‹ Prequel: In the End
Status: Hiatus.
Worry Rock
If You Can Get Up
I knew that what I had done and was doing was completely, 100% wrong. I just wasn’t sure how wrong it was.
For the next three days I don’t think I had ever been so quiet in my life. Realization was hitting me—hard. Part of me was telling myself to go up to my husband and tell him that I made a mistake and it was a bad one, but it could be fixed within time.
The other part of me was telling myself not to tell him. He’d be devastated to hear that I had just stopped us from having a child for a while.
The moment I took the birth control pill, I didn’t feel bad. And after that I only felt guilty a few times. However, as soon as I was well and fully functioning, the guilt became overwhelming. When I had been suffering from food poisoning, Billie Joe had done whatever I simply mentioned, with the exception of letting me get up.
Billie Joe had been treating me like I was a damn princess; meanwhile I had just stabbed him in the back. Billie Joe knew that I still had barely any trust in him, but now I was just as bad.
I had held myself together for a few weeks, but as the days went on I had become even more disgusted with myself. I became so disgusted with myself that the word disgusted had become such an understatement. The flowers that Billie Joe had bought me when I had been sick sat by the window in our room, and were slowly losing their color and beginning to wilt.
They matched me almost perfectly.
Billie Joe sat downstairs fumbling around with one of his signature Gibson guitars. It wasn’t tuning and quite frankly, it was pissing him off. He was tired due to waking up at six-thirty that morning because of Charlie, who had been biting his feet because he had to go out. By the time Billie Joe had gotten back from walking him outside, both Sydney and I had already been up making it impossible to go back to sleep.
There had been an Adeline meeting at ten-thirty, and during the whole thing he could feel himself slowly slipping into a deep slumber until he was pinched and kicked by his current and ex-wife at the same time, who both sat silently giggling after he scowled at both.
Adrienne had to take it one step farther by telling Billie Joe that he looked like shit. In return he snarled back a sarcastic remark that only received a snort from Adrienne and me. When Billie Joe and I walked into the parking lot, he threw his keys to me carelessly and climbed into the passenger side of the Mercedes.
He had had that car for nearly eight years now, and that had been my second time driving it.
On the way home I had gone to ask him if he was upset with me for some reason, but when I had opened my mouth to speak, his snores had rung out through the car.
And as Billie Joe sat hunched over in the love seat in the lounge, he was slowly starting to feel more woken up after he had made a pot of coffee and had drunken all but the little he had offered me. Billie Joe sighed lightly and placed his guitar on the couch next to him, slowly lifting his body up. He walked over to and up the stairs, down the long hallway and into the bedroom where he spotted his wife hunched over on the bed, head in hands. “Joe?” Billie Joe murmured, stepping closer to me.
Almost immediately I stood, wiping a few stray tears away from my eyes. Billie Joe stared at me in confusion for a moment before he walked over to the bed where I had gone back to folding clothes quickly. “Joe?” He asked again.
I waved a hand in back of me, almost as if pushing him away. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I lied.
He didn’t say anything, but instead wrapped his strong tattooed arms around me from behind, pressing his chest against my back as he rested his chin on my shoulder, and turned to look at my profile. “Obviously not, sweetheart.”
I struggled to get out of his comforting grip and ended up falling back on the bed, the pile of clothes falling over and some off as Billie Joe stared at me once again in confusion. I scowled at the clothes dropping and slid off the bed to pick them up. Billie Joe knelt down beside me and grabbed onto my arm. I looked up at him with wide eyes and he immediately let go. “I’m fine,” I told Billie Joe sternly. “It’s just these fucking clothes fall off the fucking bed and I just--,”
Billie Joe pulled me into a much needed hug as we both fell back hard on the wooden floor. I buried my head into his shoulder, the fabric of his t-shirt collecting my tears. Billie Joe rubbed my back slowly, tracing circles on it with his fingers as he held me against his body. And as I sat there, sobbing in his lap, Billie Joe had never felt more helpless. “Joe?” Billie Joe cooed softly as soon as my body had stopped shaking with sobs.
“I don’t know,” I whimpered into his shoulder.
But I did know. I knew exactly what was wrong. I didn’t feel bad for myself, not even the slightest. I felt bad for Billie. He hadn’t done anything wrong but he was getting “punished”.
Billie Joe slid himself against the bed so that his back rested on it while I sat curled up in his lap. “Did I do something?”
I sobbed softly, shaking my head. “No, of course not.”
I slid my hand into his rougher one, lacing our fingers. “Well, you don’t cry like this for no reason. Have I not done something, then?”
“You haven’t done anything, Billie. You have done nothing wrong.”
“Is it Sydney?” He asked, although he was already positive that our daughter would have never made me like this.
I rolled my eyes, smiling slightly as I pulled my head away from his shoulder to wipe my eyes. “Yes, Billie, she’s just been on my back and hassling me and frankly I’m sick of it.”
Billie Joe smiled lopsidedly, leaning to me to kiss me softly. “Good to see you’ve yet to lose your sarcasm.”
I laughed sadly, burying my head back into his neck. I didn’t deserve the fact that I was able to be held and hold this man like I was, but as long as he’d let me I would. “I love you,” I admitted into his shoulder.
“I love you, too, baby.” Billie Joe sighed lightly. “When does Sydney get out of school?”
“I think she said there’s like ten days left.”
“Mmm,” he hummed lightly, drumming one hand on my back as he used the other to wipe my tears. “I say when she gets home we talk about where we’re going for summer vacation.” He gently kissed my forehead, rubbing my cheek with his nose.
I smiled lightly, watching from the corner of my sore eyes as Billie Joe gently wiped the tears away, kissing the spot they had just been wiped from. “Are you saying I need a vacation?” I asked softly.
Billie Joe chuckled. “Pretty much, yes.”
I laughed half heartedly into his shoulder, running my hand over the large stain of water in his t-shirt. “From what? Billie--,”
“I need one, too, darling. We all need one. I’m sick of the guys at the moment with the studio, you’ve been upset lately--,”
“No I haven’t,” I interrupted.
Billie Joe looked up at me. “Baby, for the past week you’ve said all but ten sentences to me. Today you’re a sobbing mess, what’s going to happen tomorrow?”
I scowled at my husband and went to get up, feeling myself become slightly hurt and angry from what he had said although he meant no harm. Billie Joe reached forward and grabbed my hand, smiling weakly at me. He pulled me back down into his lap. “I wasn’t insulting you, darling. I was just saying that we need to get away from California. Away from the damn house and these damn people.”
I nodded slowly and Billie Joe kissed my cheek.
+++
No matter where our family would decide to go for vacation, it would be perfect for me. Sydney could have chosen to go to a hotel down the street from our house or to Antarctica and I would have been happy.
Why?
Because we would have been in a hotel, which was somewhere other than home. A nice hotel, most likely a first class one but all hotels are the same with thin walls. Thin walls and Sydney in the other room would have made it obvious to Billie Joe that we wouldn’t be able to have sex for the vacation. Sydney would never be out in the mornings so we would have no time to have sex.
We could have been staying in a cardboard box and I would have been happy.
I would have been happy because for however long we would be away, there would be no guilt over having sex with my husband while being on the pill.
Sydney decided she wanted to go to the East Coast, most likely New York City.
I hated New York City.
Nothing good had ever happened there for Billie Joe and me with the exception of the news that I had been pregnant with Sydney. And that’s why I hated it so much. I hadn’t expected a child then, and I didn’t want one now. With my luck the pills would have been old and I would conceive my second child there.
Billie Joe was confused by my reaction to hearing that we would be spending some time in June in New York. He probably figured I would have been happy because my brother had lived there, but my reaction was almost the opposite. Billie Joe had come up to tell me we were going to New York, expecting that I’d be happy.
Instead I just nodded, barely smiling. Billie Joe’s brow furrowed in confusion as he slowly crossed the room to where I sat. He sat down slowly on the bed next to me, although not looking at me. “Are you mad at me?”
My head snapped up from the book that sat in my lap to my husband. “What?”
“Are you mad at me?” Billie Joe asked again, moving slightly closer to me. “For the past days you’ve barely looked at me. Even this morning you didn’t really talk to me when you were crying.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized earnestly. “I’m just not feeling well.”
My husband moved closer to me, his hand gently placing its self over my own. “What’s wrong?”
I’m lying to you. I’m on birth control.
I shook my head slowly, getting up from the comfortable bed that I had sat Indian-Style reading on for the past half hour. Billie Joe watched me as I entered the bathroom, lightly closing the door behind me. He stared after me for a few seconds before he slowly got up and walked over to the door.
He gently knocked on the door, pressing his ear to it. “Joe?”
I leant over the sink, splashing water on my face. When Billie Joe hadn’t gotten a response, he pushed open the door to the bathroom and entered it, closing the door behind him. The older man stood next to me for a few seconds, watching as I washed my face. Billie Joe pulled himself up so he sat on the counter next to me, looking down at me as his fingers wrapped around the edge of the counter.
I stood up slowly, going to look for a towel when I felt Billie Joe place one in my hand. I wiped my face off and gently placed the towel on the counter. Billie Joe slid off of it, standing back up with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’d like to think after being married for thirteen years you could tell me what this problem of yours is.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Who said I have a problem?”
“Well,” Billie Joe started, “Either you have a problem or you really don’t like me.”
I smiled and cupped his cheek. “Awww, sweetie, I thought we already established that I’ve never liked you.”
Billie Joe growled at me, scowling. “I wasn’t kidding, Joe.”
I stared at Billie Joe for a moment, confused. “And I was?”
My husband continued to scowl at me before he sighed, defeated. I walked over to him as he leant back against the closed bathroom door, his arms still folded. I unfolded them and wrapped them around my waist. I pushed myself to my tip-toes, pressing my lips against his.
Billie Joe hesitated for a moment, wanting to know what had gotten me in my funk, as he called it. However, he quickly adjusted to the feeling of our lips being connected and grinned against my own, turning so that he was pressing me up against the door instead.
Billie Joe took my arms from his shoulder and pinned them against the door, next to my body. I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist, my head tilted back against the closed door as Billie Joe slowly dragged his lips along my neck and collar bone, placing wet kisses along the way.
His hands traveled up underneath my shirt and to my shoulders, playing with the thin fabric of my shirt. We both tore our lips from each others, our eyes connected as we stared at each other breathlessly. Billie Joe leant forward again, his eyes already dark with lust, his breathing irregular.
You know what he wants from this, don’t you?
…Sex?
And a baby. That thing you won’t let him have, remember?
I slid my hands up to Billie Joe’s still-clothed shoulders and gently pushed him back. Billie Joe stared at me for a moment, a questioning look on his face before he leant in for the third time. I shook my head, pressing on his shoulders harder. “I...I – I can’t.”
Billie Joe had been rejected by me many times during our marriage when he had wanted sex. But it had always been ’Not now, Billie] or something similar. Never ’I can’t’.
“Why?” He whispered, his lips brushing against my own softly.
I just shook my head, pulling away from my husband. He stood in front of me, watching as I fixed my shirt confused look on his face. “I don’t get it,” Billie Joe admitted. His voice rose slightly as he became agitated. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I looked up at Billie Joe who stood in front of me.
If only looks could kill.
“What are you talking about?” I asked him softly. “Nothing is wrong with you.”
“Then why the hell are you acting as I’m a disease?”
“I’m not,” I countered softly.
Billie Joe rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Oh please. The only reason I didn’t keep asking you what was wrong this morning was because you barely spoke to me at all. Lately, even before today you’re not speaking to me. Can you at least tell me what the fuck I’ve done? I swear I’ll leave you alone then. Just let me know. You’re not going to feel better by avoiding me.”
But that was wrong, because I did feel better not seeing him. I opened my mouth twice but ended up closing it both times, not knowing what to say to him.
I’m sorry I can’t lie as easily as you, Billie Joe.
Billie Joe went to spit out more angry words but was cut off by The Clash yelling out the lyrics:
So if you want me off your back
Al rededar en tu espalda
Well come on and let me know
Me tienes que desir
Should I stay or should I go?
He looked up at me, his lip curling into a sneer as we both noticed how perfect his ring tone matched the two of us at the moment. He flipped his phone open and pushed it against his ear as I sank onto the counter next to where he stood. “What the fuck do you want?”
I felt bad for whoever had called Billie Joe at this point. His mood was rotten and I was pretty convinced that he wasn’t going to be bothered to sugar-coat his attitude and tone.
The mood from only a few minutes before where Billie Joe and I had been pushed up against the door had been shattered like a hammer to glass.
Thanks to yours truly.
“It’s after five, man. Save it for tomorrow. Why the fuck do you need to see me now? Unless it’s going to get stolen tonight and it’s an urgent emergency I’m not going anywhere. – Fuck off. We were there a few weeks ago. I’m in the middle of something with my family. I don’t care, I’m not going out.”
I had always disliked that about all three of members of Green Day. They were so rude to each other. I had started to dislike it more amongst Mike and Tre because of how furious it would make Billie Joe when he would have to go out, but at this point and time I wanted to kiss Mike.
“I’ll quit this fucking band, Dirnt. Don’t you dare threaten me with that shit--,”
“Billie,” I murmured. “Just go. They won’t keep you for long and it’ll get Mike and Tre off your back.”
I felt about the size of an ant as Billie Joe glared at me from the side of his eyes. He knew why I wanted him to go. So he could leave and this whole thing could be forgotten. He stared at me for a moment and then shook his head, mouthing the word No.
I rolled my eyes. “We’ll talk about this when you get home. Go so they’ll leave you alone.”
“Fine,” Billie Joe hissed. “I’ll see you at the studio in a few minutes you stupid prick.”
With that last insult, Billie Joe snapped his cell phone shut and shoved it into his pocket. He stared at me as I sat there with my head bowed. “You just want me to go so that this is done with.”
“You’re entitled to this band in more than one way, Billie,” I said simply, my voice muffed. “You need someone to keep your mind straight when it comes to that. That’s all I’m doing.”
“No,” Billie Joe argued. “You’re using my career as an escape.”
I burst out laughing as I slid off the counter and threw the door open, narrowly missing my husbands nose. “Right, Billie Joe. I’m using your career of going to the studio when your best friend calls you because he wrote a new song as an excuse to stop us arguing.” I stopped laughing and rolled my eyes. “No.”
Billie Joe scowled. “I want to know what’s been bothering you so much.”
My eyes narrowed. “Right now it’s you.”
Billie Joe stared at me for a moment, my comment obviously hurting him somewhat. He nodded slowly, tucking his hands deeply into his pockets. “Well, I told Mike I’d be there in a few minutes…so I should go.”
I sighed as Billie Joe kissed my cheek swiftly and walked out of the bedroom, leaving me in complete silence.
After hearing his car pull out of the driveway and the gates close behind him, I stood up and exited the bedroom and made my way into the kitchen where Sydney stood at the counter, making a sandwich. I slid onto the stool next to her, resting my forehead in the palm of my hand. “What’s up with dad?” She asked simply.
I shrugged. “I…couldn’t tell you if I tried.”
+++
When I hadn’t had a phone call by 9:30 that evening, I knew that Billie Joe Armstrong would re-enter the household that night drunk. If he had come home sober, I really do believe hell would have frozen over.
Instead of waiting up for a phone call or for him to collapse on me on the couch early in the morning, I went to bed when Sydney did. Part of me wondered if she knew that her father would be coming home drunk that night, most of me praying that she didn’t. Not because I wouldn’t want her to know, but she didn’t deserve to know. It was terrible to know your parent would probably stumble through the door than walk because they were an alcoholic, and I preferred it that Sydney didn’t have thoughts like that.
The last thing I wanted was for Sydney to think her father was a drunk like I had always known my mother was.
And Billie Joe wasn’t exactly preventing that from happening.
Oh, but we should definitely have another child.
The television had been the only sound in the large home late that night. I had fallen asleep while watching re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air with Charlie curled up next to me.
The silence had been shattered by repeated banging downstairs on the large doors. The sound of a taxi driving off had woken Sydney up, who had woken me up. “There’s someone downstairs,” Sydney told me as I entered her bedroom with one eye open and one still stuck closed.
I ran a hand through my messed up hair and sighed, partially falling asleep in her doorway. “Don’t worry about it,” I said simply.
“Why?”
I waved a hand simply. “Just don’t. Stay here, okay?”
“Is it dad?”
Yes.
“It may be.”
Before Sydney could ask anymore questions about what state her father would be in, I had left her room, pulling her door shut and had made my way down the many stairs and to the front door – stumbling through the darkness the whole way. It took me a few minutes to unlock the large doors and pull them open, only to come face to face with a pissed Billie Joe. “Take ya long ‘nuf?”
“I could very well close this damn door and you could sleep on the doorstep,” I snarled.
Billie Joe lifted an arm slowly, his body depending on the side of the doorway. He opened his hand to show his keys. I cocked an eyebrow. “I could shtill gat in.”
“Why didn’t you ansher my calls?”
I stared at Billie Joe, confused. “When did you call me?”
“When I neededed the-the-the the ride home. But no. My wife ignores me and shleeps.” His voice squeaked at the end of his slurred and barely understandable sentence.
I sighed. “I didn’t hear your calls, Billie. My phone has been off.”
He chuckled drunkenly. “You are just angry because—cause I’m not doing what you want.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “What are you not doing?”
“I’m drunk,” he stated, teetering back and forth on his heels. I grabbed onto his wrist, not wanting him to fall and slam his head on the floor.
“Yes,” I agreed simply, pulling him upright. “Yes, you are.”
“You-you- you don’t like it when I’m drunk from,” he paused to hiccup, “drinking.”
Yes, sweetheart. Most people do get drunk from drinking last time I checked.
Billie Joe hiccupped again as I pulled him inside, his legs collapsing so that I was the only thing stopping him from hitting the ground. “Hey,” he slurred, his eyes barely open as he pushed a finger against my chest. “Hey,” he paused to hiccup again; the familiar smell of beer flooded my senses. “Hey, can we sthalk? Like, me and you?”
Billie Joe was only reminding me how much drunken people pissed me off with their constant stuttering and repeating. “Aren’t we now?” I asked him slowly as I dragged his limp body over to the couch.
I placed Billie Joe on the couch and went to sit back on the coffee table when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down with him. “Why can’t we have shex?”
I scowled to myself, trying to twist and turn out of Billie Joe’s drunken, but strong grip. He was beginning to piss me off. “Billie, it’s quarter to two,” I said, glancing over to the clock swiftly. “Let’s talk when you’re sober, alright?”
“No. Now.” He pulled me back down.
“I’m tired, Billie Joe. It’s nearly two. Can I please go to sleep?”
“You’re mad at me cause-cause we’re going to New York, a’ight?”
I sighed to myself, prying Billie Joe’s hand from around my wrist. “No, Billie. Why would I be mad about that?”
“Because you, uh, you don’t like it, y’know? The shitty?”
I giggled to myself in my head as I ran a hand down his tattooed arm. “I’ll get over it if it’s where Sydney wants to go.”
“You got pregant with Shdney in the shitty.”
Yes, but what’s the chance of that happening now?
I wasn’t on birth control then.
“I know,” I said simply as I got up and sat down on the coffee table a few feet in front of my husband.
Billie Joe nodded to himself, one eye open and the other closed. He laid back on the couch, sprawling out over it. “Maybe, you can get pregant der.”
I nodded slowly, sighing to myself. “Maybe, Billie.”
The drunken rock star continued to bob his head up and down. He pursed his lips and made a sound like a duck, running a hand through his over-grown hair. I stood up. “I’m going to sleep,” I announced. “You should, too.”
“NO! No, no shtay.”
Billie Joe pulled himself up and immediately collapsed, only falling front ward and knocking me down underneath him. He giggled. “Guesses what?” He slurred, his lips brushing against my collarbone as he didn’t bother to lift his head.
Mentally, I was groaning in pain from the fall and imagining ways to get the heavy man off from on top of me. “What, Billie?”
He giggled again, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I forgot!”
Someone please get this man off of me.
I could at least be happy that he wasn’t going to be a dickhead now. He always annoyed me when he was drunk, even now, but I’d rather have him giggling and acting like an idiot than an asshole.
Actually, I’d rather have him sober.
“Billie, I’m going to get up now.”
“NO! NO, no. No. No, no I want to talk with you! You and me. Lesh talk, eh?”
“How about we talk when we can understand each other,” I tried.
“Why, is you drunk? No.” He poked my chest. “You no drink when you’re preginant.”
I looked up at my husband, confused now. “Billie, I’m not drunk or pregnant.”
Billie Joe rolled his eyes and fell back off of me with a huff. I looked over at him slowly while sitting up.
Jesus, why can’t he be the normal drunk and pass out already?
He leant back against me, his shoulder against my own as his head hung low while we sat next to each other on the floor. He turned to face me, his lips forcing themselves upon my own. I fell back as Billie Joe crawled onto me and pushed me down, pushing all of his weight onto me.
He was a small man, but that didn’t mean he was light.
Billie Joe moved himself upward on me, accidentally moving his leg onto my breast, causing my eyes to widen. I groaned in pain and pushed the drunken man off of me, causing him to collapse onto the ground next to me as I sat up, scowling at him. Billie Joe sat curled up against the couch, looking at me apologetically although he had no idea what he had just done.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Does this mean no sex?” Billie Joe slurred slowly, his own eyes fighting to stay open.
I rolled my eyes, sliding my hands into Billie Joe’s arm pits and lifted his limp body onto the couch that he leaned against. “Yes, Billie. This means no sex. Go to sleep now.”
Billie Joe slumped back into the couch, his arms immediately reaching out for me. I stepped back, watching him for a moment. “Can I come wif you?”
I took another step back and smiled lightly. “If you can get up.”
Telling Billie Joe to get up when he was this intoxicated was like telling an animal to speak perfect English. Billie Joe stared at me as I walked out of the lounge and sighed angrily, pursing his lips before he finally dropped his head onto the arm of the couch.
+++
I was woken up to the familiar smell of cigarettes and faded cologne. Though, that wasn’t what woke me up the next morning.
I had been woken up, however, by the soft and repetitive kisses that were trailed up and down my neck, along my chin and underneath my ear. I mumbled a few incoherent words and slowly slid my arm around the bed until I felt a body next to me and heard a chuckle as a hand slid into my own.
I cracked open an eye slowly, my surroundings fuzzy although I was able to make out a head full of brown hair. Billie Joe sat up slowly and then leant closer to me, resting his chest on my own as he kissed my lips gently. He pulled away slowly, grinning. “Good morning.”
“Mmm,” I hummed lightly, wrapping an arm around him so that my hand rested on the back of his neck. “What are you doing up?”
Billie Joe continued to grin. “It’s twelve, baby. Sydney’s at school already.”
My eyes widened. “But I didn’t hear the alarm.”
“I know,” he stated simply. “I turned it off before it could wake you up."
I cocked an eyebrow as Billie Joe shifted closer to me and moved me so that my head rested on his bare chest. He pulled the duvet up to our waists as he wrapped an arm in back of me. “How?” I asked slowly. I looked up at Billie Joe’s chin. “You slept in here last night?”
“Mmhmm,” he hummed softly.
“How? When I left you downstairs you were out cold.”
Billie Joe chuckled. “Well, you see my dear, that was just an act. As soon as you got upstairs I woke right up, hitched a saddle on the dog and rode him up the stairs down the hallway and into the bedroom.”
I snorted loudly, twisting in my husband’s grip to face him. I crawled closer to him and threw one leg over his hip, straddling him. “You did, did you?” I asked, grinning down at him. “Then where did you leave our little dog huffing and puffing and most likely crushed?”
Billie Joe gasped and grabbed hold of my shoulders, flipping us over so that he was now on top of me. “That little shit is doing fine, thank you.” He lay down slowly, stretching his arms forward and slowly sliding them around my neck, playing with the necklace Billie Joe had gotten me nearly fifteen years ago.
I laughed and playfully whacked his arm. “How did you ever raise three children?” I asked with a grin.
Billie Joe grinned widely as he leant down to kiss me. “Kids love me.” I snorted again and shook my head. Billie Joe moved so that he was sitting on my stomach rather than hips. “What, you don’t believe me?” He asked.
He kissed me once again, his breath hot on my lips. “You scare children, baby. Half the time you scare me.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, “But I like that. I like keeping you on your toes.”
I laughed once more, running my hands over his smooth tattooed shoulders and then down his back as I closed my eyes. Billie Joe hesitated, watching me sleep for a moment. “Joe?”
“Yes, darling?”
“I’m sorry for waking you up early this morning,” he murmured, gently brushing his lips against my neck. “I know you got annoyed with me. I’m sorry for not letting you go the sleep the first ten times you begged me to let you go,” he played with strings to my tank top. “That’s why I let you sleep this morning, cause I kept you up.” He nipped gently at the side of my ear, whispering now.
I cracked open an eye to watch as Billie Joe slowly rolled off of me and lay at my side. I smiled lightly. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not the one who has a terrible hangover now, do I?”
“Is it really that easy to tell?” Billie Joe asked with one eye closed as he winced.
“You’ve been practically whispering to me all morning,” I told him with a slight giggle.
Billie Joe giggled. “Have I?” He asked.
I grinned widely, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Afraid so, m’dear.”
We both lay in silence for a long moment, both of our eyes slowly closing. Billie Joe was hesitant to break it. “So,” he murmured. “We’re going to New York.”
I nodded slowly, not bothering to my open my eyes. “Yeah.”
I felt Billie Joe’s hand slide underneath my shirt, rubbing my stomach lightly. It made me feel sick. Not from the rubbing, but from the fact that he wanted something so desperately to be there and I was preventing it. I opened my mouth slowly. If I could just spit out the words I’m on birth control, sure, he’d be angry, but we’d get over it faster. It’d be over. I’d tell him it was a mistake and I was sorry. “You got pregnant with Sydney when we were there,” he continued, pressing his lips to my ear, sending shivers down my spine from the feeling. “Maybe we’ll have the same luck.”
“How would we ever have sex?” I asked. “Sydney’s going to be in the same hotel room with us, Billie. You know how thin hotel room walls are,” I told him knowingly.
“Sydney lives right down the hallway here--,”
“That’s different,” I countered. I sighed guiltily as hurt flashed through Billie Joe’s eyes quickly. “I’m not saying I don’t want to have sex--,” Actually, yes I am “--, I’m just saying, darling. This is vacation for all of us. It’s bad enough having to be quiet here at night, how would we ever get away with sex in a hotel room?”
“We’re not that loud,” Billie Joe said slowly, resting his head in the crook of my neck. I snorted and Billie Joe chuckled. “We can be quiet,” he said, as if almost correcting himself. “We are a lot. She wouldn’t hear a thing.”
“You can’t promise that,” I pointed out.
“If it makes you feel better,” Billie Joe said with a grin, gently kissing my neck, “I’ll bring a roll of duct tape and tape my mouth shut. It’ll be quiet and kinky.”
I burst out laughing at that, no matter how terrible I felt at the moment. That was one thing I adored about my husband – he made me laugh despite how shitty of a mood I was in. “We can’t go breaking hotel beds, sweetheart.”
Billie Joe took his head from my neck and rolled his eyes. “This one is like ten years old and it holds up pretty well.”
“Hotel beds are shit.”
“So we’ll do it on the floor.”
“I’d rather not have my baby conceived on the dirty floors of a hotel room on vacation, and I’m sure that the maid that comes in every morning would love to come in to a clean floor with no mysterious stains.”
Billie Joe chuckled again, placing his head back in my neck. “We’ll find a way, darling.”
But I don’t want to find a way, darling. I wanted a vacation, too. My vacation would be no sex and not worrying about conceiving our second child. If it were possible, my vacation would have been not traveling on a plane for five hours and not going to the city that always bit me on the ass with the people I met and the things that happened.
Why couldn’t we go somewhere else?
Paris, Rome, Hawaii, Right down the street.
Why New York?
Sydney liked to shop, but the shopping was fine in California. Billie Joe was always flying out to New York. What was the point of going?
I wanted to bring it up, but I didn’t want to bother my husband or daughter. But why New York?
I hated flying. I hated going to the east coast. I hated being two hours away from where I had used to live and those lovely memories that I had tried to erase in the past fifteen years of knowing Billie Joe Armstrong and the rest of the Green Day crew. I hated the rude people. I hated the amount of people. I hated that this would barely be a vacation at all.
I hated New York.
For the next three days I don’t think I had ever been so quiet in my life. Realization was hitting me—hard. Part of me was telling myself to go up to my husband and tell him that I made a mistake and it was a bad one, but it could be fixed within time.
The other part of me was telling myself not to tell him. He’d be devastated to hear that I had just stopped us from having a child for a while.
The moment I took the birth control pill, I didn’t feel bad. And after that I only felt guilty a few times. However, as soon as I was well and fully functioning, the guilt became overwhelming. When I had been suffering from food poisoning, Billie Joe had done whatever I simply mentioned, with the exception of letting me get up.
Billie Joe had been treating me like I was a damn princess; meanwhile I had just stabbed him in the back. Billie Joe knew that I still had barely any trust in him, but now I was just as bad.
I had held myself together for a few weeks, but as the days went on I had become even more disgusted with myself. I became so disgusted with myself that the word disgusted had become such an understatement. The flowers that Billie Joe had bought me when I had been sick sat by the window in our room, and were slowly losing their color and beginning to wilt.
They matched me almost perfectly.
Billie Joe sat downstairs fumbling around with one of his signature Gibson guitars. It wasn’t tuning and quite frankly, it was pissing him off. He was tired due to waking up at six-thirty that morning because of Charlie, who had been biting his feet because he had to go out. By the time Billie Joe had gotten back from walking him outside, both Sydney and I had already been up making it impossible to go back to sleep.
There had been an Adeline meeting at ten-thirty, and during the whole thing he could feel himself slowly slipping into a deep slumber until he was pinched and kicked by his current and ex-wife at the same time, who both sat silently giggling after he scowled at both.
Adrienne had to take it one step farther by telling Billie Joe that he looked like shit. In return he snarled back a sarcastic remark that only received a snort from Adrienne and me. When Billie Joe and I walked into the parking lot, he threw his keys to me carelessly and climbed into the passenger side of the Mercedes.
He had had that car for nearly eight years now, and that had been my second time driving it.
On the way home I had gone to ask him if he was upset with me for some reason, but when I had opened my mouth to speak, his snores had rung out through the car.
And as Billie Joe sat hunched over in the love seat in the lounge, he was slowly starting to feel more woken up after he had made a pot of coffee and had drunken all but the little he had offered me. Billie Joe sighed lightly and placed his guitar on the couch next to him, slowly lifting his body up. He walked over to and up the stairs, down the long hallway and into the bedroom where he spotted his wife hunched over on the bed, head in hands. “Joe?” Billie Joe murmured, stepping closer to me.
Almost immediately I stood, wiping a few stray tears away from my eyes. Billie Joe stared at me in confusion for a moment before he walked over to the bed where I had gone back to folding clothes quickly. “Joe?” He asked again.
I waved a hand in back of me, almost as if pushing him away. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I lied.
He didn’t say anything, but instead wrapped his strong tattooed arms around me from behind, pressing his chest against my back as he rested his chin on my shoulder, and turned to look at my profile. “Obviously not, sweetheart.”
I struggled to get out of his comforting grip and ended up falling back on the bed, the pile of clothes falling over and some off as Billie Joe stared at me once again in confusion. I scowled at the clothes dropping and slid off the bed to pick them up. Billie Joe knelt down beside me and grabbed onto my arm. I looked up at him with wide eyes and he immediately let go. “I’m fine,” I told Billie Joe sternly. “It’s just these fucking clothes fall off the fucking bed and I just--,”
Billie Joe pulled me into a much needed hug as we both fell back hard on the wooden floor. I buried my head into his shoulder, the fabric of his t-shirt collecting my tears. Billie Joe rubbed my back slowly, tracing circles on it with his fingers as he held me against his body. And as I sat there, sobbing in his lap, Billie Joe had never felt more helpless. “Joe?” Billie Joe cooed softly as soon as my body had stopped shaking with sobs.
“I don’t know,” I whimpered into his shoulder.
But I did know. I knew exactly what was wrong. I didn’t feel bad for myself, not even the slightest. I felt bad for Billie. He hadn’t done anything wrong but he was getting “punished”.
Billie Joe slid himself against the bed so that his back rested on it while I sat curled up in his lap. “Did I do something?”
I sobbed softly, shaking my head. “No, of course not.”
I slid my hand into his rougher one, lacing our fingers. “Well, you don’t cry like this for no reason. Have I not done something, then?”
“You haven’t done anything, Billie. You have done nothing wrong.”
“Is it Sydney?” He asked, although he was already positive that our daughter would have never made me like this.
I rolled my eyes, smiling slightly as I pulled my head away from his shoulder to wipe my eyes. “Yes, Billie, she’s just been on my back and hassling me and frankly I’m sick of it.”
Billie Joe smiled lopsidedly, leaning to me to kiss me softly. “Good to see you’ve yet to lose your sarcasm.”
I laughed sadly, burying my head back into his neck. I didn’t deserve the fact that I was able to be held and hold this man like I was, but as long as he’d let me I would. “I love you,” I admitted into his shoulder.
“I love you, too, baby.” Billie Joe sighed lightly. “When does Sydney get out of school?”
“I think she said there’s like ten days left.”
“Mmm,” he hummed lightly, drumming one hand on my back as he used the other to wipe my tears. “I say when she gets home we talk about where we’re going for summer vacation.” He gently kissed my forehead, rubbing my cheek with his nose.
I smiled lightly, watching from the corner of my sore eyes as Billie Joe gently wiped the tears away, kissing the spot they had just been wiped from. “Are you saying I need a vacation?” I asked softly.
Billie Joe chuckled. “Pretty much, yes.”
I laughed half heartedly into his shoulder, running my hand over the large stain of water in his t-shirt. “From what? Billie--,”
“I need one, too, darling. We all need one. I’m sick of the guys at the moment with the studio, you’ve been upset lately--,”
“No I haven’t,” I interrupted.
Billie Joe looked up at me. “Baby, for the past week you’ve said all but ten sentences to me. Today you’re a sobbing mess, what’s going to happen tomorrow?”
I scowled at my husband and went to get up, feeling myself become slightly hurt and angry from what he had said although he meant no harm. Billie Joe reached forward and grabbed my hand, smiling weakly at me. He pulled me back down into his lap. “I wasn’t insulting you, darling. I was just saying that we need to get away from California. Away from the damn house and these damn people.”
I nodded slowly and Billie Joe kissed my cheek.
+++
No matter where our family would decide to go for vacation, it would be perfect for me. Sydney could have chosen to go to a hotel down the street from our house or to Antarctica and I would have been happy.
Why?
Because we would have been in a hotel, which was somewhere other than home. A nice hotel, most likely a first class one but all hotels are the same with thin walls. Thin walls and Sydney in the other room would have made it obvious to Billie Joe that we wouldn’t be able to have sex for the vacation. Sydney would never be out in the mornings so we would have no time to have sex.
We could have been staying in a cardboard box and I would have been happy.
I would have been happy because for however long we would be away, there would be no guilt over having sex with my husband while being on the pill.
Sydney decided she wanted to go to the East Coast, most likely New York City.
I hated New York City.
Nothing good had ever happened there for Billie Joe and me with the exception of the news that I had been pregnant with Sydney. And that’s why I hated it so much. I hadn’t expected a child then, and I didn’t want one now. With my luck the pills would have been old and I would conceive my second child there.
Billie Joe was confused by my reaction to hearing that we would be spending some time in June in New York. He probably figured I would have been happy because my brother had lived there, but my reaction was almost the opposite. Billie Joe had come up to tell me we were going to New York, expecting that I’d be happy.
Instead I just nodded, barely smiling. Billie Joe’s brow furrowed in confusion as he slowly crossed the room to where I sat. He sat down slowly on the bed next to me, although not looking at me. “Are you mad at me?”
My head snapped up from the book that sat in my lap to my husband. “What?”
“Are you mad at me?” Billie Joe asked again, moving slightly closer to me. “For the past days you’ve barely looked at me. Even this morning you didn’t really talk to me when you were crying.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized earnestly. “I’m just not feeling well.”
My husband moved closer to me, his hand gently placing its self over my own. “What’s wrong?”
I’m lying to you. I’m on birth control.
I shook my head slowly, getting up from the comfortable bed that I had sat Indian-Style reading on for the past half hour. Billie Joe watched me as I entered the bathroom, lightly closing the door behind me. He stared after me for a few seconds before he slowly got up and walked over to the door.
He gently knocked on the door, pressing his ear to it. “Joe?”
I leant over the sink, splashing water on my face. When Billie Joe hadn’t gotten a response, he pushed open the door to the bathroom and entered it, closing the door behind him. The older man stood next to me for a few seconds, watching as I washed my face. Billie Joe pulled himself up so he sat on the counter next to me, looking down at me as his fingers wrapped around the edge of the counter.
I stood up slowly, going to look for a towel when I felt Billie Joe place one in my hand. I wiped my face off and gently placed the towel on the counter. Billie Joe slid off of it, standing back up with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’d like to think after being married for thirteen years you could tell me what this problem of yours is.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Who said I have a problem?”
“Well,” Billie Joe started, “Either you have a problem or you really don’t like me.”
I smiled and cupped his cheek. “Awww, sweetie, I thought we already established that I’ve never liked you.”
Billie Joe growled at me, scowling. “I wasn’t kidding, Joe.”
I stared at Billie Joe for a moment, confused. “And I was?”
My husband continued to scowl at me before he sighed, defeated. I walked over to him as he leant back against the closed bathroom door, his arms still folded. I unfolded them and wrapped them around my waist. I pushed myself to my tip-toes, pressing my lips against his.
Billie Joe hesitated for a moment, wanting to know what had gotten me in my funk, as he called it. However, he quickly adjusted to the feeling of our lips being connected and grinned against my own, turning so that he was pressing me up against the door instead.
Billie Joe took my arms from his shoulder and pinned them against the door, next to my body. I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist, my head tilted back against the closed door as Billie Joe slowly dragged his lips along my neck and collar bone, placing wet kisses along the way.
His hands traveled up underneath my shirt and to my shoulders, playing with the thin fabric of my shirt. We both tore our lips from each others, our eyes connected as we stared at each other breathlessly. Billie Joe leant forward again, his eyes already dark with lust, his breathing irregular.
You know what he wants from this, don’t you?
…Sex?
And a baby. That thing you won’t let him have, remember?
I slid my hands up to Billie Joe’s still-clothed shoulders and gently pushed him back. Billie Joe stared at me for a moment, a questioning look on his face before he leant in for the third time. I shook my head, pressing on his shoulders harder. “I...I – I can’t.”
Billie Joe had been rejected by me many times during our marriage when he had wanted sex. But it had always been ’Not now, Billie] or something similar. Never ’I can’t’.
“Why?” He whispered, his lips brushing against my own softly.
I just shook my head, pulling away from my husband. He stood in front of me, watching as I fixed my shirt confused look on his face. “I don’t get it,” Billie Joe admitted. His voice rose slightly as he became agitated. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I looked up at Billie Joe who stood in front of me.
If only looks could kill.
“What are you talking about?” I asked him softly. “Nothing is wrong with you.”
“Then why the hell are you acting as I’m a disease?”
“I’m not,” I countered softly.
Billie Joe rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Oh please. The only reason I didn’t keep asking you what was wrong this morning was because you barely spoke to me at all. Lately, even before today you’re not speaking to me. Can you at least tell me what the fuck I’ve done? I swear I’ll leave you alone then. Just let me know. You’re not going to feel better by avoiding me.”
But that was wrong, because I did feel better not seeing him. I opened my mouth twice but ended up closing it both times, not knowing what to say to him.
I’m sorry I can’t lie as easily as you, Billie Joe.
Billie Joe went to spit out more angry words but was cut off by The Clash yelling out the lyrics:
So if you want me off your back
Al rededar en tu espalda
Well come on and let me know
Me tienes que desir
Should I stay or should I go?
He looked up at me, his lip curling into a sneer as we both noticed how perfect his ring tone matched the two of us at the moment. He flipped his phone open and pushed it against his ear as I sank onto the counter next to where he stood. “What the fuck do you want?”
I felt bad for whoever had called Billie Joe at this point. His mood was rotten and I was pretty convinced that he wasn’t going to be bothered to sugar-coat his attitude and tone.
The mood from only a few minutes before where Billie Joe and I had been pushed up against the door had been shattered like a hammer to glass.
Thanks to yours truly.
“It’s after five, man. Save it for tomorrow. Why the fuck do you need to see me now? Unless it’s going to get stolen tonight and it’s an urgent emergency I’m not going anywhere. – Fuck off. We were there a few weeks ago. I’m in the middle of something with my family. I don’t care, I’m not going out.”
I had always disliked that about all three of members of Green Day. They were so rude to each other. I had started to dislike it more amongst Mike and Tre because of how furious it would make Billie Joe when he would have to go out, but at this point and time I wanted to kiss Mike.
“I’ll quit this fucking band, Dirnt. Don’t you dare threaten me with that shit--,”
“Billie,” I murmured. “Just go. They won’t keep you for long and it’ll get Mike and Tre off your back.”
I felt about the size of an ant as Billie Joe glared at me from the side of his eyes. He knew why I wanted him to go. So he could leave and this whole thing could be forgotten. He stared at me for a moment and then shook his head, mouthing the word No.
I rolled my eyes. “We’ll talk about this when you get home. Go so they’ll leave you alone.”
“Fine,” Billie Joe hissed. “I’ll see you at the studio in a few minutes you stupid prick.”
With that last insult, Billie Joe snapped his cell phone shut and shoved it into his pocket. He stared at me as I sat there with my head bowed. “You just want me to go so that this is done with.”
“You’re entitled to this band in more than one way, Billie,” I said simply, my voice muffed. “You need someone to keep your mind straight when it comes to that. That’s all I’m doing.”
“No,” Billie Joe argued. “You’re using my career as an escape.”
I burst out laughing as I slid off the counter and threw the door open, narrowly missing my husbands nose. “Right, Billie Joe. I’m using your career of going to the studio when your best friend calls you because he wrote a new song as an excuse to stop us arguing.” I stopped laughing and rolled my eyes. “No.”
Billie Joe scowled. “I want to know what’s been bothering you so much.”
My eyes narrowed. “Right now it’s you.”
Billie Joe stared at me for a moment, my comment obviously hurting him somewhat. He nodded slowly, tucking his hands deeply into his pockets. “Well, I told Mike I’d be there in a few minutes…so I should go.”
I sighed as Billie Joe kissed my cheek swiftly and walked out of the bedroom, leaving me in complete silence.
After hearing his car pull out of the driveway and the gates close behind him, I stood up and exited the bedroom and made my way into the kitchen where Sydney stood at the counter, making a sandwich. I slid onto the stool next to her, resting my forehead in the palm of my hand. “What’s up with dad?” She asked simply.
I shrugged. “I…couldn’t tell you if I tried.”
+++
When I hadn’t had a phone call by 9:30 that evening, I knew that Billie Joe Armstrong would re-enter the household that night drunk. If he had come home sober, I really do believe hell would have frozen over.
Instead of waiting up for a phone call or for him to collapse on me on the couch early in the morning, I went to bed when Sydney did. Part of me wondered if she knew that her father would be coming home drunk that night, most of me praying that she didn’t. Not because I wouldn’t want her to know, but she didn’t deserve to know. It was terrible to know your parent would probably stumble through the door than walk because they were an alcoholic, and I preferred it that Sydney didn’t have thoughts like that.
The last thing I wanted was for Sydney to think her father was a drunk like I had always known my mother was.
And Billie Joe wasn’t exactly preventing that from happening.
Oh, but we should definitely have another child.
The television had been the only sound in the large home late that night. I had fallen asleep while watching re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air with Charlie curled up next to me.
The silence had been shattered by repeated banging downstairs on the large doors. The sound of a taxi driving off had woken Sydney up, who had woken me up. “There’s someone downstairs,” Sydney told me as I entered her bedroom with one eye open and one still stuck closed.
I ran a hand through my messed up hair and sighed, partially falling asleep in her doorway. “Don’t worry about it,” I said simply.
“Why?”
I waved a hand simply. “Just don’t. Stay here, okay?”
“Is it dad?”
Yes.
“It may be.”
Before Sydney could ask anymore questions about what state her father would be in, I had left her room, pulling her door shut and had made my way down the many stairs and to the front door – stumbling through the darkness the whole way. It took me a few minutes to unlock the large doors and pull them open, only to come face to face with a pissed Billie Joe. “Take ya long ‘nuf?”
“I could very well close this damn door and you could sleep on the doorstep,” I snarled.
Billie Joe lifted an arm slowly, his body depending on the side of the doorway. He opened his hand to show his keys. I cocked an eyebrow. “I could shtill gat in.”
“Why didn’t you ansher my calls?”
I stared at Billie Joe, confused. “When did you call me?”
“When I neededed the-the-the the ride home. But no. My wife ignores me and shleeps.” His voice squeaked at the end of his slurred and barely understandable sentence.
I sighed. “I didn’t hear your calls, Billie. My phone has been off.”
He chuckled drunkenly. “You are just angry because—cause I’m not doing what you want.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “What are you not doing?”
“I’m drunk,” he stated, teetering back and forth on his heels. I grabbed onto his wrist, not wanting him to fall and slam his head on the floor.
“Yes,” I agreed simply, pulling him upright. “Yes, you are.”
“You-you- you don’t like it when I’m drunk from,” he paused to hiccup, “drinking.”
Yes, sweetheart. Most people do get drunk from drinking last time I checked.
Billie Joe hiccupped again as I pulled him inside, his legs collapsing so that I was the only thing stopping him from hitting the ground. “Hey,” he slurred, his eyes barely open as he pushed a finger against my chest. “Hey,” he paused to hiccup again; the familiar smell of beer flooded my senses. “Hey, can we sthalk? Like, me and you?”
Billie Joe was only reminding me how much drunken people pissed me off with their constant stuttering and repeating. “Aren’t we now?” I asked him slowly as I dragged his limp body over to the couch.
I placed Billie Joe on the couch and went to sit back on the coffee table when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down with him. “Why can’t we have shex?”
I scowled to myself, trying to twist and turn out of Billie Joe’s drunken, but strong grip. He was beginning to piss me off. “Billie, it’s quarter to two,” I said, glancing over to the clock swiftly. “Let’s talk when you’re sober, alright?”
“No. Now.” He pulled me back down.
“I’m tired, Billie Joe. It’s nearly two. Can I please go to sleep?”
“You’re mad at me cause-cause we’re going to New York, a’ight?”
I sighed to myself, prying Billie Joe’s hand from around my wrist. “No, Billie. Why would I be mad about that?”
“Because you, uh, you don’t like it, y’know? The shitty?”
I giggled to myself in my head as I ran a hand down his tattooed arm. “I’ll get over it if it’s where Sydney wants to go.”
“You got pregant with Shdney in the shitty.”
Yes, but what’s the chance of that happening now?
I wasn’t on birth control then.
“I know,” I said simply as I got up and sat down on the coffee table a few feet in front of my husband.
Billie Joe nodded to himself, one eye open and the other closed. He laid back on the couch, sprawling out over it. “Maybe, you can get pregant der.”
I nodded slowly, sighing to myself. “Maybe, Billie.”
The drunken rock star continued to bob his head up and down. He pursed his lips and made a sound like a duck, running a hand through his over-grown hair. I stood up. “I’m going to sleep,” I announced. “You should, too.”
“NO! No, no shtay.”
Billie Joe pulled himself up and immediately collapsed, only falling front ward and knocking me down underneath him. He giggled. “Guesses what?” He slurred, his lips brushing against my collarbone as he didn’t bother to lift his head.
Mentally, I was groaning in pain from the fall and imagining ways to get the heavy man off from on top of me. “What, Billie?”
He giggled again, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I forgot!”
Someone please get this man off of me.
I could at least be happy that he wasn’t going to be a dickhead now. He always annoyed me when he was drunk, even now, but I’d rather have him giggling and acting like an idiot than an asshole.
Actually, I’d rather have him sober.
“Billie, I’m going to get up now.”
“NO! NO, no. No. No, no I want to talk with you! You and me. Lesh talk, eh?”
“How about we talk when we can understand each other,” I tried.
“Why, is you drunk? No.” He poked my chest. “You no drink when you’re preginant.”
I looked up at my husband, confused now. “Billie, I’m not drunk or pregnant.”
Billie Joe rolled his eyes and fell back off of me with a huff. I looked over at him slowly while sitting up.
Jesus, why can’t he be the normal drunk and pass out already?
He leant back against me, his shoulder against my own as his head hung low while we sat next to each other on the floor. He turned to face me, his lips forcing themselves upon my own. I fell back as Billie Joe crawled onto me and pushed me down, pushing all of his weight onto me.
He was a small man, but that didn’t mean he was light.
Billie Joe moved himself upward on me, accidentally moving his leg onto my breast, causing my eyes to widen. I groaned in pain and pushed the drunken man off of me, causing him to collapse onto the ground next to me as I sat up, scowling at him. Billie Joe sat curled up against the couch, looking at me apologetically although he had no idea what he had just done.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Does this mean no sex?” Billie Joe slurred slowly, his own eyes fighting to stay open.
I rolled my eyes, sliding my hands into Billie Joe’s arm pits and lifted his limp body onto the couch that he leaned against. “Yes, Billie. This means no sex. Go to sleep now.”
Billie Joe slumped back into the couch, his arms immediately reaching out for me. I stepped back, watching him for a moment. “Can I come wif you?”
I took another step back and smiled lightly. “If you can get up.”
Telling Billie Joe to get up when he was this intoxicated was like telling an animal to speak perfect English. Billie Joe stared at me as I walked out of the lounge and sighed angrily, pursing his lips before he finally dropped his head onto the arm of the couch.
+++
I was woken up to the familiar smell of cigarettes and faded cologne. Though, that wasn’t what woke me up the next morning.
I had been woken up, however, by the soft and repetitive kisses that were trailed up and down my neck, along my chin and underneath my ear. I mumbled a few incoherent words and slowly slid my arm around the bed until I felt a body next to me and heard a chuckle as a hand slid into my own.
I cracked open an eye slowly, my surroundings fuzzy although I was able to make out a head full of brown hair. Billie Joe sat up slowly and then leant closer to me, resting his chest on my own as he kissed my lips gently. He pulled away slowly, grinning. “Good morning.”
“Mmm,” I hummed lightly, wrapping an arm around him so that my hand rested on the back of his neck. “What are you doing up?”
Billie Joe continued to grin. “It’s twelve, baby. Sydney’s at school already.”
My eyes widened. “But I didn’t hear the alarm.”
“I know,” he stated simply. “I turned it off before it could wake you up."
I cocked an eyebrow as Billie Joe shifted closer to me and moved me so that my head rested on his bare chest. He pulled the duvet up to our waists as he wrapped an arm in back of me. “How?” I asked slowly. I looked up at Billie Joe’s chin. “You slept in here last night?”
“Mmhmm,” he hummed softly.
“How? When I left you downstairs you were out cold.”
Billie Joe chuckled. “Well, you see my dear, that was just an act. As soon as you got upstairs I woke right up, hitched a saddle on the dog and rode him up the stairs down the hallway and into the bedroom.”
I snorted loudly, twisting in my husband’s grip to face him. I crawled closer to him and threw one leg over his hip, straddling him. “You did, did you?” I asked, grinning down at him. “Then where did you leave our little dog huffing and puffing and most likely crushed?”
Billie Joe gasped and grabbed hold of my shoulders, flipping us over so that he was now on top of me. “That little shit is doing fine, thank you.” He lay down slowly, stretching his arms forward and slowly sliding them around my neck, playing with the necklace Billie Joe had gotten me nearly fifteen years ago.
I laughed and playfully whacked his arm. “How did you ever raise three children?” I asked with a grin.
Billie Joe grinned widely as he leant down to kiss me. “Kids love me.” I snorted again and shook my head. Billie Joe moved so that he was sitting on my stomach rather than hips. “What, you don’t believe me?” He asked.
He kissed me once again, his breath hot on my lips. “You scare children, baby. Half the time you scare me.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, “But I like that. I like keeping you on your toes.”
I laughed once more, running my hands over his smooth tattooed shoulders and then down his back as I closed my eyes. Billie Joe hesitated, watching me sleep for a moment. “Joe?”
“Yes, darling?”
“I’m sorry for waking you up early this morning,” he murmured, gently brushing his lips against my neck. “I know you got annoyed with me. I’m sorry for not letting you go the sleep the first ten times you begged me to let you go,” he played with strings to my tank top. “That’s why I let you sleep this morning, cause I kept you up.” He nipped gently at the side of my ear, whispering now.
I cracked open an eye to watch as Billie Joe slowly rolled off of me and lay at my side. I smiled lightly. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not the one who has a terrible hangover now, do I?”
“Is it really that easy to tell?” Billie Joe asked with one eye closed as he winced.
“You’ve been practically whispering to me all morning,” I told him with a slight giggle.
Billie Joe giggled. “Have I?” He asked.
I grinned widely, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “Afraid so, m’dear.”
We both lay in silence for a long moment, both of our eyes slowly closing. Billie Joe was hesitant to break it. “So,” he murmured. “We’re going to New York.”
I nodded slowly, not bothering to my open my eyes. “Yeah.”
I felt Billie Joe’s hand slide underneath my shirt, rubbing my stomach lightly. It made me feel sick. Not from the rubbing, but from the fact that he wanted something so desperately to be there and I was preventing it. I opened my mouth slowly. If I could just spit out the words I’m on birth control, sure, he’d be angry, but we’d get over it faster. It’d be over. I’d tell him it was a mistake and I was sorry. “You got pregnant with Sydney when we were there,” he continued, pressing his lips to my ear, sending shivers down my spine from the feeling. “Maybe we’ll have the same luck.”
“How would we ever have sex?” I asked. “Sydney’s going to be in the same hotel room with us, Billie. You know how thin hotel room walls are,” I told him knowingly.
“Sydney lives right down the hallway here--,”
“That’s different,” I countered. I sighed guiltily as hurt flashed through Billie Joe’s eyes quickly. “I’m not saying I don’t want to have sex--,” Actually, yes I am “--, I’m just saying, darling. This is vacation for all of us. It’s bad enough having to be quiet here at night, how would we ever get away with sex in a hotel room?”
“We’re not that loud,” Billie Joe said slowly, resting his head in the crook of my neck. I snorted and Billie Joe chuckled. “We can be quiet,” he said, as if almost correcting himself. “We are a lot. She wouldn’t hear a thing.”
“You can’t promise that,” I pointed out.
“If it makes you feel better,” Billie Joe said with a grin, gently kissing my neck, “I’ll bring a roll of duct tape and tape my mouth shut. It’ll be quiet and kinky.”
I burst out laughing at that, no matter how terrible I felt at the moment. That was one thing I adored about my husband – he made me laugh despite how shitty of a mood I was in. “We can’t go breaking hotel beds, sweetheart.”
Billie Joe took his head from my neck and rolled his eyes. “This one is like ten years old and it holds up pretty well.”
“Hotel beds are shit.”
“So we’ll do it on the floor.”
“I’d rather not have my baby conceived on the dirty floors of a hotel room on vacation, and I’m sure that the maid that comes in every morning would love to come in to a clean floor with no mysterious stains.”
Billie Joe chuckled again, placing his head back in my neck. “We’ll find a way, darling.”
But I don’t want to find a way, darling. I wanted a vacation, too. My vacation would be no sex and not worrying about conceiving our second child. If it were possible, my vacation would have been not traveling on a plane for five hours and not going to the city that always bit me on the ass with the people I met and the things that happened.
Why couldn’t we go somewhere else?
Paris, Rome, Hawaii, Right down the street.
Why New York?
Sydney liked to shop, but the shopping was fine in California. Billie Joe was always flying out to New York. What was the point of going?
I wanted to bring it up, but I didn’t want to bother my husband or daughter. But why New York?
I hated flying. I hated going to the east coast. I hated being two hours away from where I had used to live and those lovely memories that I had tried to erase in the past fifteen years of knowing Billie Joe Armstrong and the rest of the Green Day crew. I hated the rude people. I hated the amount of people. I hated that this would barely be a vacation at all.
I hated New York.