What a father should be, chapter 4
Billie had waited and waited, as the social worker bagged him out, and the prosecution managed to drag up everything dumb Billie had ever done, making him more and more embarrassed. The people in the stands kept shaking their heads, tutting and sometimes gasping.
Billie would like to see them here, having anything they'd done wrong dragged up into the spotlight. Of course they'd questioned him about drugs, depression, his "anxiety issues" and bringing up stupid things he had done in hotels and clubs, raising their eyebrows at Billie, who could only try and talk truthfully out of it, feeling stupider and stupider. Billie Joe didn't have much confidence as they called him up once again.
"Prosecution calls Mr. Armstrong to the stand." Billie heard, and slowly walked out of his seat again. He sat in the cold chair and looked out at the thirty or so people staring back at him, judging him harshly. He looked silently at the prosecution lawyer, who looked at his files and then back to Billie.
"Mr. Armstrong, tell me, what was your childhood like? What parental strategies do you hope to inflict on a child as complicated as Zachary?" he asked, looking at Billie hard. Billie flashed back over his childhood, and saw it wasn't good at all.
"Um, well, I think I would, I think that I could, understand what's happening to Zach better than most people... I think I know how to deal with it in a way that is effective and loving. I'd do anything I could to help him." Billie Joe said, looking at his shoes. He was sick at looking at the people and their cynical stares of response.
"What do you mean 'better than most' Mr. Armstrong?" asked the lawyer, moving closer to Billie. Billie prayed he'd go away.
"Well... when I was a teenager, I was treated like Zach was by my stepfather... so... .I think, that, I know how to approach the issue more personally and more comfortably." Billie tried to explain, wondering how they could possibly understand the connection he had with Zach.
"Are you aware that in most cases its found that the violence from abused children as they grow up is passed down into how they deal with their own children?" the lawyer enquired, looking knowingly at the judge. The judge said nothing.
"I'm not the son my step father raised, sir, I'm the son my father set out to raise." Billie Joe replied. He felt proud as it was the first clear thing he had said all day that he felt he believed strongly in.
"Your father died of cancer when you were just ten did he not? Were you not expelled from two schools for fighting when you were in your teenage years and have you not been arrested for indecent exposure and violent rioting since then? It seems to me sir, you were heavily influenced by your past." the lawyer probed Billie Joe's mind in places he did not want to revisit.
The court was looking at him accusingly, with disapproving eyes. His peers were against him... yet again...
Billie Joe sat in the change rooms after a long, pointless game of football. Everyone else had changed and gone home. Thank God. Billie Joe slowly took off his shirt and inspected himself in the mirror. The bruises weren't fading anytime soon and neither were the markings from Brad's lips.
Billie wanted to hurt himself, and was disgusted with his body. He threw his shirt on the ground angrily and turned on the shower. Billie's body stung as the warm water hit the cuts from Brad. He placed his head against the tile wall, hoping all the tension would just fall into the drain with the water. Suddenly he heard laughing and quickly shut off the shower, wrapping a towel around himself.
"Haha great game... too bad Armstrong fucked us over again. He was probably stoned... he can't catch for shit!" he heard the quarterback say, as the rest laughed. Billie looked at the shower floor and swallowed. Their speech was slurred and he listened to them stagger around. They were drunk. And they hated him. Billie pulled on his boxers and pants, but before he could pull a shirt over himself the three jocks came bursting into the shower, falling into Billie and banging his back hard on the tile wall. Billie yelled and clutched his back, only making his chest markings more evident. One of the jocks fell silent, but the other two laughed.
"Hahaha! Oh my God Armstrong what are these rough love bites? You REALLY are a fag then? Oh my God this is too good!" they laughed, pushing Billie further against the wall. The silent jock, who Billie saw hadn't been drinking, eyed his chest with shock. Billie looked painfully at him from the wall, feeling the other boys breath against his neck, it smelling of booze just like Brad's..
"Guys... come on... ." the quiet jock said softly, tugging at the others jackets. One swung around, falling into the wall and walking out of the cubicle, but the other dragged Billie Joe by the forearm with him.
"If we're going you can come too fag, we'll take you where you belong!" the boy said, lifting Billie's body over his shoulder and drunkenly staggering out of the change rooms with him. Billie felt pressure on his ribs and screamed. He became short of breath and clutched onto the jocks shoulder in pain.
The non drunken jock, who's name was Thomas, came running out after them with Billie Joe's shirt and school bag. Billie struggled to push the jock's arms off his waist, but couldn't. He hated being this way, he hated never being able to just beat the living shit out of people like this.
"IN THE NAVY, COME ON AND JOIN... COME ON AND JOIN BILLIE JOE!" sung the other jock, pretending to wave a flag around and laughing. Thomas tried to catch up to them, but they were already at the goal posts. The jock threw Billie onto the ground and he painfully sat up, his head spinning and his bare back itching from the grass. Before he knew it, they had pulled him over and tied him to it with their jacket. Billie kicked one of them in the leg, but was responded to with a sharp punch in his already sore cheek. Billie's mind whirled as the jocks pulled off his pants and threw them up on the goal posts, laughing loudly and then turning back to Billie. Thomas had gone.
"There you go fag. Now at least the school can see what you are." they drunkenly slurred, before marching off. Billie Joe tried to turn himself around, but found in his rib cage a stabbing pain from doing so. He bowed his head and felt hot tears trickling down his neck. He turned his head quickly to see Thomas come walking out of the bushes. He said nothing, and knelt down behind Billie Joe, untying the jacket and throwing it to him along with his school bag with his shirt inside. Thomas shook the goal posts and Billie Joe's pants came hurtling down. Thomas caught them and threw them to Billie, looking away as he got dressed. Billie Joe crossed his arms and looked at the grass, waiting for Thomas to say something.
"I'm sorry Billie... I didn't know about... that stuff... " he said, trying to look away from the bruises hidden beneath Billie's shirt. Billie bit his lip.
"What?" he asked, wanting to set it straight with Thomas.
"I mean, its obvious isn't it? You're like...you're beaten up at home right? I'm sorry about it, I mean, I'll try get them to lay off?" he suggested, trying to move closer to Billie.
"No. Then I'd just feel pathetic. See you around." Billie said, walking off. Thomas sighed and walked back off into the distance, not seeing Billie Joe break into silent tears as he walked up the hill and out of the school grounds.
"Mr. Armstrong, are you aware of that?" asked the prosecution. Billie shook himself out of his trance.
"Yes... yes I am. But, I would never hurt Zach, I don't know how I can prove that to you... but I know in myself I would never do it." he replied, not looking the lawyer in the eye. He couldn't.
Two hours later, Billie Joe started up the car, glad to know he could now go and visit Zach. What to tell him though? He understood Billie's deepest problems better than any therapist, but still being six, he couldn't understand the legal process. Billie Joe couldn't lie to him. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and looked at himself in the rear vision mirror. Labeled in school as a fag, now labeled as a drug addict with psychological problems... now labeled as just another American Idiot...
Billie would like to see them here, having anything they'd done wrong dragged up into the spotlight. Of course they'd questioned him about drugs, depression, his "anxiety issues" and bringing up stupid things he had done in hotels and clubs, raising their eyebrows at Billie, who could only try and talk truthfully out of it, feeling stupider and stupider. Billie Joe didn't have much confidence as they called him up once again.
"Prosecution calls Mr. Armstrong to the stand." Billie heard, and slowly walked out of his seat again. He sat in the cold chair and looked out at the thirty or so people staring back at him, judging him harshly. He looked silently at the prosecution lawyer, who looked at his files and then back to Billie.
"Mr. Armstrong, tell me, what was your childhood like? What parental strategies do you hope to inflict on a child as complicated as Zachary?" he asked, looking at Billie hard. Billie flashed back over his childhood, and saw it wasn't good at all.
"Um, well, I think I would, I think that I could, understand what's happening to Zach better than most people... I think I know how to deal with it in a way that is effective and loving. I'd do anything I could to help him." Billie Joe said, looking at his shoes. He was sick at looking at the people and their cynical stares of response.
"What do you mean 'better than most' Mr. Armstrong?" asked the lawyer, moving closer to Billie. Billie prayed he'd go away.
"Well... when I was a teenager, I was treated like Zach was by my stepfather... so... .I think, that, I know how to approach the issue more personally and more comfortably." Billie tried to explain, wondering how they could possibly understand the connection he had with Zach.
"Are you aware that in most cases its found that the violence from abused children as they grow up is passed down into how they deal with their own children?" the lawyer enquired, looking knowingly at the judge. The judge said nothing.
"I'm not the son my step father raised, sir, I'm the son my father set out to raise." Billie Joe replied. He felt proud as it was the first clear thing he had said all day that he felt he believed strongly in.
"Your father died of cancer when you were just ten did he not? Were you not expelled from two schools for fighting when you were in your teenage years and have you not been arrested for indecent exposure and violent rioting since then? It seems to me sir, you were heavily influenced by your past." the lawyer probed Billie Joe's mind in places he did not want to revisit.
The court was looking at him accusingly, with disapproving eyes. His peers were against him... yet again...
Billie Joe sat in the change rooms after a long, pointless game of football. Everyone else had changed and gone home. Thank God. Billie Joe slowly took off his shirt and inspected himself in the mirror. The bruises weren't fading anytime soon and neither were the markings from Brad's lips.
Billie wanted to hurt himself, and was disgusted with his body. He threw his shirt on the ground angrily and turned on the shower. Billie's body stung as the warm water hit the cuts from Brad. He placed his head against the tile wall, hoping all the tension would just fall into the drain with the water. Suddenly he heard laughing and quickly shut off the shower, wrapping a towel around himself.
"Haha great game... too bad Armstrong fucked us over again. He was probably stoned... he can't catch for shit!" he heard the quarterback say, as the rest laughed. Billie looked at the shower floor and swallowed. Their speech was slurred and he listened to them stagger around. They were drunk. And they hated him. Billie pulled on his boxers and pants, but before he could pull a shirt over himself the three jocks came bursting into the shower, falling into Billie and banging his back hard on the tile wall. Billie yelled and clutched his back, only making his chest markings more evident. One of the jocks fell silent, but the other two laughed.
"Hahaha! Oh my God Armstrong what are these rough love bites? You REALLY are a fag then? Oh my God this is too good!" they laughed, pushing Billie further against the wall. The silent jock, who Billie saw hadn't been drinking, eyed his chest with shock. Billie looked painfully at him from the wall, feeling the other boys breath against his neck, it smelling of booze just like Brad's..
"Guys... come on... ." the quiet jock said softly, tugging at the others jackets. One swung around, falling into the wall and walking out of the cubicle, but the other dragged Billie Joe by the forearm with him.
"If we're going you can come too fag, we'll take you where you belong!" the boy said, lifting Billie's body over his shoulder and drunkenly staggering out of the change rooms with him. Billie felt pressure on his ribs and screamed. He became short of breath and clutched onto the jocks shoulder in pain.
The non drunken jock, who's name was Thomas, came running out after them with Billie Joe's shirt and school bag. Billie struggled to push the jock's arms off his waist, but couldn't. He hated being this way, he hated never being able to just beat the living shit out of people like this.
"IN THE NAVY, COME ON AND JOIN... COME ON AND JOIN BILLIE JOE!" sung the other jock, pretending to wave a flag around and laughing. Thomas tried to catch up to them, but they were already at the goal posts. The jock threw Billie onto the ground and he painfully sat up, his head spinning and his bare back itching from the grass. Before he knew it, they had pulled him over and tied him to it with their jacket. Billie kicked one of them in the leg, but was responded to with a sharp punch in his already sore cheek. Billie's mind whirled as the jocks pulled off his pants and threw them up on the goal posts, laughing loudly and then turning back to Billie. Thomas had gone.
"There you go fag. Now at least the school can see what you are." they drunkenly slurred, before marching off. Billie Joe tried to turn himself around, but found in his rib cage a stabbing pain from doing so. He bowed his head and felt hot tears trickling down his neck. He turned his head quickly to see Thomas come walking out of the bushes. He said nothing, and knelt down behind Billie Joe, untying the jacket and throwing it to him along with his school bag with his shirt inside. Thomas shook the goal posts and Billie Joe's pants came hurtling down. Thomas caught them and threw them to Billie, looking away as he got dressed. Billie Joe crossed his arms and looked at the grass, waiting for Thomas to say something.
"I'm sorry Billie... I didn't know about... that stuff... " he said, trying to look away from the bruises hidden beneath Billie's shirt. Billie bit his lip.
"What?" he asked, wanting to set it straight with Thomas.
"I mean, its obvious isn't it? You're like...you're beaten up at home right? I'm sorry about it, I mean, I'll try get them to lay off?" he suggested, trying to move closer to Billie.
"No. Then I'd just feel pathetic. See you around." Billie said, walking off. Thomas sighed and walked back off into the distance, not seeing Billie Joe break into silent tears as he walked up the hill and out of the school grounds.
"Mr. Armstrong, are you aware of that?" asked the prosecution. Billie shook himself out of his trance.
"Yes... yes I am. But, I would never hurt Zach, I don't know how I can prove that to you... but I know in myself I would never do it." he replied, not looking the lawyer in the eye. He couldn't.
Two hours later, Billie Joe started up the car, glad to know he could now go and visit Zach. What to tell him though? He understood Billie's deepest problems better than any therapist, but still being six, he couldn't understand the legal process. Billie Joe couldn't lie to him. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and looked at himself in the rear vision mirror. Labeled in school as a fag, now labeled as a drug addict with psychological problems... now labeled as just another American Idiot...
