Adeline Street, chapter 3
I looked out the window of the plane, feeling sweaty and cold. I hated flying. Billie would look over at me every once and a while to make sure I hadn't passed out. I pulled my eyes away from the window to look down at a small photo album I brought with me. There was a picture of my cousins and me lying with a bean bag on top of us. My grandfather was laughing at us.
"He looks like a nice guy," Billie Joe said, looking down at the picture.
"He was the greatest guy I ever knew," I said, closing the photo album. "Just 6 months ago he was finishing building a huge ass deck on the side of his house. It was beautiful. He didn't even have time to enjoy it before he got sick," I stopped and swallowed hard.
Billie squeezed my shoulder and smiled at me. "It's ok. Don't be so tough. I cried for years after my dad died."
I smiled and laughed. "Yeah, me too."
"Your dad died too?" he asked.
"Yeah. I had just turned 7 exactly a week before and he had rented out this skating rink for the night. That was one of the last times I saw him. He seemed just fine. Nothing was wrong. Then one day I was at my cousin Carlie's house riding bikes and my grandmother came and got me and took me to her house. My mom was sitting at the table crying and she told me he had killed himself."
"Oh my god," was all Billie could say.
"Yeah. But you wanna know something weird? The first thing I said after she told me that was 'are we still going to the lake this afternoon?' "
"What the hell?" he asked.
"I didn't know, Billie. That was my first real experience with death. When I realized he was dead, I went into this sort of depression type thing. I went to therapy for about a year. I still cry about it too."
Billie nodded. "You just wonder what could have been, huh?"
"Yeah," I said. I had never felt closer to a grown up than I had with Billie at that moment. We talked the rest of the 3 hours we were on the plane. We landed in Jackson and rented a car. After an hour in the car, we came to our destination. We pulled into the asphalt drive way and drove up the hill. At the top, all you could see was cars in the small field where my grandfather's house was. From the edge of the pond to the drive way, there were cars. I almost wanted to start crying again, but I swallowed the hard lump in my throat and guided Mike into a parking spot.
We walked up the steps onto the new deck I mentioned and onto another deck that wrapped around the house to the back door. I knocked.
My cousin Carlie came to the door and saw me through the window. She threw the door open and hugged me.
"It's been forever!!" she cried, her eyes red and puffy from crying.
"Yeah, 3 months. How is everyone?"
"You know... ... sad," she shrugged. She was eyeing Billie.
"Oh, Carlie, this is Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt and Tre Cool," they all smiled and nodded.
"Sorry about what happened. From what Kayla said, you guys were really close to him," Billie said. Carlie nodded. "Well, come on in. We were all waiting for you."
We followed Carlie into the kitchen and were greeted my my uncle Stan and uncle Steve, aunt LeAnne and aunt Buffie, my cousins Kade and Asa, Kade's friend Jody and my mom and William. My mom came and hugged me, crying. "He was so proud of you."
I nodded and patted her on the back. She stood back and wiped her eyes. "You must be Green Day," she smiled. The boys smiled back and nodded. "I'm sorry about your dad. Kayla thought a lot of him." Billie said, hugging my mom. She nodded. "Lots of people did."
"Looks like it," Mike said, looking into the living room to see about 20 people sitting around the living room and dining room. Mom smiled and laughed.
I introduced the guys and my family. We went outside and sat on the deck to get away from all the people. Asa, my 4 year old cousin entertained us by singing Alison by Elvis Costello.
"Yeah, ever since he saw you two sing it on your little video message," Stan said, talking to me and Billie, "he won't shut up about it."
We all got ready and went to the visitation. I could hardly stand to be there, let alone stand in a line with my family and hug all these people and hear them tell me how much he was loved and how sorry they were. By the end of it all I just wanted to go play my guitar. Billie, Mike and Tre were talking to random people who recognized them and some people who didn't know them.
The next day I woke to Asa thumping me on the head. He wanted to ride the four wheeler, so me, him, Billie, Mike and Tre all got on two four wheelers (after I taught Mike how to drive one of them.) and drove down the gravel road in front of my house, which was in front of my grandfather's.
"Damn, could you drive any faster!?" Billie yelled over the sound of the four wheeler.
"I could, but I have a kid on here!" I said, pointing to Asa.
We rode around till Asa finally got tired. We drove back to Grandaddy's house to find that the family and Jody were sitting on the deck, talking about Grandaddy. We laughed about the time me and Carlie were driving one of his golf carts and ran into the side of the house and the time that I was riding on the tractor with him on top of a hay bale and I fell off of it into the mud.
"Why do all the stories about pain or trouble have to be about me?" I asked.
"Maybe because if something happened around here, either you or Kade were behind it." my sister Angela laughed.
Me and Kade looked at each other. "She's right you know," he said, smiling.
I nodded. "We were bad," I told Billie, Mike and Tre.
"Yeah. Being good is overrated," Tre said.
Jody laughed and agreed. Jody was always getting into trouble. He reminded me a lot of Tre. Things got serious when we started talking about the funeral, which was at 5:00 that day. I had completely forgotten. I swallowed another huge lump in my throat and said I was going inside for a minute.
I walked into the house and went to the computer room and picked up Grandaddy's old guitar. I started playing "Hurt" by Johnny Cash, Grandaddy's favorite singer. The song was solemn and dark, but I didn't wanna feel like that. I stopped and lay my head back over the chair. I smiled when I thought about the first time I heard Johnny Cash. Me and Grandaddy were sitting in the living room of their old house we called "The Big House" for obvious reasons- it was big. Folsom Prison Blues came on and Grandaddy started singing. I loved it right away.
I started strumming the chords to the song, then the words came back to me.
I hear that train a-commin', it's rollin' around the bend
And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when
I'm stuck in Folsom prison and time keeps draggin' on
But that train keeps a-rollin' on down to San Antone
When I was just a baby, my mama told me, son
Always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns
But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die
When I hear that whistle blowin', I hang my head and cry
I bet there's rich folks eatin' in a fancy dining car
They're probably drinking coffee and smoking big cigars
But I know I had it coming, I know I can't be free
But those people keep a-movin' and that's what tortures me
Well if that freed me from this prison
and that railroad train was mine
I bet I'd move it on a little farther down the line
Far from Folsom prison, that's where I want to stay
And I'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away
I heard someone clear their throat. I looked up to see Mike standing in the doorway with Asa at his side. "He was looking for you and we heard you singing. He said we had to be quiet," Mike smiled.
I smiled. Asa came over and said, "Kayla, is that Grandaddy's song?"
"It was one of his favorites, baby. I heard it when I was your age."
Are you gonna play for him before he goes to Heaven?" he asked.
I looked up at Mike, who gave me a pitiful look "Yeah, I'm playing a song for him this afternoon at the funeral," I said, trying not to cry.
"Oh. Ok," he said, and he turned around and went back out the door.
I stood up and Mike came over and hugged me. I dreaded playing that funeral worse than anything I had ever dreaded in my life, but it was something he wanted me to do for him.
"He looks like a nice guy," Billie Joe said, looking down at the picture.
"He was the greatest guy I ever knew," I said, closing the photo album. "Just 6 months ago he was finishing building a huge ass deck on the side of his house. It was beautiful. He didn't even have time to enjoy it before he got sick," I stopped and swallowed hard.
Billie squeezed my shoulder and smiled at me. "It's ok. Don't be so tough. I cried for years after my dad died."
I smiled and laughed. "Yeah, me too."
"Your dad died too?" he asked.
"Yeah. I had just turned 7 exactly a week before and he had rented out this skating rink for the night. That was one of the last times I saw him. He seemed just fine. Nothing was wrong. Then one day I was at my cousin Carlie's house riding bikes and my grandmother came and got me and took me to her house. My mom was sitting at the table crying and she told me he had killed himself."
"Oh my god," was all Billie could say.
"Yeah. But you wanna know something weird? The first thing I said after she told me that was 'are we still going to the lake this afternoon?' "
"What the hell?" he asked.
"I didn't know, Billie. That was my first real experience with death. When I realized he was dead, I went into this sort of depression type thing. I went to therapy for about a year. I still cry about it too."
Billie nodded. "You just wonder what could have been, huh?"
"Yeah," I said. I had never felt closer to a grown up than I had with Billie at that moment. We talked the rest of the 3 hours we were on the plane. We landed in Jackson and rented a car. After an hour in the car, we came to our destination. We pulled into the asphalt drive way and drove up the hill. At the top, all you could see was cars in the small field where my grandfather's house was. From the edge of the pond to the drive way, there were cars. I almost wanted to start crying again, but I swallowed the hard lump in my throat and guided Mike into a parking spot.
We walked up the steps onto the new deck I mentioned and onto another deck that wrapped around the house to the back door. I knocked.
My cousin Carlie came to the door and saw me through the window. She threw the door open and hugged me.
"It's been forever!!" she cried, her eyes red and puffy from crying.
"Yeah, 3 months. How is everyone?"
"You know... ... sad," she shrugged. She was eyeing Billie.
"Oh, Carlie, this is Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt and Tre Cool," they all smiled and nodded.
"Sorry about what happened. From what Kayla said, you guys were really close to him," Billie said. Carlie nodded. "Well, come on in. We were all waiting for you."
We followed Carlie into the kitchen and were greeted my my uncle Stan and uncle Steve, aunt LeAnne and aunt Buffie, my cousins Kade and Asa, Kade's friend Jody and my mom and William. My mom came and hugged me, crying. "He was so proud of you."
I nodded and patted her on the back. She stood back and wiped her eyes. "You must be Green Day," she smiled. The boys smiled back and nodded. "I'm sorry about your dad. Kayla thought a lot of him." Billie said, hugging my mom. She nodded. "Lots of people did."
"Looks like it," Mike said, looking into the living room to see about 20 people sitting around the living room and dining room. Mom smiled and laughed.
I introduced the guys and my family. We went outside and sat on the deck to get away from all the people. Asa, my 4 year old cousin entertained us by singing Alison by Elvis Costello.
"Yeah, ever since he saw you two sing it on your little video message," Stan said, talking to me and Billie, "he won't shut up about it."
We all got ready and went to the visitation. I could hardly stand to be there, let alone stand in a line with my family and hug all these people and hear them tell me how much he was loved and how sorry they were. By the end of it all I just wanted to go play my guitar. Billie, Mike and Tre were talking to random people who recognized them and some people who didn't know them.
The next day I woke to Asa thumping me on the head. He wanted to ride the four wheeler, so me, him, Billie, Mike and Tre all got on two four wheelers (after I taught Mike how to drive one of them.) and drove down the gravel road in front of my house, which was in front of my grandfather's.
"Damn, could you drive any faster!?" Billie yelled over the sound of the four wheeler.
"I could, but I have a kid on here!" I said, pointing to Asa.
We rode around till Asa finally got tired. We drove back to Grandaddy's house to find that the family and Jody were sitting on the deck, talking about Grandaddy. We laughed about the time me and Carlie were driving one of his golf carts and ran into the side of the house and the time that I was riding on the tractor with him on top of a hay bale and I fell off of it into the mud.
"Why do all the stories about pain or trouble have to be about me?" I asked.
"Maybe because if something happened around here, either you or Kade were behind it." my sister Angela laughed.
Me and Kade looked at each other. "She's right you know," he said, smiling.
I nodded. "We were bad," I told Billie, Mike and Tre.
"Yeah. Being good is overrated," Tre said.
Jody laughed and agreed. Jody was always getting into trouble. He reminded me a lot of Tre. Things got serious when we started talking about the funeral, which was at 5:00 that day. I had completely forgotten. I swallowed another huge lump in my throat and said I was going inside for a minute.
I walked into the house and went to the computer room and picked up Grandaddy's old guitar. I started playing "Hurt" by Johnny Cash, Grandaddy's favorite singer. The song was solemn and dark, but I didn't wanna feel like that. I stopped and lay my head back over the chair. I smiled when I thought about the first time I heard Johnny Cash. Me and Grandaddy were sitting in the living room of their old house we called "The Big House" for obvious reasons- it was big. Folsom Prison Blues came on and Grandaddy started singing. I loved it right away.
I started strumming the chords to the song, then the words came back to me.
I hear that train a-commin', it's rollin' around the bend
And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when
I'm stuck in Folsom prison and time keeps draggin' on
But that train keeps a-rollin' on down to San Antone
When I was just a baby, my mama told me, son
Always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns
But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die
When I hear that whistle blowin', I hang my head and cry
I bet there's rich folks eatin' in a fancy dining car
They're probably drinking coffee and smoking big cigars
But I know I had it coming, I know I can't be free
But those people keep a-movin' and that's what tortures me
Well if that freed me from this prison
and that railroad train was mine
I bet I'd move it on a little farther down the line
Far from Folsom prison, that's where I want to stay
And I'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away
I heard someone clear their throat. I looked up to see Mike standing in the doorway with Asa at his side. "He was looking for you and we heard you singing. He said we had to be quiet," Mike smiled.
I smiled. Asa came over and said, "Kayla, is that Grandaddy's song?"
"It was one of his favorites, baby. I heard it when I was your age."
Are you gonna play for him before he goes to Heaven?" he asked.
I looked up at Mike, who gave me a pitiful look "Yeah, I'm playing a song for him this afternoon at the funeral," I said, trying not to cry.
"Oh. Ok," he said, and he turned around and went back out the door.
I stood up and Mike came over and hugged me. I dreaded playing that funeral worse than anything I had ever dreaded in my life, but it was something he wanted me to do for him.
