A Parent/Teacher Conference

My POV:

Hair done up, not in the face.
Make up rare, mascara around the eyes. Lipstick undecided.
Dress: A strapless white, simple as could be.
Shoes, not on yet; Heels kill me.
Jewelry: Small stud earrings and a silver heart pendant from a relationship long ago.
Nails? Don't start. Forgotten in the rush. Chipped black is my elegance.

I sat at a desk, staring at myself with no real expression on my face. The change of appearance felt awkward and not at all comforting.

"You look ridiculous. Now put on your real clothes and run for it. You're making another mistake."

"Thank you for the vode of confidence." I turned away from my immediate reality.

Pale walls built the small room I had set up shop in. Jesus on the cross had been shrunk down into a dark wood that hung beside the door. What else is there to expect from a church?

"Yeah, I'm surprised you entered without being struck by lightening."

"Ha, ha, ha, you're so funny! You should be touring with Dane Cook!" I laughed in a wry tone. My gaze at the clock (twenty minutes) sunk on the cover of my notebook. I don't know why I brought it; It was something I subconsciously stuck in my bag; It had my life in its pages, and I'm about to get married. Now that was a whole new chapter for a different story. My insides shivered at the thought.

Can I really do this? I'm 18. Pregnant. Where has my life gone?

" Exactly, be a runaway bride, abort the little runt, and party till you die of Cirrhosis."

"Shut up, it's my day," I said, reaching for the notebook resting on the edge of the desk. My fingers brushed against the spiral, and it crashed to the floor.

"Fuck!" I swear I'm bad luck.

Huffing at the fact all of the pages were going to be horrendously bent, I snatched it up by the cover. Random papers I had stuck in there for safe keeping fell to the ground in a heap. I settled on the floor, too aggravated to care if my dress acquired a smudge of dirt. It was already a joke that I was wearing a white dress.

"Receipt, birthday card?... a phone number with no name -useful- coupon... a bill, another receipt... what the hell...?" At the bottom of it all was a folded over piece of notebook paper.
It couldn't be mine; I don't rip out pages.

"Maybe it's a love letter from Blow Job."

With that in mind, I eagerly unfolded it, noticing the weary crinkle and a sea of chicken scratch handwriting that didn't match Billie Joe's.

Becky,

Surprise, surprise, I decided to write you a letter so you better fucking appreciate it.

My back rested against the legs of the chair, and a frown dominated my lips. Why haven't I found this before?

This is sort of a last minute thing, so it won't be poetry, alright? Why the fuck would I write you a sonnet? Anyways, it's coming up on midnight and you've just cried yourself to sleep. Since I'm alone writing this, I want to say I'm somewhat sorry. Billie Boy just... had to go. He doesn't get you like I do. We're so much alike that sometimes it scares me, me of all people. That's why I'm hoping to high hell that you never find out what I did. This is probably a years from now thing when, you know, one of us drops the other or we actually make something out of this lie we told my friends. If I was in your place, I'd slaughter my ass in a rain of fists. I know then you'd leave me. I don't want you to ever leave. You're the first person that's stayed with me as long as you have. That says something, I think.

When we spoke this morning and you told me who he was... I cracked. You'll never know what today did to me, especially when you betrayed me like you did. Remembering you saying yes to him sparks the urge to wake you up from your aggravated slumber with a nice smack across that lovely pale cheek. Inside me screams to pursue the deed and grant you the pleasure of blood, much like morning brew.

My imagination travels back in time to a rotting apartment immersed in the scent of smoke and moldy wood. It took me to a bare, spring weary bed in a room lit by the lonely street lights peeking through a grey-stained window. That place... that was true freedom. I then think of Jimmy sitting beside me with as much resentment and love a broke down sickie could ever hope to hold in as I merely slept. It's a wonder I ever felt safe with him.

But I resist. Oh was it a shock to me that I overcame that desire with something much more. I want to be laying there against you, my arm draped over your waist, and we can enjoy a silent sleep... I can't have that right now, though as much as you need a living body next to you to warm that chill that makes you shudder and hug yourself more violently. We all can't have the necessities, nor the satisfaction every pathetic action we take to reach such a sorry hope.

Out of Billie Boy and myself, you wanted (if still want, I'm a failure), a depressing lifestyle that will no doubt leave you clawing for a razor blade in suburbia. Do you honestly want that? Because that's what you'll get shoved down your throat if you marry that Viagra-ready fuck. You and I can raise some hell.

I gave myself the chance to be the smile behind your lips. I'm not proposing marriage, nor am I suggesting forever. Those two words aren't in this saint's active vocabulary. I'm asking for a time in my life worth remembering. You can refuse, but I don't know what I'd do after wards. I know I'm a long shot. I don't even have more than $4.17 in my pocket. I think I would have blown my brains out weeks ago if it weren't for your tabloid-esque file. Yours interested me the most, aside from Jason-Bloodsucking-Githens; now that's a fucked up kid. But I digress...

Being with him is going to be one big disaster. He's an asshole that'll trap you in a redundant sitcom. As for me, I'm already in the gutter. How could it get any fucking worse? I don't know when you'll find this but remember every fucking word. If I lose here and you end pledging your life to him, you never learned a god damn thing.LoveWith LoveFrom the Heart
Saint Jimmy

I read it three more times before I could grasp every word and understand what they all meant strung together, yet still it felt unreal. This couldn't be my rain today. I don't need Jimmy soaking me in doubt. Not now. The bastard had tears slipping down my cheeks. I touched a finger to one clinging to my jawline; A grey smear ran down the print.

"So much for mascara," I giggled, trying to make light of the sinking clench in my gut. My ribcage felt as though it was splitting crack crack crack down the middle and curling into itself; Lungs pushed apart and pinned; Heart tearing. "Oh god," I gasped, clutching at the skin above my heart. "Oh fuck-"
Can't breathe -why- I'm dying -Jimmy?- I'm crying -can't see- stop it -my head -fuck- my head!

Now look what you've done: Getting yourself all worked up and having a panic attack?" Its snide tone tutted in my static-filled skull. "You've got a wedding to walk out on... how are you going to do that if you're on your knees looking like you're choking from a rough dick kiss? Knock it off."

I wrenched my eyes open and stared down the pale wall. Ground yourself. Ground yourself. "The wall-... the wall is-" The words sputtered in between pained gasps. "It's white--ish. The floor is... fuck-" The back of my palm savagely wiped away at the tears. I squinted hard at the ground trying to decide what dark shade of carpeting spread out before me. "It's- it's... uh... fuck, whatever."

Hands, please cover my eyes and make this feeling go away.

The wait was unmeasurable as the pounding in my skull raced against the ticking of the clock. Eventually though... air filled my lungs, slowly relieving the crushing weight on my chest. Nails dug into the carpeting I now found to be a dark navy. My skin was moist, yet my mouth was dry. Panting, coming off a deadly high, I knew without a mirror that I would have to start over the hair and make up process.

"... okay, you're fine... better than fine... great... you only have to commit your life to another person's in... ten sum minutes..."

"Well, then no time to waste. Get the hell out of here."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Precisely, the marriage is a dead end. You've read the words, but you don't know they mean."

"No, I love-"

Soft rapping at the door startled my deluded train of thought.

"Uh..." My eyes darted over the chaotic splatter of papers on the floor. "Just- just a minute!" I clutched at handfuls of papers, being sure Jimmy's note was the first to crumple in my fist. Then I nearly tripped on my dress lunging to smash everything into the bag I brought. My ass was planted back in the chair in a second flat. I yanked the strapless up to its proper place and smoothed down the wrinkles my mad crawling created.

The knocker insisted.

"Hold on..." I growled at my reflection, rubbing away the streaks of mascara dried up on my cheeks with saliva. I ripped out the bobby pins and tie that built the once neat bun I had. No time to fix sex hair.

Their knocking increased urgency.

"Okay!" I quickly raked my fingers through the mess. Trying to sit upright and elegant, I plastered the biggest Vanna White smile; After all, it is my wedding day.

"Are you decent in here?" A gelled up mess of raven tips was the first to emerge from the door; Next came the head with fingers sprawled across the eyes, except for the obvious space for a peeping eye.

My hokey smiled eased into sincerity. "Yes, I'm decent."

"Damn." His hand dropped, and he slipped all the way inside, closing the door.

A quick scan of his attire: A fitted white jacket, a black button up underneath with a burgundy tie covered in white spots, black skinnys (the usual, thank god), and black-laced converse had me wondering if it would be too soon to say perfect?

"I-" I cleared my throat. "I thought it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

He shuffled closer, hands in his pockets. "No, you must be mistaking that for it's back luck to see the corpse before the funeral."

"Nice connection." I managed a smirk despite my nerves.

"Hey, you know me; I'm in love with the dark side." Pulling the other chair closer, he sat the bag on the floor; papers smashed on top.

Eyes glued to the bag, I fumbled to keep it casual- wait, how is a wedding casual?

Speak. "I didn't know I was so evil in your eyes. I should consult my good twin about this."

His jaw dropped. "Hold it. There's another one of you?"

"Billie Joe Armstrong!"

"Kidding, kidding!" He raised his hands in mock surrender. "I wouldn't dream of anyone else but you, not even your twin."

"Good."

"... ooo, but what about Adrienne? Wasn't he sucking her face two and half months ago?"

My smile withered as I stared into his stain glass greens.

"Then again, you're not all that innocent either: Carrying a psycho's spawn and holding onto a corpse."

Guilt weighed down my reciprocating stare. Suddenly I didn't feel worthy. Jimmy, why did you write me that stupid letter?

"Because Doll," a scarily accurate imitation retorted. "I knew you'd still fucking love me even when I'm burning a lovely black in hell."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. Lies. All Lies. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

"Eight minutes." That was enough to snap me out of it, and I found myself once again being cradled in Billie Joe's presence.

"Ye- yeah... eight minutes. That's 480 seconds-" He cocked a brow. "... in case you didn't know." I hiccuped a giggle. Is it me or is the sun shining way too intensely in here?

"Are you nervous?" He asked which he seemed to already know the answer.

"No, of course not!" I shook my head. No, I'm eighteen and only my life is going to change forever after this. "... I've been waiting for this since my sophomore year."

His smile fell and confusion settled on his face; he might as well have a giant question mark over his head like in the comics. "... but I met you your junior year."

"Yes... but I saw you my sophomore," I said a matter-of-factly. He laughed which put me at ease. If you fake confidence, anxiety starts to believe it.

"You look beautiful," he stated just as I had finished explaining, therefore this cute lil' tongue-tied expression on your narrator's face. He's said that times before, and I deflected them like any humble person would. I don't know. Today's making me more susceptible to it... better than "Cute" or "Hot" by far.

I mumbled a "Thanks," and still had some blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Awww, the blushing bride to be. How nauseating." I felt a small twinge deep in my gut.

"Love the hair-"

"Are you nervous?" My impulse interjected.

Slightly taken back, he reached for that itch on the back of his scalp and shrugged. "... yeah, a little." And there it is, my confidence broken down into yeah, a little bits. I needed him to be the sure one, sure of all of this.

Fucking Jimmy.

"I mean..." He stared at the floor at a spot I couldn't exactly pinpoint. Maybe the note had climbed through the sea of Hallmark cards and receipts and crawled out waiting to be seen by eyes other than my own. "Okay-" I jumped to listen. "I mean that, yes, I had done this before, but... I'm not gonna let what happened there dictate our life together. I'm starting fresh here. Like I'm sorry about last night with Joey and Jakob. I acted like a real asshole to you and to them, but we worked a lot of things out when we got to Tre's. They're going to give you a chance. They thought you were going to take over as their mom, and I told them otherwise. They're out there sitting in the front pew, and I can not begin to tell you how fucking happy I am for that. The fact of the matter is I want us to have a great life, all four of us.

"Take for granted the shit that's happened since we've been together has been literally insane, I have to remember what's in the past is in the past. All we have is from here on out. There's nothing we can change... except..." A devilish grin curled his lips along with that seductive stare it takes me great effort to resist; even harder now because he chose eyeliner for the occasion.

"Billie Joe...?" Pulling something out of his pocket, he smirked at my curiosity. "Six minutes," I chirped.

"This won't take long." He slid off the chair and onto his knees in front of me.

"What are you-"

"Shhh..." This close to me, his sweet cologne and fresh cancer smoke made themselves known. "... looking back, I figured the first time wasn't good enough, not for you..." A voice so smooth triggered an eruption of goosebumps. I couldn't look away. I haven't been this transfixed with him since he first asked me to be his driving home from school years ago.

"I don't under-"

"You will in a second."

I jolted when his hand crept up my knee and slithered down my lap. My confusion resulted when the signals he's been sending off pointed to what's under my dress, not what's outside it. Maybe the chest? Slight panic set in. I'm not really religious, but this is a church for Christ's sake. "Billie Joe!" I blurted, pushing his hand back with my own.

"Shhh, let me do this," he cooed and gave an encouraging smile.

"But we don't have time for this." Trying to pull away, I looked frantically from him to the door, expecting someone to walk in any second. "Can't you wait for tonight?"

"No, it can't." Laughing, he continued, "Asking you out in my car at a stoplight--- barely conscious and popping the question?" He emphasized a pained expression and broke it by smacking his lips. "Not acceptable."

"What's he getting at here?"

"So with starting out fresh and some petty cash from the label, I got you this." Pinched by two fingers, he held up a small, silver ring. "It isn't much, but coloring your finger during the ceremony with a permanent marker didn't sound all too classy."

"Billie Joe..." I gasped, shocked and melting. I tore myself from the shine of the ring to discover his emerald irises glistened brighter. The hand that I fought grasped my left and eased it towards him. My breath grew shallow as I waited for whatever he was going to do next.

For once in a very long time, it was just me and him.
Could we have this forever?

"Rebecca Stone..." My name ran like silk from his mouth. "Are you sure you want to marry me?"

Eying him apprehensively, I couldn't grasp the meaning of this. "...this is a weird time to be asking me that."

"Yeah, but I just need to double check you're a hundred percent with me... look, I know I'm not a Saint but... I couldn't help but notice that whenever something goes wrong with us, you run off to your ex or... some Little Alex with his ultra violence or Dracula's Number One fan---- you're pregnant for fuck's sake."

"I didn't plan it."

"And that's not my point." He emitted a nervous giggle and squeezed my hand tighter. "When I returned home without you, I really got to thinking... you can't- ... you can't keep doing this to me. I know it hasn't been on purpose, I hope, but dammit it hurts.

"Becky, I need your loyalty. I need you to promise me it won't happen again. The record's coming out soon, whether we make it or bust, thing are going to have to change."

My finger pressed against his lips to shush him. "Billie," I said softly, keeping my voice free of anger. "... we've already discussed this. Let's not ruin today, alright? I love you and only you. When you asked me on that dingy old mattress, that was perfect. This right now is perfect. You have me in your pocket, Billie Joe... and besides, how many girls can say they were proposed to right before their wedding?"

"Not many." He blushed, relaxing from his speech. "I just wanted you to be sure."

"And I am." I scooted to the edge of my seat, inches from him. "I promised myself I'd marry the guy from my mystery band anyways."

Insulted, his hand flew to his chest. "Oh, is that all? Not my charm, my astonishing wit, or my insanely dashing good looks?"

"Maybe those too, but remember I bagged your ass from a school of three thousand," I retorted just to keep his ego in check.

"Excuse me?" He snapped up, hands on hips. "You bagged my ass? As I recall, you were the first to drool all over their desk when I strutted my sexy self into class."

Matching his height, I pushed myself close to him so I would be right in his face. "Is that right now?"

"Yes."

"I would drool." My hands latched onto my hips.

"Yes." He nodded. So full of himself.

"As I recall, Mr. Armstrong, you were the horny little educator with the wandering eyes that were glued to my sexy self as soon as I walked into your class and until the bell rang and I left." I finished by playfully poking him in the chest.

"'Were the horny little educator'?" His arms snaked around my waist, urging my arms to rest upon his shoulders. "Educator, no more. Little, certainly not. Horny..." His green laced pupils traced my face and down my neck. "This close can be dangerous."

A fire flourished in my chest as it ripped through the dormant space between my legs, tingling. Now that I think about it, the last time was with Gerard. I don't remember looking; Have the marks healed?

"God, I can't wait for tonight," he whispered, so much pressure behind those lips.

"We have to get married first." Disintegrating logic struggled through dizzying surges of chemicals in my brain, commanding me to throw down and engage in premarital sex under the eyes of God's second cousin.

Billie groaned, loosening his hold, and glanced at the clock. He jumped and detached himself all together. "Shit, we're late!"

Taking a step back, I watched him stuff the ring back in his pocket to be exchanged later and straightened himself up.

We were in fact minutes late to our own wedding. It's a surprise that no came to check on us.

Breathing exercises and slipping on my heels was all I needed to do to be ready and to cool down from a very close encounter.

He froze, looking and waiting. "Are you ready?"

Looking down at my dress, I shrugged; not a wrinkle on it. Mini tremors squirmed in my stomach. "As ready as a cliche like me will ever be."

Grinning, he leaned in and placed his hand underneath my chin, gently rocking it. "Oh but you're my cliche." His soft lips brushed against my cheek. "And a beautiful one at that." A warmth swelled inside me, suppressing the shakes. He strode to the door and fumbled with the knob.

A realization came to mind. "Billie Joe, you do realize we're freakish because no one thought we'd get this far."

He paused and turned, absorbing my words. The corner of his mouth twitched with a smile. "Yeah... but here we are--- in a church on Sunday." I nodded, sharing that amusement with him. The knob turned and he slipped half way out. "See you in there," he added with a wink and disappeared entirely.

Him leaving came all too fast. Some hair fell in my vision where I last saw his face. My heart skipped for no one but him.

All of this felt right. Jimmy is wrong; He doesn't know Billie Joe the way I do.

Marrying my teacher is the best thing I'll ever do.

Dawning of a new era
Calling...don't let it catch you falling
Ready or not at all
So close enough to taste it
Almost...I can embrace this
Feeling....on the tip of my tongue

I'm so much closer than
I have ever known...
Wake up
Better thank your lucky stars....

I've been waiting a lifetime
For this moment to come
I'm destined for anything at all

Dumbstruck
Color me stupid
Good luck
You're gonna need it
Where I'm going if I get there...
At all....