Senior Slumps
Tell
I took a deep breath as I parked my car in front of the run down white house. I wondered if he was even in there anymore, Billie Joe was nomadic in the sense that, if something went wrong he just moved to another place, another run down house somewhere in Berkeley.
I shook my head. He was in there, and I wasn't going to give up if he wasn't. I had to talk to him and tell him about what I discovered, even if the results were heartbreaking. Opening the front door, I softly padded up the bare wooden stairs and past various closed and open bedroom doors. The house was strangely empty. There weren't any parties, and hardly any noise. When I passed the Room Anastasia stayed in I heard a fit of giggling, I quirked an eyebrow, knowing what was mostly likely going on behind the thin layer of wood.
After a moment I resumed my quiet steps toward the room at the end of the hallway. A warm, welcome light spilled from the open doorway and into the hall, as I neared, the sound of a soft guitar strumming filled my ears and I smiled in spite of the fact my nerves were through the roof.
I looked into the room to find Billie Joe sitting on his bed with his head bent in concentration. Across his lap was his new acoustic guitar, the one he had bought immediately after receiving his first paycheck from Warner Brothers. Beside him on the mattress was a spiral notebook with fresh lyrics scrawled on the page.
Leaning against the doorframe, I waited for him to sense that I was there. But he didn't so I gently raised my knuckles and knocked lightly against the doorframe.
His head rose slowly. He scanned my body, from my sandaled feet, up my jeans, over my hips and torso until his eyes were finally staring into mine. I sucked in one final deep breath. "What are you working on?" I asked quietly
Billie Joe shrugged "Just a song," he said, his lips pursed as he stared me down.
"It sounded different, it's pretty." I said, desperate to keep whatever conversation we were having going.
"Yeah well," Billie Joe gave a sort of shrug as he closed the notebook, turned and threw it on the floor somewhere behind him. I tried to forget the fact he had done that with my shirt some X number of times in the past. He turned back to me and squinted, as if he was trying to see through me. "What are you doing here, Jess?"
"I, I need to talk to you." I sputtered into the silence that was now standing between us like a concrete wall.
Bill raised his eyebrows and sighing, placed his guitar on the floor in a much gentler manner than he did with the notebook. He sat back up and patted the spot next to him. I took that as an invitation and sat beside him on the ratty mattress. Billie Joe turned to me, his jaw was set. "Jess, What the hell do you want?"
Ouch "Bill, I..."
"You know how much the last three weeks have sucked?" He turned away and scoffed. Then he turned back to me, shaking his head. "You know, you're lucky you chose to show up tonight because this is the first night in a long time that I haven't been completely fucked up over you."
I gnawed at my thumbnail; it was the only thing I could do to keep tears from welling up in my eyes and clouding my vision. I didn't come here to get yelled at, although I deserved it and should have seen it coming.
I had eaten off all of the cheap nail varnish by the time Billie Joe finished his rant and looked me in the eye again. The sea-glass colors of his eyes were hardened, and could have passed as a brown, not the green that I loved. "Bill, I" I started off shakily; I had never actually been scared to tell him something before. "Bill, I... "
"Billie Joe?!" a familiar voice cut through the tension and I breathed a slight sigh of relief as I turned and saw Anastasia standing in the doorway. She saw me and her eyes widened "Oh I'm sorry," she apologized, biting her lip "But do you have any gas in your car?"
"No," Billie Joe answered as if it were the most obvious question in the world, in a way it was.
"I do," I answered "What's up?"
Ana bit her lip again, but this time it was to hold back a smile, "We umm," she looked down the hall "We had a little incident, can you drive us to the hospital?"
*-*-*
"Holy shit, Mike!" Billie Joe said within seconds of entering the room. I followed close behind him and gasped when I saw him.
Mike was covered in blood. His nose looked as if a wrecking ball had just introduced itself. And his teeth were red with blood, some of them were missing. But Mike didn't seem at all effected by the pain, in fact he was laughing along with Ana, who was trying her best to bandage a split on his forehead.
"What the hell happened?" I asked, completely forgetting what had happened with Billie Joe just seconds before.
"We were," Ana laughed again before composing herself and turning back to Billie Joe and I "We were having a pillow fight, and he hit that," She started laughing again before pointing to a beam above their bed "That beam. Head on"
"Apparently" Billie Joe thought aloud. "Jess," he turned to me "Go pull up your car, we'll be down in a second."
Desperate to please him, and seeing as we were the only ones who were actually serious in the situation, I fled down the creaky flight of stairs to my car, my intentions completely changed.
*-*-*
The ride to the hospital was longer than I had expected. Not that the distance had changed, but between the stony silence in the driver and passenger seat, and the laughter in the back, the road just seemed to stretch on and on.
I caught Billie Joe's eye once the entire ride. I turned my head slightly to find him scanning my profile. We locked gaze for a few seconds before we both turned away, looking at the road ahead awkwardly.
We got Mike into the emergency room and they took him in immediately, I guess they really can't make you wait while you're losing half your body's blood supply out of your face.
*-*
'Oh God, just say something' I thought to myself, looking up at the fluorescent lights, acting as if I had taken a sudden interest in the lighting of the cold waiting room.
Maybe it wasn't just the open windows, and metal of sterile medical equipment that made the room seem so cold. Maybe it was the giant block of ice between me and the man that sat to my left, metaphorically speaking of course.
"I need to tell you something,"
We looked at each other wildly; both of us unsure of whose mouth those words came out of. The imaginary ice block was instantly reduced to a puddle.
"What?" he asked, finalizing that the six words had indeed come out my mouth, without my mind's consent.
"Um," I looked down at my hands, my mind swirling "Billie, I'm late... " I trailed off.
"For what?"
I shook my head. He was in there, and I wasn't going to give up if he wasn't. I had to talk to him and tell him about what I discovered, even if the results were heartbreaking. Opening the front door, I softly padded up the bare wooden stairs and past various closed and open bedroom doors. The house was strangely empty. There weren't any parties, and hardly any noise. When I passed the Room Anastasia stayed in I heard a fit of giggling, I quirked an eyebrow, knowing what was mostly likely going on behind the thin layer of wood.
After a moment I resumed my quiet steps toward the room at the end of the hallway. A warm, welcome light spilled from the open doorway and into the hall, as I neared, the sound of a soft guitar strumming filled my ears and I smiled in spite of the fact my nerves were through the roof.
I looked into the room to find Billie Joe sitting on his bed with his head bent in concentration. Across his lap was his new acoustic guitar, the one he had bought immediately after receiving his first paycheck from Warner Brothers. Beside him on the mattress was a spiral notebook with fresh lyrics scrawled on the page.
Leaning against the doorframe, I waited for him to sense that I was there. But he didn't so I gently raised my knuckles and knocked lightly against the doorframe.
His head rose slowly. He scanned my body, from my sandaled feet, up my jeans, over my hips and torso until his eyes were finally staring into mine. I sucked in one final deep breath. "What are you working on?" I asked quietly
Billie Joe shrugged "Just a song," he said, his lips pursed as he stared me down.
"It sounded different, it's pretty." I said, desperate to keep whatever conversation we were having going.
"Yeah well," Billie Joe gave a sort of shrug as he closed the notebook, turned and threw it on the floor somewhere behind him. I tried to forget the fact he had done that with my shirt some X number of times in the past. He turned back to me and squinted, as if he was trying to see through me. "What are you doing here, Jess?"
"I, I need to talk to you." I sputtered into the silence that was now standing between us like a concrete wall.
Bill raised his eyebrows and sighing, placed his guitar on the floor in a much gentler manner than he did with the notebook. He sat back up and patted the spot next to him. I took that as an invitation and sat beside him on the ratty mattress. Billie Joe turned to me, his jaw was set. "Jess, What the hell do you want?"
Ouch "Bill, I..."
"You know how much the last three weeks have sucked?" He turned away and scoffed. Then he turned back to me, shaking his head. "You know, you're lucky you chose to show up tonight because this is the first night in a long time that I haven't been completely fucked up over you."
I gnawed at my thumbnail; it was the only thing I could do to keep tears from welling up in my eyes and clouding my vision. I didn't come here to get yelled at, although I deserved it and should have seen it coming.
I had eaten off all of the cheap nail varnish by the time Billie Joe finished his rant and looked me in the eye again. The sea-glass colors of his eyes were hardened, and could have passed as a brown, not the green that I loved. "Bill, I" I started off shakily; I had never actually been scared to tell him something before. "Bill, I... "
"Billie Joe?!" a familiar voice cut through the tension and I breathed a slight sigh of relief as I turned and saw Anastasia standing in the doorway. She saw me and her eyes widened "Oh I'm sorry," she apologized, biting her lip "But do you have any gas in your car?"
"No," Billie Joe answered as if it were the most obvious question in the world, in a way it was.
"I do," I answered "What's up?"
Ana bit her lip again, but this time it was to hold back a smile, "We umm," she looked down the hall "We had a little incident, can you drive us to the hospital?"
*-*-*
"Holy shit, Mike!" Billie Joe said within seconds of entering the room. I followed close behind him and gasped when I saw him.
Mike was covered in blood. His nose looked as if a wrecking ball had just introduced itself. And his teeth were red with blood, some of them were missing. But Mike didn't seem at all effected by the pain, in fact he was laughing along with Ana, who was trying her best to bandage a split on his forehead.
"What the hell happened?" I asked, completely forgetting what had happened with Billie Joe just seconds before.
"We were," Ana laughed again before composing herself and turning back to Billie Joe and I "We were having a pillow fight, and he hit that," She started laughing again before pointing to a beam above their bed "That beam. Head on"
"Apparently" Billie Joe thought aloud. "Jess," he turned to me "Go pull up your car, we'll be down in a second."
Desperate to please him, and seeing as we were the only ones who were actually serious in the situation, I fled down the creaky flight of stairs to my car, my intentions completely changed.
*-*-*
The ride to the hospital was longer than I had expected. Not that the distance had changed, but between the stony silence in the driver and passenger seat, and the laughter in the back, the road just seemed to stretch on and on.
I caught Billie Joe's eye once the entire ride. I turned my head slightly to find him scanning my profile. We locked gaze for a few seconds before we both turned away, looking at the road ahead awkwardly.
We got Mike into the emergency room and they took him in immediately, I guess they really can't make you wait while you're losing half your body's blood supply out of your face.
*-*
'Oh God, just say something' I thought to myself, looking up at the fluorescent lights, acting as if I had taken a sudden interest in the lighting of the cold waiting room.
Maybe it wasn't just the open windows, and metal of sterile medical equipment that made the room seem so cold. Maybe it was the giant block of ice between me and the man that sat to my left, metaphorically speaking of course.
"I need to tell you something,"
We looked at each other wildly; both of us unsure of whose mouth those words came out of. The imaginary ice block was instantly reduced to a puddle.
"What?" he asked, finalizing that the six words had indeed come out my mouth, without my mind's consent.
"Um," I looked down at my hands, my mind swirling "Billie, I'm late... " I trailed off.
"For what?"