"OH MY GOD!"
"What?! WHAT?!" I scramble awake in the depths of my dark room upon hearing my mother's scream. It was only 6 am; the sunlight barely touched my bed.
My attention was frivolously turned to her angered and shocked expression.
"What's wrong?!" I demand confidently.
"LOGAN!" She screams running towards the door.
"Mom?" I tremble in worry. "Mom why are you--?"
It made sense when I had stood up from my bed and felt a little object underneath my foot. I never thought I could make a mistake as careless as the one I had made, especially at a time when I needed to be more cautious than ever.
I looked down at the floor to see approximately 20 pills scattered all over my carpet. My mom must have come in to collect my trash for the week to put out for the garbage men; little did she expect to see my drugs everywhere from last night.
This must have been it. This must have been what Billie was talking about. I was given a very generous extra chance by not only the doctors but my family...and I ruined it.
No tears streamed down my face like usual, but rather a lack of feeling swarmed me. It was a numbing sensation that took over my heart and mind, leaving me disappointed at myself. There was no point in fighting back. It was truly over. I lost the fight.
My father came bolting up the stairs. His lectures were loud and toned with the intent to bring fear, but my face stayed blank. It didn't matter how much he yelled or attempted to figure out my reasoning. Trying to defend myself was even more pointless. It was the first time in a week where I let them reprimand me...I knew I deserved it.
*** *** ***
It was going to be about 15 more minutes until we arrived into the heart of Boston. My parents called the doctors and told them about what happened, and their first recommendation was a rehab center in Boston. I guess it would be worth it. As for me, I just felt stupid. If only it was Wednesday; my mom would have never came close to my room. Or what if after taking that third pill, I simply put the case back in the drawer? This could have all been so easily avoided.
Maybe that was the point. Maybe Billie was right. Maybe subconsciously I wanted to get caught so this whole thing would end. I sure as hell couldn't do it on my own. It was probably that last needed step to bring things full circle. I hope.
After parking and getting situated, my parents and I walked over to a Boston drug treatment center.
"Let's get inside," my father insisted.
It was rather intimidating to enter and realize the reasoning for my presence. For whatever reason, I didn't feel the need to be in a treatment center. My addiction was young and only a few days in. Why couldn't this just be taken care of in my own city?
After examining the room with my eyes, my father continued to speak.
"Let's go get you signed in."
Something was wrong. Whatever it was, I just couldn't stand to be in here. My body temperature raised and this sensation of the need to run away came over me. Call me nervous, but to me, this felt like a moment right before a faint.
"I need to use the bathroom," I mutter.
"Okay honey, we will sign you in. Come right back!" My mom insisted.
It all became too overwhelming too fast. I snuck out through a back door and made my way back to the streets of Boston. My heart began racing as my speed increased. I had to get out of there. None of it felt right.
As I found my way back to the main streets, a sense of de ja vu hit me like a brick.
"Hey sweetie, feeling hungry?" My head flung to see a man wearing a lime green hat and red sox shirt at a hot dog stand, waving to me in happiness.
My eyes grew wide and I started walking faster. There's no way. My senses grew sharp, the way they did my first time in Boston when I had first met Billie. Why? Why did it have to be like this? I kept my eyes glued on the ground to help avoid a headache from visioning all the people.
"How about Alfredo?"
"No silly! If we name him Alfredo, I'm going to get hungry and want Italian food every time I say his name! Plus, that's no name for a puppy."
"Fineee. I guess I'm just thinking with my stomach. Can we go to Little Italy for lunch?"
"Sure, but we haven't even had breakfast yet!"
"We're not going to have time for breakfast if we're going to get him now. We did tell the adoption center we'd be there before 10:30, so we have to keep our word."
"I guess you're right. How about Papi? That would be a cute name!"
No. This is a dream. This isn't real. I looked up to see a couple holding hands. Just the way it happened in my dream last night. This isn't possible. One too many coincidences this time. There's no way.
The moment a huge gust of wind hit my face I fell to the ground and began to cry.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Oh my God!"
People began circling me as I wept in embarrassment and confusion. Whoever was fooling me was doing a hell of a job. My eyes were filled with tears. It was hard to make it out, but there were at least 20 people staring at me, mumbling to each other in attempt to figure out what was going on.
"Someone try and speak to her!"
"Should we call an ambulance?"
"She's in hysterics!"
Now I could say I knew what it felt like to be a caged animal. Everyone was watching me as if I was a circus act, without trying to actually work with me; only watching from a distance. As much as I wanted to get up and move on, something kept me glued to the ground in surrender. I guess I would wait here until I was found...
"LAYLA? IS THAT YOU?!"
I couldn't see the face of the speaker with all of the people surrounding me, but I could pick out their sound and separate them from the crowd.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"
People were being shoved left and right, creating a path for this person to meet me.
"Oh my God...it's you. It's really you!"
He stood in front of me...looking down at me. The only one trying to communicate with me. My heart sank more at the sight of him.
"It's over Billie. It's done," I sob some more.
He leans over and offers a hand.
"No. I'm right here."
"YOU'RE FAKE!" I scream at him. "You mean I'm sick! I'm a psycho! I've lost control. I can't even tell the difference anymore. I'm going to die!"
My head hung low as I realized just how over it truly was. It was a surprise to see him here. I had truly thought the last time was last night. But here he was. In Boston with me just like the day we had met. And once again, I couldn't tell the difference between my dream and reality. This was the moment I knew I was done.
"Is that Billie Joe Armstrong?"
"That's the lead singer of Green Day!"
"What's he doing in Boston?"
"Just who is that girl?"
"BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG AHHHH I LOVE BILLIE!!!!!"
Slowly my head raised to see what I had heard. These people...these people recognized Billie. After all this time I had ever spent with Billie, not a single person had ever recognized him but me.
"It's me, Layla. It's me. In the body and flesh."
I shook my head no violently. There was no way. I'm in denial.
"GUYS! IT'S BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG!" A random voice screamed from the crowd.
"BILLIE CAN WE HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH?"
"WHENS YOUR NEXT ALBUM?"
"WILL YOU MARRY ME?"
Was this a joke? Was my mind deceiving me?
Billie extended his hand for me to grab in attempt to pull me off the ground. After a little thought, I accepted the gesture and allowed myself up.
My eyes met with his. Things felt normal. His hazel eyes glimmered and let me in, leaving me to connect with his soul. But how could I distinguish the difference? How could I be sure of anything?
The amount of people watching us grew by a huge amount. It became overwhelming, especially since people were starting to realize the one and only Billie Joe Armstrong was in their presence.
"Layla, we got to get out of here!" He claimed. I nodded softly and allowed him to swiftly move the two of us, connected by our hands.
"MOVE IT OR LOSE IT!" He yelled while shoving us through the crowd. "This girl needs serious help!"
I mean...not really, but it was a sound excuse to get us both out of there. People everywhere watched us running through the streets. Voices screamed left and right about how Billie was in their midst.
"THAT'S BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG!"
"Who is he with?"
Even some reporters tried to tail us, but running away was something Billie and I were not strangers to. In fact, nearly every time I was with him, there was a point where we had to run.
After around five minutes of sprinting, and creating a group of followers as we did, Billie and I finally reached a hotel that we booked into. The desk hop immediately recognized Billie, allowing the two of us access to an elevator without having to check in and leaving those crazy people behind.
We were heaving and trying to catch our breaths as the elevator door closed on us. It was an exhilarating moment, leaving me to treat Billie the way I always had.
"That was a close one!" I pant. "Everyone's always out to get us."
I wasn't exactly making eye contact with him, but when I realized he wasn't answering, I looked up to see why not.
"You okay Billie?" I ask intently.
"I am," he responds. "Are you, Ms. Storme?"
Something about him felt different. I grew a little nervous standing beside him.
"Yeah. I mean, I guess. Nothing new. Just being confused up the ass, the usual," I laugh at my remark. "It's really nice to see you. I didn't think I was going to again. You sounded really convincing last night. And when I woke up this morning and got caught red handed...I really thought it was over."
His soft smile faded and was replaced with a look of confusion. He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows as a result.
"Excuse me?"
His lack of understanding made me question things.
"You know...remember last night?"
Billie's grin resurfaced as he embraced me in a hug.
"It's you! It's really you! This whole fucking thing...I believe it now. Every inch of it. I can't believe I fucking found you."
"Billie what are you talking ab—"
In that instance it made sense. The elevator door opened and it felt symbolic, as if all the doors in this fucking maze were opened as well, leaving me with a revealed answer.
This wasn't a dream. Billie wasn't a hallucination. People saw him and approached him just as they would if he were actually there. He was there. This was him. This, was the real Billie Joe Armstrong.