The Secrets of Billie Joe Armstrong

The next day I woke to the phone ringing. There was a quickly scribbled note lying on the pillow next to me, replacing my husband. I smiled as I reached for the phone that was standing in the cradel beside me.

“Bonjour?” I asked in a happy groan.

“Uh… Hello?”

I sat up straight as I heard the heavy American accent float into my ears. Was it him? How did he get my nunmber? Did he honestly not mind about me leaving him?

“Who is this?” I asked, my heart pounding.

Don’t panic, it’s probably not him. I told myself, don’t get your hopes up.

“It’s Billie… Bille Joe Armstrong? Is this Olivia…”

“Yes!” I cried, cutting him off. I cleared my throat to cover up my over excitement. “Yes, it’s me. How are you? Why are you calling me?”

There was a silence on the opposite side of the phone. I swallowed hard.

“I’m fine,” he said, “do you not want me to call?”

“No of course not.” I laughed easily. “I don’t mind if you call. I just…”

“I thought your family didn’t know about me.”

“They don’t. That’s why I’ll give you my mobile number, okay?”

I realised that I had implied that he was going to call me more in the near future. What if he didn’t plan to keep in contact with me? What if this call was just a one-of? What if he was calling me to ask me to leave him alone for good?

“Sure.” He said.

I let out a small, relieved sigh. Thank God he still wanted to talk to me. Thank God he had respect for me.

“Just wait a second okay Billie? I just have to grab my phone.”

“Okay… Olivia.”

As I ran off to get my phone I couldn’t help but notice the hesitation in his voice. Did he not know what to call me? It was too early to call me “mom” surely? But then again would he call me Ollie considering that’s who I was when I was with him for that sort amount of time? I was confusing myself trying to think about it. Whatever he called me would be perfectly fine by me. As long as he talks to me.

Creeping out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen like a fugitive, I came straight back down to earth as I saw Claire sitting snobbily at the kitchen table, eating away at her crossiant and bowl of coffee. I shot my eyes to the clock, horrified to see that it was already eleven thirty. Claire was dressed in her uniform, what was she doing here still?

“Bonjour Maman.” She said quietly, not turning around from the Paris-Match magazine in front of her, next to it her favourite book, Perfume. “What are you doing sneaking around?”

“What are you doing home?” I asked rudely, snatching my phone from the counter behind her and glaring at her for asking me what I was doing. Who did she think she was?

“I didn’t want to get the métro so I am waiting for you to take me.”

“Claire, I am not taking you.” I said in disbelief. “How dare you make yourself late and demand things of me. You know what I am going to do? I’m going to call your school and tell them what you’ve done so you can get in trouble there, too.”

“What is your problem?” Claire shot back in rapid French.

“I am sick and tired of you!” I cried. “I’m sick of you telling me what I have to do, demanding why I’m doing things I am doing, lying to your father, commenting on things you have no right to speak about. That’s it, Claire. I am your mother and you need to respect me. Get up and get to school immediately or don’t bother coming home.”

She gave me a steeily look as she stalked off out the door, slamming it behind her. As soon as that door shut I realised how much I would have hurt her. I could picture my daughter fleeing onto the street below, tears cascading down her face. Despite Claire’s icy exterior, I know that she’s very sensitive underneath. Suddenly I felt guilty, but soon I ignored that thought when I remembered Billie was on the phone. Running back to the bedroom, I picked up the phone again, a huge smile across my face.

“Ollie… is now a good time?” I heard Billie ask.

“It’s fine.” I replied, wondering what would have made him doubt it. Then I realised, Claire. “I’m so sorry, did you hear that?”

“Um, yeah.”

“I’m so sorry… that was my daughter…” My voice trailed off as I realised how I must have sounded to him. Hot tears pricked at my eyes as I swallowed, waiting for him to say something. Why did Claire control everything? “I um, I have the number now.”

“Okay.”

I gave him the number and prayed that he would call me soon. Would he be coming to Paris? I realised that was not going to happen considering Claire traveled to London to see Billie’s band. Although maybe Claire had deciced to go with Jacques to London for an ‘adventure’.

“Are you coming to Paris, Billie?” I asked once I had mustered up enough courage to do so. “Anytime soon?”

“We’re going in two days. But we’re not preforming there. It’s only for a night to… see the place. Do you think, considering you’re a local and all… could you show me some places I might like?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Why was he calling me? Was this too good to be true? I didn’t understand how he could just… fogive me like this. I wanted so badly to ask him, to wonder why after all this time he wanted to know me, but the words stuck in my throat. I didn’t feel confident enough to speak anymore, I was terrified that Billie had heard me yell at Claire, that he thought I was some crazy bitch that didn’t love her children.

After what seemed like a decade of silence, Billie spoke again.

“Ollie, I’m sorry but the guys and I have to catch a train to Berlin for a show tonight. I should go.”

“It’s alright, I should too. Umm, give me a call, okay? I’d love to see you again.”

“I will.” Billie said, and I noticed the hesitation in his voice. I sat upright on the corner of my bed, my hands clutching the phone tight as I waited in longing for his voice. “Umm… and thanks, Ollie.”

“What for?”

“I realise this must have been hard for you. I’m really glad I got to see you though… and I’m sorry if I’ve made everything like a mess for you. I have a family too and I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lie to them in the way you’re lying to yours.”

I was shocked, and silent. I didn’t know what else to do. He was thanking me? After all this time I had neglected him, utterly guilt ridden, and he was thanking me? Apologising for even exsisting?

“Billie… I don’t regret having you.”

Those words came from no where. I didn’t know why I said them, and yet I was glad that I did. Billie deserved to know the truth, and that was the truth. As much as I wasn’t ready for him, I had missed him everyday since I gave him away. No matter what I did, I never felt any better about what had happened, and I needed to tell him that.

“Thanks, Ollie.” Billie said again. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.”

And with that, I waited until I heard the dial tone from the phone, not wanting to hang up on Billie. My insides were buzzing and I was feeling so utterly happy and blessed and… guilty. I hadn’t told Mathieu yet, and I had driven my daughter away. Mathieu would hate me when I told him, especially now after last night. What kind of person was I? How could I hurt so many people? But worst of all, how come I could never be truly happy? Why wasn’t Mathieu so understanding? Why was Claire so rude and manipulating? Why hadn’t I made an effort with Billie? Why hadn’t my mother kept me? Why had my parents divorced? Why did Andy have to die?

As I remembered the one time I was truly in love, I began to cry. If all of these situations had been avoided, if all these people who hadn’t treated me right changed their attitudes then my life wouldn’t be in such a mess. I tried desperately to figure something to do that would stop the pain, that would make me fall out of love with Andy, that would make me feel less guilty about leaving Billie. And then I felt infuriated at my mother for leaving me, for Mathieu not being supportive, and for Claire being the way she is. I loved them, I did, but I couldn’t be myself around them. I felt as though I was suffocating, and I didn’t know how to start breathing again.

I was drowning in my thoughts, these ominous, dark thoughts. I was clouded by the pain that had been inflicted on me. I was so happy about Billie, but I felt as though my happiness was so… selfish, so decieveing that I couldn’t enjoy it and it angered me, but more so it made me feel depressed. I couldn’t be happy for once after everything that had happened to me?

My thoughts travelled to Billie. What would he think of my family if he met them? What does he think of me seeing him again? What is he feeling, thinking? I wanted so bad to ignore the past and to move on with Billie as though I had never left him, but I know I couldn’t. I wanted to meet his family, I wanted to share his success and his happiness.

For the rest of the morning, as I battled with morning sickness, I lay with my back onto the mattress, thoughts flowing through my head as I stroked the spot where my baby was slowly developing. I will make an effort with this one. I told myself. This one will be different. No more lies and no more guilt. This is it.