Dirty, Rotten Bastard
Twelve
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he heard her whisper as they walked down the halls together, not exactly hand in hand, but close enough for people to perhaps be able to imagine in ways Billie Joe was simply incapable of, even after seeing the worried look in Adrienne’s eye, that they were happily married. He watched her as she signed her name on several forms, smiling to the nurses who eyed Billie in a suspicious kind of way that once upon a time, he may have found flattering as he imagined it was because they recognised him from that famous band… and not from the front cover of a gossip magazine.
The drive home was very quiet, which Billie Joe took note of because for the first time in a long time, the silence was making him uneasy. He suddenly found himself not wanting to feel alone. Not wanting to be left alone. Not wanting to think about what was going to happen when they had to get out of the car and go back to living in separate spaces of the house. Would he put himself in danger again? Did he want to? The few days he’d had at the hospital had surprisingly cleared things up a bit. There was still a dull sense of something, Billie knew, gnawing at his chest, but it didn’t want to surface. Not just yet. But given time to think about it, whilst alone…
Billie wanted to ask for help. He wanted to open his mouth and even just whisper that, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t ready to be home again. His lips parted and a choked word escaped, but that was all he could muster. Even as Adrienne turned her head towards him a little, signifying that she was listening, he couldn’t get it out. He didn’t deserve her help.
He noticed a slight change in the way she was, and he wasn’t sure if it was really her or simply the way he was looking at her now. He wondered why she’d picked him up. He wondered how much of his conversations with the psychiatrist had reached her ears. He hoped to God she hadn’t had to hear that name again. He couldn’t imagine that she had, because she wouldn’t have picked him up. He might have been there forever if she’d known that Bridget was still floating around in the back of his mind.
There was so much he had yet to come to terms with. He knew he’d barely known her, but he might have liked to have gone to her funeral, just to say goodbye. He wanted some kind of closure. He wanted her to tell him that this hadn’t been his fault. He needed that. A person’s death was a heavy stone to carry around in your pocket.
Adrienne didn’t really speak to Billie as they walked in the house, tossing her keys in the bowl by the door.
“Billie, the vase,” she murmured as she shielded the vase on the little table by the door from Billie’s thoughtlessness with her arms. His actions to avoid it almost had him break it, but he managed to spin himself around and out of the way in time. Adrienne watched him carefully as he looked at her without looking at her, a sweat forming on her brow. He knew. She knew he knew now. But how much did he know?
She couldn’t take the pressure of his thoughts filling the room and excused herself, almost running back into her bedroom but stopping herself from panicking at the last moment and calmly closing the door behind her. The soft click of the lock soothed her somehow. He couldn’t come in. She was safe to be alone for a while, in her separate space of the house.
“Mum?” Another soft knock on the door from the other side. This time, it woke Adrienne up. “Mum, dad’s home?”
“Yes, I know.” Nothing then. Silence once more after the shuffling of shoes left the hallway. Adrienne decided that she simply had to get up. This had to be done. Things would have to start to heal eventually, and she wasn’t sure Billie could do it without her, or her him. Mistakes had been made by them both, and it was time to move past all that and concentrate on fixing what was left.
She quietly unlocked the door and made her way down the hall and around the corner, checking all the usual places she might have found Billie Joe a few months ago with his guitar, or a notepad and pen, or holding the remote but insisting he wasn’t watching TV. It hurt to know he wouldn’t be there. Her feet took her to the stairs to the basement, but she couldn’t hear him gently strumming out a new song, or reminiscing over an old one, or doing anything at all down there, really. She knocked, as she always did, because she knew he had private affairs as she had hers, but no one told her to come in. She waited the polite amount of time before turning the handle and opening the door, finding the back of Billie Joe, his shaking form only just visible from the lamp on the floor in the corner of the room. And then she waited a moment, recalling a time not too long ago where his shaking had been in anger, which he’d projected onto her in a way she hadn’t imagined he was capable of. But the sound of his sniffling calmed her nerves and she finally approached him, prying the bottle from his sweaty palm as she saw it, thankful the lid was still on tight.
“I think you need help,” she whispered into his ear as she leaned down to catch a glimpse of his face through his hair. Billie Joe simply nodded, unable to deny her sense. He wished he could have asked her himself. He wished it hadn’t been so obvious in all the wrong ways. He didn’t understand how after everything, through it all, she was still there holding his hand in the darkness. But this is what Adrienne did. She was the light in Billie Joe’s darkness every time.
Gently, she lifted him from the chair, wrapping his arm around her waist as she led him out of the dark room and down the hall, almost having to drag him into her – their room – once he realised where they were going.
Billie Joe sat awkwardly at the end of the bed as Adrienne walked off for a moment, and he heard her whispering sweet goodnights to the kids, who he felt he hadn’t seen in years. She returned a short while later, locking their door and busying herself in the dresser, pulling out a pair of plain plaid pyjamas and, to Billie’s disbelief, beginning to undress herself in front of him as it if were nothing. His cheeks burned and he found himself looking down, examining his wedding ring which really didn’t help at all. Her hand was on his chin then, lifting his face back up to meet her own.
“Do you remember our vows?” Billie simply nodded. He knew he hadn’t always had them in mind, but he’d intended to. Always and forever. Adrienne walked around to the other side of the bed where she turned off the light, leaving Billie sitting there in darkness for a moment as she lifted the covers and slipped inside. A warmth filled Billie Joe’s body from his head to his toes as he felt her curl her body around where he was sitting, and he felt himself curling back into her a little in return, until he was laying down, their noses almost touching, their breathing slowing as comfort settled between them like it used to.
The drive home was very quiet, which Billie Joe took note of because for the first time in a long time, the silence was making him uneasy. He suddenly found himself not wanting to feel alone. Not wanting to be left alone. Not wanting to think about what was going to happen when they had to get out of the car and go back to living in separate spaces of the house. Would he put himself in danger again? Did he want to? The few days he’d had at the hospital had surprisingly cleared things up a bit. There was still a dull sense of something, Billie knew, gnawing at his chest, but it didn’t want to surface. Not just yet. But given time to think about it, whilst alone…
Billie wanted to ask for help. He wanted to open his mouth and even just whisper that, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t ready to be home again. His lips parted and a choked word escaped, but that was all he could muster. Even as Adrienne turned her head towards him a little, signifying that she was listening, he couldn’t get it out. He didn’t deserve her help.
He noticed a slight change in the way she was, and he wasn’t sure if it was really her or simply the way he was looking at her now. He wondered why she’d picked him up. He wondered how much of his conversations with the psychiatrist had reached her ears. He hoped to God she hadn’t had to hear that name again. He couldn’t imagine that she had, because she wouldn’t have picked him up. He might have been there forever if she’d known that Bridget was still floating around in the back of his mind.
There was so much he had yet to come to terms with. He knew he’d barely known her, but he might have liked to have gone to her funeral, just to say goodbye. He wanted some kind of closure. He wanted her to tell him that this hadn’t been his fault. He needed that. A person’s death was a heavy stone to carry around in your pocket.
Adrienne didn’t really speak to Billie as they walked in the house, tossing her keys in the bowl by the door.
“Billie, the vase,” she murmured as she shielded the vase on the little table by the door from Billie’s thoughtlessness with her arms. His actions to avoid it almost had him break it, but he managed to spin himself around and out of the way in time. Adrienne watched him carefully as he looked at her without looking at her, a sweat forming on her brow. He knew. She knew he knew now. But how much did he know?
She couldn’t take the pressure of his thoughts filling the room and excused herself, almost running back into her bedroom but stopping herself from panicking at the last moment and calmly closing the door behind her. The soft click of the lock soothed her somehow. He couldn’t come in. She was safe to be alone for a while, in her separate space of the house.
“Mum?” Another soft knock on the door from the other side. This time, it woke Adrienne up. “Mum, dad’s home?”
“Yes, I know.” Nothing then. Silence once more after the shuffling of shoes left the hallway. Adrienne decided that she simply had to get up. This had to be done. Things would have to start to heal eventually, and she wasn’t sure Billie could do it without her, or her him. Mistakes had been made by them both, and it was time to move past all that and concentrate on fixing what was left.
She quietly unlocked the door and made her way down the hall and around the corner, checking all the usual places she might have found Billie Joe a few months ago with his guitar, or a notepad and pen, or holding the remote but insisting he wasn’t watching TV. It hurt to know he wouldn’t be there. Her feet took her to the stairs to the basement, but she couldn’t hear him gently strumming out a new song, or reminiscing over an old one, or doing anything at all down there, really. She knocked, as she always did, because she knew he had private affairs as she had hers, but no one told her to come in. She waited the polite amount of time before turning the handle and opening the door, finding the back of Billie Joe, his shaking form only just visible from the lamp on the floor in the corner of the room. And then she waited a moment, recalling a time not too long ago where his shaking had been in anger, which he’d projected onto her in a way she hadn’t imagined he was capable of. But the sound of his sniffling calmed her nerves and she finally approached him, prying the bottle from his sweaty palm as she saw it, thankful the lid was still on tight.
“I think you need help,” she whispered into his ear as she leaned down to catch a glimpse of his face through his hair. Billie Joe simply nodded, unable to deny her sense. He wished he could have asked her himself. He wished it hadn’t been so obvious in all the wrong ways. He didn’t understand how after everything, through it all, she was still there holding his hand in the darkness. But this is what Adrienne did. She was the light in Billie Joe’s darkness every time.
Gently, she lifted him from the chair, wrapping his arm around her waist as she led him out of the dark room and down the hall, almost having to drag him into her – their room – once he realised where they were going.
Billie Joe sat awkwardly at the end of the bed as Adrienne walked off for a moment, and he heard her whispering sweet goodnights to the kids, who he felt he hadn’t seen in years. She returned a short while later, locking their door and busying herself in the dresser, pulling out a pair of plain plaid pyjamas and, to Billie’s disbelief, beginning to undress herself in front of him as it if were nothing. His cheeks burned and he found himself looking down, examining his wedding ring which really didn’t help at all. Her hand was on his chin then, lifting his face back up to meet her own.
“Do you remember our vows?” Billie simply nodded. He knew he hadn’t always had them in mind, but he’d intended to. Always and forever. Adrienne walked around to the other side of the bed where she turned off the light, leaving Billie sitting there in darkness for a moment as she lifted the covers and slipped inside. A warmth filled Billie Joe’s body from his head to his toes as he felt her curl her body around where he was sitting, and he felt himself curling back into her a little in return, until he was laying down, their noses almost touching, their breathing slowing as comfort settled between them like it used to.