Remember Me

I closed my eyes and fell asleep. My head lulled to the left and rested on Billie's shoulder. I smile to myself Every time I recall how he'd been that first day. Was it destiny that we met? Destiny that we even got along and were not at each others throats every day? I can't tell if it was destined or not or if we just influenced the outcome by being open minded to each others faults. Maybe that why we get along and are doing ok. Given that we had never shared a single argument since I'd known him and as crazy and cliché as it sounds, I think I love him. He is too sweet. Considerate and far more of a person then I ever thought I'd find. He is insane! In his own weird little way. 

Wait there is a old term my brother Embry had heard used. He had said once that the military or something used to use it. That when troops were stressed out, they would go and weave baskets and their troubles would 'weave' away. They called the stress some kind of insanity and so they named this easing tactic a Basket Case. I believe it was used some time during World War. So maybe a nice nickname for Billie is my Basket Case. Insane and weird all rolled up into one. Yeah. That what he is. I smiled in my half sleep slumber when I heard a loud crash to my right and my eyes popped open and seeked out Tré standing in the doorway holding the broken left half of what had been a rose vase. The other half, somehow, had broken. He shook his head questioningly and proceeded to walk in. Mike shadowing him.

I waved at them from the bed and glanced over at Billie's shared half to see him fast asleep. He had rings under his eyes, did he even sleep when he for home last night? I swear sometimes I worry about him like a mother... The grinned back and Tré carefully balanced the remainder of the vase onto the night stand by the bed. I wasn't sure exactly how he had broken it, but then again this is Tré. So I may be better off not asking at all. He is full of surprises. That for certain.

I sat and talked to them for a bit until Billie woke up drowsy and slowly became aware of the other presences around us. He had otherwise been hugging my arm. He sat up right in bed and rubbed his eyes. Pretending to not have been asleep. And he even excused it as just 'resting his eyes.' but I'd heard the snores. I'm not stupid Armstrong.

I just smiled knowingly at him.

“Where's Ollie?” I asked Mike. His eyes flitted to Billie's warily. Apparently something was going on with Ollie after Billie had left the house. Looked between the two. Mike finally caved. He sighed and razzled his hair up into a raven mess before announcing “She went on a date with dick head,”

The room got really tense and Billie shifted so he could hop down from his shared half of the hospital bed. And he went right to work pacing the floor.

“When did that happen?...” he asked incredulously.

“She was getting ready to come down to the hospital this morning when he showed up at the front door as we were leaving with the biggest fucking bouquet of roses and a fake ass smile on his face. Inviting her to brunch or whatever with him.” Mike shrugged darkly. So I am assuming he also dislikes Brad. Hell, we all do. Might as well start up the anti-Brad fanclub...

“Piece of shit!” Billie cursed. Kicking at the teal recliner at the foot of the bed and it slammed back against the west wall with a bang. Mike stood up and grabbed Billie's forearms. Telling him to look at him. When he finally did, his green irises glowed with acidic hatred. He let out a low growl, but he wasn't even looking at Mike. He was looking past him. To the doorway where Ollie stood with Brad at her side. Apparently she had witnessed the whole conversation.

Mike must have noticed how Billie was reacting and turned around seeing the source of Billie's flame. Brad cocked an eyebrow at us all like we weren't respecting him or something... Well I have a few of my own choice words for the man. Billie yelled a string of profanities in his anger fit. Fighting to keep Mike and Tré off of him so he could get close enough to Brad to strangle him, his arms kept lashing our and they'd yank him back and restrain him.

“Dickhead fuckface cocksmoking motherfucking asshole dirty foul waste of sperm I HOPE YOU DIE!” Billie yelled while thrashing against Mike.

“Billie! Enough of the language.” Ollie scolded.

Billies eyes got that wild glint to them and he stopped thrashing. He stood up straight on his own without restraints.

“Mom. I'm fucking eighteen I can say whatever the hell I want. Especially to this flaming bag of dookie.” he said gesturing nonchalantly to Brad. Who snorted. Billie shot him a look before trying to begin again, Ollie interrupted him,

“Billie Joe. Show a little respect will you? I haven't been happy in eight years and your being selfish to me for hanging onto your father. He is dead son. Wake the hell up. I love Brad with all of my heart. And he is go—”

“No!” he snapped, “No. Just no mom. He is never going to be any kind of father to me, I will never love him and he will never be my father.” he seethed.

“And your hardly my mother anymore. You believe everything your little angel Brad tells you and you won't even hear the rest of us out!” he growled, slowly ridding himself of anger.

“Well Billie Joe. I am sorry you feel that way but then I guess you should at least know that we are getting married. He proposed this morning and we came down here to share the news with you all.”

The room was tense, how could that douche bag propose when all of us had only met him last night, Ollie knows that none of us like Brad. But she is proceeding to shove him down our throats as the greatest man alive.

“You just met him.” Billie roared. Lunging forward. As soon as Mike and Tré pulled him back, any strength he had disintegrated and he sunk to his knees on the hospital tiles.

“Billie?” Ollie whispered. Taking a step towards him. 

“No.” Billie growled. Sniffing he wiped his eyes on his palm and looks up at Ollie with glittering eyes. “No mom. Stay the hell away from me. You won't see me again if you keep it with him. I won't come to your wedding. Hell, your in such a damn hurry to get on the marriage wagon that you might as well just run off to Vegas and elope!” he shouted. Gradually getting stronger as he pushed himself off the floor. Tears flowing in silver tracks down his cheeks. He darted for the hallway and shoved past Brad.

Everyone was in shock of what he had said to his own mother. But no one more the Ollie herself. Who was on the verge of crying, I Brad's arms of course. I rolled my eyes at her weakness and hopped out of bed and stumbled towards the door after Billie on shaky legs.

“Your not supposed to be walking yet.” Brad called behind me. I flashed him a middle finger without looking back at his expression and calling “You think I fucking care?” over my shoulder.

I looked all over for Billie. And it became clear quickly that he wasn't in the hospital at all. If he did leave, I wouldn't be able to follow him far. I can't get out of the hospital.

I looked over at the busy front desk. I don't think they will notice if I slip out for a bit. I walked casually out the front doors. In my robe as I'd been the first time out.  I began to walk up the sidewalk where I saw Tré's red pickup parked on the curb and checked for him there. Though surely he would hide somewhere anyone could find him. I walked off the hospital property in pursuit. I really had no idea where he'd go. Though I know that the house is less then a two miles from the hospital. Maybe he went there? I walked barefoot up the sidewalk. I'd kill for a change of clothes. I'd left the clothes I'd come in my room. I sighed and kept moving before someone noticed me. I looked up at the sky, bright blue. The sun shimmered brighter then any imaginable shade of yellow. There were trees lining the street, and as I walked they became increasingly more recognizable. I looked around myself. On the left side of the street was my house. My real house. No cars parked outside so my parents must not be home yet. And on the right side of the street was the black wrought iron gates of the Rodeo cemetery. From here I could see the familiar dogwood overrun with pastel pink blossoms. The tree arched and leaned over the quiet grave of Andy Armstrong. 

So even before I knew who I was, I had been quiet close to my house. The day I and Billie had been here. I could see a figure under the shadows of the tree. Mourning, knelt in the dirt before the marker. Head in hands and I could see the blue hair and baggy Ramones t-shirt hanging on his shoulders.

I pouter my lips in sympathy and began to open the gate and followed the path towards him. I stood five feet behind him. Noticing that he didn't have his head in his hands, but was propping up his head while writing down lyrics in that old notebook in his lap. His lips moving at a soft speed as he said his words out loud in a soft whisper.

“Ring out the bells again. Like we did when spring began. Wake me up... God, what was it again?” 

“When September ends.” I say out loud behind him. He spun around, startled until he recognized my presence and gestured for me to come sit beside him under the dogwood.

“What are you writing?” I ask.

“A song. I've been working on it, little by little throughout the years. Haven't gotten fair with it. It's for my dad, I've used this one song to release all the pain over his death.” he murmured. I nodded and sat down cross legged beside him while he wrote down one more line silently. When he looked up, I was looking up, focusing on the way the pale pink blossoms drifted on the breeze.  I concentrated on their color and movements. When I looked over at him, his eyes were fixed upon the edge of my hospital gown.

“That old thing again eh?” he snorted.

I laughed and picked up the edge of the canvas like fabric.

“Yeah. I guess so.” I smile.

He smiled too. Then he leant in and kissed me like it was second nature. 

I smiled and blushed like a damn rose and tried to hide it and he laughed at me.
I stuck my tongue out at me and he insisted it was rme to leave. As we walked out of the cemetery, I saw my house again.

“That's my house.” I say proudly. Looking up at the big two story house. The top floor practically all glass and it was painted the color of lilac. 

“I wonder if my parents will make me live here when they find out what happens to me.” I wonder out loud.

“Well how old are you, if your eighteen they have no say in what you do.” Billie shrugged.

I laughed “How in the hell would I know how old I am?” I began to cross the street and walked in the unlocked front door. It was oddly familiar and Billie just tagged along behind me

I decided I didn't want to wear that damn gown anymore, so I bounded off for my bedroom upstairs. God I love having memory again... When I entered my room. I instantly became aware of who I had become during my time with Billie over the last two weeks...

The walls were a girly pink, the bedding pink. Pop band music posters on my walls. My bedroom looked like a common suicide in the underground punk community. I rose my eyebrows in surprise at my past decorating schemes. I went to the closet and all I found was dresses. I snorted in disgust and moved for the dresser. Digging around until I'd found a pair of jeans. No regular shirts though, so I crept down the hall from my room and slipped into Embry's room. I dug through his dresser and found a way too big Harley Davidson t-shirt, but I pulled it over my head anyway and carried on downstairs to where Billie stood in the living room. Gawking at family pictures to be sure this house was really mine. He laughed at my clothing of choice.

“Let's go home.” I say, interrupting him.

“Aren't you already home?” he asked while giving me a confused look. I laugh.

“Not while I am all alone.” I pulled him out the front door and we headed back down the three blocks to the shabbier neighborhoods and we found his house. On it's usual curb. 

But I wasn't fully happy until we sat in our usual seat on the shabby, sagging couch in the garage with the radio blasting and pops in hand. The ray of sunlight was reaching for the couch in the shadows. Without a doubt I like this place better then the hospital. I'd probably stay here all day if I could.

Billie's POV:

She had the faint traces of a smile on her lips as she looked out the open garage door where it was alive despite it being September. Oh fucking September...

“Well a lot has happened in the last twenty four hours.” I laugh, looking up at the garage ceiling that I know Mike and Tré are responsible for all the band posters up there.
“At this time yesterday morning, we were sitting in my room talking about hair dye.” I say incredulously.

She giggled “The deed is done.” she grinned as she reached up and played with a strand of my hair. I smiled back.

“And now here we are. Back at the house after leaving destruction in our wake.” I chuckle.

“Yeah, got a couple jabs at Brad in the last twenty four hours. You ran off into the woods, we went to Christie Road, and Berkeley last night.” she laughed.

“And I managed to get on Brad's shit list.” I say cheekily. 

She smirked “You say that like it's a good thing.” she laughed.

“To me it is...” I laugh, putting my arm over her frail shoulders and pulled her closer into my chest. She let out a content sigh while we sat there.

Well a lot had happened since last night. And I'm not sure how much of it can be fixed. Had I hurt my mother beyond repair? I'm not mad at her, I'm mad about what Brad is doing to her. It's filling her head with the fantastic colorful patterns of being in love. Hell its a case of looking through rose colored glasses. She can't see things for what they are right now. I hope she is ok though. I am well known for being greedy. And I know I haven't gotten that from my mother or father. It's all me. All my demons coming through.

I looked out the garage door again and could see those same warm rays of sunlight that Adeline was focusing on with her crazy, wandering mind. I always wondered what she thought about. The expressions she makes throughout the day signal a racing mind. She was so thoughtful, in the ways she phrases her opinion on things. I haven't heard her say it yet, but I feel it. This weird fucked up feeling of butterflies in my stomach I feel when she speaks to me. Her smug expression when she picked on me And fucks with my head. 

Her eye color, is striking and when she looks me in the eyes when she speaks to me, it's like I can't hear her words at all, like I am lost in her hazel irises. I could stare at her eyes forever. The way she smiles and laughs. Her choice of words when she talks to Tré and Mike. 

I just love to get lost in the memory of when we'd first saw each other. I'd been playing on stage with the band when I saw this crazy girl racing through the crowd of tables. I shrugged it off and kept singing. Until my mom brought her over to meet me and my friends. I was instantly shy to her and I didn't know why. She was wearing my moms baggy grey t-shirt and jeans. She had this wild, black hair, which has grown out since then. The thoughtfulness I could see in her eyes as I looked down at her now.

I kept pretending to be focusing on the wall. Pretending I wasn't aware of her presence but decided to ease her own awkwardness by offering her a seat. But I was so nervous my voice came out wrong in a almost rude tone. She had shot me a look before taking a seat and turning her back to me. And in that moment I thought I'd already lost her. I unconsciously squeezed my greatest achievement tighter against my chest. Hell, if she wasn't going to say it, I would.

I love her.