Long Road to Ruin

Ever since the day that I had painted the billboard with Jay, life had slowly begun to look up for me. Or so I hoped. After the general stress of making the transition from one life to another had worn off my problems seemed to lessen. Tension melted, and I was relieved.

Time passed, and before long it had been months since I’d left California. It was hard to believe, really. I could still remember the night I had committed that toxic act of adultery vividly, like it had happened just yesterday, and I knew that that memory would forever be etched into my mind. I deserved to remember it and all the repercussions that had stemmed from it. This I understood; moreover, the pain that this reverie created would likely never go away.

I’d heard from Mike a handful of times, but he was never able to tell me much about how my family-I still considered them family-was doing. He didn’t have much to say about anything. I’d half expected him to mention something about Green Day’s quickly approaching European tour, because I hadn’t forgotten; however, he hadn’t brought it up. Maybe he expected me to run back home just in time like a lost puppy. Not a chance.

Or maybe they had already replaced me. This thought triggered a twinge of sadness deep within my chest. Green Day had always been my life.

Maybe that had been the problem all along.



“A little more blue over there,” I suggested, my voice muffled due to the fact that I was currently chewing a mouthful of pizza. I savored each bite. Chicago’s deep-dish was nothing short of the best pizza I’d ever had.

“Hm…you think so?” Jay contemplated aloud. He had paused from working on his latest canvas, which depicted an art-deco cityscape at night. He held a paintbrush in one hand and it dangled loosely, leaving drips of paint on the cement floor of the apartment we now shared. He wore blue jeans and a simple white T-shirt, both of which were also splattered with colorful splotches.

I nodded after a second thought and he continued painting; he moved across the canvas using those same swift motions that had caught my attention before. Although we were living in a shitty little place, a hole in the wall that was in a horrible state of disrepair, I felt cultured just watching him.

“Billie Joe the art critic,” I laughed softly to myself.

Don’t get me wrong. I had most definitely not let go of the series of misfortunes that had brought me here. They still haunted and tortured me, usually at night. That was the biggest downside to this lifestyle of mine: chronic nightmares. More than once I awoke from sleep drenched in sweat and tears, often plagued with imaginary images of Adrienne. Jay was never quite sure how to react to this, nor did he know how to respond to my frequent episodes of angry mumbling. I didn’t blame him. It had just become another part of my everyday life.

I shifted my gaze from the painting to the small, cracked window to my left. A flurry of soft, white flakes were falling to the ground below, carried on short gusts of wind. Snow. I hadn’t really ever experienced snowfall before, due to the fact that I’d lived on the east coast my entire life and usually only toured in the spring and summer. It was magical to me. The cold temperatures, on the other hand, were not. Shivering was quite annoying after a while.

I helped myself to another slice of pizza, eyeing the generous slice hungrily as I lifted it up to my mouth.

“Shit, man!” Jay laughed as he turned around and looked at me. “Are we gonna need another pizza?”

I grinned sheepishly.

“Nah, I think I’m good,” I replied.

“Doesn’t matter to me, I’m not paying for it anyway.”

I cracked a grin at this last remark. One thing that I had learned during my time here was that Jay never lacked clever things to say.

It was then that an unfamiliar sound met my ears. It was my phone. It had been so long since anyone had contacted me that I had forgotten the sound of my own ringtone. Staring at the device for a moment, my heart froze, and I wondered if I even wanted to bother with answering it. Before I could reconsider, Jay answered it for me.

“Hello?” he said cautiously, the phone pressed up against his heavily pierced left ear. I heard the slight hum of a voice on the other line, and watched as his usually flamboyant facial expression melted into…a concerned one? An afraid one? It was hard to tell.

“Yeah…here he is,” he muttered, fumbling around with the phone in his hand and handing it to me. I knew who it was before I even spoke.

“Hi,” I said.

“Who the hell was that?” Adrienne responded sharply. Her voice was laced with a cruel, unfeeling tone, and right then and there I knew that forgiveness was forever beyond my reach.

“A friend,” I responded. “I’ve been staying with him in-“ I was cut short by her next statement.

“Look, Billie,” she said, exasperated, “I don’t really care where you’re staying. You know as well as I do that what we had is all in the past, and we can’t keep living our lives like this. I don’t like to pretend. I’ve spend too much time convincing myself that pretending is okay, and it isn’t. Not for you, not for me, and especially not for our sons. I know that you know that.”

“Yes, I do know that,” I admitted dully. There wasn’t anything else left to say. I already knew where this was going.

“You’ve spent far too much time pretending that you could handle a family life, a marriage, kids. But I know you better than that. You are a true rock star and that trait runs in your blood. We are two different people, Billie, and I can’t take this anymore. I want a divorce.”

At that moment, the world stopped.

“I want a divorce.”

I gasped for breath, choking on my own sorrow.

“I want a divorce.”

I could hardly believe that those words were real, let alone accept them; it was hard enough to even hear them without spiraling out of control.

Before my mind could fully register what I was about to do, I threw my cell phone against the wall, where it made impact with a sickening crunch and was laid to rest on the floor below, in pieces. Tears were flowing freely from my green eyes and I ran.

Once again, I ran away.