Long Road to Ruin

“God damn it, Billie!” a voice yelled, penetrating through my state of sleep and abruptly awakening me. For a moment or two after I opened my eyes, I couldn’t see a thing. I was groggy and my vision was blurred. Confusion was the first emotion that I felt. It wasn’t the first time that I hadn't known where I was, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“What the fuck happened last night?” the same shrill voice demanded. It was Mike.

My vision cleared and I saw that it was no longer night. Bright, warm sunlight shone upon my metropolitan surroundings and I cursed aloud as I suddenly felt a sharp, piercing pain in my head. Fumbling for my sunglasses, I reached where the pocket of my jacket should have been but instead came into contact with my own skin. I gasped disbelievingly when I realized that I had spent the rest of the night lying in an alley behind a bar, naked, like an old dummy that someone had attempted to throw out but hadn’t quite made it to the dumpster. Out of pure shame I located my clothes, which had been scattered close by, and threw them on as quickly as is humanly possible. He had seen me without clothes before, as is inevitable when you spend months traveling in the same tour bus, but never under circumstances like these.

I rubbed the remainder of an alcohol-induced sleep from my eyes and stared at Mike, and Tré, who I noticed was standing several feet behind him with an expression of pure shock projected in his bright blue eyes.

“First you stop answering my texts, then you never show up at the fucking hotel like you said you were going to, and then I spend all damn night looking for your ass to find you like this?” Mike spat angrily at me. I had never seen him act so malevolently towards me in all our time of being friends. “What happened?”

It took me a moment to remember the circumstances that had brought me to the alley and kept me there all night. I couldn’t remember all of the details, but at this point I really didn’t want to. It suddenly came to me: the sadness, the whiskey, the woman, the feeling of her body touching mine, and the feeling of losing touch with reality. Then sleep. Pure, dreamless, needed sleep. But no amount of sleep in the world could hinder the shame that was now flooding through me like a drug. Then the true seriousness of what I had done hit me. I had been hoping that it was all just a nightmare, but as I stared blankly at my friends I realized that my choice to engage in drunken sex with a prostitute was very real.

I may be a rock star, but I do have a heart, and it was breaking at the thought of what I had almost unknowingly done to my wife and children.

I fell to my knees and put my throbbing head in my hands as the tears started to flow, mixing with my eyeliner and leaving gray stains on the pavement below me. I cried like a child for what seemed like hours, my body wracked with sobs of regret and uncontrollable shaking.

“What have I done?” I mumbled. “What have I done?”

“Billie Joe,” Mike said, alarmed, his voice softer now than before, “What did you do?”

I didn’t want to tell him. Every fiber of my being told me to keep this to myself for my own sake and my family’s, but it would be very hard to come up with a convincing replacement story. I’m not known for being a good liar, either. It was looking like I had no other choice than to tell the truth and hope that their opinions of me wouldn’t shatter.

“I got drunk, met a prostitute, and cheated on my wife,” I said quietly.

I didn’t get the chance to see either of their reactions, because as soon as the words left my lips I took off running. I didn’t know where I was running to, or if I was trying to run away from my problems, but it didn’t matter. All I knew was I was running away. Buildings flew by me along with the occasional stunned person I had happened to run in to. Soon I began to get tired. I should have known that running wouldn’t get me anywhere, because Mike has much longer legs than I do, and he soon caught up.

I saw him out of the corner of my eye and tried to dodge his grasp, but I was too late, and he managed to grab me fiercely by the shirt collar. He led me unwillingly into a coffee shop several yards away, ordered me a large black coffee, and motioned for me to sit down. I obeyed for the sake of avoiding more conflict, and he sat down across from me. I thanked him for the coffee. He knows that I always drink it black when I have a hangover.

“How could you let this happen?” was his first question, after several moments of awkward silence.

I sighed.

“I…I really don’t know, Mike. I was depressed, and I wanted to be alone. At first I sat down in a nice little park about five blocks from here and just took the time to stop and think about my life for once, but that only made me feel worse, ya know? So I went to the bar and had a couple of drinks. I planned on going back to the hotel afterwards. I vaguely remember meeting the woman but from there it’s all a blur. I know I slept with her but I don’t know how it happened. I really don’t.”

Mike shook his head. I couldn’t tell if it was out of disgust or pity.

“How are you going to tell Adrienne?” he asked, getting straight to the point.

Adrienne. My beloved Adie. My heart broke all over again at the mention of her name. With her long back hair, beautiful brown eyes, ability to put up with my rigorous schedules, and wonderfully quirky sense of humor, she had always been the perfect match for me. The moment I met her, I fell in love. She was my world. She had given me two beautiful children and a reason to live. What would happen to us now?

I felt tears begin to form again at the corners of my eyes, but I used all the self-restraint I had to hold them back.

“I don’t want to tell her.” I said.

“You don’t have a choice,” Mike said firmly, “And you know it. You’re her husband and you owe it to her to be honest.”

All of this was just too much for me to handle. I was still in shock.

“What time is it?” I changed the subject.

“10:30,” he replied. “Our flight to Denver leaves in a half hour. Tré probably went back to the hotel. The Jasons were packing everything up when we left this morning.”

“Let’s go,” I said dully, getting up from the table and throwing my coffee cup in the trash. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”