Billie Joe Armstrong is my step-father... and I hate it [EDITING]

Denotate The Fuse

I forced myself to get up after two minutes to take a wander around Don’s room. It was not how I had pictured it. The walls were a soft colour of blue, which actually kind of shocked me. I had expected several pictures of scandally clad women to be on the walls, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that there was none. It was actually quite a small room, with only a bed, a chest of drawers and a desk that held an open laptop, with the flourscent blur of Facebook glaring out at me. Above his bed, however, there was a collection of photo’s. It drew my attention and I felt pulled towards it.

There were pictures of Aiden, Lisa, Jason and the others – and of me. I was even more surprised to see me up there, and it actually gave me a rather warm, fuzzy feeling in the depths of my stomach. On one picture of us each, there was a date written on the bottem. Aiden 19/5/07, Jason 13/8/07, Tord 4/10/09, Emily 28/12/09, Idina 31/7/10, Jordan 29/3/10, Lisa 17/2/11, Grace 12/7/12.

I remembered that date – that was the date I first met the gang. When I first met Don. He had written each date in which we joined the infamous Bang Gang. Aiden was first – five years ago. When he first arrived in California from Brooklyn. Don and Aiden must have hit it off like a house on fire if it took Don that little of time to dechiper Aiden’s accent.

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind I put milk in your coffee – I’m not sure if you wanted it black or not,” Don’s voice said from outside the door. I dived back in the bed (with the consequence of feeling a part of my brain explode with pain from the impact) and tried to make it seem like I hadn’t moved.

“Yea, that’s fine,” I said, quickly, as Don walked into his room. Whether he suspected I had been moving about his room, he never showed it. He moved towards me and handed me a mug. A mug with World’s Most Annoying Brother written on it. When Don saw my questioning look, he laughed at me.

“Oh, don’t mind that. My sister got that for my older brother, AJ. He’s home for the weekend – he goes to Harvard.”

“Harvard?” I said, my eyes widening. “Wow – that’s great for him.”

“Sure is. I just wish I could be that successful when I’m his age. He’s really smart.”

“I’m sure you’re smart too,” I tried to reassure him, sipping my coffee slowly, lest I scorch my mouth.

“Nah,” Don said, nonchantly. “Sometimes the schizo messes up my brain, you know? Makes letters look numbers, and numbers look like Ancient Egyptian symbols from before time.”

I had no real response to that, only except for saying, “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Don shrugged. “My therapist says it’s good to talk about it – and it is. It helps me realise that schizophrenia isn’t something to be... ashamed off. I mean, it’s not something to parade around like the Fourth of July – but I shouldn’t try to hide it and sugar coat it until it’s something it’s not. In short – it’s schizophrenia. And I’ve accepted that.”

“How long have you had it for?” I asked, taking this for an open invitation to ask him about his problem.

Don stopped to think of a moment, clutching his own coffee between his hands. “Since I was fifteen.”

“Oh wow,” I said. “So it’s... not recent but... you weren’t born with it?”

“Nope. No one in my family had a history of it either – it just... happened. And I don’t really know why it happened. Some people say you develop it after a traumatic event...”

“Did you have a traumatic event?” I asked, carefully. Don shrugged.

“I’m not sure if it was the schizo or not, but I had... a bit of a meltdown. When I was fifteen. About the apocolypse. It was real brutal stuff and then I almost drowned in the river. I don’t remember much about what happened, I just remember jumping from the second floor in school and sprinting across the yard into the street. It sort of... happened while I was in the middle of doing a report.”