Dreaming Red
Red Roses On A Wedding Aisle
July 2nd, 1994.
I had no idea how the fuck I managed to work my way up to that day, standing in some ratty suit I had at the back of my closet at some makeshift wedding that Billie and Adrienne pulled of their magician's hat. We were in their backyard, Billie had a tie on at least and there were a few chairs on the lawn set up for guests.
Billie had announced to me that they were getting married a week before the wedding. I saw it coming, of course, the two of them were hopelessly in love. Billie Joe also asked me to be best man – and until those green eyes of his softened and his hand touched my shoulder and he said, “Please, Mike?”, I had half the mind to turn him down. But we had been best friends for all these years, and I wouldn't be one to let this love get to me.
Billie Joe and I hadn't kissed since all those years ago, back in high school. Promotional shit and stuff on stage didn't count – Billie Joe was a whore, even Adrienne admitted it. Besides, no one saw it as anything other than something to get the crowd riled up. Billie Joe was a showman, and occasionally I was his lip-locking prop. I got used to the fact that he loved Adrienne now.
I had my fair share of love too, if that's what you want to call it. I had more cheap fucks than anything, nothing really lasted for over a couple of months or so. No guys – just a string of girls, all eager to marry into a rock star's world, all tall and beautiful and excessively boring. Truth is, I missed Billie's dark, messy hair in bed, I missed those late-night fucks in his bedroom in Rodeo, I missed being young and naive and hopelessly in love with my best friend.
I think he loved me, at one point. Loved me like a lover, loved me like I loved him. But, like all good things eventually do, we fucked up. He's with Adrienne now, and I pretended not to care. I should have stopped him, I should have begged for him and cried and sent him all the letters that are now buried in piles at the bottom of my closet. But it's too late anyway, and I stood next to Billie who stood next to the altar and Adrienne walked down the aisle and the audience was clapping and smiling and no one can really expect the best man to object to his best friend's marriage.
So I kept my mouth shut and watched as Adrienne's maids of honor sprinkle red roses all over the lawn, and I saw the love in Billie's eyes as Adie's red lips smile. They exchanged vows, it takes barely 5 minutes. Tears were rolling down Ollie's face, good old Ollie Armstrong who insisted I stay with Billie when I had no place to go home to. Billie kissed her, leaned her back honeymoon style and I even see Tre wiping his eyes.
I try to pretend I'm crying happy tears.
I had no idea how the fuck I managed to work my way up to that day, standing in some ratty suit I had at the back of my closet at some makeshift wedding that Billie and Adrienne pulled of their magician's hat. We were in their backyard, Billie had a tie on at least and there were a few chairs on the lawn set up for guests.
Billie had announced to me that they were getting married a week before the wedding. I saw it coming, of course, the two of them were hopelessly in love. Billie Joe also asked me to be best man – and until those green eyes of his softened and his hand touched my shoulder and he said, “Please, Mike?”, I had half the mind to turn him down. But we had been best friends for all these years, and I wouldn't be one to let this love get to me.
Billie Joe and I hadn't kissed since all those years ago, back in high school. Promotional shit and stuff on stage didn't count – Billie Joe was a whore, even Adrienne admitted it. Besides, no one saw it as anything other than something to get the crowd riled up. Billie Joe was a showman, and occasionally I was his lip-locking prop. I got used to the fact that he loved Adrienne now.
I had my fair share of love too, if that's what you want to call it. I had more cheap fucks than anything, nothing really lasted for over a couple of months or so. No guys – just a string of girls, all eager to marry into a rock star's world, all tall and beautiful and excessively boring. Truth is, I missed Billie's dark, messy hair in bed, I missed those late-night fucks in his bedroom in Rodeo, I missed being young and naive and hopelessly in love with my best friend.
I think he loved me, at one point. Loved me like a lover, loved me like I loved him. But, like all good things eventually do, we fucked up. He's with Adrienne now, and I pretended not to care. I should have stopped him, I should have begged for him and cried and sent him all the letters that are now buried in piles at the bottom of my closet. But it's too late anyway, and I stood next to Billie who stood next to the altar and Adrienne walked down the aisle and the audience was clapping and smiling and no one can really expect the best man to object to his best friend's marriage.
So I kept my mouth shut and watched as Adrienne's maids of honor sprinkle red roses all over the lawn, and I saw the love in Billie's eyes as Adie's red lips smile. They exchanged vows, it takes barely 5 minutes. Tears were rolling down Ollie's face, good old Ollie Armstrong who insisted I stay with Billie when I had no place to go home to. Billie kissed her, leaned her back honeymoon style and I even see Tre wiping his eyes.
I try to pretend I'm crying happy tears.