The Secrets of Billie Joe Armstrong

I didn't know exactly what was going through my head at that moment. I knew no one would come after me.

I could be reunited with the son I gave up. To this day I wish I didn't give him away, but at the time, it was all I could think of. When my own mother left me at the airport I was so scared. Not a day goes past where I don't replay the scene... Why would she do that? Couldn't she and Ron just send me to a boarding school or something? They didn't have to ditch me in a new state, all alone. She had thought of me a little, though, she'd packed about 30, 000 dollars into my suit case. That's how I managed to survive.

"Olivia! Olivia, wait!" I turned around. Someone did follow me.

"What, Mathieu? I just want to be alone right now." I knew then, that I had crossed "the line". His face became red with frustration, his eyes bulged with anger. I knew what was coming next. Mathieu walked up to me, and continued until our faces were less than 1cm apart.

"What did you say?" He asked again. I swallowed.

"I said, Mathieu, that I really want to be alone right now, to sort some stuff out..."

Mathieu raised his hand to my cheek, and slapped with full force. The feel of his hand across my cheek was so familiar, the sting... Tears pricked my eyes from the pain he'd inflicted. Not just to my face, that would have a print right now, but to my heart.

"Don't act like that in company." Mathieu spat. Then he kissed me, just after he'd slapped me, and forced his hand down my shirt. In public. He yanked his hand out and walked back into the building, probably thinking I was going to follow him. I didn't. I turned on my heels and ran in the direction of the "La Tour Eiffel".

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My cheek burned as I sat on the bank of the river Seine, welcoming the cool breeze that was blowing up from the river. I would not let my daughter go and see my son, even though she had no idea. I wasn't about to tell anyone. Mathieu would probably say yes, of course you can go, and then I'd be the one to drive her to the station, and pick her up at god knows when... Or perhaps... Perhaps I could go with her, in disguise! Buy myself a ticket... See Billie... Perhaps even tell him I'm his mother? Would I have the nerve? I played with a blade of grass, loving the feel of it in between my fingers...

"Bonsoir, Madame." Good evening, Miss. I looked up and saw a very attractive, young, French man.

"Bonsoir." I replied, looking up into his eyes.

"May I take you for a drink?"

"Of course." I smiled up at him flirtatiously, and allowed him to pull me up from the ground, and into the nearest bar.