'Cause I'm a Million Miles Away, chapter 9
July 14, 1990
Ten days passed since the fourth. Billie sulked around the backyard, lighting bottle rockets leftover from our celebrations.
Mike, however, laid on the couch with a bag of ice cubes over his forehead.
It was flu season - or at least, flu outbreaks were occurring all over the East Bay.
I found myself on a fold out chair, trying to comfort Mike who had been tossing his lunch for the past 3 days. He rolled over sullenly, holding the ice pack over his forehead with force that made his hands turn white.
"I think I'm gonna die, man." he said, shuffling his arms. "No, wait, I'm gonna die."
"It's just the flu, Mike, you won't DIE." Tre muttered, flipping trough the channels on TV. Mike's face was placid white, matching his white tshirt he'd been too sick to change out of.
All I could do was sit around and wait until I got it, which was inevitable considering I've been next to him every night since the 4th.
"Sam, quit touching me, you're gonna get sick." He said, pushing my hand away.
Billie's mom opened the door quietly, undisturbing Tre whose eyes were glued to the screen.
"Poor Mikey," she said gravely, placing her fists on her hips. "Sam, hun, you're gonna get sick."
I threw my hands up in frustration. "I know I'm gonna get sick. Shut up people."
"Chill out Sammy... Need some quarters, dear?" Mike said smartly, cutting me off so I could backhand him. He replied by screaming "RAPE!" until he insisted on shoving his face into a trash can.
"Ugghhh... Poor boy," Ollie said sadly.
---
July 16, 1990
I sauntered around the house 2 days afterwards, trying to find something for Mike to drink. He still laid on the couch, in his underwear since it was so damn hot, dehydrated because we didn't have anything cold.
"This BLOWS!" he screamed from the living room. I frowned into the cupboard, which was filled with nothing but cobwebs and rations.
Thankfully, I still hadn't caught the bug, but naturally Billie Joe had it. He took the carpet in front of Mike, and I was in charge of taking care of them while Tre avoided us and Billie's mom was at work.
"Billie, move." Mike said, attempting to sit up and walk into the kitchen to see me. "We're emotionally fucked, Sam."
"I know." I sighed. "I'm next, so it's okay if you're around me."
"Kay." He kissed me sparsely. "I'm starting to feel better anyway."
I turned around and dug in the cabinets some more. He put his arms around my waist. "Wow, Billie's mom likes to save things, doesn't she?" he said, referring to a can of salt. Yes, I said CAN of salt.
"Hurry uppp." Billie whined, rolling onto his stomach.
"We have no damn water, Bill, and we have no damn salt that isn't 19 years past date." Mike said, kneeling down.
"Have we even LIVED here nineteen years?" Billie said, raising a curious eyebrow.
"You ARE nineteen, genius." I rolled my eyes.
---
September 16th, 1990
2 months later
It was an extremely quiet day. I tried to get some air by sitting out on the porch and drawing the houses across the street, but they were far too run down to detail well. Mike had been staying exceptionally quiet and contained lately, and Billie Joe had been as suspicious of us as ever.
Ever since the fourth of July it'd been normal for Mike and I to mess around together. As long as Billie Joe was out getting stoned. Which was often, considering he forgets everything he sees or hears when he returns home with bloodshot eyes.
Somehow, I knew something was going to go wrong today. And welled inside me, I could feel it.
Literally.
"Sam?" I heard a voice outside the bathroom door. I had my head in my palms. I muttered a response.
"Sam..."
Mike, of course.
"What's wrong?" His back slid down the door as he sat down in front of it.
"You don't wanna know."
"Do I need to?" He said. I could hear the salty, hopeful and pained tone in his voice. I opened the door slightly so he wouldn't fall.
He stared at me right in the face. It felt like lasers... My eyes started to burn and I busted into tears, wailing like a maniac.
"Remember when I said that I'd have your kids?" I said, slurring the words and wiping my face. "I'm having second thoughts... I mean..."
Mike's body went limp in my arms. I thought he'd fainted for a moment but the taller boy had actually went completely pale. He was looking behind me at the door and surpise, surpise - everybody's favorite guitarist was staring at us, expressionless.
"What. The fuck. Is going on?"
Mike still hadn't said anything. I knew was pregnant, I was four days late now. The whole world had fucked me over and I knew damn well Mike and I were either on the street or living in that musty apartment again.
Mike sat down, trying to breathe without making it seem obvious he was panicking.
"Chill man..." Billie said, comfortingly. "S' okay, really..." He bit his lip. He didn't know what to think, which was typical for him.
"I'm still not completely sure... But there's a 90% chance..." I said, rubbing the tears off my face.
Mike stayed silent, then looked up, displaying his smile. "This is a good thing, right Sammie?"
"Course..." I whispered, Billie exchanging expressions with pale Mike.
Billie walked right past me out the door, not even looking me in the eye. Just staring straight forward.
"...He hates me." Mike said, his forehead in his hand. "We should pack our shit and head out."
"No." I said, kneeling in front of him. "We'll take it day-by-day. It'll be fine. At least it's legal, right? Come on..." I held a hand out, and pulled him up off the floor. "Even if he hated you... Why? Because he's jealous?"
"He damn well should be." He said, smiling.
"That's better."
---
Three days passed, as well as a doctor visit. Positive. Ollie's been absolutely frivolous about it, bouncing around and congratulating me and giving me tips and all that. I guess all I can do is play along with it. Mike... Well, he's been spending a lot of time out of the house and away from Billie. Today was different though, he stood beside me almost the entire day. I've seen a billion smiles out of him in the time I've known him, and about three-quarters of them were in the last three days.
Billie? Well, to say at the least, he's neutral about it. Confused, but failing to hide it.
"Billie, I know something's wrong." I said in the quiet of the empty home.
"Nah..." he said, not looking up. I threw my magazine at him to make him.
"Talk." I ordered.
"Well... I just wonder if you'll have enough money to support... It." He said nervously.
"Don't you fucking worry William, I've got it completely covered."
...See, even I can lie to myself. I was worried to shit in the seventh level of hell about what we were going to do, but I guess we're not going to be eating much for a few years.
Ten days passed since the fourth. Billie sulked around the backyard, lighting bottle rockets leftover from our celebrations.
Mike, however, laid on the couch with a bag of ice cubes over his forehead.
It was flu season - or at least, flu outbreaks were occurring all over the East Bay.
I found myself on a fold out chair, trying to comfort Mike who had been tossing his lunch for the past 3 days. He rolled over sullenly, holding the ice pack over his forehead with force that made his hands turn white.
"I think I'm gonna die, man." he said, shuffling his arms. "No, wait, I'm gonna die."
"It's just the flu, Mike, you won't DIE." Tre muttered, flipping trough the channels on TV. Mike's face was placid white, matching his white tshirt he'd been too sick to change out of.
All I could do was sit around and wait until I got it, which was inevitable considering I've been next to him every night since the 4th.
"Sam, quit touching me, you're gonna get sick." He said, pushing my hand away.
Billie's mom opened the door quietly, undisturbing Tre whose eyes were glued to the screen.
"Poor Mikey," she said gravely, placing her fists on her hips. "Sam, hun, you're gonna get sick."
I threw my hands up in frustration. "I know I'm gonna get sick. Shut up people."
"Chill out Sammy... Need some quarters, dear?" Mike said smartly, cutting me off so I could backhand him. He replied by screaming "RAPE!" until he insisted on shoving his face into a trash can.
"Ugghhh... Poor boy," Ollie said sadly.
---
July 16, 1990
I sauntered around the house 2 days afterwards, trying to find something for Mike to drink. He still laid on the couch, in his underwear since it was so damn hot, dehydrated because we didn't have anything cold.
"This BLOWS!" he screamed from the living room. I frowned into the cupboard, which was filled with nothing but cobwebs and rations.
Thankfully, I still hadn't caught the bug, but naturally Billie Joe had it. He took the carpet in front of Mike, and I was in charge of taking care of them while Tre avoided us and Billie's mom was at work.
"Billie, move." Mike said, attempting to sit up and walk into the kitchen to see me. "We're emotionally fucked, Sam."
"I know." I sighed. "I'm next, so it's okay if you're around me."
"Kay." He kissed me sparsely. "I'm starting to feel better anyway."
I turned around and dug in the cabinets some more. He put his arms around my waist. "Wow, Billie's mom likes to save things, doesn't she?" he said, referring to a can of salt. Yes, I said CAN of salt.
"Hurry uppp." Billie whined, rolling onto his stomach.
"We have no damn water, Bill, and we have no damn salt that isn't 19 years past date." Mike said, kneeling down.
"Have we even LIVED here nineteen years?" Billie said, raising a curious eyebrow.
"You ARE nineteen, genius." I rolled my eyes.
---
September 16th, 1990
2 months later
It was an extremely quiet day. I tried to get some air by sitting out on the porch and drawing the houses across the street, but they were far too run down to detail well. Mike had been staying exceptionally quiet and contained lately, and Billie Joe had been as suspicious of us as ever.
Ever since the fourth of July it'd been normal for Mike and I to mess around together. As long as Billie Joe was out getting stoned. Which was often, considering he forgets everything he sees or hears when he returns home with bloodshot eyes.
Somehow, I knew something was going to go wrong today. And welled inside me, I could feel it.
Literally.
"Sam?" I heard a voice outside the bathroom door. I had my head in my palms. I muttered a response.
"Sam..."
Mike, of course.
"What's wrong?" His back slid down the door as he sat down in front of it.
"You don't wanna know."
"Do I need to?" He said. I could hear the salty, hopeful and pained tone in his voice. I opened the door slightly so he wouldn't fall.
He stared at me right in the face. It felt like lasers... My eyes started to burn and I busted into tears, wailing like a maniac.
"Remember when I said that I'd have your kids?" I said, slurring the words and wiping my face. "I'm having second thoughts... I mean..."
Mike's body went limp in my arms. I thought he'd fainted for a moment but the taller boy had actually went completely pale. He was looking behind me at the door and surpise, surpise - everybody's favorite guitarist was staring at us, expressionless.
"What. The fuck. Is going on?"
Mike still hadn't said anything. I knew was pregnant, I was four days late now. The whole world had fucked me over and I knew damn well Mike and I were either on the street or living in that musty apartment again.
Mike sat down, trying to breathe without making it seem obvious he was panicking.
"Chill man..." Billie said, comfortingly. "S' okay, really..." He bit his lip. He didn't know what to think, which was typical for him.
"I'm still not completely sure... But there's a 90% chance..." I said, rubbing the tears off my face.
Mike stayed silent, then looked up, displaying his smile. "This is a good thing, right Sammie?"
"Course..." I whispered, Billie exchanging expressions with pale Mike.
Billie walked right past me out the door, not even looking me in the eye. Just staring straight forward.
"...He hates me." Mike said, his forehead in his hand. "We should pack our shit and head out."
"No." I said, kneeling in front of him. "We'll take it day-by-day. It'll be fine. At least it's legal, right? Come on..." I held a hand out, and pulled him up off the floor. "Even if he hated you... Why? Because he's jealous?"
"He damn well should be." He said, smiling.
"That's better."
---
Three days passed, as well as a doctor visit. Positive. Ollie's been absolutely frivolous about it, bouncing around and congratulating me and giving me tips and all that. I guess all I can do is play along with it. Mike... Well, he's been spending a lot of time out of the house and away from Billie. Today was different though, he stood beside me almost the entire day. I've seen a billion smiles out of him in the time I've known him, and about three-quarters of them were in the last three days.
Billie? Well, to say at the least, he's neutral about it. Confused, but failing to hide it.
"Billie, I know something's wrong." I said in the quiet of the empty home.
"Nah..." he said, not looking up. I threw my magazine at him to make him.
"Talk." I ordered.
"Well... I just wonder if you'll have enough money to support... It." He said nervously.
"Don't you fucking worry William, I've got it completely covered."
...See, even I can lie to myself. I was worried to shit in the seventh level of hell about what we were going to do, but I guess we're not going to be eating much for a few years.
