Remember Me

We almost ate in silence. Except for Tré. Who was ranting over some computer game he has that he can't beat.

"Like... What cold-hearted demon would make this game?!" Tre exclaimed, stuffing his food into his mouth in frustration. "it's cruel... To make an addiction game that no fool could beat... But joke's on them, they obviously have never met Frank Edwin Wright the 3rd." he said proudly, a determined expression crossed his face.

"Who the hell is Frank Edwin Wright the 3rd?" Mike asked in a serious tone, before snickering.

“You should ask Whatsername for help, escaping an hospital is some pretty strategizing stuff.” Billie said eating a piece of broccoli.

Ollie shot him a look for the way he had presented the comment, yet something in her expression looked proud that he was including me in the conversation and praising me for my escape.
I smiled slightly and looked down at my plate.

It wasn't really something I was proud of... I was actually a bit embarrassed of it. Escaping a hospital?... that right there was title I don't think anyone would genuinely enjoy having. Maybe a loon... Oh, wait... I frowned.

Billie returned the smile and looked back at Tré. 

Tré sighed heavily and shook his head. “I just don't know... Its fuckin hard. Pardon my French miss Armstrong.” he grinned at Ollie. Who shook her head and looked down at an gardening magazine she was flipping through.

I remained as quiet and invisible as I could manage as I ate, I did not look up or meet anyone's gazes, I kept to myself and listened to Tre's rant in the background.

Billie shot me a look. Like he was trying to pick my brain of how I couldn't remember things.
He shook his head and looked down at his plate.

Weird... I was just that weird circus attraction that they'd allowed into their home. Like a stray cat off the streets, trying to figure out what it wants and how to get it to love you forever. I guess it was somewhat like that, and I still had the fragments of the idea in the back of my mind... I could run away again, wait until they are asleep and abandon ship.

I set down my fork and went to the sink to put away my dishes, I went to my room, walked to the windows, and pulled open the curtain a little bit. I looked out at the dark, damp streets. Street lamps illuminated the shapes of figures drifting through shadows, the faint vibration of music coming from somewhere.

Wow... This is amazing... The moths beating against the lamps, people in baggy clothing pass on the sidewalk, music following them, coming from the open windows of the passing cars on the street.

I breathed out in awe, something alive on the other side of the glass... Something I couldn't remember experiancing, but I knew that I wanted to.

I pressed my hand to the glass, ambient water drops trickled down it and past my palm. I watched the movement dwindle until it returned to an empty, dim street with distant dog barks.

I returned to the living room some time after that, we all sat in the living room, I continued to mind my own business, but I couldn't help the fleeting waves curiosity that pricked my mind when certain topics were discussed or how they could talk to each other so nonchalantly. Ollie was talking to Billie while he played his guitar, and Mike and Tré decided to pin me as worlds most awesome charade player, I grinned while I watch Tré try to guess Mike.

"It's a bird!" Tre exclaimed, sitting on the floor beside me, bouncing up and down, pointing at Mike that clearly was not shaped like a bird. Mike sat with a bored, annoyed look on his face, hands extended in front of himself, wrapped around an invisible circle, guiding it left and right every few seconds.

"For the third time...." Mike groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "I'm not a damn bird, Tre."

"It's a plane, no! It's Batman!..."

Mike turned to look at him full on. "What kind'a drugs you on, son?" he asked Tre in a heavy southern accent.

I looked over my shoulder at Ollie and Billie. They sat on the couch, Ollie was discussing Billie getting his drivers license because he was well above being able too. He leaned over the coffee table scribbling lyrics in the same leather journal he had earlier. 

"You're old enough now-"

He drew her attention away from the argument by saying “Our gig went good today.”

Her face softened, but didn't entirely drop the situation. “That's good.”

“Yeah. Now we're just waiting to have another gig.” he said nodding cooly.

She sighed and shook her head. Laughing when she looked up “Billie Joe Armstrong. I swear to god your good at worming out of tough situations. Getting people to drop shit. Damn you!” she laughed uncontrollably and smacking his arm. He grinned cheekily at her.

Billie grinned and leaned back on the chair. Sensing and easy victory.

I smiled and looked down at the chocolate brown carpet. This house has got to be interesting to live in every day. Every day... Long term, I probably wouldn't be here long enough to find out.

"Tre! Dammit, I was driving a car!" Mike exclaimed at last, jumping up from his spot on the floor, Tre looked dumbstruck for a moment until he started laughing goofilly. "Really?" he laughed, in a daze. "you weren't even close, bro."

Tré requested that we watch an movie. When Ollie went to the movie cabinet to choose something, she asked Tré what he wanted and he said “Cinderella.” like it was an normal occurrence for an seventeen year old boy to watch an five year-old girl movie. Billie shook his head sadly and got up to go to his room and put away his guitar. When he returned, everyone was screaming at each other for the spot on the cozy couch next to Ollie. She leaned over the arm away from the fight between Mike and Tré.

I stood out of the way, and when the firefight had died down, I opted to sit on the opposing couch. On my end, Billie took his spot at the other. We watched the exhausting opening credits. The lullaby like music. Yet it all hit me like I'd never seen it before. I guess it's another thing I lost to the fire of memory loss.

I yawned. Still exhausted after my nap earlier. Well... Nightmare nap, actually. It had been nice, and if you twisted my arm, I might say I enjoyed the rest in a cozy bed, but I could have done without the abrupt dreams.

But at least Billie is warming up to me, or so it seemed. But it could have just been the false demeanor Ollie made him wear. He didn't appear to be as hostile as he had been this afternoon when I'd first seeked out Ollie's help. I shrugged to myself, and focused on the movie, not that it was really making much sense to me.

So far, it was about this cheerful girl who lived in a tower with the wicked (cliche) stepmother and two bratty sisters. The cheerful girl's name was Cinderella, apparently. As the movie progressed, she befriended mice, and they made her a dress crafted from stolen materials. (tisk tisk)

I stretched, cramped up on the couch, Billie glanced over at me and sighed something under his breath, and he beckoned me with his hand. I looked at him and shook my head focusing on the screen. Suddenly he yanked my feet out from under me and forced me to stretch out my legs. Laying them across his lap. I sighed and shook my head. Resting it on the arm of the couch. I figured it'd draw less attention and make less of a scene if I didn't withdraw them.

I only stayed aware of the movie until the part that Cinderella is crying in the garden after her stepsisters destroy her dress... Then it was lights out for me. I crashed, sprawled out on the couch...

We hold in our hearts...
The sword and the faith
Swelled up from the rain clouds
Move like a wraith

Well after all...
We'll lie another day...
And through it all...
We'll find some other way...
To carry on...
Through cartilage and fluid
And did you come...
To stare or wash away the blood?

Well tonight...
Well tonight will it ever come?
Spend the rest of your days
Rocking out...
Just for the dead.
Well tonight...
Will it ever come?
I can see you awake
Any time...
In my head.

Did we all fall down?
Did we all fall down?
Did we all fall down?
Did we all fall down?

From the lights to the pavement
From the van to the floor
From backstage to the doctor...
From the earth to the morgue...

Morgue...
Morgue.....
Morgue!...
Morgue!

Well tonight will it ever come?
Spend the rest of your days
Rocking out...
Just for the dead
Well tonight....
Will it ever come?
I can see you awake any time...
In my head.

All fall down...
Well after all...

Desert Song - My Chemical Romance

I woke up with a start. The room was tinted dark purple, calm and quiet. I abruptly pulled my wrists up in front of my face, I hadn't dug at them, thank God... The curtains were still closed in the foreign room. I stretched out. Still an bit tired, but too awake now to try and sleep again.

Then it all came back to me. That I had fallen asleep on the couch, then who the hell carried me in here? Surely Ollie didn't have the strength for that. Then I believed I had an culprit. Either way, I'm still happy to be alive another day. My secret joy overwhelmed me, and saddened me, as well, when I realized that's all I had to be happy for.

I got out of bed and pulled open the curtains, brilliant, warm sunlight flooded the room and made me blink a few times to adjust. Ollie's car was gone, my best guess was that she'd gone to work... I wondered if she took the boys with her. And was surprised at the stab of pain it sent searing through my heart at the thought of being alone today.

I yawned and stretched again. Still dressed in yesterday's clothes, I decided to get dressed. I repeated last night's actions, rummaging through the drawers to get a better idea what I had. I put on an grey tank top and black jeans. Finding an pair of Chuck Taylors in Hollie's closet. Lovely.
I fluffed my hair with my hand and glanced at my less than desirable appearance, and risked going down the hall to the living room.

What I saw there was the opposite of quiet and alone. They were ducking behind the couches, raising long enough to shoot each other with foam dart guns.

For the first time since I ended up here, I struggled to meet someone's eyes to question what they were doing.

I didn't have much time to react before a hand grabbed my elbow and roughly yanked me down behind the couch. I spun around, back pressed to the couch, to see Billie there, peeking around the corner, a loaded dart gun in his hands. “We do this every Saturday. It's our dart gun battle. Here.” he said, holding out another dart gun “You know how to use one of these?” he asked seriously like it was an real weapon. I shrugged and he pushed it into my hands. Lifting my wrists over the top of the couch long enough to shoot Tré square in the forehead. He flopped back. Then standing up and yelling “Foul.”

“Oh come on.” Billie laughed “I'm tired of being in an one man show. So Whatsername is on my team.” he hugged me gratefully. Smashing his scruffy blond curls against my shoulder.
Right, of course I'm apart of your siege...

We shot at each other for the next half hour. Sharing laughs over shots, or should I say, they shared laughs. I just groaned. I felt the need to slip away into the background dwindling as the fight progressed

"Well, I'm out." Mike called as he drifted off to the shower. And soon after, Billie locked himself away in his room. Tré had gone and hid in the Armstrong's garage, to play an old drumset that was out there. That left me completely alone in Billie's house.

I looked around at the fine details of his house. Old pictures on the walls and such. There used to be an strong bond of family here. Music knitting it all together, apparently. In a lot of pictures, it showed a young boy that I assumed was Billie, among other children. Most of them, he was holding an instrument of some kind, a big smile on his face. There was one on the mantel that I approached warily. The same boy, a little older, sitting next to an older man with curly black hair, and two drumsticks in his lap while the young boy sat on his knee on the stool in front of a drum set. It pricked my curiosity, but it's just an shame I'd never have the guts or the voice to ask him more about his life and past without the twenty questions in sign language.

I raised my chin a fraction, looking over the others, other kids at holidays, I assumed they were probably Billie's siblings and extended family. A few gradation photos and baby pictures were balanced on a end table.

I admired them each, then turned around and headed back to my room. I made the bed, looked blankly out the windows for five minutes before I decided what I wanted. My throat felt empty, it needed to be filled with words. I sat on the edge of the bed thought of something to say. Took a deep breath and prepared myself to speak. I cannot keep living this way.

“A —wo...rold...__” my voice rasped before I broke out coughing. It was hardly near to what I was trying to say.

"A world without light is a dark place I'd never like to be."

I glared at the wall, frustrated and mildly angry. I had really lost everything. I clentched and unclentched my stiff fingers from the newly cleaned bed spread. In this world, or whatever it was now, it wasn't working for me.

I closed my eyes hoping that some little drop of faith will bring me enough hope to believe I'm alright and will be ok. I cannot remember any of my past so it will do me no good now weeping over it. It's in the past, let's move on and create an new life, even though your in the middle of your current one... I heard something... I listened, holding my breath to be sure of what I heard. They were soft sounds like I'd heard last night when Billie had been strumming his guitar. I pressed my greedy ear up to the wall to hear it better. Soft music floated through the thin layer of sheet rock. I heard something besides that... Was he singing?

I swallowed, sighed and shifted against the headboard so I could hear the music as I thought.

I couldn't even mouth the simplest phrase: let alone sing an entire opera house tune. He sung simple, boyish songs. About simple boyish things, girls, drinking and whatever other substances he was probably using under his mother's nose. I guess my life will be purer this way, if I can't remember.

It made me hopeful... In a way. Maybe I'd been some terrible person and this was my excuse to forget about all the wrong I'd done... But that doesn't mean it'd be erased from the minds of those I loved.

I laid down on the blankets to stare at the wall. Listening to the soft murmur of Billie's voice float down the hall into my room. I closed my eyes for more sleep, it was so much easier to believe I could fall asleep at any given time when I had my own lullaby to play me off onto unconsciousness.
 
I woke a while later, so well rested that I don't think I could even down another wink. I looked at the analog clock on the bedside table. 1:45.

Shit... I'd slept for five hours. But now I think I'll have an better sleep ratio tonight when Tré requests another Disney movie.

I took an long yawn and got out of bed and stumbled down the hall to the living room. My still sleep heavy clumsy feet tripped over themselves and I went sprawling. But I was surprised when I didn't smack into the floor. Two hands secured my forearms. Pulling me onto my feet.

Billie made an crooked smile at me. His hair dripping, at some point he had gone and showered too. 
“Watch those feet, Flipper.” he grinned. Righting me onto my feet. I rolled my eyes and straightened my shirt.

He had also changed his clothes, I guess I hadn't noticed this morning when he was wearing the same clothing as yesterday. Now he looked much more casual. Baggy, faded, holey denim jeans and an grey t-shirt. But he was wearing an necklace. I reached up unconsciously and spun the charm around between my fingers.

It was an small oblong shape made of an thin piece of sturdy plastic. I smiled and looked up at him. He carefully reached up and took it from my hand to look down at it himself.
“It's an guitar pick.” he chuckled. Pulling it over his head. I watched spin around in the air with fascination.

“Here.” he said smiling. He lifted it above my head and draped it over my collarbone. I lifted it up to see it closer.

“It looks nice.” he said softly. Forcing it out of his lips.

I smiled.

“I can make you your very own if you'd like.” he offered awkwardly.

I smiled again and nodded enthusiastically.

He beckoned me to follow him down the hall to his room. Wedged in between mine and the living room. I paused outside the door... Tre had told me to stay out of there, I glanced around nervously.

"Well come on in." he called out, I sighed and walked in, the decoration of his room caught my eye. Band posters everywhere, tickets were pinned to a small cork board hanging above the desk, cluttered with various colors and titles. His room wasn't really what anyone would call 'clean'. Clothes strewn across the floor, dishes on the desk and CD's and vinyls placed into a neat little stack on the shelves above the bulky TV balanced on a small entertainment center.

“Here.” he murmured. Reaching onto an high shelf and pulling down an small wooden box. He opened it up. An entire collection of guitar picks. From solid colors to the marbled effect. There were at least fifty of them.

“Choose one.” he encouraged.

I reached in, looking at them all. I picked up an rainbow one. It was marbled with the shiny shades of green, blue, orange, pink, red and yellow.

He smiled sadly and held the tip while I held the other end. He looked down at it as he spoke.
“This is an excellent choice.” he smiled “Do you know it's meaning?”

I shook my head.

“It's means strength of the mind. That's perfect.” 

I smiled.

He rummaged through the stuff on the bedside table and found a lighter. He held the flame up to a household nail and heated up an nail until the tip glowed the color of fresh embers.

Then he held it up to thr light in the window as he pricked it through. Carefully turning it as he went so he got an smooth hole. He turned to show it to me.

I nodded and he pulled open an desk drawer. Digging around in it he pulled out an piece of black cord and an handful of small wooden beads.

He went to work assembling the necklace. Putting on each bead with precision, his brow pulling together in concentration as he went. He tied the knot in the cord and held it up in the air. I watched in amazement as the guitar pick swiveled freely around in the air. He watched me pull off his and he replaced it. I handed it back to him with tentative hands. 

“Its perfect.” he murmured. Looking into my eyes longer than necessary.

I blushed and looked down. Breaking his awkward stare...

That's when we heard a knock on the front door. "Hang on..." Billie said, walking out of the room and towards the living room, I followed anyways out of curiosity.

“Hello Mr. Cool.” Billie said politely to the man standing in the doorway. Long white hair and beard, and eyes so bright you could tell they held years of wisdom and good stories.

He shook his head and grinned “I've never been happier of my sons nickname.” he laughed “so how are you Billie?”

“I'm fine.” Billie nodded.

“Well you wouldn't have happened to see my boy have you?” he asked.

“Tré? Yeah, he's out in the garage with Mike.”

“I swear, can't pull that boy away from the drums for five minutes.” he laughed. Tre's dad had a cool aura about him, like he knew a great deal about music, but if that's true... Then I know where Tre probably picked it up.

“Well have an nice day.” he said, stepping off the porch.

“You too.” Billie grinned. Closing the door behind him.

“Well it seems that we have lost one from our party.” he said, turning around to face me, sighing in disappointment.

“What do you think we should do now, Whatsername?” 

I shrugged. I had no idea.

“Then would you like to come with me to Gilman?”

What the heck is Gilman?...

I shrugged.

“It's an underage club, well, not with alcohol and all that, but you'll see. Come on, it's fun.” I looked at him, and then around the living room nervously.

Right... Let's run off to some foreign destination with the guy who was glaring daggers at me yesterday... Brilliant.

Then I nodded and followed him out the front door. Some part of me was excited to be out exploring the urban landscape I'd viewed from my window last night, the other half was struggling to recall self-defense if it came to that. As we walked out of the house, we passed Mike in the open garage on the way to the curb.

“Hey Mikey, you comin with?”

“Where?” Mike asked hesitantly, an orange guitar in his lap with four knobs instead of six.

“Gilman.” Billie said it like it was a normal place to be, and a good place to spend afternoons, as though he'd learned from experience.

“Pass.” he said simply, turning one of the knobs carefully with one hand and strumming with the other. “I've been there too much the last week anyways.”

Billie shrugged and and we continued on to the curb.

We walked the whole way there, and Billie was a chatter box. He talked rather he was aware I was listening or not, and I hung onto every word. He talked about his band, Sweet Children and music in general. He talked about his favorite bands, idols and songs he'd learned how to play by them.

I looked above us as we cut across an empty street into an alleyway. I pointed to a street sign that creaked as it drifted back and forth in the breeze.

He nodded in agreement. “We are in Rodeo California. Home of the refinery.” he winked.

I walked, curious now. Of course I knew where California was, I mean I lost my memory, people, things, and a few places, I'm sure. But I don't think I could forget the layout of the US. I walked, kicking rocks and watching them skid across the ground, I pursed my lips, hesitant to ask him my next question.

Then I got on with it. I pointed to my lips.

He looked confused “Lips?” he laughed nervously, raising his left arm to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

I nodded. 

“Kissing?” he asked, walking crookedly, embarrassed.

No! I shook my head and stuck my tongue out in disgust.

He put up his hands defensively “Ok sorry, but I'm sure you'll warm up to me eventually. I'm really sweet.” he grinned. Trying to embarrass me, I swatted his cheeky face away and kept moving.

I pointed again, this time opening my mouth 

“Mouth?” he asked.

I nodded 

“Talking?”

I shook my head.

“Singing?”

I nodded. Encouraging him.

“You want me to sing to you?” he asked softly, with a hint of happiness.

I grinned and nodded.

He took and deep breath and looked down.

“What song?” 

I shrugged. I didn't know any.

“How about We Are The Champions, it's Queen.”

 I nodded. Desperate to hear his lovely singing voice. As odd as he'd stricken me in the past 24 hours, if I appreciated anything about him, it'd be his voice.

He cleared his throat to begin.

“I've paid my dues, time after time. I've done my sentence but committed no crime.” he grinned at me and paused. "and bad mistakes... Well, I've made a few. I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through.... And a we are the champions, my friends. And we'll keep on fightin', til the end.”

He kept singing until the end. Gradually gaining his confidence as we walked. But when the song ended, when his loud, enthusiastic voice faded and left an awkward silence between us, I think that's when we started walking faster, finally he pointed up ahead. 

“That's Gilman.” he said pointing to an long white brick building wedged between two tall abandoned apartments.

I nodded and looked at the surrounding buildings. Like a droplet of punk-rock culture had been dabbed right here in between these two buildings. I looked up in awe as I followed him to the door.