I Was Only Dreaming

I was five months into my pregnancy, and so far so good. Mike and I have gone to so many OB/GYN appointments; I am starting to get sick of Dr. Marina Curtis's face.

We found out that the baby is going to be a girl, and her due date is May 19, 1990. This is just 15 days after Mike's 18th birthday and less then two months before the release of Green Day's second EP, Slappy. 1990 hasn't even started, and i already knew it was going to be a busy year.

Billie and Ollie started acting civil again, but when Brad moved in, Billie went back to ignoring her and Brad. And even me, surprisingly. Last month, I approached Billie about my situation, and we both agreed that it would be best that we not tell Mike. At least, not for now. As far as anyone's concerned, the baby is Mike's.

It was February, and I had just barely passed midterms. I hardly ever went to school, what with a small blob growing in my stomach, and when I did, I mostly felt sick and depressed. But, oh well, if I don't graduate, who gives a fuck?

I was folding some laundry, trying to figure out whose stuff was whose, when Mike came into our room and flopped down in my neat little pile of socks.

"Hey! Get off those, they're clean!" I throw a wrinkled t-shirt at Mike's head.

"What's the point, they'll just get dirty again?" Mike asks, catching the shirt and getting off my socks.

"Well, at least they'll be clean for a few days, so I can have the satisfaction of cleaning something in this dump."

Mike grinned. "Somebody's touchy today." He leaned over to kiss me when I heard the pounding of feet coming up the stairs.

Tre burst into the room. "Howdy folks!" he said in his best cowboy voice. He pretended to tip his imaginary hat at me.

"What now, Tre?" Mike asked.

"I promised I'd take this pretty little lady to the dress shop for some new clothes- or, wait, was it the tack shop?" Tre dodged the pillow I threw at him for that crack about my weight. I guess it was a bit true; I am putting on a lot of weight.

"Oh, really?" Mike asked. "Why didn't you ask me, babe, I could have taken you shopping?"

I gave Mike the 'Seriously?!' face. "Uh, Mikey, I love ya and all, but when it comes to style, you know absolutely nothing." I poked him in the stomach where there was a pizza stain on his shirt.

Mike gave me a mock look of shock. "Well then, I see we can no longer be together. You have no respect for my sense of style." Mike poked my belly button.

"Am I still needed?" Tre asked, in a normal voice. I looked over at him and grinned.

"Be downstairs in a sec. Now go!" I shooed Tre away and grabbed one of Mike's (clean) Ramones shirts. I really did need new clothes since almost everything I wore was either Mike's or Billie's. The thought of Billie made me feel very guilty. Every time I saw him, heard him, or even thought about him, I was reminded of the secret we were both keeping from Mike. I just hoped that the baby won't have brown-ish red hair and green eyes.

I gave Mike a quick kiss goodbye and carefully walked down the stairs into the living room. Billie was flopped down on the couch, watching MTV. He looked up at me for a second, then went back to the TV. This is killing him as much as it is me. Mike is his best friend, and even though Billie doesn't have much of a conscience, it is eating him up inside.

*Billie's POV*

We had both agreed that Mike needn't know about what happened between Jessie and me. But it is really hard. Every time I see Jessie, I think of what I could've had. I could've had a beautiful girlfriend, a daughter, hell, maybe even an apartment of our own by now. But no, I let Mike have the girl this time. And what he said was true, every time Mike found a girl he liked, I sort of stole her. And Mike being Mike never said anything until just recently, after I found the two of them making out on the couch. I really love Jessie, but is that worth giving up a friendship with Mike, and possibly the band, for? For the past five months, that is all I could think about. I know that Jessie doesn't feel the same way about me, so is there any point to my pursuing her?

Life is so fucked up.

*Jessie's POV*

Sweet sweet little Ramona
she always wants to come over
Sweet sweet little Ramona
I think I'll try and phone her

I let her in if you're wondering why
Cause she's a spy for the BBI
I leter her in and I started to cry
And then I knew I wanted to die
Oooh, little Ramona

Tre had that song on repeat for the past ten minutes, and we had both been singing along to it. Tre, like Billie, was obsessed with The Ramones, and they both tried to top their fandom. Trivia contests, who-can-dress-like-Joey-Ramone contests, and even who-can-sing-or-drum-like-Joey-Ramone contests. It was a little crazy.

We got to the mall, where Tre first took me to Sears, since they had a lot of fat pregnant lady clothes. I saw a Beatles shirt, picked a random size, and gave it to Tre. He was like my own personal shopping cart. I picked out two dresses, several shirts, and a few pairs of 'Maternity Jeans'. Tre had picked out a knee-length, black halter dress, insisting that I needed something fancy. When I asked him when would I ever go to a fancy occasion, he just forced me to try it on.

We ate in the food court. Tre had two slices of pizza, a hot dog, and some weird sundae thing from Chick-Fi-La, while I had a salad and some water. Let’s just say that when Tre didn't feel good and barfed in the guy's bathroom, I wasn't jealous.

As we were paying for a pair of shoes for me at the shoe store, the woman at the register smiled at Tre and me.

"When are you due?" She asked me.

"This May," I said, smiling like a happy pregnant woman should.

"Well, I'm sure she'll be a fine baby. You're quite the lucky man, sir." She smiled at Tre.

"Oh, the baby's not mine," Tre replied.

The woman's face fell into confusion. "...I see..."

I laughed a little bit. "This is a friend of the father. He's just taking me shopping for today."

The cashier finishes ringing up our items, still with a weird look on her face, before bidding us good bye.

"Well that was weird," Tre said to me as he started up his car.

"Yeah, well, if I went into the whole story she'd just be even more confused."

We drove home to find Billie sitting on his windowsill, writing in his notebook. Well, more like balancing. He was seated do that he was facing the wall and leaning against the window. That did not look comfortable.

Mike was in the garage and asked me to play with him and Tre, saying that Billie was being hormonal and was PMSing.

Believe it or not, I can still play guitar, though very awkwardly, even though I have a baby in the oven. I played with Mike and Tre until Tre went home and I had to make dinner. Ollie was working late tonight, so I had to fill in as the role of mom. Which in a few months I will be doing full time.

I made chicken with gravy and peas, with ice cream for dessert. I know it's still winter, but it's all that we had in the freezer. Billie picked at his food, Mike stared off into space, and I ate as much as I could before raiding the fridge of pickles. Yes, pickles, what I have been craving this week. Last week it was Pop Tarts.

If Ollie were here, she would try to strike up a conversation. If Tre were here, well, he's Tre, you know what he'd do. And if Brad would drag his sorry ass downstairs, he would just stare at his food like he was going to kick over at any given moment. We're just one big, happy family.

We watched some show about whales on TV before Billie turned on MTV. Vanilla Ice was on, and Billie immediately turned it off. Then dozed off. Well, shit, this is exciting.

I got up and started on the dishes. Mike said that he was going to bed early because it was Sunday and he had school tomorrow. As I dried the plates, Billie wandered into the kitchen.

"Want some help?" He asked, soundly a lot like a kicked puppy.

"Sure! Can you put the frying pan away, please?" I asked, pointing to the heavy metal skillet on the counter.

Billie did as he was told before gently putting a hand on my forearm. "I wanna talk to ya about something."

Goosebumps ran up my spine when he touched me with his cool skin. It was like being touched by a ghost. "Sure." I say with a shaky voice.

"I been thinking, and I think the baby might be Mike's after all."

A feeling of huge relief comes over me. Okay, now for the explanation.

"I always have condoms with me, and y'know, it's a habit, so I think I might have used one when we had sex," Billie explains to me. The phrase 'When we had sex' makes me shudder.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"I'm, like, seventy or eighty percent sure I did. I'm usually good about that kinda stuff, ask any girl in school," Billie adds a smile to his last sentence.

"But there's still a chance that she's not Mike's-"

Just then, I see Mike in the kitchen entryway, in his tank top and blue boxers, his eyes held steady on Billie and I. Staring into his eyes, I see anger, hurt, and betrayal. And all I can think is that when I went for Billie’s joint that day, it was probably the biggest mistake of my life.

"What were you just going to Billie?" Mike asks me, very calmly.

My heart starts beating faster. How much had he heard? "Um..."

Billie jumps in for me. "She was just gonna-"

"I asked her!" Mike practically screamed at Billie. This makes my breathing get faster. In tense situations, I usually would run. Like, if someone at school cornered me, or if someone started to make fun of me. But I can't run now.

"Mike...last September-" I begin, but Billie looks over at me, with a pleading look in his eyes that is asking me to lie. But I can't. I have to tell Mike the truth. Besides, it can go one of two ways.

One, Mike ignores me for the rest of his life.

Or, two, he forgives and forgets, and we all go on with our happy little lives.

I take in a deep breath. "Last September, when we just getting to know Brad, Billie and I were at Tight Wad Hill, y'know, just talking and stuff. Then, we kind of starting smoking, and I think there was drinking involved, and-"

"And from what I heard, you two had sex?" Mike cuts me off.

I feel tears pool in my eyes. Hormones, stress, and now this? That poor little baby. "Yes," I whisper.

Mike sighs. "And you lied about it. You didn't even tell me that- that there was a chance our, no, your baby isn't mine? Why? Why couldn't you have told me?"

I sigh and I feel tears rolling down my cheeks. "I don't know," I whispered. "I don't even fucking know. I guess I was just scared, and-"

"Bullshit!" Mike exclaimed. "If you had just come to me and told me what happened, I would have understood, but to keep it from me all this time... that's not fair! Not just to me, but to your baby, as well! I thought I knew you better than this. We've always told each other the truth. I don't believe this. Now, now, go. Get out."

As more tears shed, I walk slowly up the stairs, knowing that Billie's gonna get his. Why did I fuck things up like this? Why can't I ever keep a good thing going? Why am I such a screw-up?