Thinking Back to Those Days

I was listening to my new Operation Ivy vinyl extremely loud because everyone was out of the house. My mother was off with my stepdad at the grocery store, and Mike was working. Paloma was grounded. I had spent a bit of time, hanging out with John, our drummer then, but he had to go to work too. It was the weekend before Spring break officially began and I had nothing to do but smoke weed and play guitar, which I had already had enough of.

My couch was inviting to my back when I laid on it, the ska beat in the background pushing me into a light sleep. The telephone started to ring and I ignored it, even though it rang the full ten rings. It rang again and I figured it was one of my siblings, or one of the idiots that belonged to my step-dad. If it was any of them, they could just call back later, I thought. They would just come over to bother me in a while anyways, because no one answered, so what was the use of picking up the phone?

But it didn’t stop. It was pissing me off and I got up to cuss out whoever was on the other line.

But when I answered it I heard little kids screaming and crying in the background. Then Paloma’s voice came. She was crying too.

“Billie Joe, do you think you can over? I need some help.”

I told her I was on my way and then slammed down the phone, grabbed my jacket and jetted east bound out the door. They worry that I had about Paloma had grown to its full capacity in my heart and my anxiety started playing tricks with my body. But I had to keep it together.

I had to for Paloma.