Drenched In My Pain Again, chapter 1
Billie Joe had been my best friend since the first grade. We talked about everything, since we came from similar backgrounds. Billie Joe met Mike in fifth grade in the school cafeteria, and the three of us quickly became like the Three Musketeers. We all had problems out of school, family-wise. Mike had been put up for adoption by his drug-addicted mom at birth, and his adoptive parents recently split. My parents were still together, thankfully, but my dad just lost his job, and mom's job as a waitress was hardly enough to feed my other four siblings. As for Billie Joe, things changed for him in the beginning of 5th grade. Which is probably why, exactly two years later, I woke up thinking of him.
I'd always had a crush on Billie Joe, but never told him. But on this particular September night, I couldn't sleep at all. Tomorrow would be any other day--I'd meet Billie Joe outside of my house and we'd walk to school together, meeting up with Mike a block from school. I'd go through the average 7th grade motions, sitting in the back of each classroom, doodling, trying to kill worthless time. But tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow would be exactly 2 years since Billie Joe's dad died of cancer.
I couldn't sleep, so I went downstairs and poured myself a glass of milk and went outside to the backyard. I lay in the grass and stared up at the starry night sky. Believe it or not, I spent a lot of time day dreaming about me and Billie Joe together: ditching school, running away together to start new lives...while in the back of my head, I doubted it would happen. Tonight, though, I wasn't thinking about him in that way. I was concerned. When Billie Joe's dad died, Billie Joe went into a "denial" stage and seemed to loose that twinkle in his eye...as corny as it sounds. Last year, on the day his dad had died, Billie Joe skipped school without telling me or Mike. Later I found him at the cemetery, sitting by his father's grave...crying. Which got me and Mike crying, too.
I glanced to my right, at Billie Joe's house, noticing a light on in the kitchen. Coincidentally, we lived right next door from each other. Soon the front door opened, and Billie Joe stepped out into the night, holding a glass of milk, like me. Seeing me, he walked over to my yard. For a minute, neither of us said anything, just sat there, staring at the sky.
“Couldn’t sleep?� Billie Joe finally broke the silence. I smiled. “Yeah. You?� Billie Joe nodded. “Yeah. Just…thinking…� His voice faded away. We both knew what he had been thinking. “You OK?� I asked quietly. Billie Joe looked down at his glass and nodded. I lay back again, feeling a shred of relief.
“Do you have a dream?� He asked suddenly. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “A dream? You mean, like what I want to be when I grow up?� He nodded again. “Yeah...kind of.� I shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?�
“I’ve…well…� He trailed off. “C’mon, tell me!� I prodded. Even though it was dark and I could barely see his face, I knew Billie Joe’s cheeks were turning bright red.
“I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to be a rock star. Me and Mike write some tunes sometimes…� He said. I already knew this. I had never been musically talented, so I’d sit out and watch them play together. Billie Joe continued. “My dad…my dad gave me Blue…� My heart ached at these words. Blue was the guitar that Billie Joe’s dad had given him, just before he passed away. “I mean, why would he give me the guitar if he didn’t want me to do things with it? If he didn’t want me to become big?� Billie Joe’s quiet, sad voice slowly changed to anger. “He didn’t even SAY why he gave me the fucking thing!� I could see the glisten of a tear run down his face.
“Why the fuck did he have to die…� Billie Joe put his head in his hands and cried. Instinctively, I found myself wrapping my arms around him. Tears were pouring out of my eyes before I knew it. We sat there for what seemed like hours, me hold him, crying together, as the night began to fade away.
I'd always had a crush on Billie Joe, but never told him. But on this particular September night, I couldn't sleep at all. Tomorrow would be any other day--I'd meet Billie Joe outside of my house and we'd walk to school together, meeting up with Mike a block from school. I'd go through the average 7th grade motions, sitting in the back of each classroom, doodling, trying to kill worthless time. But tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow would be exactly 2 years since Billie Joe's dad died of cancer.
I couldn't sleep, so I went downstairs and poured myself a glass of milk and went outside to the backyard. I lay in the grass and stared up at the starry night sky. Believe it or not, I spent a lot of time day dreaming about me and Billie Joe together: ditching school, running away together to start new lives...while in the back of my head, I doubted it would happen. Tonight, though, I wasn't thinking about him in that way. I was concerned. When Billie Joe's dad died, Billie Joe went into a "denial" stage and seemed to loose that twinkle in his eye...as corny as it sounds. Last year, on the day his dad had died, Billie Joe skipped school without telling me or Mike. Later I found him at the cemetery, sitting by his father's grave...crying. Which got me and Mike crying, too.
I glanced to my right, at Billie Joe's house, noticing a light on in the kitchen. Coincidentally, we lived right next door from each other. Soon the front door opened, and Billie Joe stepped out into the night, holding a glass of milk, like me. Seeing me, he walked over to my yard. For a minute, neither of us said anything, just sat there, staring at the sky.
“Couldn’t sleep?� Billie Joe finally broke the silence. I smiled. “Yeah. You?� Billie Joe nodded. “Yeah. Just…thinking…� His voice faded away. We both knew what he had been thinking. “You OK?� I asked quietly. Billie Joe looked down at his glass and nodded. I lay back again, feeling a shred of relief.
“Do you have a dream?� He asked suddenly. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “A dream? You mean, like what I want to be when I grow up?� He nodded again. “Yeah...kind of.� I shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?�
“I’ve…well…� He trailed off. “C’mon, tell me!� I prodded. Even though it was dark and I could barely see his face, I knew Billie Joe’s cheeks were turning bright red.
“I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to be a rock star. Me and Mike write some tunes sometimes…� He said. I already knew this. I had never been musically talented, so I’d sit out and watch them play together. Billie Joe continued. “My dad…my dad gave me Blue…� My heart ached at these words. Blue was the guitar that Billie Joe’s dad had given him, just before he passed away. “I mean, why would he give me the guitar if he didn’t want me to do things with it? If he didn’t want me to become big?� Billie Joe’s quiet, sad voice slowly changed to anger. “He didn’t even SAY why he gave me the fucking thing!� I could see the glisten of a tear run down his face.
“Why the fuck did he have to die…� Billie Joe put his head in his hands and cried. Instinctively, I found myself wrapping my arms around him. Tears were pouring out of my eyes before I knew it. We sat there for what seemed like hours, me hold him, crying together, as the night began to fade away.
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