Fall Together
Fall Together
Adrienne dropped her coffee cup when the news came that morning. She should have expected it after all that happened that year. But how could she? How could he? The reporters went through every inch of detail. She heard her name. The emotional support. The ex-wife.
Adrienne is the only woman I will ever love.
She had smiled every time the words showed up on magazine covers, when Billie Joe reminded her in whispers by candlelight. But there had always been his mistress. Adrienne could never compete. The way he held his guitar, speaking more to the instrument than to his wife. The smile that made his eyes light up like brilliant jewels, it was only there when the crowd sang back. Adrienne couldn’t compete. She could never intoxicate him so.
How they deluded themselves. How they got lost in the myth that love was enough, hiding every sign of middle age. Billie Joe told stories. She loved him for it. And slowly, they fabricated a story of their own, writing over painful truths. But the pencil lines were still there, still visible. Walks in the park by the setting sun became memories. Family became a legal term.
Because she’s two thousand light years away.
He was so far away. How could they? It had all become too much. The music, the children, the fans, their home. Everything became a vibrant blur, leaving their marriage to collapse under the weight of it all. The words came quietly, a year ago. Over breakfast and solitude, it was made final. Adrienne and Billie Joe knew it was coming. It didn’t make the situation easier. They were still in love. Adrienne knew there wasn’t another way, but she cried that night. The pleading desperation in his voice still haunted her.
I’ll die for you and this compromise.
Compromise came in the form of settlements. And he gave her everything. Adrienne bit back tears as he hushed the lawyers, telling her earnestly that all he ever wanted was to make her happy. It was almost a fairytale ending, with a tearful embrace and reunion. Almost. But she knew Billie Joe could never give her what she wanted most. She knew that what was meant to be was meant to be. They couldn’t go back. Adrienne couldn’t take back her insecurities and he never asked to come back. She almost did. Almost.
Where do we go from here?
The day Billie Joe finally moved out, suitcases at the front door in wait of the taxi, he couldn’t stop himself. For the first time, they cried in front of each other, at last understanding reality. And for the first time, as the suitcases were rolled out one by one, Adrienne was speechless. Billie Joe stopped in the doorway, looked back once, just once, and with a mournful quiver asked the most simple, most truthful question of all. “Why, Adie?”
An escape from discontent.
It began. Clear, cold days became unbearable. She was lonely. As dinner for three waited at the table every evening, Adrienne looked at the fourth place and her heart truly ached. The phone would ring on Saturday but she could never coax her hand to press it to her ear. Hearing his voice would have hurt too much. And when her children smiled as they spoke to their father, her heart would ache again, dull and helplessly. They would tell her he was happy. They would relay greetings from their Uncle Mike. And Adrienne would bite back more tears.
Escape wasn’t an option. No, Billie Joe was everywhere. The TV, the radio, the trashy magazines at grocery store aisles. Ironic smiles would cross her lips when his picture flashed across her vision—“My ex-husband is stalking me”. Or was she stalking him? He would stand across posters on the street, his smile not quite reaching the corners of his eyes. Adrienne knew his smile. The expression plastered on his face seemed so blatantly false to her. A reflection.
Too late to pretend everything’s all right.
Suddenly, far too quickly, the world seemed to be collapsing. Her sons shied away from her, growing resentful, the way it was portrayed on those ridiculous Lifetime movies. When Billie Joe called, they would stare at her coldly, taking the phone into the next room. Apparently, neither their father nor their Uncle Mike ever said hello anymore. And her still-wounded heart would break all over again.
The magazines pasted Billie Joe over front covers, tagged with headlines meant to shock. Adrienne could never stop herself; she always looked. Black hair slowly faded to its natural copper and slowly into gray. His eyes, green eyes, turned murky. Emeralds caked with mud and alcohol. Adrienne would look and flinching, she would turn away. The man making headlines with Us Weekly was no one she knew. He wasn’t Billie Joe. He wasn’t her Billie Joe. What happened?
Is tragedy two thousand miles away?
Adrienne would find herself crumpled on the kitchen floor, head in her hands and alone. She’d spoken to Brittany. She’d spoken to Claudia. Even Mike had hinted it…Billie Joe was trying. They called it “moving on”. There were different girls on the tour bus every night. According to the daily news stand trash, one of them had been underage. Possessiveness wrapped around her and her sanity seemed to wane. It should have been over. There was proof! There were lawyers there, and a judge! He wasn’t hers to hold anymore. But the rumors, the things the neighbors said…the girls. The strippers, the parties…Adrienne would fall to the floor, biting her lip and thinking of Billie Joe.
I wonder if you’re sitting all alone.
The emptier she became, the easier it became to hide. Business as usual now included seeing a reflection she didn’t want to recognize, with eyes as hollow as the space separation left inside of her. Billie Joe, she knew, would try and fill it up with the simple temptation of Mary Jane. And she was right.
As the phone blinked innocently in the corner on an another sleepless night, tempting her to dial his number, it rang. And it was Billie Joe. The first sound of his voice in almost a year shook her and tears stung her eyes. As she breathed for self-control, Adrienne heard her breaths echoed on the other end. Her Billie Joe, breathing, sobbing for help. His voice was not the voice she’d heard that night on a small Minnesota stage. It was thick with cocaine and shaken with uppers. It was pathetic, small; it was the final proof that her angel had fallen. And together, they cried into the morning.
80 please keep taking me away…
He never called Adrienne again. Months passed, marking almost a year of loneliness and the vestiges of her life broke further and further away. Joseph had moved out, calling her a heartless whore, saying the things that could only break a mother. Jakob grew silent. His body language said nothing and his eyes constantly darted elsewhere. And when the news came that morning, it was more that Adrienne could bear.
The stain on the carpet spread as headlines flashed across entertainment news channels. Every ounce of energy left her body at once as she limply dropped to the floor, letting a years worth of screams escape through her chest. They…those beasts, making a spectacle of him, of her Billie Joe! And they had the gall to show the same pictures over and over--his green eyes forever closed and the trickle of blood creeping its way out of angel’s lips with a scribbled note clutched in his hand. The police removed it, another photo for the album. Adrienne’s soul now desired, ached, needed nothing more than to join her husband’s. The man whose handwriting now filled up the screen, the words she’d known all along…
Adrienne is the only woman I will ever love.
Adrienne is the only woman I will ever love.
She had smiled every time the words showed up on magazine covers, when Billie Joe reminded her in whispers by candlelight. But there had always been his mistress. Adrienne could never compete. The way he held his guitar, speaking more to the instrument than to his wife. The smile that made his eyes light up like brilliant jewels, it was only there when the crowd sang back. Adrienne couldn’t compete. She could never intoxicate him so.
How they deluded themselves. How they got lost in the myth that love was enough, hiding every sign of middle age. Billie Joe told stories. She loved him for it. And slowly, they fabricated a story of their own, writing over painful truths. But the pencil lines were still there, still visible. Walks in the park by the setting sun became memories. Family became a legal term.
Because she’s two thousand light years away.
He was so far away. How could they? It had all become too much. The music, the children, the fans, their home. Everything became a vibrant blur, leaving their marriage to collapse under the weight of it all. The words came quietly, a year ago. Over breakfast and solitude, it was made final. Adrienne and Billie Joe knew it was coming. It didn’t make the situation easier. They were still in love. Adrienne knew there wasn’t another way, but she cried that night. The pleading desperation in his voice still haunted her.
I’ll die for you and this compromise.
Compromise came in the form of settlements. And he gave her everything. Adrienne bit back tears as he hushed the lawyers, telling her earnestly that all he ever wanted was to make her happy. It was almost a fairytale ending, with a tearful embrace and reunion. Almost. But she knew Billie Joe could never give her what she wanted most. She knew that what was meant to be was meant to be. They couldn’t go back. Adrienne couldn’t take back her insecurities and he never asked to come back. She almost did. Almost.
Where do we go from here?
The day Billie Joe finally moved out, suitcases at the front door in wait of the taxi, he couldn’t stop himself. For the first time, they cried in front of each other, at last understanding reality. And for the first time, as the suitcases were rolled out one by one, Adrienne was speechless. Billie Joe stopped in the doorway, looked back once, just once, and with a mournful quiver asked the most simple, most truthful question of all. “Why, Adie?”
An escape from discontent.
It began. Clear, cold days became unbearable. She was lonely. As dinner for three waited at the table every evening, Adrienne looked at the fourth place and her heart truly ached. The phone would ring on Saturday but she could never coax her hand to press it to her ear. Hearing his voice would have hurt too much. And when her children smiled as they spoke to their father, her heart would ache again, dull and helplessly. They would tell her he was happy. They would relay greetings from their Uncle Mike. And Adrienne would bite back more tears.
Escape wasn’t an option. No, Billie Joe was everywhere. The TV, the radio, the trashy magazines at grocery store aisles. Ironic smiles would cross her lips when his picture flashed across her vision—“My ex-husband is stalking me”. Or was she stalking him? He would stand across posters on the street, his smile not quite reaching the corners of his eyes. Adrienne knew his smile. The expression plastered on his face seemed so blatantly false to her. A reflection.
Too late to pretend everything’s all right.
Suddenly, far too quickly, the world seemed to be collapsing. Her sons shied away from her, growing resentful, the way it was portrayed on those ridiculous Lifetime movies. When Billie Joe called, they would stare at her coldly, taking the phone into the next room. Apparently, neither their father nor their Uncle Mike ever said hello anymore. And her still-wounded heart would break all over again.
The magazines pasted Billie Joe over front covers, tagged with headlines meant to shock. Adrienne could never stop herself; she always looked. Black hair slowly faded to its natural copper and slowly into gray. His eyes, green eyes, turned murky. Emeralds caked with mud and alcohol. Adrienne would look and flinching, she would turn away. The man making headlines with Us Weekly was no one she knew. He wasn’t Billie Joe. He wasn’t her Billie Joe. What happened?
Is tragedy two thousand miles away?
Adrienne would find herself crumpled on the kitchen floor, head in her hands and alone. She’d spoken to Brittany. She’d spoken to Claudia. Even Mike had hinted it…Billie Joe was trying. They called it “moving on”. There were different girls on the tour bus every night. According to the daily news stand trash, one of them had been underage. Possessiveness wrapped around her and her sanity seemed to wane. It should have been over. There was proof! There were lawyers there, and a judge! He wasn’t hers to hold anymore. But the rumors, the things the neighbors said…the girls. The strippers, the parties…Adrienne would fall to the floor, biting her lip and thinking of Billie Joe.
I wonder if you’re sitting all alone.
The emptier she became, the easier it became to hide. Business as usual now included seeing a reflection she didn’t want to recognize, with eyes as hollow as the space separation left inside of her. Billie Joe, she knew, would try and fill it up with the simple temptation of Mary Jane. And she was right.
As the phone blinked innocently in the corner on an another sleepless night, tempting her to dial his number, it rang. And it was Billie Joe. The first sound of his voice in almost a year shook her and tears stung her eyes. As she breathed for self-control, Adrienne heard her breaths echoed on the other end. Her Billie Joe, breathing, sobbing for help. His voice was not the voice she’d heard that night on a small Minnesota stage. It was thick with cocaine and shaken with uppers. It was pathetic, small; it was the final proof that her angel had fallen. And together, they cried into the morning.
80 please keep taking me away…
He never called Adrienne again. Months passed, marking almost a year of loneliness and the vestiges of her life broke further and further away. Joseph had moved out, calling her a heartless whore, saying the things that could only break a mother. Jakob grew silent. His body language said nothing and his eyes constantly darted elsewhere. And when the news came that morning, it was more that Adrienne could bear.
The stain on the carpet spread as headlines flashed across entertainment news channels. Every ounce of energy left her body at once as she limply dropped to the floor, letting a years worth of screams escape through her chest. They…those beasts, making a spectacle of him, of her Billie Joe! And they had the gall to show the same pictures over and over--his green eyes forever closed and the trickle of blood creeping its way out of angel’s lips with a scribbled note clutched in his hand. The police removed it, another photo for the album. Adrienne’s soul now desired, ached, needed nothing more than to join her husband’s. The man whose handwriting now filled up the screen, the words she’d known all along…
Adrienne is the only woman I will ever love.