Mantra of Lies

Tre rolled down the window of his black SUV and punched in the numeric code for the large, steel gate in front of him to open. What used to be a run down bachelor pad was now a classy, elegant residence for Mike Dirnt, remodeled after Brittany moved in a year ago. They hadn't gotten married yet, but they were “taking it slow” and still going steady.

Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently, Tre gave a long sigh. He was physically drained, having just flown back from a shortened visit to New York to see his daughter. Seeing his ex-wife hadn't helped him much emotionally, either. As the gate finally clicked shut behind his car, he shrugged off his weariness. Billie Joe needed him more than Tre needed himself. Mike had filled him in on their “conversation” on the phone. Tre had flown back to Oakland before you could blink.

Tre trudged up to the front door, smoothing out his disheveled pants. Before he even lifted his arm to knock on the front door, it was opened.

“New system. I actually know now when people randomly come to my house.” Mike said with a small smirk, leaning against the door to keep it open. No one but his best friends would notice the frown hiding beneath his forehead, or the worries in the creases of his mouth. But Tre noticed.

Tre forced out a little chuckle and lowered his voice. “How is he?”

Mike sighed, and glanced back into the adjoining foyer, where Billie Joe was sitting on the couch staring into space. Billie hadn't really talked to anybody since his conversation with Mike the day before. Not even a word to himself.

“He's fine.” Mike said quietly, “Or that's what he's saying. He's not talking, not eating, and for all I know he's not sleeping. Tell me if he's fine. I – I don't know. I was stupid enough to mention - ” he shot a dark look to Tre, who immediately understood his message, “- you know, so I'm not one to judge.” Mike ran his fingers through his blond hair and opened the door wider to let Tre in.

“So, erm, how was Ramona?” Mike asked conversationally as Tre took his jacket off and hung it off the back of a near lying chair.

“Fine, considering she's a growing girl getting more and more interested in make up and I'm just her crazy drummer dad.” Tre said bitterly.

“Well that makes two of you with children troubles. Care to go talk to him?” Mike nodded his head towards Billie. Tre shrugged.

“Why not?”

*

Billie stared at the spot straight across him, right in the middle of the mantelpiece. He stared and stared, and tried his hardest not blink. He tried not to think, he tried to remember to breath. He tried to keep staring, he tried to fall asleep. Everything just seemed so impossible to him. There were just so many god damn expectations of him, how the fuck was he to fulfill them all?

Keep breathing. In, and out. In, and out, Billie tried to ease his mind into thinking. In, and out. In, and out. The trick is just to keep on breathing...

The past 24 hours was a bottomless hellhole of silent panic attacks, insomnia and mixed messages running through his head. Billie Joe longed for something, anything to ease the pain; but he couldn't get any. He'd have to talk to Mike, and he didn't want to. He didn't know why, he didn't know how. He didn't want to think about it; it was all too much to bear.

Minutes slowly slipped into hours. Time swarmed around in Billie Joe's head. 20 years ago, 10 years ago, a few days ago. All of it just seemed so distant, like another reality, another world. Billie felt his breath seize as his mind revisited the memories he tried to bury so long ago.


“Mike,” Billie had fidgeted nervously, his hands in pockets, “I need to show you something.”

“What is it, Billie?” Mike said, trying to tune his bass guitar by ear; biting his tongue hard in concentration.

“Here.” Billie took a small black box out of his pocket and opened it with a snap. He showed his friend, who immediately dropped his guitar.

“You're – you're gonna..?” Mike asked in confusion. Billie Joe nodded without any hesitancy.

“It's beautiful,” Mike said.
It was, Billie thought, but not as beautiful as the hand it was on. Adrienne was his angel, his beautiful wife. Adrienne was still his angel, but the marriage had ended by now. He remembered signing the divorce papers. The only reason he did was because he thought he should respect Adie's wishes one last time – after fucking up for so long, he finally did what his wife wanted him to do. Get a pen and fuckin' sign 'em.

For someone as famous as Billie Joe, signing his name should be as easy as breathing. But that day, that second that Billie Joe signed the divorce papers... that was the worse moment of his life. Signing his beautiful Adrienne away, singing his angel away. Signing his life away. It was worse than seeing his father get sucked in by cancer, worse than witnessing Mike in a panic attack, worse than anything that Billie Joe had ever done.

But according to Adie, it was the best thing he had done for her. The only right thing he had done for her since their marriage, she had said. Billie Joe saw through her eyes that she was lying. But then, perhaps he never even knew Adrienne to start with. If he did know her, they never would have argued. They never would have gotten the divorce. If Billie didknow her, he would have known every single thing to do to make Adie happy, to make Adie love him back as much as he loved her.

And he didn't.

*

Tre took a deep breath and stepped into the foyer where Billie Joe was sitting on the couch, leaving Mike to his own devices. Billie looked like a wreck – days' worth of eyeliner smudged under his eyes blended with the effects of not sleeping gave him the slight look of a raccoon. The fact that his hair looked exactly the way it did when he got out of bed didn't help either.

Be nice, Tre. Don't be too serious, don't be too stupid. Tre reminded himself as he took the few deathly steps to Billie. Don't mention Andy, don't mention booze, don't mention Adrienne. Just... talk.

Tre reached the couch. The whole room was deathly silent, the only sounds were of Mike's coffeemaker churning away in the kitchen.

“Billie? Billie?” he began hesitantly, “Do you want to talk, or anything?” This was the side of Tre that not many people saw. The side that didn't scream about Orange Mocha Frappuccinos, but listened to your troubles while making you laugh and sob with hysteria and sorrow at the same time.

Billie ignored him, and continued staring at the wall. The one thing that acknowledged Tre was the slgihtest flicker of movement in Billie Joe's green eyes.

“Billie,” Tre tried again. “Billie. Billie Joe.”

No reaction. Not even a blink this time.

“Come on, man. I know you're a bit upset,” Tre said, “But come on, you gotta talk to us sometime,”

A few more moments of heart-wrenching silence passed before Billie opened his mouth to speak for the first time in a day.

“Don't assume. You make an ass out of you and me. I'm not upset, and I don't have to talk.” Billie's voice was croaky and dry, but the words cracked across the room. It was a natural power for Billie just to have his words heard, that's why he was the singer. Tre was just thinking of an adequate reply a few seconds later when he spotted Billie's chest seizing up.

“Billie?” Tre leaned forward. Billie' eyes widened horrifically, his chest heaved erratically. His hands reached out onto the hand rests of the sofa and gripped hard, as if he was on an airplane trapped in turbulence.

As Billie's body started shaking, Tre stood up. No, no, no, no, Tre thought to himself. Don't tell me. Billie Joe's lips parted slightly, shivering like he was in the North Pole yet with reddening cheeks. His shirt was beginning to seep through with swear.

“Billie!” Tre yelled, grabbing the nearest glass of water on an untouched food tray Mike had left for Billie and threw it onto him. Billie's reaction only grew stronger, drips of sweat were now running down his forehead. His hands were shaking unnaturally on the hand rests, his whole body was now hyperventilating. Shivers ran down his spine, and his green eyes flashed and diluted at the same time.

“Billie! Billie!” Tre shouted, rushing to the couch and making a point to get to Billie Joe. He just shied away.

Billie's body was beginning to slip down the couch. The sweat (or was it the water?) was now staining the couch, but Tre could care less. He could only stare in horror as Billie's faltering body slipped down inch by inch, shaking and shuddering while rocking from side to side like a ship on rocky waters.

“MIKE!” Tre finally yelled as Billie Joe's weakening body slowly fell on it's knees. “MIKE! MIKE! Call the fucking ambulance, NOW!”