'Cause I'm a Million Miles Away, chapter 3
Billie Joe's House
June 6, 1990
Beside the fact that it was more than completely awkward being around Mike the next day, Billie Joe consistently walked in to check on us every half hour or so.
"What? Do you think we're screwing?" I spat as he peeked around the corner, unnoticed by Mike. I wasn't exactly the nicest person today, with a hangover and all.
"I expected. Not thought."
I furrowed my brow as Billie returned to whatever he was doing in his room. Not that I needed or even WANTED to know, or anything...
"Asshole..." I muttered as Mike shifted around uncomfortably in his rocking chair across the room. "What's your problem? Bug up your ass or something?"
"No..." He said, trying to hide his face with a Berkeley scene type magazine. "Just... Weird. Yeah."
"I kinda figured. No hangover, eh?"
"No heineys for me, thank you."
It took me a second to figure out the slang, 'Heiney,' for 'Heineken.' Damn, my brain ain't working properly... I whacked my forehead, making Mike look over his book, expectantly. He looked kinda scared, to my disgust.
I heaved a sigh. "Sorry man, I just-"
Mike nodded, putting his magazine down. "Yeah. Hangover. No problem..."
He looked really, really tired. Before bed, an obviously drunk Billie Joe stumbled through the door and sat on my bed asking what 'pregnant' meant. At first, I was completely oblivious as to what he said, but this morning I recalled and apparently Anna had gone off with somebody and got knocked up.
Afterwards, Billie and I went off to a long, observant conversation about potatoes, while Mike was obviously avoiding any kind of social interaction deep under his covers. That explains Billie's bitterness, I guess.
"Billie's girlfriend's pregnant."
I didn't know Mike was sipping coffee, and half the drink splattered out of his mouth, on his magazines and on the stained floors.
"What? With HIS kid? Hoshit. WHAT?!"
I couldn't help but smile at him, perched on his chair with his eyes bulging out of his head like that.
"No. Some other guy's..." I sniggered, causing pain in my head, and I was quick to react to that.
"Jesus fucking Christ, learn not to scare people like that..." He said, holding his chest. "Oh, and how sad," he said, his face turning white.
"What'd he do to you?" I said, hoping he wasn't mad at Billie. Whenever they get mad at each other, Mike's out of the house for weeks at a time, and back after he's sun burned and starving.
"What? Nothing..."
"What. Did. He. Do. Need a repeat?"
"GUESS," he said, throwing the paper down. "Last night. When you and I..." He clapped his hands together, trying to prove his point. "He went off and told his friends, and the news is spread all the around and stuff..."
"So?" I said, gritting my teeth. "You've kissed HIM before, and 'they've' never said shit."
"Well, he's a GUY, Sam, in case you haven't noticed."
He hugged his legs and dug his face into his knees. Great, Mike's pissed, Billie's dumped, and I'm hung over. What a wonderful day at the Armstrong residence!
Billie Joe came into the sitting room holding a cordless phone and sat next to me, still listening intently to the receiver.
Mike gave me a 'what the hell' look before leaving. Billie Joe rolled his eyes and gestured for me to leave with a wave of his hand.
I stomped out of the room to find Mike playing bass in our room upstairs. I sat on my couch and watched until I told him to stop.
"Just say something." I said loudly.
"What?"
"Just say something. If you ever want to make it in a relationship, you gotta just say something."
He grins, putting his bass down beside him.
"It was worth it though, wasn't it?"
"I don't remember. I was drunk." I knew it was going fast, but I blurted it anyway... "Refresh my memory."
"Wha?" he said, smiling. "I didn't hear you."
I threw my little bag of guitar picks at him and smiled. "You heard me, fucker, get over here,"
He blinked.
"Clueless," I said, rolling my eyes and throwing myself on him.
---
Billie Joe had noticed we weren't downstairs. Mike fell asleep on the floor -- don't ask me how he got down there -- so I looked down the stairs to see Billie Joe desperately trying to suffocate himself. I picked up a notebook with songs written in it off the floor, chucked it at him and hid behind the wall, hoping he didn't see me.
Naturally, the rocking chair squeaked as he got up and came over to the stairs and started ascending them quietly. I ran to the room once again and tripped on the way there, landing on the floor next to Mike. With minimal time left I decided I'd just lay there and try to look asleep.
"What the hell?" He said, entering the room and kicking my shoe. "Screwing is a yes, I take it,"
I stood up. "Fuck up, William! He's a sleep!"
He eyed Mike. "I noticed. Hickey?" He pointed at Mike's neck.
Fuck... Please for the love of God, if he wakes up, don't say anything!
He took the pillow in his hand and nailed a sleeping Mike right in the face. For a second he sat there wondering what the hell just woke him up, and then he scrambled off the floor. I stood behind Billie Joe pointing at my neck with vigor. He clamped a hand around it.
"Where'd you fuck? Hopefully not my bed, right?"
"We didn't fuck." Mike said, standing up, looking down on his friend.
And we damn well didn't!
Billie Joe narrowed his eyes. "Fucking now too? I thought she was only drunk? If I heard you right, you weren't drunk. Using her for a one-night stand, eh?"
Mike's face was getting paler and paler. I leaned against the doorframe, feeling sick to my stomach.
Their words got quieter, louder and quieter again. I don't know if it was just me fading in and out of reality or their voices. But I knew it wasn't getting good. Soon Billie pushed Mike into a dresser and they got into a full on fist fight. I couldn't even feel the water streaming down my face.
I muttered for them to stop when Mike had Billie by the collar. I covered my face with my hands.
Mike pushed Billie back on the bed with force and kneeled in front of me, holding my shoulders in comfort.
"I'll see ya later, okay?" He bent over and kissed my forehead gently. I grabbed his arm and stood up. He jerked it away.
"Wait!"
He made it out the back door and to his beat up old Cadillac. He started it and rolled his window down. "Come back," I said, still trying to force my tears to stay in. "Kay?"
"I'll be back," he smiled. I heard a window shatter on the house.
I wailed... Much to my confusion. I never 'wailed.' I only sobbed. "I want to go with you. I don't want to stay Mike, he'll hurt me..."
"Nah. He won't. Trust me. He knows you well, and you know him better than to think that." He held my chin gingerly.
He pulled out of the driveway. I ran after his car in my socks, screaming. "DON'T FUCKING LEAVE!"
At the end of the driveway, I fell backward and watched his car pull away quietly.
June 6, 1990
Beside the fact that it was more than completely awkward being around Mike the next day, Billie Joe consistently walked in to check on us every half hour or so.
"What? Do you think we're screwing?" I spat as he peeked around the corner, unnoticed by Mike. I wasn't exactly the nicest person today, with a hangover and all.
"I expected. Not thought."
I furrowed my brow as Billie returned to whatever he was doing in his room. Not that I needed or even WANTED to know, or anything...
"Asshole..." I muttered as Mike shifted around uncomfortably in his rocking chair across the room. "What's your problem? Bug up your ass or something?"
"No..." He said, trying to hide his face with a Berkeley scene type magazine. "Just... Weird. Yeah."
"I kinda figured. No hangover, eh?"
"No heineys for me, thank you."
It took me a second to figure out the slang, 'Heiney,' for 'Heineken.' Damn, my brain ain't working properly... I whacked my forehead, making Mike look over his book, expectantly. He looked kinda scared, to my disgust.
I heaved a sigh. "Sorry man, I just-"
Mike nodded, putting his magazine down. "Yeah. Hangover. No problem..."
He looked really, really tired. Before bed, an obviously drunk Billie Joe stumbled through the door and sat on my bed asking what 'pregnant' meant. At first, I was completely oblivious as to what he said, but this morning I recalled and apparently Anna had gone off with somebody and got knocked up.
Afterwards, Billie and I went off to a long, observant conversation about potatoes, while Mike was obviously avoiding any kind of social interaction deep under his covers. That explains Billie's bitterness, I guess.
"Billie's girlfriend's pregnant."
I didn't know Mike was sipping coffee, and half the drink splattered out of his mouth, on his magazines and on the stained floors.
"What? With HIS kid? Hoshit. WHAT?!"
I couldn't help but smile at him, perched on his chair with his eyes bulging out of his head like that.
"No. Some other guy's..." I sniggered, causing pain in my head, and I was quick to react to that.
"Jesus fucking Christ, learn not to scare people like that..." He said, holding his chest. "Oh, and how sad," he said, his face turning white.
"What'd he do to you?" I said, hoping he wasn't mad at Billie. Whenever they get mad at each other, Mike's out of the house for weeks at a time, and back after he's sun burned and starving.
"What? Nothing..."
"What. Did. He. Do. Need a repeat?"
"GUESS," he said, throwing the paper down. "Last night. When you and I..." He clapped his hands together, trying to prove his point. "He went off and told his friends, and the news is spread all the around and stuff..."
"So?" I said, gritting my teeth. "You've kissed HIM before, and 'they've' never said shit."
"Well, he's a GUY, Sam, in case you haven't noticed."
He hugged his legs and dug his face into his knees. Great, Mike's pissed, Billie's dumped, and I'm hung over. What a wonderful day at the Armstrong residence!
Billie Joe came into the sitting room holding a cordless phone and sat next to me, still listening intently to the receiver.
Mike gave me a 'what the hell' look before leaving. Billie Joe rolled his eyes and gestured for me to leave with a wave of his hand.
I stomped out of the room to find Mike playing bass in our room upstairs. I sat on my couch and watched until I told him to stop.
"Just say something." I said loudly.
"What?"
"Just say something. If you ever want to make it in a relationship, you gotta just say something."
He grins, putting his bass down beside him.
"It was worth it though, wasn't it?"
"I don't remember. I was drunk." I knew it was going fast, but I blurted it anyway... "Refresh my memory."
"Wha?" he said, smiling. "I didn't hear you."
I threw my little bag of guitar picks at him and smiled. "You heard me, fucker, get over here,"
He blinked.
"Clueless," I said, rolling my eyes and throwing myself on him.
---
Billie Joe had noticed we weren't downstairs. Mike fell asleep on the floor -- don't ask me how he got down there -- so I looked down the stairs to see Billie Joe desperately trying to suffocate himself. I picked up a notebook with songs written in it off the floor, chucked it at him and hid behind the wall, hoping he didn't see me.
Naturally, the rocking chair squeaked as he got up and came over to the stairs and started ascending them quietly. I ran to the room once again and tripped on the way there, landing on the floor next to Mike. With minimal time left I decided I'd just lay there and try to look asleep.
"What the hell?" He said, entering the room and kicking my shoe. "Screwing is a yes, I take it,"
I stood up. "Fuck up, William! He's a sleep!"
He eyed Mike. "I noticed. Hickey?" He pointed at Mike's neck.
Fuck... Please for the love of God, if he wakes up, don't say anything!
He took the pillow in his hand and nailed a sleeping Mike right in the face. For a second he sat there wondering what the hell just woke him up, and then he scrambled off the floor. I stood behind Billie Joe pointing at my neck with vigor. He clamped a hand around it.
"Where'd you fuck? Hopefully not my bed, right?"
"We didn't fuck." Mike said, standing up, looking down on his friend.
And we damn well didn't!
Billie Joe narrowed his eyes. "Fucking now too? I thought she was only drunk? If I heard you right, you weren't drunk. Using her for a one-night stand, eh?"
Mike's face was getting paler and paler. I leaned against the doorframe, feeling sick to my stomach.
Their words got quieter, louder and quieter again. I don't know if it was just me fading in and out of reality or their voices. But I knew it wasn't getting good. Soon Billie pushed Mike into a dresser and they got into a full on fist fight. I couldn't even feel the water streaming down my face.
I muttered for them to stop when Mike had Billie by the collar. I covered my face with my hands.
Mike pushed Billie back on the bed with force and kneeled in front of me, holding my shoulders in comfort.
"I'll see ya later, okay?" He bent over and kissed my forehead gently. I grabbed his arm and stood up. He jerked it away.
"Wait!"
He made it out the back door and to his beat up old Cadillac. He started it and rolled his window down. "Come back," I said, still trying to force my tears to stay in. "Kay?"
"I'll be back," he smiled. I heard a window shatter on the house.
I wailed... Much to my confusion. I never 'wailed.' I only sobbed. "I want to go with you. I don't want to stay Mike, he'll hurt me..."
"Nah. He won't. Trust me. He knows you well, and you know him better than to think that." He held my chin gingerly.
He pulled out of the driveway. I ran after his car in my socks, screaming. "DON'T FUCKING LEAVE!"
At the end of the driveway, I fell backward and watched his car pull away quietly.
