Snapshots of a Marriage

It had been roughly three months since Billie Joe had been home in his own bed. That's how life was when you had to go on an international world tour. Billie loved it; he loved looking out at the crowd and just seeing the looks of pure adoration on those faces. He loved that high he'd get from playing every night. He loved that this was what he did for a living, that he was living out a dream. But sometimes, even if he was still loving it he had to hate it too.

He missed his house and the cozy familiarity of just being home. He missed going to bed at a reasonable time and getting more than three hours of sleep a night. Most of all, he missed his wife and kids. He saw them once every few weeks for a weekend or a day and he cherished those moments but the longer he was away from them the deeper he sunk into depression.

After spending the last two hours in his empty hotel room, unable to find the motivation to even strum a chord on his guitar, he sighed and tossed the guitar on the bed, noting glumly that said bed that was far too large for one person. He got off the bed, pulled on a beanie and some shoes and left, swiping his room key off the table before he shut the door.

Long, aimless walks were as guaranteed to happen to the man as the homesick depression he was feeling. He loved walking, feeling the breeze whip against his jacket, the wind against his cool cheeks as he walked down streets he wasn't familiar with. Walking soothed him, got him out of his own mind and kept him focused on anything besides his own thoughts. Sometimes he'd walk to breathe, sometimes to think, sometimes to write and sometimes to escape. This was a walk to escape.

The soles of his worn and much loved Chuck's scuffed across the cobbled streets of Paris. He had been in the city multiple times throughout his life but he'd never walked this particular path. It was dark and quiet, the lack of light from inside buildings hinted to him that he was no longer near a residential area. He mostly heard the wind and rustling of leaves but in the distance he could hear the faint chatter of people enjoying themselves. Clearly he wasn't the only night owl.

He shoved his hand in the pocket of his jeans, fingers grazing the box of cigarettes he rarely went without these days before pulling the small carton out, grabbing a stick and slipping it between his chapped, full lips. Another few seconds of searching found him his lighter, shoved carelessly in his back pocket, as the man pulled it out, lit the cigarette and took a long drag before he shoved the lighter and the carton back in his pocket.

A puff of smoke mingled with the cold, autumn air as he exhaled. He watched it fade into the night with little interest. The walk hadn't helped him as much as he had hoped, he still felt alone and despondent. He chided himself, a man of his age shouldn't be this homesick, especially after dealing with this for years. But he couldn't help it, he missed his family.

He missed his boys, missed playing in the backyard with them or giving Joey guitar lessons. He missed the hugs he still got from his younger son. He missed his wife. The way her vanilla scent would cling to his clothes after a few hours together. The way her body felt pressed to his at night as they slept. Her small, soothing fingers running through his hair to help calm him down and her quiet, firm voice that had the ability to shut the rest of the world out in a matter of minutes.

Before Billie even realized what he was doing, his cell phone was out and his thumb his number 1 on his speed dial. He couldn't wax poetic anymore, he needed to just hear her.

Thousands of miles away back home in The Bay a dark haired woman awoke from her nap to the far too loud ringing of her phone. She muttered a curse under her breath before grabbing the offending piece of plastic and bring it to her ear. "What?" she asked in a tone, none too pleased.

Billie couldn't fight back the grin at the grumbled tone that greeted him on the other end. He could almost picture her there, perched on the side of the bed in one of her black camis, phone to her ear and her sleep mussed dreadlocks falling past her shoulders.

"Hey," he said softly, obviously unfazed by the woman's snappy voice.

"Billie? What's wrong?" she asked, sleepy haze overtaken by concern.

"Oh nothing, nothing. I just... I wanted to hear your voice."

Adrienne couldn't help but smile. Eleven years of marriage and the man still acted as if this was the honeymoon. "That's sweet, really love, but you do remember a little thing called time zones?"

"Fuck... I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep so I went on a walk and it wasn't really helping so I figured I'd talk to you. How early did I wake you up?"

The older woman laughed, "It's only 7, I'm just messing with you. I was finishing up some orders for Adeline and I must have dozed off."

"Must've been a long nap for you to sound that grumpy," he laughed with her. The image of the woman in dark cami replaced by one of her laying against the bed in one of her old shirts, pages of sketches and order forms scattered across her lap, pen tucked behind her ear.

"Shut it, Armstrong," she continued to grin. "What time is it there? It must be late."

"Yeah," he leant against the wall of a building, running a hand through his messy black mop of hair, the small movement raising his shirt up just enough to reveal the old number 80 etched into his skin to the cool, night air. "It's a little while after 4 in the morning."

"Billie Joe..." Adrienne sighed. She never liked it when the man let his insomnia take hold of him. It only ever happened when he was on the road. "You really need more sleep."

"I know... We've got a day off tomorrow so it doesn't really matter," he added in a soft voice. "How're you? How's the boys?"

"Don't think you can just change the subject, babe," she stated in a serious tone before laying back against the bed, rustling of sheets and papers clearly audible to the man on the other end. "I'm fine, just working. The boys are great. Joey's at Cole's and Jakey's staying at your mom's."

"So I'm not the only one alone?"

"Not alone, thank you very much. I've got mounds of paperwork and two messy rooms to keep me occupied," she smiled. "How're you? Be honest."

"I... don't really know. I guess I just really miss you guys. You know how it can get."

"Yeah, I know. Listen, once I get caught up with this I'll take the boys up to see you. They've got Monday off next week so we can be there two days."

Billie let out another grin at the thought of his family visiting him in a few days, "Yeah? That's... exactly what I need."

"Good. I'll start booking the flights. Just please, head back to the hotel and get some sleep, okay?"

Billie nodded dumbly, realizing the woman couldn't actually witness the motion, "Yeah, I will. Don't worry about that."

"I love you," she added softly.

"I love you too, Adie," he answered her, making a kissy sound that he only ever did in complete privacy.

The older woman laughed and made the same noise back to him. "Night, Billie."

The man shoved the phone back in his pocket, grin still in place from the phone call. She was always one of the only people capable of calming him down after feeling as miserable as he had. He looked up at the starlit night sky above him before kicking off the wall and making his way back to the hotel. He was going to get some sleep before sunrise after all.