Front Porch Story
Front porch
*A year and a half later*
"Adie! I don't see why you're so mad!" Billie yells, "We have to make a living!"
"We have Adeline!" I yell back.
"Did you ever think that I like writing music and playing shows?"
"That's fine!" I say exhausted, "I know you like to tour! And I respect that, but when you come home I'd like it to be so you can spend time with me and the boys!"
"I do spend time with you."
"Yeah for like a week then you're back in the studio!"
"Oh well, you seem to like the lifestyle my career provides," He says, motioning to the walls of our house.
"Don't you say that! Don't you ever fucking say that!" I yell as loud as possible, "I moved across the fucking country to live with you in that tiny dingy apartment which you shared with Mike and Tre so don't you ever fucking accuse me of that!"
"So you just want me to stop?" he says crossing his arms stubbornly.
"No! I never said that! I want you to be home!"
"You're contradicting yourself Adrienne!"
"No Billie Joe, you can go record as many fucking albums as you want, but for fucks sake I never see you! You leave for the studio early in the morning and then you only get back at like ten o'clock or even later. The boys never see you! I never see you! We haven't fucked in a month!"
"Is that what you want? We'll take a weekend away, just the two of us."
"No Billie you're not getting it are you?" I say just above a whisper. "It's not one weekend that will change everything. You need to be here with your family, workaholics see their family more than you. For fuck's sake we see you more when you're on tour than when you're right here in Oakland."
"Adrienne, you're exaggerating."
"No! Tre's marriage ended while you guys were recording Nimrod! Mike's ended too because of this album. Can't you guys take a fucking hint!" I say throwing my hands in the air, "You spend too much time in the studio."
"Are you suggesting we get a divorce?"
"Maybe." I wipe my eyes, "It seems like an awfully good idea at the moment."
We stand there in silence, not even bringing up our eyes to look at each other. I hear the faintest sound coming from upstairs, one of the boys was crying. I head up the stairs and just as I get to the top I say, "Billie, we are not sleeping in the same bed tonight."
"Figured as much," I hear him mumble. I hear the crying is coming from Jakob's room.
I get into the room to find Joey, who's five now, sitting next to Jakob who's going to be two soon. Both of them were crying.
"Why are you and Daddy always fighting?" Joey demands. I pick up Jakob and rock him in my arms. I kiss Jakob's forehead and put him back in his bed.
"Joey, I'm sorry," I say as I feel tears build up in my eyes, "We don't want to fight, we just-" I couldn't exactly explain this to a five year old. "I'm sorry." I pick up Joey and carry him to his room.
"Mom, please stop getting mad at Dad."
"I'll try," I say as I hug him goodnight.
*
Billie slept in the guest room that night and the next morning I found him calling a landlord for an apartment.
"I guess I'll drop off the boys this weekend," I say softly as Billie loads the final boxes into his car.
"Yeah," He says bitterly.
"Dad, where are you going?" Joey asks as Billie hugs him goodbye.
"I'm getting an apartment, a place to hang out," he says putting on a fake smile, "A place to put all my guitars and listen to music really loud."
"Why can't you stay here?"
"The neighbors hate loud music," he says rolling his eyes. "You can come over this weekend, we'll have fun."
"Bye daddy." Joey sighs, he knew something wasn't right between Billie and I.
"Bye-bye Jakey," He says to our younger son who's walking around and gabbling.
"Dad-dee," Jakob says hugging Billie Joe.
"Adie! I don't see why you're so mad!" Billie yells, "We have to make a living!"
"We have Adeline!" I yell back.
"Did you ever think that I like writing music and playing shows?"
"That's fine!" I say exhausted, "I know you like to tour! And I respect that, but when you come home I'd like it to be so you can spend time with me and the boys!"
"I do spend time with you."
"Yeah for like a week then you're back in the studio!"
"Oh well, you seem to like the lifestyle my career provides," He says, motioning to the walls of our house.
"Don't you say that! Don't you ever fucking say that!" I yell as loud as possible, "I moved across the fucking country to live with you in that tiny dingy apartment which you shared with Mike and Tre so don't you ever fucking accuse me of that!"
"So you just want me to stop?" he says crossing his arms stubbornly.
"No! I never said that! I want you to be home!"
"You're contradicting yourself Adrienne!"
"No Billie Joe, you can go record as many fucking albums as you want, but for fucks sake I never see you! You leave for the studio early in the morning and then you only get back at like ten o'clock or even later. The boys never see you! I never see you! We haven't fucked in a month!"
"Is that what you want? We'll take a weekend away, just the two of us."
"No Billie you're not getting it are you?" I say just above a whisper. "It's not one weekend that will change everything. You need to be here with your family, workaholics see their family more than you. For fuck's sake we see you more when you're on tour than when you're right here in Oakland."
"Adrienne, you're exaggerating."
"No! Tre's marriage ended while you guys were recording Nimrod! Mike's ended too because of this album. Can't you guys take a fucking hint!" I say throwing my hands in the air, "You spend too much time in the studio."
"Are you suggesting we get a divorce?"
"Maybe." I wipe my eyes, "It seems like an awfully good idea at the moment."
We stand there in silence, not even bringing up our eyes to look at each other. I hear the faintest sound coming from upstairs, one of the boys was crying. I head up the stairs and just as I get to the top I say, "Billie, we are not sleeping in the same bed tonight."
"Figured as much," I hear him mumble. I hear the crying is coming from Jakob's room.
I get into the room to find Joey, who's five now, sitting next to Jakob who's going to be two soon. Both of them were crying.
"Why are you and Daddy always fighting?" Joey demands. I pick up Jakob and rock him in my arms. I kiss Jakob's forehead and put him back in his bed.
"Joey, I'm sorry," I say as I feel tears build up in my eyes, "We don't want to fight, we just-" I couldn't exactly explain this to a five year old. "I'm sorry." I pick up Joey and carry him to his room.
"Mom, please stop getting mad at Dad."
"I'll try," I say as I hug him goodnight.
*
Billie slept in the guest room that night and the next morning I found him calling a landlord for an apartment.
"I guess I'll drop off the boys this weekend," I say softly as Billie loads the final boxes into his car.
"Yeah," He says bitterly.
"Dad, where are you going?" Joey asks as Billie hugs him goodbye.
"I'm getting an apartment, a place to hang out," he says putting on a fake smile, "A place to put all my guitars and listen to music really loud."
"Why can't you stay here?"
"The neighbors hate loud music," he says rolling his eyes. "You can come over this weekend, we'll have fun."
"Bye daddy." Joey sighs, he knew something wasn't right between Billie and I.
"Bye-bye Jakey," He says to our younger son who's walking around and gabbling.
"Dad-dee," Jakob says hugging Billie Joe.