I Lied When I Said I Didn't Love You

The car trip to the hospital went by in a blur for me. I stared out the window blindly, not really seeing anything. I couldn’t, my mind was thinking too much. I kept flashing back to the scene where

Billie had been hit, his life’s blood draining out of his head. It was a lot of blood. Maybe too much.

My knuckles turned white as I clutched the necklace in my hands, silent tears still dripping down my nose. What if we went to the hospital and they told us he was dead? I didn’t think I’d be able to go on. Billie was too important in my life. If he disappeared, what would happen to me?

I had another best friend die due to cars. Those stupid stinking machines, belching black smoke into the clean air. I was only young when my friend Jason Relva died in a car crash. It was scary; one day he just drove off- the next day I was told he was dead. It was too sudden, too confusing for me to comprehend. How could someone be there one day and just disappear the next day? It made no sense to me.

I went to the funeral, to pay my respects. I really didn’t want to go, but I felt I had to. I guess I thought I owed it to Jason, and his brother.

The service was so depressing that it made me weep. Ladies dressed in black wept into their husband’s handkerchiefs as they passed the coffin. When it came my turn to go up and pass the coffin, I bolted. I just couldn’t face seeing Jason’s dead body. A crazy part of me thought that if I didn’t see the body, he couldn’t be dead. Stupid of me, of course. Billie had found me, sobbing into the jacket of my hired black suit. He sat beside me, hugging me as I cried into his chest.

My eyes stung as I thought about that. Who would comfort me if Billie were dead?

Finally Tre pulled into the hospital car park. He looked at me anxiously, squeezing my limp hand.

“Mike, are you going to be alright?” he asked me.

I nodded, opening the car door and getting out. We walked solemnly through the hospital doors. It was funny how much tragedy could happen in one place. There was people dying everywhere- it was a living cemetery.

Tre held my hand as we waited, not caring about the people staring and whispering about us. He knew I needed help with this one, and cared enough to ignore everyone else. After a couple of minutes, we were called up to the counter. A smiling nurse greeted us, her rosy cheeks crinkling her eyes.

“What can I do for you two handsome boys?” she asked.

“Um- we’re looking for a Mr Billie Joe Armstrong. He was just hit by a car,” Tre said quietly. “Do you know where he is?”

The nurse’s smile vanished. Her eyes suddenly looked weary, the corners of her mouth turned down. I held my breath.

Oh no. She was going to tell us he had died.

“Come with me,” she said tiredly. She led us down the corridor, into the ICU. My heart began to beat faster, like a jackhammer was pounding in my ribcage. This was where they put all the serious cases.

What had happened to Billie?

She finally stopped in front of an empty room, going inside. Tre and I followed cautiously.

“Please sit down, I need to go fetch one of the doctors.”

She rushed out, leaving Tre and I to dwell in our own uncertainty. Why had she brought us into an empty room? I sat down on the edge of the bed next to Tre. He draped an arm around my shoulders, bowing his head. Tre was beginning to feel the strain of all this. I could see it in the way he sat, like something heavy had been placed on his shoulders that was too heavy for him to carry but he was forced to anyway.

“Tre, it’s okay,” I said quietly. Tre shifted out of his thoughts, turning to face me.

“Hmm? What is?” he asked, his blue eyes gentle.

“You don’t need to keep acting strong for me. I can cope.”

Tre was silent for a moment.

“Thank you, Mike,” he said finally, resting his head in his hands. It was my turn to put an arm around him while he fought away the tears, my turn to be the support.

Tre was hard on himself sometimes. He always volunteered to help, even if he was the one who needed helping. His happy act was all part of the cover.

Finally the nurse came back, accompanied by a female doctor in a white coat. She was kind of pretty, in a smart way. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun, her wire-rimmed glasses resting on the tip of her nose. She nodded at us as she entered in a silent greeting.

“I can see straight away that you aren’t relatives of Mr Armstrong, so I am just going to assume that you are his friends. Am I correct?”

I nodded silently. Tre wasn’t as quiet.

“What’s wrong with him? Please just tell us and get to the point! Is he- is he- is he dead?” he choked out, his voice breaking slightly. He was scared of the answer- we both were.

“Very well. Mr Armstrong has received some trauma to his skull.”
She sighed after saying that, pausing. She didn’t look like she enjoyed giving people bad news. But unfortunately, that is all part of a doctor’s job.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, my voice sounding hysterical even to myself.

“Mr Armstrong is in a coma, I’m afraid. We don’t know if he’s going to wake up, and if he does there could be some ramifications. What I’m basically saying is that even if he does wake up, he could end up severely brain damaged,” she said gently.

Tre leant forward, his eyes tightly shut as he massaged his head.

“Oh, no. No.”

“Right now he is in surgery. The doctors are cleaning and sewing up the wound to his head. Fortunately the only other damaged he received was some deep bruising-“

I cut her off.

“Fortunately? My best friend is in a fucking coma! How the hell can that be fortunate?” I stammered, my voice shrill with shock.

“Sir, I would appreciate it if you didn’t use that language in here. I’m sorry, but there is nothing further we can do. We just have to hope he wakes up with no ramifications. Would you like to wait here until Mr Armstrong gets out of surgery?”

Tre answered for me.

“Sure. We’ll do that. Thanks,” he muttered. The doctor and nurse left quickly, probably to go give someone else bad news.

A coma. He was in a coma. A sleep where you couldn’t wake up from easily.

I supposed I should’ve been grateful he wasn’t dead- but this was much worse.

Now I didn’t know what to think.