Drunk in Paris

This is the finale of Drunk in Paris.
I intended to upload the songs O Mio Babbino Caro From Gianni Schicch and The PM’s Love Theme from Love Actually with this chapter but it’s not worked.
If you have the time maybe you can search for them and listen whilst you read.
Hope you all enjoy the final chapter guys and yes, there will be a sequel.

I inhaled; waking up next to him was such a good feeling. I reached out to touch that warm skin under the duvet when my heart stopped. He wasn’t there. His side of the bed was completely empty and very cold.
My whole body tensed.
Where the hell was he?
“Billie?” My throat choked out a pathetic croak.
There was no reply as I eyed the en-suite bathroom.
Jumping up, my nightgown was met with a shot of cold air.
This wasn’t good. I knew this wasn’t good.
I dashed into the bathroom, it was empty too.
My heart beat sped up as my eyes shot around the bedroom door to glance around the landing, he must be downstairs mustn't he? Dashing down the wooden stair case I called out his name anxiously to no reply.

It was early, the new sun wasn’t fully raised, the air still very fresh but anchored with a cloud of complete and utter distress that hovered over my head. Where the hell was he? This wasn’t normal for him to just up and leave.
Looking back to the stairs I took them two at a time as I raced across the landing only to come to a sudden halt outside Joe’s room.
I regained a normal steady pace of breathing before knocking nervously and slowly opening the door. Now what the hell do I say to his son?
“Joseph….Joe…”
A mop of black hair came into view over his blue duvet; the boy rubbed his eyes wearily before fixing a stare at me.
“Sorry to wake you up…but…have you any idea where you dad has gone?”
Joe sat up further, yawning, obviously trying to process what I had just said.
“What? Why?”
I nervously shifted on the threshold to his bedroom. The funk of teenage boy erupting through the air,
“He’s…he’s not in his room.”
“He could be at the store…maybe he forget we had no milk or something…”
Joe squinted, turning to his left then suddenly staring a fixed gaze at the calendar on his wall.
“…shit”
He swallowed, immediately more awake and turning to me slowly.
“What is it?” I asked, the fear in his eyes making me panic even more so.
“Ava…I…think…no, I, I know where he is…hang on, I’ll give you an address...
He shot up out of bed, leaping for his desk and shuffling all the papers and junk around.
“Here…” he began scribbling on a piece of scrap paper, a hurried look in his eyes as he wrote.
“That’s were he’ll be…I’m sorry Ava…I’d go with you but…I…Jake…me and Jake…we have this thing we do today and…”
I nodded, taking the paper from him, getting more confused by the minute. I looked down at his scribbled handwriting for a second before looking up at his face slowly.
I could have sworn small tears were developing behind those hazel eyes as he smiled at me sadly.
“…Thanks Joe” I whispered, jumping as he suddenly dived in my arms, hugging me tightly for a moment. His small frame harnessed within my anxious upper limbs as is my torso was a life preserver.
I patted his head quite awkwardly and left his room to get dressed, my mind whirring with confusion at this whole thing.
A pit of worry grew in my stomach…a girl named Sarah who had appeared out of the blue yesterday suddenly emerged drastically in my thoughts.

I stared at the paper that sat in the passenger seat of Billie’s car.
It obviously wasn’t too far away if he had walked, I had small fears encase this address was that of Sarah’s. If it was, I wouldn’t know how to react, my heart would probably just stop in my chest and I would collapse to the ground never to wake again.

4529 Howe Street
Oakland.

Oh God what if it is her house?
The roads were quite empty, however it was a Saturday and it was only 8:00 in the morning.
That made my stomach plummet further, when Billie’s at home and it’s the weekend he never gets up till at least half 10.
Right, I was on Howe Street.
Now I just have to keep my eyes peeled for the numbers…

452…

Okay…

Oh God.

…Oh this…this can’t be right…

….oh no….

I pulled the car to a halt outside the huge wrought iron gates.
The engine switched off and so did my heart.
I swallowed, a dry sick feeling emulating from my chest.
My fingers trembled as I opened the car door and got out, softly shutting it and staring at the destination in front of me.

St Mary’s Cemetery

The sun was shining over a huge grassy knoll, grey and brown tombstones jutting out from its surface like deformed spikes.
Slowly, I made my way around the car to the towering gates. The paint was peeling, the rust digging into my sweaty palm, causing me to flinch as I placed a foot on the graveled path, opening the rasping gate carefully.
The cemetery was dotted with huge ancient trees that creaked in the sudden wind that had risen on the hill. The scent of flowers and that of lilies in particular, danced in the air like melancholic angels.
My eyes desperately scanning the seemingly deserted graveyard for any signs of him,
Walking further down the central path, decrypted headstones either side of my trail, I began to curse myself for ever doubting him. I thought he had gone to Sarah’s house, when all signs had led to here. Firstly of course, Tre’s comments yesterday asking whether Billie was okay and the thing he said when the girl showed up at the studio…

“To do something like that on today of all days”

Billie’s unusual perturbed quietness last night,
Joe’s emotional helpfulness this morning…

It all added up and I felt so guilty, why didn’t he tell me?
The wind picked up and I shivered, removing the windswept pieces of hair from my eyes to catch sight of a grassier piece of earth.
A shiny grey headstone stood on its own, littered with many dazzling flowers and a man, sitting in black, head bent, a single white rose clutched in his palm tightly.
My breath hitched at the scene.
The way his head flopped so desolately, the way his knees tucked innocently under his chin. He reminded me of that lost child I had met so many months ago now outside that café in Paris.
My heart momentarily opened in relief, and my legs froze as I stared at him for a while. Now I had found him, I was unsure what to do.
The wind whipped up again and my hands darted for my dress, taking it as a natural signal to go to him, I began to softly walk across the gravel and then to the green blades beneath my feet. The strong scented wind causing them to scatter profusely as I flattened each blade with my heels that sank ever so slightly in the well kept soil.
The smell of fresh lawn and rich pollen intoxicated my scent and as I grew nearer I could read the words carved into the grey stone.

Adrienne Armstrong
Beloved wife, mother, aunt and daughter
A beautiful inspiring talented woman who will be forever missed
Born October 6th 1969 Died April 12th 2008

My heart caught in my chest, Adrienne, died on this day, two years ago and she was only 39 years old. In the corner of the stone sat a black and white picture of a stunningly beautiful woman with thick black dreadlocks, wearing a delicate white wedding dress.

My eyes scanned lower and took in all the flowers left scattered around her headstone.
It was truly beautiful, the scent they produced, the color that ignited the grey stone as it shone in the sun.

“Everybody loved her”

I jumped as Billie spoke, his voice croaking in his throat.
Looking down on him something deep inside trembled as he stared at the stone so lovingly.
“All the fans came yesterday, they did this last year, buy loads of flowers and leave them here for her…they all know I like to come here today and stay till nighttime… they know…they’re great… they understand…great people…”
I nodded silently, softly sitting down next to him among the flowers, crossing my legs under my black petticoat dress.
Billie ran the rose through his fingers delicately.
“She was beautiful Billie.”
He glanced at the small photograph and smiled sorrowfully, “She was beautiful…she was so beautiful… that picture is from our wedding, it’s my favorite one. We got married in my back garden; she got that crappy little dress… but, oh she looked so gorgeous and I can remember it so well...”
I continued to look at the picture, nodding as he spoke.
He twirled the rose in between his fingers, “How did you know I was here?”
I smiled at him, clearing my throat before I spoke, “Joey told me you’d be here.”
Billie nodded emphatically, not looking anywhere but at the rose entwined in his tattooed fingers.
“They do their own thing, him and Jake…I’m not sure what they do, I think they look at some family photographs, and then they follow me up here a bit later with Adrienne’s mom.”
I nodded.
He sighed, running a hand over his face, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Oh Billie, don’t…don’t be silly …I know what it’s like…I understand...I’m sorry that…well…I’m sorry.”
He smiled, “I know, I feel bad though, you came here to get away from all this… death and now you’re sitting right in the middle of it with me.”
I shook my head, “I came here to see you…no other reason and it looks like we’re sitting in quite the contrary. Look at all these beautiful flowers”

His lips formed a small sad smile at words.

The wind picked up again, whistling past us, making his fluffy hair dance in the breeze.
I finally turned to look at him.
My heart wept at the sight next to me.
His remarkable emerald green eyes were laced in a thin layer of tears. Those eyes shine a million different things through me every time I look at them. They make me feel strong or treasured or poignant. But today, they were quite dull, yet, despite their lack of vivacity, they seemed to show something completely new to me.

For the first time they shone a window to his very soul.

A silent tear fell from his eyelids, smudging the dark pencil underneath his thick black eyelashes.
“I miss her still, everyday I miss her”
Reaching out cautiously I took hold of his hand that lay nearest me. He clasped it back comfortingly, smiling at the gesture before looking back at the stone.
“I’m sure she knows how much you love her, I bet she’s never left you” I whispered, my lack of comforting words making me feel ineffectual.
Billie sighed, “She’d be laughing at me now.”
I smiled warmly as he looked back down to his feet.
“She would have liked you Ava, ya know”
I smiled, “I’m glad; I suppose we would have had a lot in common.”
Billie squeezed my hand back ever so slightly; of course we would have a lot in common we both fell in love with this perfect man sitting beside to me.

What shall you say tonight, poor soul so full of care,
What shall you say, my heart, heart hitherto so sad,
To the most kind, to the most dear, to the most fair,
Whose pure serene regard has made you proud and glad?

The wind whipped up again, the warm rays of the sun shone down on us as we sat holding each other’s hand. For a moment I felt so moved, as if this woman, this beautiful amazing Adrienne Armstrong was smiling down on me, asking me to look after her husband, asking me to love him. I made a promise to her that day, made a promise that I would do anything for him.

I thought of the words Billie sang to me on that miraculous Parisian day, the day he had found me.
“I just want you to know who I am”
And sitting here now, I felt like I had seen a side to him that nobody else had. A side he only let loose whilst alone, a side no one else had ever known, except maybe Adrienne.
I knew him now more than ever; I knew the most secret parts of him and I was so grateful he had let me...she, Adrienne had let me.

“Thanks for sitting with me Ava, for understanding, I feel so much better with you here”
I moved slightly closer to him,
“I’ll always be here Billie, for as long as you need me, I promise I’ll be here.”

He tugged me closer to his body and my heart swelled at this beautiful moment we were sharing, something so simple yet so delightfully profound.
In the silence, my mind, like always, raced through its many caverns of reflection.
I thought of Charles and his silly title, I thought of Paris, the city of love, of beauty, the city I adored so much.
I thought of Baudelaire, the man whose poetry I cherished and will always admire till my own dying day. I thought about the man who was clutching my hand so tightly right now.
The man who made me feel so beautiful and alive, the man who I did have something in common with after all, a shared desire for love, a desperate need for one another.
He was the most magnificent man I had ever met.
The man I would die for.
Not a lover, not a friend, not a soul mate.
No, he was so much more than that.
He was my understanding, the reason why I was alive. He was my purpose, my escape, my answer.
The true Parisian poet to my soul.

Smiling now, as his arm wrapped over my shoulder I felt so close to heaven, so far from any worry or doubt or fear.
I was happy to sit here all week, all eternity if need be, I was sitting next to him and he wanted me here, he needed me here. That’s all that mattered.
I buried myself deeper into his torso as the silent rays of the morning sun beat down on us, the shallow breeze of the wind awakening the flowers that scattered on the lush grass all around our feet…

While side by side we surf the wind,
We'll never cease from such extremes,
To seek the Eden of our dreams…

Dear Baudelaire once said,
“There are as many kinds of beauty as there are habitual ways of seeking happiness.”

I knew now more than ever that I had found my beauty, it was him; he was my everything, my Billie Joe.
My happiness to be forever found in these perfect arms of his.