Dirty, Rotten Bastard
Nine
Adrienne had been with Billie for a few hours every day since he’d been admitted to hospital. She would have spent all her time there, if she could have, but she knew their children needed her. They were quiet around her but she knew by looking at their tired faces that they had several questions they wanted to ask. They had several questions they needed to ask. She could almost guess what they were. One of them was similar to a question of her own.
Billie hadn’t come to hospital alone. Adrienne wasn’t sure if she should believe the press at first, but she’d seen the young girl through the window in the door a few rooms down from Billie. Bridget Hart. She was pretty, she guessed, beneath all that gauze. Her picture was in their local paper, and the story to follow was something shocking to Adrienne’s eyes. As the press had been interviewing the owner of the bar to get the story on the stabbing, they’d uncovered something else. Something… dirty. Adrienne swallowed as Billie stirred, his fingers wrapping just a fraction tighter around her own as she held his hand. He didn’t wake. She wondered how long it was normal for him to sleep for. She smiled as she thought of all the times he’d slept in, such a bad influence on her as she then slept in, too. She missed those days, which seemed like forever ago, when spending all day laughing beneath the sheets at old stories of theirs was a regular occurrence and not a fading memory. She missed her Billie Joe.
Adrienne suddenly noticed the faint alarm sounding in the background from another room. She watched as nurses whirred past the door and decided to see what it was. Who it was. She poked her head out the door to see it was Bridget’s room they were racing into, the alarm sounding louder as the door opened one final time to let the last person in. From behind, Adrienne heard a yawn. She turned and Billie smiled weakly at her, noticing her concern at something outside.
“What is it?” he asked, his hand finding the back of his head as he stretched and messed his hair up in a single motion.
“Nothing.” Adrienne watched on, holding back her tears, as Billie’s face suddenly lost all of its colour. His memories came flooding back to him and he didn’t like what he was about to blurt out.
“Where’s Bridget?” He watched as Adrienne’s tears finally fell, but she didn’t make a sound. He waited as she tried to compose herself once more and upon failing that, she left the room. He sat there then, confused and alone, and tried to think for himself. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen her face, but the memory wasn’t clear. He was suddenly aware of the pain he felt in his side, and of the headache starting to form behind his swollen eyes. He had to rest. He had to lie down. He watched as the room began to spin, but didn’t keep his eyes open for much longer than that.
“She didn’t make it, Billie. She lost too much blood.”
Billie had hardly blinked since hearing those words from an apologetic nurse as she delivered him lunch the day before. He’d since been discharged from hospital, and was able to recover in the comfort of his own bed. This was both good and bad.
Billie knew he had to rest, but there was no one there to make him. Adrienne had sent the kids to her parents’ place until things settled down and the only time he saw anyone at all was when she brought him in something warm to eat and removed the tray of uneaten food from the previous visit. She wouldn’t talk to him. He knew why.
She wasn’t one for being subtle, Billie knew. He’d seen the paper on the nightstand, open to the page with him being wheeled into the back of an ambulance with a young girl. With Bridget. With a woman that was not his wife. The story to follow was only half of it, but even that was enough. He understood. He knew he’d done wrong, and that things had finally caught up with him. He was surprised she hadn’t kicked him out yet. He jumped and dropped the paper as Adrienne came into the room, a mug of tea in her hands.
“Is it true?” she asked, placing the tea down and sitting at the end of the bed. Billie gave a gentle nod, watching her reaction very carefully. “Did you fuck her?” Again, a simple nod. This time, Adrienne’s face changed dramatically. “In our house? On our bed? With our children in the other room!?”
“Addie…”
“Don’t. Just… don’t.” She got up and slammed the door upon her exit, the picture frame on the wall falling and cracking as it hit the chest of drawers. “I hate you, Billie Joe!”
Billie hadn’t come to hospital alone. Adrienne wasn’t sure if she should believe the press at first, but she’d seen the young girl through the window in the door a few rooms down from Billie. Bridget Hart. She was pretty, she guessed, beneath all that gauze. Her picture was in their local paper, and the story to follow was something shocking to Adrienne’s eyes. As the press had been interviewing the owner of the bar to get the story on the stabbing, they’d uncovered something else. Something… dirty. Adrienne swallowed as Billie stirred, his fingers wrapping just a fraction tighter around her own as she held his hand. He didn’t wake. She wondered how long it was normal for him to sleep for. She smiled as she thought of all the times he’d slept in, such a bad influence on her as she then slept in, too. She missed those days, which seemed like forever ago, when spending all day laughing beneath the sheets at old stories of theirs was a regular occurrence and not a fading memory. She missed her Billie Joe.
Adrienne suddenly noticed the faint alarm sounding in the background from another room. She watched as nurses whirred past the door and decided to see what it was. Who it was. She poked her head out the door to see it was Bridget’s room they were racing into, the alarm sounding louder as the door opened one final time to let the last person in. From behind, Adrienne heard a yawn. She turned and Billie smiled weakly at her, noticing her concern at something outside.
“What is it?” he asked, his hand finding the back of his head as he stretched and messed his hair up in a single motion.
“Nothing.” Adrienne watched on, holding back her tears, as Billie’s face suddenly lost all of its colour. His memories came flooding back to him and he didn’t like what he was about to blurt out.
“Where’s Bridget?” He watched as Adrienne’s tears finally fell, but she didn’t make a sound. He waited as she tried to compose herself once more and upon failing that, she left the room. He sat there then, confused and alone, and tried to think for himself. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen her face, but the memory wasn’t clear. He was suddenly aware of the pain he felt in his side, and of the headache starting to form behind his swollen eyes. He had to rest. He had to lie down. He watched as the room began to spin, but didn’t keep his eyes open for much longer than that.
“She didn’t make it, Billie. She lost too much blood.”
Billie had hardly blinked since hearing those words from an apologetic nurse as she delivered him lunch the day before. He’d since been discharged from hospital, and was able to recover in the comfort of his own bed. This was both good and bad.
Billie knew he had to rest, but there was no one there to make him. Adrienne had sent the kids to her parents’ place until things settled down and the only time he saw anyone at all was when she brought him in something warm to eat and removed the tray of uneaten food from the previous visit. She wouldn’t talk to him. He knew why.
She wasn’t one for being subtle, Billie knew. He’d seen the paper on the nightstand, open to the page with him being wheeled into the back of an ambulance with a young girl. With Bridget. With a woman that was not his wife. The story to follow was only half of it, but even that was enough. He understood. He knew he’d done wrong, and that things had finally caught up with him. He was surprised she hadn’t kicked him out yet. He jumped and dropped the paper as Adrienne came into the room, a mug of tea in her hands.
“Is it true?” she asked, placing the tea down and sitting at the end of the bed. Billie gave a gentle nod, watching her reaction very carefully. “Did you fuck her?” Again, a simple nod. This time, Adrienne’s face changed dramatically. “In our house? On our bed? With our children in the other room!?”
“Addie…”
“Don’t. Just… don’t.” She got up and slammed the door upon her exit, the picture frame on the wall falling and cracking as it hit the chest of drawers. “I hate you, Billie Joe!”