‹ Prequel: Union


The Fight


In the coming days, Tre was at the studio and Rose at home; trying her best to clean up a house that had obviously been neglected for far too long. It was not only Michelle's toys that made up the mess, but also her husband's careless slobby nature.

She didn't mind though, she always wanted to grow to be considered what John Lennon called "a working class hero". That was the life for her, and she knew it ever since she had dropped guitar and moved out to the Bay to be with her family seven years prior.

She wasn't physically up to it, with generally being lightheaded and weak armed, but she had always tried to make due; avoiding arousing suspicion from her husband and others.

She paraded the living room at first, cleaning up her daughter's cookie crumbs and spilt milk from the coffee table. Michelle watched an old rerun of Barney on the couch and tilted her head to the side in a struggle to see past her Mother whom was blocking her vision from the television.

Being only three years old as she was, Michelle knew little about her Father's reknowned success and status as one of the greatest drummers; if not the greatest drummer of the last decade. This was something she would learn and appreciate about her father as she grew into an adolescent.

The only knowledge she had of Green Day were the bedtime stories her Mother told her about past moments in there monumental career. And she could always be sure she'd hear another exciting tale, whether it were naptime or bedtime.

And speaking of naptime; Rose grabbed up the remote from her daughter's hand and turned the television off at the end of her program. "Come on Bugaboo, sleepy time," Rose smiled, as she stretched her arms to the high ceilings with a bottle of Lemon Pledge in one and a dust cloth in the other.

"No! I not tiwerd," Michelle protested.

"Yes you are, that's why you're whining," Rose giggled.

"I not whinin'," Michelle argued.

"Come on..." Rose said as she approached her daughter.

"No!" Michelle laughed, she jumped up and began running around the living room, expecting her mother to playfully chase her.

That Rose did, she began to chase Michelle around the house, dropping her dusting supplies on the floor. "Michelle, get back here! You have to go for a nap! And don't say no to me young lady!"

"No!" Michelle screamed, playfully and mischieviously trying to push it as far she could.

Rose chased her daughter out into the kitchen from the living room. And from there, under the stairs and out into the foyer. "Michelle Cool, get your bum back here!" Rose shrieked. "Stop running in the house!"

Michelle just laughed like the little monkey she was. A spitting image and mime of her father and his cunning outrageous behavior. She began to run up the stairs. "You can't cat' me!"

"I don't want to catch you! I want you to go for a nap!" Rose yelled up the stairs. "Fine, I'm calling your dad," Rose threatened, as Michelle finally stopped on the midlanding of the stairs.

"No! I don' like 'im," Michelle said as she turned herself around and crossed her arms.

Rose slowly began to come up the stairs. "Michelle, don't say that. Your daddy loves you very much. You love him too..."

"I don' wove 'im," she repeated with a more stubborn dialect.

"Michelle don't say that. Your daddy's done a lot of nice things for you, and you make mommy sad when you say that. You don't want to make mommy sad, do you?" Rose asked her daughter with a somber expression upon her pale face.

"No..." Michelle replied shaking her head.

"Good. Now if you still want to be a good girl and have a nap, I'll tell you a story," Rose promised; trying to compromise with the stubborn three year old.

Michelle sighed, "Okay."

"Good, now get your buns up there," Rose laughed, and she quickly climbed the stairs after her daughter.

Coming into her daughter's elegantly decorated pink bedroom, Rose found her pulling out a night gown from a dresser beside her closet. "I wanna wear vis one," Michelle announced.

"Okay," Rose replied. She took the pink Disney Princess's night gown from her daughter's hand, and began to change her. She then grabbed Michelle up giddily and carried her over to her bed, from which draped a sheer canopy overhead. "To bed with you munchkin!" Rose laughed as she placed her daughter back on her soft sheets.

"Mommy, you tell me story?" Michelle asked.

"Yes, I promised I would," Rose grinned. "Which one did you want to hear again?"

"The one 'bout Billie cousin and mud." Michelle giggled just thinking about it.

"Okay," Rose laughed, hearing her daughter call Billie Joe, "Billie cousin". "Well this happened before I knew your cousin Billie, uncle Mike and even your daddy. The year was 1994, and I was a young seven years old..." Rose began.

"Was I bornded yet?" Michelle asked.

"No sweety. You wouldn't be alive for another fifteen years," Rose laughed softly, and continued her story. "I remember vividly, watching the television in my mother's bedroom. Billie had bright blue hair back then. Your daddy had green hair, to match the name of your daddy's band. Green Day."

"What da Green Day mean?" Michelle asked curiously.

"Umm-well...hmm-- umm never mind. I'll tell you when you're older," Rose giggled. "Anyways..."

"What da colour uncle Mike hair have?" Michelle questioned again with the intense curiousity of a child her age.

Rose laughed again, "You'll never hear the story if you keep asking questions Michelle. But it was brown..."

"Cool," Michelle smiled.

"Yep, it was pretty cool. So anyways, your daddy's band was playing on stage. People in the crowd started throwing mud at Billie and uncle Mike. Things got a little chaotic and a few people from the crowd jumped on stage. Next thing they knew, uncle Mike had knocked some of his teeth out when he was tackled by security personelle, because they had mistaken him for a fan..."

"What fan?" Michelle asked, cutting her mother off once again.

"A fan? A fan is someone who really admires and likes someone or something," Rose explained.

"They wike daddy band? Michelle asked.

"Yes Michelle. They loved your daddy's band," Rose smiled. "So even after uncle Mike got his teeth knocked out, he continued playing. He was in a bit of pain, but I guess you could say it was a very 'punk' thing to do."

"Wha' pwunk? Michelle questioned.

"What your daddy, uncle Mike and Billie are," Rose explained, with a mischievious grin of her own. Kindly respecting the 'fuck 'em all' attitude Green Day had always withheld.

"I be a pwunk mommy?" Michelle smiled.

"Oh...wouldn't daddy love to hear you say that," Rose cooed, breaking into a fit of laughter. Michelle began laughing at the site of her mother's hysteria, even though she didn't fully understand what was funny.

"I pwunk mommy," Michelle giggled.

"No, you're a little monkey, that's what you are," Rose said, as she brought her middle and index finger towards the small girl's nose and pretended to snatch it off.

"What happen, in da next pawt?!" the impatient three year old asked intentively.

Rose glanced down at a gold plated watch that adorned her wrist. "I think it's getting way past sleepy time Bugaboo," Rose smiled with the grace of a loving Mother.

"Rose?!" a familiar voice echoed through the villa and into Michelle's upstair's bedroom.

"Oh...I think daddy's home. Go for your nap Bugaboo. I'll finish this story tonight before you go to bed. If you're really good and nice towards daddy too, I'll tell you about how daddy saved my life in Germany," Rose promised, trying to get the girl to go to sleep without fuss.

"'kay," Michelle grinned and she let her head fall back in her pillows. Her eyelids gently closed over her angel resembling emerald green eyes.

"I know it's hard Michelle. Just remember your daddy loves you and he'd do anything for you. I love you too," Rose whispered. She planted a kiss on the cheek of her daughter; a child with traits crossing between that of Billie Joe Armstrong and Tre Cool. She left her bedroom quiet and subtle.

Creeping down the upstair's hall, Rose appeared at the top of the house's grand staircase of elegant gallas. "Hey hun!" she called, before making her decent down.

"Umm, hi Rose..."

Rose glanced up and was met with the blue eyes of Green Day's infamous bassist, Mike Dirnt. "Oh, it's you," she choked, sounding noticibly shocked and taken aback.

"Yeah, I told the guys I was going to the store. I thought you might like to see Ryan for a few minutes," Mike explained, as he looked down at his son whom he wheeled in a stroller.

"Of course," Rose replied. She swallowed a nervous lump back in her throat and knelt down beside the boy's stroller. "Hi Ryan," she said to the quiet two year old with a forced happiness in her voice.

"He..." he replied quietly.

Rose smiled and glanced up at Mike. "He's adorable..." she commented, as she stood up tall, yet not near as tall as Mike who also out-altituded Billie Joe.

"Yeah..." Mike smiled proudly. "Thank you..." he added.

Rose sighed and turned away, placing her hand up over her face in a melodramatic manner. "Please stop thanking me."

"What?" Mike asked with shock. "You don't want me to thank you?"

"No." Rose shook her head and sighed.

"Why?" Mike questioned in bewilderment. The look upon his face, one of much confusion.

"Because..." Rose replied. Mike came two steps closer to Rose and grabbed her arm gently, so that she would face him.


"Mike please..."

"Rose, don't be like this," Mike begged as he gazed into her mesmorizing green eyes. They just seemed to perfectly curve down at each side, towards her cheek bones in the shape of dove wings.

"I don't want you to bring him around me," she whispered, softly enough for the toddler not to hear.


"Please, just don't anymore," she replied, shaking her head.

"Rose...you can't turn your back on Ryan. Our son...remember?" Mike protested, without force.

Rose snapped, "Why?! Why can't I?! Can't you see I already have?!" She rushed out to the living room in a snip, only to be followed by Mike who was beginning to grow quite concerned for her mental well being.

"Rose, we'll work through this," Mike promised.

"I beg to differ," she cooed, hastily disagreeing.

Mike took her arm again; turning her around to look him in the eyes with suddeness. "Kiss me...I'm the only one who knows your secrets..." he begged menacingly.

"What? No...I love my husband. What kind of friend are you Mike? What kind of friend do you think you are to Frank? I'm his wife! Get it?! Bonded in holy matramony! See this?!" she cried, throwing up in Mike's face her left hand which set her wedding band upon her ring finger. "'til death do us part..."

"Rose, I-I...fine...have it your way. You won't ever see Ryan again. Is that the way you want it?" Mike said coercingly, releasing her arm as he looked down at the floor, gently grazing his index finger over one of his brunette sideburns.

Rose turned away from the bassist and looked out the living room window. Its panes, streaked with the rain droplets of a typical Spring day on the west coast. She shrugged her shoulders, only to a movement that was barely noticible.


"I don't know..." Rose gasped quietly in a croaked voice, which made it quite obvious to Mike she was crying.

"Don't cry," Mike added comfortingly.

"I'm not crying..." Rose lied stubbornly with shame. She bowed her head to look at the French rug below her feet. The more she tried to contain her tears, the more whimpers that tremored on her vocal chords.

"Rose, I want you to go get help..." Mike divulged suddenly. "I'm doing you a favour in keeping everyone in the dark. We have to come to some sort of agreement if I'm going to keep doing that..."

"Great Mike, go right fucking ahead. Tell Frank I puke my guts out because I know I'm an embarrassment to him! Fuck, tell Billie while you're at it! Hell...tell all my fucking cousins! Tell my whole fucking family!"

"An embarrassment?" Mike backtracked on Rose's statement.

"Shut up..." Rose murmured.

"Fuck woman, you need help...Tre's not ashamed of you! If anything, he always talks about how lucky he is to have you!" Mike bellowed as he ironically defended the husband of the woman he was in love with. "And he is fucking lucky..." Mike said under his breath.

Rose went silent for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "I need help? What, are you my cousin too or something?"

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"What's that supposed to mean? It's supposed to mean you sound just like my fucking Mother!" Rose shouted before making haste for the kitchen.

"Rose! I'm only concerned!" Mike hollered, as he made off after her.

"Oh trust me! I know why you're fucking concerned!" Rose insinuated at the top of her lungs, knowing very well Ryan and Michelle were in earshot distance.

"Wh-why do you think I'm concerned Rose?" Mike asked, hushing his voice as he came into the kitchen; stopping only on the other side of where Rose stood at the center island.

Rose skewed her head to the side and sighed, "you fucking tell me..."

"You think this is about sex, don't you?" Mike nodded his head as though he knew and was almost positive of it.

Rose tilted her head back to look at the plank-covered ceiling as she gasped air that would not hit her lungs. Her tears could not defy gravity, and they began rolling down the sides of her face. She couldn't conjure up her words to speak.

Mike stood staring at her for breathless moments; his hair gelled back neatly and his eyebrows raised in that unforgettable soul-piercing expression. "Is that what you think?" he whispered.

"Frank already knows..." Rose released suddenly as she sniffled in her grief and brought her head down to refix her gaze on Mike.

"What?" Mike asked with a dumbstruck expression as a sudden fear came over him. "Wha-what do you mean?" he asked. Mike was fearful at this moment she was referring to the encounter the two had had that one fateful drunken night...

"He read my journal Mike...I just fucking know it. Fuck, I hadn't written in that thing forever. And I just left it...and then there it was..." Rose began, but choked on her continuous flow of tears.

"What are you saying? Tre knows about me and...you know?" Mike asked, as he swallowed back a lump in his throat.

"No, I don't mean that. I mean he knows about me," Rose cried as she buried her face in the palms of her hands. "God, this is terrible..."

Mike sighed with relief. "Rose, you look thinner than the last time I saw you..." he quailed as though he were mentioning Rose's darkest secret; which was precisely on the spot.


Mike took his time answering, and decided he would rather leave that question unanswered in the end anyways. "I don't think Tre knows...he just can't," Mike breathed, shaking his head accordingly.


"Why? I'm going to say "because he loves you", but I think that might be kind of contridictory on my part," Mike laughed nervously; that tempting childish smile appearing upon his face. "I mean, if he knew, don't you think he'd confront you?"

Rose just shrugged her shoulders with unassurance.



Rose swallowed back a lump in her throat before she could conjure up the strength to continue. "Why do you love me?"

"I...well...fuck, I have to go," Mike replied as he turned around and began to walk out of the kitchen.

"No! You answer me!" Rose bellowed, chasing after Mike who had now escaped back out to the foyer. "Mike Dirnt! Answer me!"

"I'm sorry Rose," Mike said as he took the handle on his son's stroller. "If you still wanna get help, I'll be by your side. If you don't, then I'll be forced to blow your cover. I mean God...look at you woman! You're emaciated! I'm not going to stand by while you barf yourself to death! I refuse!" Mike placed his hand on the front door's handle and let it open, pushing his son's stroller out onto the walkway.

"NO! YOU CAN'T TELL ANYONE! YOU PROMISED, ERR YOU BASTARD!" Rose cried as she came up behind Mike and grabbed him. "YOU CAN"T!!"

"ROSE!" Mike shouted as he stumbled back towards the twenty-five year old woman. Ryan began to cry, just to add to the already intense overheated moment.

"YOU CAN'T TELL ANY OF THEM!" Rose screamed at the top of her lungs, pounding her fists into the bassists arms as hard as she possibly could, but quickly tiring herself.

"ROSE! PLEASE! Pull yourself together, okay? Please..." Mike begged as he forced his arms around her to give her a comforting hug; at the same time containing her violence.

"Let go of me! Mike please! Don't tell! Let go! I'm begging you!" Rose cried pathetically. "Don't tell! I'm desperate! Don't! LET GO OF ME!" she screamed, as the bassist abruptly picked her up and took her back inside, setting her down in the foyer.

"Get help and I won't..." Mike assured as he hurried back out the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

Rose stood there staring at the door for countless moments crying, before an anger welled up inside her and she took back off out the door. Mike was now leant in the backseat of his BMW, placing his son in his carseat. Rose watched for a minute at her distance, before picking up a planter from the garden and throwing it at the side of his car. "FUCK YOU, BASTARD!"

"Ah shit!" Mike shouted as he ducked his head, obviously unprepared for this surprise 'attack'. He finished placing Ryan in his carseat and stood upright again. Gazing back towards the front door, he saw Rose run inside; then took a look at the extent of the damage to his $80,000 car. "Fuck..."

As Rose came back inside, she was worn, lightheaded and weak. She stood with her back rested against the front door for a few moments, disbelieving that which had just taken place. She ran back into the living room. Her foot just managed to glide under the French rug; tripping her face first to the floor.

Laying there crying by herself, she heard Mike's car pull out of the driveway and scowled. She hadn't the strength to pick herself up off the floor, nor the will to want to do so. Not even flooded memories of curing lyrics from Green Day songs in her mind from so long ago could save her right now. She felt like the only thing that could save her was an angel.

The tears flowed freely until eventually the delicate tiny hand of a green-eyed cherubic-faced child was placed on Rose's face. The angel was silent at first, yet obviously caring by her grazing touch.

Rose lay on the floor in almost a panic attack state; gasping in hyperventilation. She drew her green eyes up to be met with a set of eyes that naturally mirrored her own. She swallowed back her grief and was suddenly given the strength to sit up.

"Wat wong mommy?" asked a very clever three year old girl.

Rose was silenced at first; grabbing her daughter she pulled her close, like a comforting teddy bear. "I'm sorry baby..." Rose relieved in a gasp as she quickly became a lot calmer.

"It 'kay. Why cryin' mommy?" Michelle asked with concern.

"Because...because you're just such an angel..." Rose replied as she held her daughter close to her bosom with motherly love and began rocking her back and forth. "Just 'cause you're such an angel...just 'cause..." she repeated again and again in the faintest of whispers.