My Stepdad, Billie Joe Armstrong (Daughter of Rage and Love)

My Heart Is Beating From Me

Fuck. I am so doomed. I tried hard not to laugh at that as he made his way over to me.

No point in running, he's already spotted me. I leaned my back against the pier and looked up at the sky littered here and there with stars. Too bad the city lights shine out most of the stars and the sky never gets to be anything other than a dark gray. I always wondered how an infinite black night sky looks like.

"Do you know how worried me and your mom were!" he started his tirade before he even got to me, choosing instead, to balance precariously on a rock.

Well it'll only take him a second to register the smell, I thought and relaxed.

"Don't lie, my mom doesn't give a shit as to where I am – and trust me, she's anything but worried, she's probably in bed by now," I said, my voice coming out a little slurred and unsteady.

"That is not...Hope...what are you doing?" he asked, not wanting to admit that I'm right. My mom didn't care about anything. I remember coming home at 4 am on nights on end and my mom wouldn't care, she would be asleep in her bed, snoring lightly. She didn't care as long as I brought home good grades, didn't get into trouble, and didn't do drugs.

"Nothing of your concern, Billie Joe," I said, chuckling lightly as Jesus of Suburbia continued to play quietly through my headphones.

He quickly jumped from one rock onto the next, until he landed on mine. Then he just stood there, looking down at me, and I could tell by his silhouette that he was somewhere between indecisive and confused.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, sounding wary, then smelled the air.

"Oh my God, are you smoking weed?" he asked me dubiously, crossing over to me and sitting down.

"None of your beeswax," I muttered, trying to hide my joint.

He leaned against the pier with me, close enough that our shoulders were almost touching and asked, "Mind if I have a drag?"

"I'm sorry what?" I asked him, surprised.

"Mind if I have some? I forgot last time I smoked," he said.

"Um...sure?" I said, handing him my joint.

He took it from my hand, brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply. Then he let it out and I could feel his gaze on me.

"What cha listening to?" he asked me, amusement coloring his tone.

"Nothing!" I said, quickly shutting off my music. I won't grant him have the satisfaction of knowing I still listen to his music.

"If you say so...so how long you've been smoking?" he said, taking another drag and passing it to me.

I inhaled once, letting the smoke linger in my lungs, then let it out, and said, "Like 4 years, it helps take the edge off you know?"

"Don't I know it," he said, leaning back.

A moment of silence passed before I decided to ask him a question that plagued my mind since he took a seat next to me.

"Are you gonna tell my mom?" I asked him, sounding too childish for my likes.

He glanced at me, a smile flickering on his lips and said, "I won't tell her if you tell me what you were listening to,"

"Ugh," I groaned. "ItwasJesusOfSuburbia," I said quickly, hoping he wouldn't catch it.

"HAH! I knew it! Misses I don't like anything by the Billie of the Green Day because I'm too cool nowadays," he said tickling me, high already.

I laughed and said, "My mom would kill me if she found out I smoke. She's fine with everything I do and don't do as long as she doesn't know about it,"

"That sounds just like my mother," he said, his voice resonating with sadness. I reached out and patted his shoulder, high off of the weed and prone to showing affection to anyone that came my way. Even Billie.

We lapsed into silence after a couple more drags, until he finally said, "We better get home, it's getting pretty late,"

"Yeah, fine," I said, getting up, with him following suit.

We climbed over the rail and started our walk back to his car, unsteadily, woozily, and too happily.

"I'm gonna call Mike to come pick us up because I don't think I'm in the best condition to drive," Billie said, leaning over the hood of his car and fishing a cell phone out of his pocket. Somehow, he was able to dial in the number and then said into the phone, "Mikey poooo, would you do me the utmost honor of picking my and my daughter's butt from the pier?"

I suspect Mike said something to Billie because his face lighted up with a smile.

He put his cell back in his pocket and turned to me, "Mikey will be here very very soon, so no worries...he's somewhere in the neighborhood,"

He leaned back against the car and sighed.

Huh, daughter...he called me his daughter.