A Ballad For Beulah

Turning off the lights downstairs, and making sure all the doors were locked for the night, Adrienne Armstrong wrapped her arms around her chest and rubbed her shoulders as she yawned. Taking the to the stairs slowly, she let one hand drop to trail along the railing as she ascended to the second floor that was bathed in darkness.

When she reached the top landing, she made her way down the hall quite casually; not even thinking about anything except going to sleep.

She was just exhausted.

Adrienne couldn't recall ever feeling this tired this far into her previous pregnancies before.

Coming upon her bedroom door, she pushed it open and stepped through, finding the light in there off as well. And for a moment she wondered if Billie Joe was asleep in bed already, since he'd completely bypassed her when he got home. But then, she heard the sound of the shower running, and saw the light coming from under the bathroom door.

Tilting her head slightly, Adrienne walked over toward the bathroom door and pushed that open, immediately being hit with a cloud of steam.

Just how hot did Billie Joe have the water?

"Billie?" she called out. As soon as she spoke, she heard her husband stifling some sort of snort or sob...or something. And then he fell silent.

"Y-yeah?"

"How long have you been in the shower?"

"I dunno," he mumbled.

She waved her hand in front of her face because the steam was starting to annoy her. "How hot is that water? It's so steamy in here, it's like a sauna. I can barely breathe."

"Sorry," he whispered raspily.

Adrienne then heard a sniffle and frowned. Pushing back the shower curtain, she found her eyes traveling downward where she saw Billie Joe crouched down on the shower floor, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head down.

"Billie...what's wrong? What're you doing down there?"

He looked up at her with tortured green eyes and then shifted his gaze elsewhere. "Nothing. I'm fine. I just...like sitting down here. The, um...the water...I like when he rains down on me," he lied.

"And since when do you like it to be scalding? Ow," she hissed as her hand got sprayed by some of the water. "Billie, you're skin is beat red. Please get out of there."

She was getting really worried. Sure, there'd been times in the past when she'd found scars on her husband's arms she knew were from cutting. He'd even admitted to doing as much...long after the fact, though. He was just the type that held stuff in and took it all out on himself instead of talking to someone about what was going on in that head of his.

"Please, honey...you're gonna give yourself third degree burns or something..."

Looking up again, Billie Joe swallowed back a lump in his throat and nodded. "Okay."

Leaning forward, he reached for the Hot Water knob and turned it off, and Adrienne just stood there and watched as her husband winced slightly with each move he made.

He'd clearly hurt himself. Burned himself, to be specific. And she wanted to desperately know why.

What was he beating himself up over now?

She reached out a hand to offer her help to him as he achingly stood up, but as soon as she grabbed his arm, despite it being a gentle as all hell maneuver, Billie Joe cried out in pain.

Even touching him hurt.

He had just scalded himself that badly.

"Oh, Billie," Adrienne chastised. "What did you do this time?"

"It's nothing," he insisted, which was obvious bullshit. He stepped out of the shower, slowly and hunched over as he walked, bare assed, out of the bathroom without waiting for Adrienne to follow. "I just need some Aloe Vera."

"You wouldn't if you'd taken a normal shower."

"Well, I'm not a normal guy..." he mumbled as he climbed onto bed, keeping his whimpers of pain just as muffled as his words.

Sighing, Adrienne looked for the Aloe Vera cream rub in the medicine cabinet and then turned the bathroom light off, but only after she turned the bedroom one on.

Stalking over to her husband, she sank down on the mattress beside him, holding the plastic container in her hands. "Do you wanna put it on, or do you want me to?" she inquired.

"Could you do it?"

Shaking her head, she muttered something inaudible then shrugged. "Fine. And I promise to be gentle. But don't get used to it," Adrienne spoke. "Tomorrow morning when you're not in so much pain, I'm gonna hurt you for hurting yourself..."

"Yes, ma'am," Billie Joe smiled a little at his adoring wife, which only made him hate himself more.

* * *

The following day, Billie Joe was sitting in the recording studio him and the guys had rented. They were a little behind schedule with working on their follow-up album to American Idiot due mainly to the fact that Mike had spent January, traveling Europe with Beulah and Bailey. The same month they'd originally planned on regrouping after their down time.

But they'd gotten together many times after that; working on new material here, banging out ideas there.

And now it was nearly July and, even though he was sitting there with his guitar in his lap, trying to work on the chorus of a new song, all Billie Joe could think about was what if Adrienne found out the truth now? Practically days before their twelfth wedding anniversary.

He was sure it would devastate her.

And there she'd been the night before, rubbing him down with Aloe Vera to ease the pain of his self-inflicted burns.

Always doting, always caring, always loving.

Then there he was.

Always selfish, always dramatic, always...fucking up.

About a half hour earlier, Tre had showed up with Frankito practically strapped to his back like a bookbag. It was his day to take care of his son while Claudia spent it pampering herself because, for the most part, she was always left with their child. It was the rare occasions like this that made his second ex-wife grateful for living with Tre and raising their son together. When he was home, that is.

But now Frankito had gotten hungry. It was, after all, around noon and time to eat again. So Tre decided to take his boy to McDonalds and asked Billie Joe if he wanted anything.

The frontman asked for a Big Mac and fries, but not to worry about a drink because he had some beer in the fridge they kept in the studio's Rec Room.

So there Billie Joe was. Alone in the studio. No techs. No Rob. No Tre.

Just him.

But when the studio door opened harshly, he knew he wasn't alone anymore.

Looking up with his eyes instantly expressing his guilt over the events from the night before, Billie Joe stood up and set his guitar down as his best friend, Mike Dirnt, walked up to him rather casually.

And instead of a simple hello or even a nod of his head as a greeting, the bassist swung his fist right into Billie Joe's face, knocking the shorter man down to the ground, right onto his ass, with such a force that it felt like his pelvis had shattered.

"What the fu--" was all Billie Joe could mutter before Mike leaned down, picked him up by his shirt and threw him back into the wall.

Fury was written all over Mike's face and deep set in his blue eyes as he slammed Billie Joe's back into the wall over and over. As his head hit the wall as well, he blinked several times to keep his vision from blurring.

"Mike...I'm sorry," he apologized, knowing very well what his taller friend was so angry about.

But Mike wasn't interested in an apology at the moment. He just continued to beat the shit out of Billie Joe.

Pulling the frontman away from the wall, Mike socked Billie Joe in the jaw and just stood and watched as he sank to the ground like a lumpy bag of coal.

Glaring downward, Mike was seeing only red and not even feeling the sting of pain across his knuckles from hitting his friend so hard. And he wasn't even sure if the blood on his knuckles was just Billie Joe's, or also his as well.

"Mike, what the hell are you doing?" came Tre's voice. "Frankie, go wait outside with your Happy Meal, okay?"

Billie Joe looked over, despite feeling a little dazed, seeing Tre ushering his son out of the studio through teary eyes. He blinked a few more times in a row to make out Tre walking up to Mike, more clearly.

"What the fuck's going on?" the drummer demanded.

"Ask Billie," Mike snarled. "The Adulterer struck again last night." Then he kicked Billie Joe in the side of his leg. "In my...fucking...house!" Mike's chin quivered in the anger he was still seething with, and also the pain of betrayal. "With my girlfriend..."

Tre's eyes went wide. "Wait--what? Bill, you slept with Beulah? Again?"

"I didn't plan on it," the guitarist finally spoke up, spitting a mix of his saliva and blood to the floor, then touching his fingers to his throbbing jaw.

"Yeah, that's what she said, too," Mike scoffed. "You came to my house and fucked my girlfriend, knowing I'd be home at any minute, you asshole!" Tears were running down Mike's face as he said this. "I love her so fucking much and you just had to have her, 'one last time.' Your 'swan song.' Yeah, she told me everything. 'Cause...'cause that's what people who love each other do, Billie. They don't keep secrets."

Billie Joe looked up at Mike and winced at the pain and the venom in his friend's voice while his heart broke for hurting him like this.

Why am I such a fuck-up? he wondered.

Tre just stood there, not able to believe the drama unfolding before him. He felt like he was stuck in a goddamn soap opera. Complete with lovers hoping in and out of each other's beds, deceit and illegitimate babies popping up here and there. The only things they were missing were evil twins and a great murder. But the way things were going, the latter may still very well happen.

"Unlike you, I can forgive Beulah for what happened because I know how fucking weak she is when it comes to you. You know just as much and you still use her. You use her and you throw her away when you're done so you can go running back to your blind wife. And how she hasn't seen the signs or at least kicked your ass to the curb by now if she has figured it all out yet, is beyond me," Mike continued.

"I'm sorry, Mike."

"Don't. Don't even speak to me. Don't even say my name," the angry bassist spat. "Right now, I don't want to see your face again. That's how angry you've made me. You hurt me, you've hurt Beulah for the last time and you betrayed my trust. And as of right now, I'm not sure I want to be in a band with an asshole like you anymore."

Shaking his head in disdain, Mike began to back away from both of his friends.

"Mike, where're you going?" Tre asked.

"Home," he replied solemnly. "She may be half to blame, but at least I know Beulah has the balls to be honest with me."

Shutting the door as harshly as he did when he showed up, Mike left the recording studio.

Looking down up at Tre, Billie Joe held out a hand. "Could you give me a help up?"

Tre just shook his head. "Sorry, Billie. But I'm too disappointed in you to help you right now." Walking away from his beaten and bloodied friend, Tre looked back to say, "If you need me, I'll be at home with Frankito. Call me if you want."

And with that, Billie Joe was left alone.