On February 28, 1995, Addie gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.
"What should we name him?" She asked me smiling.
"How about Joseph?"
"I love it," Adrienne answered.
"What about a middle name?" I asked.
"Marciano."
"Joseph Marciano Armstrong. Joey for short. I love it," I said. I smiled at my son and wife.
*****
About a week later Joey got really sick. We took him to the ER to find out what was wrong. They had to keep him over night.
Addie stayed up late one night crying.
"What if he doesn't make it?" She asked.
"He'll be fine, baby."
I held her close that night. I wasn't sure of my own words. The doctors can't even figure out what's wrong with him.
*****
The next morning we got a phone call from the doctor. Joey didn't make it. Addie ran to our room and started sobbing. From that point on our relationship started going downhill. She blamed me for the death of our son. I wish I could help her. I wish I could be there for her. But she constantly pushes me away. She doesn't understand that I'm grieving Joey's death too. It isn't just her son.
Weeks have gone by. Addie hasn't been coming home as much at night anymore. I don't know where she goes but she's been distancing herself from me more and more. I haven't talked to Mike and Tré in a long time. My job has been offering less pay. Addie quit her job. I can hardly afford to keep the apartment.
That night I got home from work late. It was almost midnight. All of Addie's stuff was gone. There was a note on the kitchen table that read:
Billie Joe, I'm sorry but I
Can't do this anymore. I'm
Leaving. You can keep the
Apartment. I'm moving back
To Minnesota. Take care.
-Adrienne
I crumpled up the note and threw it at the wall and ran to my room and started sobbing. I started throwing everything. I grabbed a bottle of alcohol and chugged the whole thing and threw it at the door. The glass shattered everywhere.
I drank myself to sleep that night. Addie doesn't love me anymore.
