Senior Slumps
Homecoming
The flight to California was probably some of the longest hours of my entire life, and the fact that there was an hour long snow delay didn't help. Thankfully I called my mother and she was willing to pay for the fare, she was always willing to pay for anything, except for sending some cash for me to live off of at college. I had been cut off financially from my Mother since Junior Year, a decision I was happy about at first because it meant I finally was going to have to support myself, but I soon learned that basically: being broke sucks, big time. Still, I was able to scrap some money together by working 2 jobs and could at least pay for my books, and some Pop-Tarts and Ramen Noodles.
I thought about how it's funny how much a person can feel like they don't belong in the only world they've ever known. When I was little I used to love getting dressed up and going to parties with my Mom, but as I got older I began to hate it, I hated being spoiled and often tried to run away from that life by passing on big parties and heading to Gilman St. with my old high school friend Casey, which is where I had originally met Him. But I always ended up getting dragged back home where I didn't belong. So when I finally turned 18 you can imagine the feelings I felt in flying across the country to attend one of the greatest schools in the country, and finally being free, free, free!
But now I was headed back to my Mother, back to the Berkley Heights neighborhood and the fancy parties and celebrations that scarred my youth. I leaned my head back and drowned myself in the music playing in my ears. I felt like I needed to accomplish something in my time in California, like I had to find the answer to a question I had been arguing myself about since I had left. I had to see if I had really left my heart in San Francisco, or at least Berkley.
**
"Oh my Goodness, look at my little Jessie!" my Mother exclaimed as she opened the door to my house. I couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a statement of disgust, seeing as I was dressed in a Ramones T-shirt, ripped jeans and my hair was oily and in desperate need of a good wash. Still she pulled me into the large living room and had hugged and kissed me over and over. I might not agree with my mother's lifestyle, but she was still my Mother and I was happy to see her after all this time. "C'mon Jessica the Smith's are over! You remember them right?" I nodded; the Smith's were our neighbours and my Moms best friends. "They would love to see you! Lets go, they're out at the pool."
"Mom," I hesitated, "I'm really tired and I'm not exactly dressed... "
"Nonsense!" she smiled, "C'mon, you can rest later."
It wasn't until 10 that night that I finally got to go to bed. Mom decided that I deserved a cookout in honour of my homecoming and invited the rest of the neighborhood over, which means I had to answer the stream of tedious questions from all of them.
"Where are you going to school"
"Williams College,"
"What's your major?"
"Marine Biology,"
"Do you have any plans for after you graduate?"
"Not yet,"
They were exhausting, and when I finally got upstairs to my old bedroom I threw my bags in the corner and flopped on my bed, lying there for a minute before getting up and staring out the window. I stared down the road, lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and couldn't wait until tomorrow, because tomorrow I was going to head to where I knew I really belonged. I wondered if Gilman would still be the same; there would defiantly be some new bands there, but hopefully some of the old ones whose music seemed to help me through the hardest of times. Most of all I wondered if He would still be there, if he still thought about me or even remembered me. He had to remember me, but did he miss me? That was a different question. And it was a question that I would hopefully get the answer to tomorrow night.
**
It was probably one of the best gigs that Billie Joe had ever played. It amazed him how when he had the worst few days he could still pull of some of the greatest shows of his career, if you could call it a career, he didn't make much money off of it. Crashing on a couch beside his band mate Mike Dirnt, Billie Joe happily accepted the booze that everyone in the room was getting trashed on.
"Sorry about Maria man, tough shit." Mike said, taking a swig of his beer and a long drag from a cigarette.
"Yeah well, it was bound to happen." Billie Joe shrugged, tugging his sweatshirt over the small butterfly tattoo on his arm, the forever-lasting memory of Maria, his last girlfriend who broke it off with him to fly off to study in Ecuador.
"What about Adrienne? She seemed to drop off the face of the Earth." Mike continued, replacing his cigarette with a joint that was being passed around the room.
"I heard she was pretty serious with this guy she's been seeing." Billie Joe said simply, not really wanting to talk about Adrienne, one of the few people he could openly admit that he loved. It tore at his heart. It seemed like every person he could see himself spending the rest of his life with had left him, gone off to bigger and better things, leaving him the same old Billie Joe, who probably wouldn't amount to much of anything. It was these depressing thoughts that provoked and scared him into writing the songs that he had become known for, the thought of knowing you have nothing, no girlfriend, no real place to call home, just a guitar, some weed and a head and a notebook full of songs.
Suddenly, he didn't want to be there anymore. After taking a quick hit, he made an excuse to Mike about not feeling well and drove his beat up car back to his current "home", a run down house on the outskirts of town, constantly bustling with people. Collapsing on a beat up mattress, Billie Joe's mind was filled with the memories of the romances, flings, and relationships of the past few years. Sure, he was extremely close to Maria, and was sure that he loved Adrienne, but there was one person who stained his memory the most that night, a girl that he didn't know the location or status of, A girl he hadn't seen since she jet across the country against his will, following a dream for herself instead of the dream he had for them.
A girl he didn't know was less than 20 miles away
I thought about how it's funny how much a person can feel like they don't belong in the only world they've ever known. When I was little I used to love getting dressed up and going to parties with my Mom, but as I got older I began to hate it, I hated being spoiled and often tried to run away from that life by passing on big parties and heading to Gilman St. with my old high school friend Casey, which is where I had originally met Him. But I always ended up getting dragged back home where I didn't belong. So when I finally turned 18 you can imagine the feelings I felt in flying across the country to attend one of the greatest schools in the country, and finally being free, free, free!
But now I was headed back to my Mother, back to the Berkley Heights neighborhood and the fancy parties and celebrations that scarred my youth. I leaned my head back and drowned myself in the music playing in my ears. I felt like I needed to accomplish something in my time in California, like I had to find the answer to a question I had been arguing myself about since I had left. I had to see if I had really left my heart in San Francisco, or at least Berkley.
**
"Oh my Goodness, look at my little Jessie!" my Mother exclaimed as she opened the door to my house. I couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a statement of disgust, seeing as I was dressed in a Ramones T-shirt, ripped jeans and my hair was oily and in desperate need of a good wash. Still she pulled me into the large living room and had hugged and kissed me over and over. I might not agree with my mother's lifestyle, but she was still my Mother and I was happy to see her after all this time. "C'mon Jessica the Smith's are over! You remember them right?" I nodded; the Smith's were our neighbours and my Moms best friends. "They would love to see you! Lets go, they're out at the pool."
"Mom," I hesitated, "I'm really tired and I'm not exactly dressed... "
"Nonsense!" she smiled, "C'mon, you can rest later."
It wasn't until 10 that night that I finally got to go to bed. Mom decided that I deserved a cookout in honour of my homecoming and invited the rest of the neighborhood over, which means I had to answer the stream of tedious questions from all of them.
"Where are you going to school"
"Williams College,"
"What's your major?"
"Marine Biology,"
"Do you have any plans for after you graduate?"
"Not yet,"
They were exhausting, and when I finally got upstairs to my old bedroom I threw my bags in the corner and flopped on my bed, lying there for a minute before getting up and staring out the window. I stared down the road, lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and couldn't wait until tomorrow, because tomorrow I was going to head to where I knew I really belonged. I wondered if Gilman would still be the same; there would defiantly be some new bands there, but hopefully some of the old ones whose music seemed to help me through the hardest of times. Most of all I wondered if He would still be there, if he still thought about me or even remembered me. He had to remember me, but did he miss me? That was a different question. And it was a question that I would hopefully get the answer to tomorrow night.
**
It was probably one of the best gigs that Billie Joe had ever played. It amazed him how when he had the worst few days he could still pull of some of the greatest shows of his career, if you could call it a career, he didn't make much money off of it. Crashing on a couch beside his band mate Mike Dirnt, Billie Joe happily accepted the booze that everyone in the room was getting trashed on.
"Sorry about Maria man, tough shit." Mike said, taking a swig of his beer and a long drag from a cigarette.
"Yeah well, it was bound to happen." Billie Joe shrugged, tugging his sweatshirt over the small butterfly tattoo on his arm, the forever-lasting memory of Maria, his last girlfriend who broke it off with him to fly off to study in Ecuador.
"What about Adrienne? She seemed to drop off the face of the Earth." Mike continued, replacing his cigarette with a joint that was being passed around the room.
"I heard she was pretty serious with this guy she's been seeing." Billie Joe said simply, not really wanting to talk about Adrienne, one of the few people he could openly admit that he loved. It tore at his heart. It seemed like every person he could see himself spending the rest of his life with had left him, gone off to bigger and better things, leaving him the same old Billie Joe, who probably wouldn't amount to much of anything. It was these depressing thoughts that provoked and scared him into writing the songs that he had become known for, the thought of knowing you have nothing, no girlfriend, no real place to call home, just a guitar, some weed and a head and a notebook full of songs.
Suddenly, he didn't want to be there anymore. After taking a quick hit, he made an excuse to Mike about not feeling well and drove his beat up car back to his current "home", a run down house on the outskirts of town, constantly bustling with people. Collapsing on a beat up mattress, Billie Joe's mind was filled with the memories of the romances, flings, and relationships of the past few years. Sure, he was extremely close to Maria, and was sure that he loved Adrienne, but there was one person who stained his memory the most that night, a girl that he didn't know the location or status of, A girl he hadn't seen since she jet across the country against his will, following a dream for herself instead of the dream he had for them.
A girl he didn't know was less than 20 miles away