my looking down... I was only going to hurt myself.

Almost inaudible, a squeal snapped me back to the present. The fear felt selfish and shameful, so I looked. A gasp flew past my lips, and my neglecting eyes never wanted to look away.

Billie Joe was right. He is beautiful.

The squeal was not out of pain, nor sadness, but... glee? It was unmistakable. His rosebud lips stood out from his pink complexion and flustered on his round, chubby cheeks to a touch darker shade. Despite it, I knew he would grow to be a pale child. It's in his blood.

My fingers ran across his wisp of ebony hair. "I'm glad you have your father's eyes," I murmured, gazing at his hazel irises. "... they're going to change colors, I guarantee it."
Hazel to green or gold or brown or sometimes black.
I restrained myself from asking, "Why can't you have just green eyes?" I didn't for the reason that somehow he might understand, and he shouldn't know guilt yet.

I was so transfixed on those mesmerizing eyes that I had to tear myself away to notice the light brown chain of imperfect dots starting from the inside corner of his left eye and curving under the eye itself. It was different, and I liked it. He could pull it off without childish remarks later on.

We stared at each other for who knows how long. I couldn't think of anything awe-inspiring to say. Every world felt extremely important. I couldn't waste this on awkward small talk. He wouldn't remember, but I would.

"So..."

The baby stared, not once flinching at my voice.

"... I guess you should know what's going on. I have everything -harshly edited, mind you- in a letter I gave to your... new parents. With a closed adoption, I'm lucky to have that. It was my choice though. Don't get me wrong; It's not like I hate you or don't want you-"

"That was the case in the beginning, Liar Liar."

Couldn't you leave me alone? Just while I'm here with him.

"It, rather."

I waited a few moments, confirming the silence.

"Now where was I?... oh yes. I do love you. I love you a lot. It's just... you weren't planned- take for granted the last three years of my life have been anything but planned. But you- ... you just fuckin' -sorry, sorry- you just came out of nowhere. I'm not going to subject you to the story..."

My memory skimmed through the main points: What I thought would be innocent visits with an old friend, rapidly turned into a twisted romance that led to a kidnapping, vampiric masochism, and one-sided love making.

"Your father's a good man," impulse added, reassuring the both of us that that was true. "You'll eventually read all about him. All the good parts. I wish I knew you'd look just like him; I would have squeezed it in somewhere, so no worries about you not growing up to be a heart breaker -a healthy one."

The last thing I wanted was for him to inherit the infatuation with blood, nor a voice other than his own.

"He's mentioned only as, 'Gerard.' I know it'll bug you, but I think he would prefer it that way, just in case that he isn't..." I chose my words carefully. "Free yet... I gave you my name, so someday you could perhaps want to find me... I'll understand if you don't." A tremor shot through me. I took a sharp breath, keeping up a smile. "The couple coming to get you is from Vegas. Isn't that nice? The Conrads. Now I know what you're thinking, and I promise you neither of them are exotic dancers or compulsive gamblers." I giggled, embarrassed with myself. If I ever felt like a failure, it would be now.

He sighed quietly. If I hadn't been so fixated on him, I would have missed it. Was I boring him? I shifted him in my arms and cleared my throat, thinking.

"Oh." A brighter subject came to mind. "You should have a name."

Though he couldn't possibly understand, he raised his brows and pouted his lips, interested. The expression sent chills down my spine. Now I know one thing he got from me.

"Let's see... what should your new name be..." I mused, scrutinizing his features for any sort of intimation to a fitting title. A subtle twisting in my gut told me I was going about this all wrong.

"You know what? I'm being unfair. Look at me, I don't even like my name -no- I despise it. It's just not me. To this day I still resent my mother for not giving me the chance to choose for myself. So if you grow up and don't like you're name, you can't blame me. I'll keep saying names till you find something you like. Sound reasonable?"

I never truly understood the depth of a mother/child bond. No matter how small they were, -if your eyes and ears are open- you could easily decipher his facial expressions. Even now with my proposition of the names, he appeared to have accepted the idea. Or maybe I'm like what Billie Joe said, "I love you, but damn you're so over-analyzing. Don't read so much into things." I wouldn't describe it like that. Observant sounds more like it.

"Okay... how about... Jack?"

He stared unresponsive.

"I guess that's a no at the top of my list of favorites... Connor?"

The same reaction as before.

"Edward?... Nathan?... Shawn?... No, okay, David?... Steve?... Jasper?... Oh come on. How you not like Jasper? .... fine. Chase? Zane? Frankie? Aiden? Bob the-Fucking-Tomato? What?" My list was used up.

He yawned. Tired or weary of my suggestions.

Names I knew was my last resort. " Billie Joe... Mike... Tre... Gerard... Jimmy... Nick-"

He squeaked, making me jump.

"Nick?"

Silence.

"Gerard?" It would make sense in a way.

Not a peep.

My lips tightened to a hard line. "... Jimmy?"

He squealed with delight.

"You want your name to be Jimmy?"

Same response.

At first, I was apprehensive if not completely horrified. Why did I say his name? I should have been paying more attention.

My child wants to be named after the legendary king of Elgin Psychiatric? The savior that whisked me off to freedom? The monster that stole a reclaimed piece of my heart? The schizophrenic saint of Oakland that forced his end in a squalid alley?

"It's unthinkable. Billie would never accept that-" I caught myself at the end of that. Shouldn't I be initially objective? Billie Joe was a given, but how did I feel about it? I'm his mother.

"I........ suppose if you wish to have that name, it's yours, but remember it's subject to change because of Debby and Ronald." I could just feel them giving him a boring, ordinary name. Something like "Eric" or "Christopher."

"You'll have it only with me, okay? Our little secret?" I felt disloyal if anything. ".... I want to say it's named after someone that... desperately needed someone -anyone- to love him... I failed him and now... I'm failing you, too." Tears blurred around my vision of the smiling cherub. He looked so innocent and content. My heart cracked at the sight of him hinting a frown.

"But I fixed that. You'll be loved, probably better than I ever could..." My nail lightly ran down his short, stubby fingers balled into a fist. "... I'm sorry," I whispered.

Then he saved me from the guilt crushing the little time I had as my nail lingered on his skin. So warm and smooth. His fist loosened and curled around my finger. Not bothered by the long nail. At the moment he was holding me more than I should have been for him.

Sniffling, I grinned at his eyes now a shade of dark chocolate. "Now you look like you're mine."

He was eager to mimic my better mood. His face cleared of confusion.

"... I should tell you something else... it'll be obvious you were adopted with their blonde heads, so you'll ask a ton of questions, hopefully. Jimmy-" The name felt awkward coming out, like shaking off the dust and yanking it from the cobwebs. "Jimmy," I tried again and it came out easier this time. "You shouldn't know the truth: How you were conceived, your father's history, mine, the guy I'm unsure whether or not you're named after. You'll read the praise of the Gerard I knew, but what oh what about your name...

"First off, you're Jimmy, not James. Because 1) I don't want to think of you in a giant peach, and 2) It reminds me of this asshole that dumped chocolate pudding on my Mary-Janes in the fifth grade. A real jerk-wad, right?"

Little Jimmy grinned at this. So smart.

"Alright, you three." A nurse I didn't recognize with short red hair pushed away the curtain. "Mommy and Daddy are here." She approached, arms expecting.

Instinctively I held Jimmy close to my chest. "What?" My voice bit at her. She stopped in her tracks with shock.

The fangs. I forgot the fangs. Fucking Gerard.

"I have to take him. His parents are waiting in the lobby."

"His adoptive parents can wait a few minutes," I hissed, glaring at her.

"Oh-er-okay... two minutes. They're very eager."

"I bet," I muttered, rolling my eyes and focusing back on Jimmy. He has no idea what's going on.

She turned to leave. "I'll clean your arm when I get back."

Relaxing from the interruption, a plural mistake interested me. "Oh, nurse?"

"Yes?"

"When you came, you said, 'Alright you three'?"

Her eyebrows knitted together. "I was talking about you two and the black-haired man standing beside the curtain."

My arms around the bundle tensed. He mirrored my frown, softening the anger and eminent regret of Billie Joe ease-dropping that when I glanced up, the yellow curtains swayed with her departure.

My countdown started without me knowing.

Pressure crashed upon me. Nerves instantly distrusting. So much I had to say but no time.

"Jimmy..." I started, hoping my voice wasn't shaking half as much my body was. My lungs felt fickle by sucking in air and giving it up just as quickly.

Composure... He can't know fear either.

It took all of my strength to gaze down at him. Facing the perfection I helped create and scrambling to memorize each and every detail. He was so calm with a shade of worry reflecting off his eyes.

"You look different from other babies, ya know..." The back of my knuckles caressed his cheek. "... you're different from what I imagined: Already crippled from my mistakes. My own little version of Rosemary's Baby... I was wrong. You're quite exquisite. It's a shocker you came from two sickies. You'll be magnificent, won't you? So one of a kind?"

I sighed, frustrated with myself. "You deserve to be happy and to have loving, devoted parents. With the band starting to turn some major heads, life's going to be new and hectic. I won't let you grow up that way..."

"Tick tock. Tick tock."

"Shut up," I growled.

Little Jimmy whimpered as he stared up at me.

"No, no. Sh, sh, sh," I cooed, "It's okay. Look, I'm smiling." My mouth stretched, cheeks aching. "See, I look like the Joker now."

He had no idea about my reference, but the act seemed to have sufficed. My insides melted when he yawned -lids heavy- and snuggling into the blanket. I waited silently to watch his breathing slow. I only had time to carefully press my lips to his forehead before the nurse returned fronting a stern expression. She had prepared this time around. Her eyes swept over Jimmy's angelic face in repose. "Time's up," she muttered, preparing to scoop the bundle up in her arms.

Holding him close, I turned, blocking her with my shoulder. "Are you sure? It's just so soon..."

Jimmy exhaled a precious yawn again.

"The Conrads aren't going to wait any longer," she answered coldly. Our previous moods seemed to have switched between us.

"If I only I had a little more time..." I tried my hardest not to touch him, in fear of waking him up.

"His parents have been accommodating enough. It's time to let him go." She made for her second attempt. This time succeeding.

My arms hung limp as his soothing heat drifted away from my frozen chest.
This is my decision. It's for the best.

"Be careful with him," I blurted, seeing her awkward arms wriggling under him.

She glared at me. "I've done this plenty of times before." Her flawless delivery had me believing that was true. I hated myself that much more.

When I decided this route was best, I had been denying my brain to wonder about how this all reflected on me. Though I tried to pay little attention to the opinion's of strangers, it bothered me how I could see through the newfound bitterness the nurse exuded was disapproval.

I feel cheap.

"Say goodbye to Mrs. Armstrong," the nurse murmured.

He was so far from me.

"Wait, please." My hand reached out for him as if that would do any good.

"What?"

"H-" I heard the croak in my voice. Life taught me to compose myself fast. My face turned to stone as I stared intently at what's supposed to be only a bundle to me. "... His name is Jimmy. Let his... parents know that." The word was vinegar on my tongue.

If the request registered on her face, I was oblivious to it. She stalked out the room without a moment's pause.

My heart dropped. It was suddenly foreign wrapping my arms around myself instead of supporting my child's fragile body. I didn't think I could ever feel this way.

Hypnotized by it all, I couldn't bring myself to break my rigid and vacant expression when three stiff bodies filed back in the room.

He's going to be happy.
My insides trembled and squirmed with the emotions. I didn't know whether to shed a tear at the thought:

I lost Jimmy again.