Communion

In the morning of mid May, Mike sat albeit on the foot of his bed to where his girlfriend stood half-clothed in front of a vanity mirror, her behind set out prominently and her sizable breasts hanging gracefully -a reflection and treat to his vision.

Lying back slowly on the bed, the bassist took site and fixation at the patterns of plaster strewn to make up the ceiling above him. It was like advanced architecture, he thought, letting his eyes fall down to where the ceiling turned into coves and eventually the walls.

But none was so like a marvel of architecture unlike that of the human architecture of Holly, his girlfriend of just over a year. Lying there, dormant and deep in thought about everything under the sun, Mike felt the weight of another human being occupy the mattress. He grinned, his eyes light as though the life had been drained out of him nearly completely. There was so much to do in so little time, he thought.

This was the year the cycle would start over again, the start of what would come to be called "The Germanic Era."

At the thought of touring again, Mike cringed because he knew he had so many personal issues and things to sort through that he might never get the time. The nice thing about it though, was getting to jump back on the stage and escape it all -exactly the opposite of what the bassist wanted to do. He wanted to resolve everything in the moment, leaving himself nothing to fret over after leaving the stage. Because he knew, as soon as he was backstage not only would Tre be there but a few feet away from him -unlike on stage where he could be twenty miles apart -but so would his wife. And that's where Mike came to the conclusion in his mind -when all else had failed and he could no longer find the right way out -this tour would require him having his own tour bus.

Holly watched her boyfriend, his form lean and long, covered by a white wifebeater and black dress pants which with his legs draped off the end of the bed. She bit her lip, throwing back her auburn hair as if to catch his attention but sighing as he continued to move his tired eyes back and forth as though trailing his pupils with the patterns of the plaster on the ceiling. She examined him closely, a wonder bestow upon her as to what he was truly thinking about.

"Michael," she whispered.

Mike swallowed back a lump in his throat at the sound of his name, his Adam's apple moved in his neck as his eyes twitched as though he were having R.E.M. while awake. Thinking to himself about tour, the blue-eyed bassist saw what the outcome was to be. There was him, he was standing next to his best friend and behind them on the drums, the man who stood between him and his desires. In no part of his vision could he make out her... and that's when Mike jumped to another conclusion.

"Mich-"

"Holly!" Mike exclaimed, gasping as he sat up on the bed quickly. He turned to face her and tenderly placed the palm of his hand on her cheek whilst staring her in her mesmerizing hazel eyes. "Holly... " he repeated, this time lower than a whisper.

"Mike?" Holly choked, her voice filled with concern. She brought her hand up and caressed it over the Screeching Weasel tattoo on her boyfriend's inner upper arm. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Mike said, shaking his head accordingly. The bassist who now wore his hair dark brown, generally spiked and short, took his girlfriend's hand in his own and held it up to his lips, kissing it respectfully. "I just...I'd like to take you out to dinner tonight."

"Hmm, what are you up to?" Holly laughed nervously, feeling suspicious of her infamous boyfriend.

"Nothing at all..." Mike replied, his face appearing neutral and secretive. Standing up off the bed, the bassist tightened his belt about his waist to a tighter notch and started for the bedroom door. Turning back briefly to eye his girlfriend as the morning sun shone on her fare skin, Mike pursed his lips before slipping out of the room.

Cat's got his tongue, Holly thought. Standing up off the bed, much like Mike did, the auburn-haired woman made way once again for the vanity mirror. She picked up a pair of tweezers and began to pluck and define her eyebrows carefully, wincing as each individual hair was uprooted. Beautifying herself for the evening she would spend with "Michael," Holly began to wonder what the unusual occurrence of Mike's dinner invitation was about, him generally being too busy and tired after time in the studio and doing press and promo shoots. And then it hit her like a tonne of bricks.

Squee! Mike's going to ask me to marry him!

* * *

"Can you believe it Rose," Tre coughed, slamming the phone down on its charger before flopping back on the couch, "that was fucking Reprise."

"What's wrong?" Rose asked, sitting down on the chesterfield next to her husband and empathetically placing a consoling hand on his arm.

"Mike wants his own tour bus now..." Tre steamed, feeling angry and unintentionally shrugging his wife's hand off his arm, "ah, I'm so pissed off." The drummer threw his socked feet up on the clean coffee table roughly and crossed his arms.

Rose snapped her hand back from Tre and bit her lip. Mike's name had just come up and now her husband was angry, this could not be good news, she thought. Although the information should be positive, because 'how to keep Mike away' on tour had been plaguing her mind for some time now. Maybe this was the answer to all riddles.

"Honey, what's the big deal?" Rose inquired, sitting back on the couch cushion she had parked herself on. "It's only a bus..."

"It's a really big deal, me and Mike have shared the same tour buses for the past twenty years," Tre said, crossing his arms even tighter across his chest. "I don't know, I don't see why he can't discuss shit with me when it changes. Like why have management call me like he's simply my estranged co-worker?"

"I thought you were mad at Mike for not telling you about my illness," Rose reminded him and quirked her eyebrows intelligently. She looked at her husband and gently placed a palm on the lower of her tiny pregnant belly.

"Yeah, I am..." Tre cooed, "I still don't think he should talk to me through Warner like I'm some fucking business associate!"

"Frank..." Rose gasped, placing her index finger up over her mouth, "...lower your tone."

"I'm sorry," Tre replied shamefully and he began to think about the conversation he and Rose had shared at five o'clock that morning after he had just arrived home from L.A. with her cousin. "Honey, I'm sorry I got so wrapped up in the past last night," the drummer squealed nasally, referring to the morning as night for he had only woken just pass noon. "It's just the tour and Billie and Mike...everything's just bombarding me right now."

"I know, and it's okay," Rose whispered. "You had every right to bring up Michael last night. We never talk about him, we don't even visit his gravesite anymore. I suppose it's been less painful forgetting, forgetting that I had a hand in his death. You were totally in line asking me about it." Rose stood up from the chesterfield, staring away from her husband nervously.

"That's not what I mean, Rose," Tre said quietly, loosening his arms from hugging one another. He too stood up, pacing to her side, he looked at her and smiled largely, his cheeks raised high and the definition of his nose showing in detail. "I meant you sweetie..."

"Me?" Rose gulped, her eyelids falling lazy over her green pupils.

Tre nodded and placed a free hand on Rose's stomach, next to her own hand. "I should have concentrated on more important things, like asking you how you're doing with your eating disorder now. It was five in the morning though, so please credit me with being so tired I was legally insane," the drummer laughed light-heartedly.

"I'm better now," Rose said, nodding her head in a very assuring manner. "You know when Billie and I went to Redwood National Park last year, we had a discussion about antidepressants?"

"I know when you're talking about. How could I forget, that was the first and only time I've ever told Billie to get out of my house and off my property!" Tre exclaimed, looking back and reminiscing on how weird it had been that he'd been thrown into a situation where he had felt forced to do that. "What was this discussion about antidepressants though?"

"It was really weird..." Rose began, "like Billie decided to open up to me, and shared with me that he'd been quite a few times throughout his life, taking Prozac. We got to talking about it and he actually recommended it to me for my depression. Well, I got a prescription from our family doctor and I started noticing changes in myself right away. I was much more confident and I always noticed it with the smallest things."

"When was this?" Tre said, lifting his eyebrows with much interest.

"When you guys were recording in Hollywood and we were staying at the hotel on The Strip. Well, Billie and I would frequent the café down the street from our hotel and I began to notice how easy it was for me to talk to everyone and anyone I met. And that was because I was taking antidepressants. Billie knew best..." Rose explained. "The doctor told me I have a chemical imbalance in my brain."

"Oh, but it's nothing major, right?" Tre asked with concern. "And you're not still taking them..."

"No," Rose replied swiftly, "as soon as I found out I was pregnant, I went cold turkey. I couldn't be irresponsible again; I saw the effects of it before. Just like my last two pregnancies...this one will be successful."

"Your last two," Tre said, cocking his eyebrows sarcastically, "you mean 'your last one'?"

Rose's eyes became wide she nodded her head and bit her lip. "Yeah, that's what I meant. Ah, I have a feeling something strange is going to happen today. Maybe not with us, but with someone," the raven-haired woman said with a bold change of subject. "It's just this premonition I have, I don't know."

"Mommy, lunch!" Michelle's squealing, more matured voice echoed throughout all the rooms of the house.

Rose nodded her head slowly and she turned to look at her husband. "I guess I have to go deal with that," she murmured, a smile frequenting her pale thin face. "Aunt Ollie's funeral's tomorrow Frank, we'll have to buy Michelle a dress today."

"Okay," Tre replied, nodding his head and he stopped to follow his wife into the kitchen. The linoleum tiled floor was beige and dirty by first account Tre saw. His daughter sat in a muck of wax crayons and scattered paper at the kitchen table, looking up only briefly to smile at her daddy and flinch the nose that would one day grow almost as big as Tre's.

"What do you want for lunch today, honey?" Rose inquired, standing at the kitchen's center island whilst head on looking at her 5-year-old daughter.

"Pancakes!" Michelle gasped in excitement.

"No honey, that's a breakfast food," Rose said, cocking her eyebrows with a devilish grin. "I want you to eat something more nutritious."

"No...mommy please!" Michelle groaned.

"How about a turkey sandwich with veggies and dip on the side," Tre said, looking at his wife with a very big smile.

"Veggies, Frank?" Rose laughed. "I'm surprised at you. Is that what the children really want?" she inquired, playfully addressing her husband as one of the children.

Tre sat down at the table next to his daughter and grabbed up a crayon to which he began doodling a random picture on a blank leaflet of paper. "That's what we want mommy," Tre said and he turned to look at Michelle. "Right, Michelle?"

"No, I want pancakes..." Michelle repeated, her tone sounding whiny as she dropped her crayon on the floor and crossed her arms stubbornly.

"Michelle, no pancakes today," her mother dictated firmly.

"Why not, Jakey and Joey get pancakes, why not me?" Michelle asked and she pouted so sorrowfully that it would appear her dog had just been hit by a car to the common passerby.

"Honey, your cousins are much older than you," Rose laughed unintentionally, "they're not growing anymore, you are. Therefore you need to eat lots of vegetables, so you can grow up to be strong like your daddy."

"Don't forget sexy," Tre said, looking at his wife and flexing his arm muscles which were covered by a light-weight hoodie, making his display of muscle-showing seem pointless.

"She's five, Frank," Rose replied, rolling her eyes. "Anyways Michelle, it's important and you need to eat something before we go shopping today. We're going to buy you a new dress for your Great-Aunt's funeral tomorrow."

"She died?" Michelle asked, her face looking alert and unaware all at once.

"Yes honey," Rose replied calmly, "and Billie is very upset right now, that's why daddy has been at home so much lately."

"Does Billie Cousin cry, mommy?" Michelle asked, her curiosity, still imminent even though she was another year older.

"Of course he does," Rose said, looking at her husband whom had lowered his head and grinned at the thought of Billie losing his last parent. "Billie just needs time to relax before your daddy's band goes back on tour."

"When we going on the bus ride?" Michelle said, looking across the room at her mother and turning to look at her father as though she would have taken the answer from either of them.

"Next week," Tre answered her, "are you excited?"

Michelle nodded. "I've never been on a big bus before."

"Sure you have, honey..." Rose said, now leaning into the fridge and picking apart the vegetable compartment. Finding a bundle of fresh broccoli and a bag of baby carrots, she stood upright and turned around, closing the refrigerator door with a kick of the back of her ankle. "You were in my tummy on the last tour."

Michelle shot her emerald-aquamarine eyes up to attention. The 5-year-old looked very alert and intelligent, or perhaps just had those crazy "Basket Case -I'm on LSD" eyes that seemed to run so rampant in those whom shared blood with an Armstrong. "I was?" the young girl asked.

"Yes honey, remember I told you the story about Berlin and how daddy saved my life?" the raven-haired 27-year-old asked, reminiscing on the event herself.

Tre became attentive himself, he raised his head and looked at his wife as she pulled a few plates from the cupboard, turned around and stared up through her eyelashes into his eyes. The thought alone that Rose had told their daughter a story which made him appear heroic, sent a pleasant shiver up the drummer's spine.

"I think I remember..." Michelle said quietly. "Is that the one, where the umm...how do you call it...f-fans...almost tipped the bus?"

Tre became even more intrigued, now realizing his daughter was aware of those people whom had greatly loved him and his band. "Mommy's told you a lot of stories, hasn't she 'Chelle?" the drummer asked, his face showing his enthrallment.

Michelle nodded with a smile.

Rose laughed under her breath and looked at Michelle as she began cutting the broccoli into little stalks on one of three plates. "That's the story, yes Michelle. Well I was pregnant with you then, so in all technicalities, this will be your second tour."

"Cool!" Michelle shrieked. "How many tours is there, how many tours have you been on mommy?" the 5-year-old asked, rampant question after question.

"Umm jeez...how many tour have there been," Rose repeated, "Frank help me out?"

"Umm...shit I'm going to have to count," the drummer unintentionally cursed, looking down at his hands, counting in his head and moving a finger each time he counted a new tour. "Ten...?"

"Yes, that sounds right," Rose replied, "this will be the eleventh, I think." Arranging the broccoli and distributing it on the three plates, Rose returned to the fridge to grab out some ranch dressing and the margarine for the sandwiches. "And as for how many tours I've been on, well I suppose I'll call this my second and a half."

"Yeah that's right, you did a bit of Idiot Tour with us, didn't you honey?" Tre said and he got up from the table, walking over to the kitchen's center island to place his arms around his wife's front whilst she swooned with the jar of ranch dressing in her hands.

"I did..." Rose whispered, biting her lip to contain a very big smile. Turning her head to the side, Tre poked his head over her shoulder and the couple shared a tender kiss. She felt his hands trail down off her sides and to the front to rest on her stomach gently. "Tell her?" she spoke into her husband's lips.

"Sure," he said, smiling as he drew back from his spouse, taking the ranch dressing jar from her and pouring it on a single plate.

Rose straightened out her outfit by running her hands neatly over her black tank and a blue boho skirt she was wearing. She smiled, taking a single plate up off the counter and bringing it over to the kitchen table before setting it down in front of Michelle and taking a seat of her own. "Michelle..." Rose began slowly, stealing a baby carrot off her daughter's plate to break it off with her front teeth, "your daddy and I want to ask you a question."

"What question?"

"It's an important question," Tre said, he took the other two plates and brought them over to the table, setting one down in front of his wife and the other in front of an unoccupied chair. "I'll make the sandwiches," he mouthed to his wife and waited for her to nod and smile approvingly.

"Honey, how would you like a brother or sister you could play with? But instead of being a younger sister like you are now, you'll get to be a big sister," Rose explained as best she could to the thinking level of a 5-year-old.

"A big sister, like Ramona," Michelle asked, gulping deeply at the thought, "how?"

"Michelle, your daddy and I are going to have another baby," Rose let out, looking at her daughter closely to examine her reaction of the news.

Michelle's jaw dropped to the floor. "A baby!" she shrieked, "oh mommy, I want baby sister! Can I have a baby sister?"

"Well...I don't know. It's not really a choice honey, it just sort of happens, God decides," Rose explained and she extended her hand across the table to place it atop her daughter's tinier delicate hand.

"Where's baby, mommy?" Michelle asked her eyes still wide and brazenly emerald-aquamarine.

"In my tummy," Rose answered and she looked down, pulling up her black tank just enough so that her daughter could see the slight bump forming in her three month pregnant belly.

"Wow..." Michelle replied, completely mesmerized by the news. "Daddy, mommy has a baby!"

"I know!" Tre laughed, looking at his daughter as he sloppily and impolitely licked margarine off a butter knife. "What do you think Michelle?"

"I'm excited! I hope I get baby sister!"

"For your sake Michelle, I hope you do too. I think we'll all be very happy," Tre said and he turned to look out the kitchen window into the uncertain future, if nothing, but a smile on his face.

* * *

The night was still. It was clear, the weather warm, like summer approaching once again but hardly a movement of traffic, for most vehicles were at the other end of the city, attending the year's exhibition.

With a soft faux fur coat wrapped about her and over a chic knee-length black dress she wore underneath, Holly looked around in the night as her high heels gently scuffed the pavement of the parking lot in front of Rudy's Can't Fail Café. Excitement instilled her, leaving her clinging to Mike like a moth to a flame. The young woman considered herself very lucky and very much in love with the man who had taken care of her for the past year of her very long struggle of a life. And who would have thought she'd score a famous musician husband... erm boyfriend, without herself having a record deal. The auburn-haired beauty smiled happily at the irony of it as she and Mike made way into the café where a woman standing behind the counter straightened her posture at the sight of the famous Mike Dirnt and his woman.

"Good evening Mr. Pritchard and Ms. Rinedoller," the woman at the counter greeted them formally yet informally, "I'll be with you in a moment."

Holly quirked at the sound of her last name, thinking to herself that perhaps in a very short time she might be addressed to as Mrs. Pritchard. Oh how lovely that would be, she thought.

"The beauty of dating the owner of Rudy's Can't Fail Café," Holly laughed, as she took a seat at a table and watched as Mike sat down across from her, "free food." She eyed him; his eyes were elsewhere, very nervous and very shifty. She extended her hands out across the table to graze her bassist boyfriend.

"Oh yeah, it's great," Mike murmured, rubbing his lips together like a woman does after applying lipstick, "co-owner, by the way." The musician looked down at the joining of their hands together, just like standing at the altar on your wedding day. The joining of hands, the giving of rings like bonded in holy matrimony. She was so nice, he thought. She was so attractive, innovative and lyrical. Her voice, a common sound to his ears, not hearing her again would be like never hearing the wind blow again. It would be like never smelling the sweetness of a rose, he thought. Sweetness of a rose, of a rose, a rose, rose, it echoed incoherently in his ears.

"Oh yes," Holly replied, watching as Mike shook his head as though he had a nervous tick. She raised her eyebrows and as though nothing was wrong, planted her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

"I like this place...sometimes," Mike whispered, "I meet so many good people when I walk in the door."

"Me too, Michael, me too," Holly said calmly. "It's like one of those places you come into empty and leave with a new opportunity and lease on life."

"I wouldn't go that far," Mike said, grinning as he nervously shifted his eyes towards the counter where a waitress could be seen pouring coffee for a valued customer.

"I'll be with you in a moment Mr. Pritchard, I apologize," the waitress said kindly.

Mike raised his hand in gesture. "It's no rush, just call me Mike," he said quietly, turning his gaze off to the far side of the diner where a group of young girls were looking at him and giggling. The bassist grinned nervously, finding and remembering an old comfort he had when looking into the eyes of his girlfriend.

"I must say Michael, this night out was a bit unexpected," Holly whispered, eyeing the group of young girls across the restaurant before tapping her foot at the waitress at the counter whom still hadn't come to offer them drinks. "I bet it's because of tour next week, isn't it?"

"Well actually..." Mike began, "it is."

"I knew it, I'm feeling so great about it Michael! I'll tell you, touring is the life for me. Ever since I was a little girl, I've been dreaming up songs, writing lyrics and just fantasizing about being out on the open road," Holly laughed enthusiastically.

"Yeah," Mike choked, gulping back air, "but I have to admit, I've been really stressed about the whole thing. Usually I go into these things half-heartedly stressed, but this time I've truly been stressed."

"Aw, do you want to talk about it?" Holly inquired, looking at her boyfriend quite trustingly. He returned her a wary look, his cheeks flushed and his eyes showing uncertainty.

"I don't want to talk about it, but that's kind of why I brought you here--" Mike began, cutting himself off just as the waitress came around to the table.

"Alright, what can I get you guys to start off tonight?" a young black-haired woman said, coming around to stop in front of Mike and Holly's table, dressed in Rudy's attire.

"Just a coffee for me," Mike replied quickly, bowing his head towards the table self-consciously.

"Just coffee Michael, aren't you going to get a meal?" his auburn-haired girlfriend snipped subtly. "He'll have a hamburger too." Holly turned to the waitress and smiled, it quickly fading to a grin after her boyfriend declined the burger.

"Nothing else for me..." Mike repeated.

"Hmm," Holly sighed, "I guess I'll have a garden salad, and if I could get a wedge of lemon on the side, that'd be great, thanks."

"Alright, certainly," the waitress answered, "what can I get you to drink?"

"I'll get coffee," Holly said and the waitress disappeared back to her post behind the counter. Fidgeting her fingers all over the table, Holly extended her hands out for Mike to take, examining his face to be long and upset. "Is something wrong, Mike?"

"No Holly, I mean yeah. Yeah there is," the blue-eyed man squeaked, pausing, thinking and then slowly flexing his tongue before speaking again. "I've had a lot on my plate in the last couple of years, and you...you've been like a godsend to me."

"Well, not really," Holly replied, "you called me, I didn't just magically appear."

"You know what I mean, you were like the first person to listen to me in such a long while, I told you about my fling," Mike said lowering the volume of his voice as he eyed the girls across the diner again, obviously fans by the way they stared, "my fling with Rose, you knew about that. Heck, I even told you that I loved her, that was one of the first things I told you, yet you never held it against me. And that's partly why I brought you here, because I never want to hurt you and I have a very important question to ask you."

"Yes..?" Holly squeaked, telling herself that at any moment, this could be that invitation she wanted and so desired. To be bonded with Michael Pritchard -infamous, incredibly attractive and insatiable bassist of Green Day -in holy matrimony. And then he let out his words to her.

"How can I expect you to love me, when I love her?"

"Pardon?"

"Holly, let's face it," Mike started again, "for the past year and almost a half, I have done nothing but care for you, nurture you and try to bring you back to life. I think I did those things...but with that package came a more malicious plot, it was revenge. I took you, told myself I was in love and showered you with expense gifts so that I could assure myself that you would never want to leave me. It seemed to work, I don't know whether it's been love, money or the glory that some think seems to come with going out with a rock star, but you took the train ticket I gave you and got on my train of lies and deceit."

"Michael... " Holly gasped, tearing at the eyes.

"The fact that you call me Michael, my real name rather than the name I prefer to be called by, it seems like something a real lover does. It seems so real and at times I wonder whose reality it is, mine or yours?" Mike explained, shaking his head and breaking as the waitress set a couple of coffees down on the table before them and disappeared behind the counter once again. "I have to stop kidding myself, I'm about to go out there again, into the world where they are waiting for me. And you...I'm just so sorry for, because like I said, I never want or wanted to hurt you."

"Michael, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I'm forty-two now and if I don't step up to what I want my destiny to be, old age is going to snatch it away from me and then, I'll have nothing but my money, my growing children and a wondering of what could have been. Because even now, I wonder if I should just fight for..."

"Fight for what?"

"Holly..." Mike breathed, stirring in his seat as he couldn't even bring himself to sip his coffee, "I'm in love with the one my friend gives his love to..." the bassist spoke in metaphor, stood up promptly, looking down upon his hazel-eyed girlfriend. "I'll rent you an apartment and I'll talk to Warner, because I want to see you make your record, but I really need you out of my house before I leave next week. I'm sorry," Mike repeated, "I'm sorry." A silence followed his words; he could only stand there staring at her in fear, expecting her to break into a complete uproar of tears. But it didn't happen like that and Mike was quite pleasantly surprised.

"Michael...give my love to Rose," Holly whispered acceptingly.