Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Boulevard of Perfect Deams

            The ride back home was a rather quiet one, besides the rain pounding down every second of the way. Billie and I held hands for most of the way, but it was obvious it was for comfort rather than lust. There was a thick atmosphere around the two of us, but neither of us spoke of anything deep or emotional. We weren't used to conferring about such matters in front of a third person, and this taxi driver was just dying to hear us speak. I caught his eyes multiple times in the rearview mirror waiting for us to get caught up in a conversation. It never happened.

"I haven't seen so much rain in a long time," Billie mumbled under his breath while intently staring out the window. We had around 20 more minutes before arrival, and the darkness had finally sat in.

There were so many simple things I could have said to respond to that, but I decided against it. None of them were worth the time to say.

In a way, we knew what was happening. Driving home wasn't just driving home, but it was the next step in the end of our relationship. Billie asked a terrible truthful question at the hospital that just wouldn't leave my mind. Where do we go from here? Where do we go from here? It was a humbling question. You think you're so great because you have Billie Joe's attention? You believe you are so wonderful because you got the lead singer of Green Day to cross the country for you? Great. I'm glad you feel that way. But don't forget, in a short amount of time, he's got to go home. It's going to be over, somehow. Will you feel so great when you're alone, back where you started?

The thought of it sent dreadful shivers down my spine. My body flinched at the thought, and my eyes gazed back out the window.

"Are you cold?" Billie takes into notice.

"I'm alright," I lie.

"Here, take my jacket," he offers kindly while sliding off his black denim jacket. "Summer's coming to an end, it's getting cooler at night," he states obviously.

My eyes grew wide in adoration at his gesture. He smiled softly while tucking it over me like a blanket.

"Thank you, Billie. You mean a lot to..." my eyes for a moment caught the taxi driver staring at us through the mirror and frustration boiled within me. "Me," I muttered.

Billie nodded in acknowledgement. He could sense the tension with the driver as well, and hopefully we would return to our normal selves in just a little while.

The last 20 minutes dragged by before we finally pulled up in front of my house. Thankfully the rain lightened up a little bit, making it less dreary to grab a few bags from the trunk. We were greeted at the door by my parents. My mother had tears streaming down her eyes at the sight of me while my dad smiled confidently. He welcomed us both home and gestured for us to sit on the couch. It was rather nice that my parents didn't know much about Billie Joe. They didn't appear star struck or fascinated with his presence. It felt rather like an old friend was visiting for the night, which made things a little easier on me.

After being polite and asking if the two of us wanted anything to eat or drink, my parents sat down across from us in preparation to catch up.

"We got a call from the hospital," my dad finally stated. He shook his head in astonishment. "I still can't believe it. I didn't know what to believe when I heard the news."

"It truly is a miracle," my mom added on lightly.

Billie and I stayed rather quiet, for we could tell they weren't done with their words.