"Come on, Emily. It's time to wake up," Billie said, while he was yawning.
I opened my eyes; I noticed Billie in the kitchen; he was sipping a cup of cappuccino at a chair at the kitchen table.
"Well, we have to be at the doctor's at 11:30 today, all right?" Billie said while scrolling through Instagram.
I put on my American Idiot shirt along with blue jeans. It was around 9:30 when I got finished getting ready. Then I heard a knock on my bedroom door, then I noticed it was Billie.
"Emily, are you ready?" Billie asked with his Dead Kennedys t-shirt and red flannel on leaning on the bedroom door frame.
"Yeah, I'm ready," I answered, closing the bedroom behind me with my phone in my hand.
Then we went in Billie's Genesis; I put my earbuds in my ears, listening to my punk rock playlist. I noticed Billie trying to catch my attention; I detected he was speaking. I pulled one of my earbuds out of my ears.
"Ground control... to Emily ... Ground control... to Emily. What are you listening to? Billie asked.
"Oh, my punk rock playlist with, Dead Kennedys, Misfits, The Offspring, Operation Ivy, Rancid, and you guys," I answered.
"I don't care if you play it on the stereo. You just need to connect your Bluetooth. Please wait to play it, when we leave the gas station," Billie acknowledged me while he was navigating into a gas station.
"Oh, okay, Billie. Billie, you don't mind if I tell you something when you get back in?" I asked Billie while he was pumping the gas into the car.
"All right, I'll be right back, honey. I have to go pay for the gas and get us a drink and snack. What do you want?" Billie said, putting the windows down.
"Maybe, root beer and some potato chips," I replied.
"All right, I'll be right back," Billie said closing the driver-side door.
I pondered to myself, Dam; he is so generous, down to earth. I can't believe mom let him adopt me. I noticed a piece of paper in the glove-box; there was a black-and-white picture, mom and me (when I was a baby) it appeared to be from before she met Jason. I discerned there was a piece that was folded covering a part of the picture; I unfolded it.
It was some man... NOT JUST ANY MAN... It was a man that appeared just LIKE Billie. The picture plummeted on the floorboard. I located the picture, picked it up, then twisted around it. It had rushed writing: Dear Lynn, Here's a picture of us back in 2004.
I was in utter shock, I also stuffed the piece of paper and picture in my pocket. Then a moment later, I noticed Billie rush back to the car.
"Hey, Emily. Here are your drink and chips... Sorry, it took me a minute to get out here, you didn't say what chips you wanted. So I just grabbed a bag of plain potato chips." Billie said.
I didn't want Billie to know I was in his glove-box, because I was being inquisitive. I connected my phone to the stereo, then we blared some Green Day, Dead Kennedys, and Operation Ivy songs until we reached close to the doctors' office.
"Oh sh*t, I forgot you were going to tell me something on the way here, what were you going to tell me, Emily?" Billie asked.
I replied, "Oh, nothing, I'll tell you when we get back into the car," I said while Billie and I were getting out the car.
"Well, okay. Mm... I guess you can tell me later," Billie said while opening the front door to the waiting room. "I'm glad there's nobody else here, Emily. My anxiety would go berserk."
"Good morning. How may I help you?" The secretary asked in a monotone voice.
"Hello, I made an appointment at 11:30, for my daughter to see ... Uh... Dr. Paige Scheier." Billie said watching her clacking on her computer.
"What is her name?" The secretary asked.
"Emily Armstrong," Billie answered.
"Okay, she'll be right with you, sir..." She glanced up from her desk "Oh my god, your BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG!"
----- Billie's POV -----
The lady was staring at me like I was some crazy, lunatic. I thought, AW, sh*t. This nurse needs to hurry the f**k up or I might go mentally insane. I sat down close to Emily, dam; she reminded me so much of Lynn.
"Billie? Are you all right?" Emily asked me, her voice full of concern.
I thought, dam, I will just brush it off, it's fine, it's only one white lie. Obviously, my anxiety will make me deranged. "Uh... Yes... Yes... I'm fine..." I told Emily while she was on her phone listening to some song by the Dead Kennedys. I was sweating profusely, my heart-rate accelerated. A moment later, the nurse finally arrived.
"Emily Armstrong," she said magnanimously.
"Hey, kid, we have got to go!" I rushed Emily.
Whenever I reached the room, Emily sat down on the examination table. "We recently just adopted her. She is from Seattle," I acknowledge the nurse.
"Well, Mr. Armstrong, do you have any of her medical records?" The nurse asked me amiably.
"Yes, uh... Here you go?" I beamed while handing her the papers.
The nurse left the room, then Dr. Scheier arrived in the room a moment later.
"Hello, Emily. All right, it looks like you're here for neurology, Emily. Can you tell me what seems to be the problem, Billie?" The nurse questioned me.
"Well, let's see, hm... Emily has been... Well... Emily has been having problems with her anxiety, insomnia, and depression. See, she has had a rough past," I said timidly.
"Now, is she diagnosed with insomnia, depression, and/or anxiety?" She asked.
"Well... They have diagnosed me with anxiety, while I have been showing symptoms of insomnia and depression, also," Emily told the nurse.
I thought, Good girl, you don't know how much this is helping me. I can't remember this kind of sh*t.
"Billie... Billie... Billie!" The nurse said, trying to get my attention.
"Oh... Sorry, I just have a lot of things on my mind," I replied.
I thought, Dam, you forgot to take your ADD medicine again; you f**king dork.
"Billie. Can you tell some scenarios about Emily showing symptoms so I can find the right medication for her," she asked.
"Okay, if you don't know, I have insomnia..." I said.
She interrupted me, "I'm sorry to interrupt, however, Billie, did you know that insomnia and depression can be a genetic factor."
"Uh... We recently adopted her..." I acknowledged her.
"I assumed, since her last name was Armstrong, you were related to her, like genetic," she acknowledged me.
"Ooh, okay, I understand," I told her. Then I continued, "Well... She told me she wakes up around 3:00-4:00 about every night and she has trouble falling back asleep. Then, for depression, her biological mother passed away from breast cancer about two months ago, she also had an abusive stepdad, and all that."
"Okay, I will prescribe her, Ambien and Prozac," she acknowledged me.
We finally left about 15 minutes later.
----Emily's POV----
Once we left the doctors' office, Billie handed me my phone. "Here you go! Well, I'm glad that's over!" Billie said, sighing in relief.
"Okay, thanks," I said, beaming at Billie.
"Oh... Sh*t, I forgot... What did you want to tell me earlier, Emily?" Billie asked steering the car.
"Well... Uh... My school is having a dance next week, and I wanted to ask... Nick out," I said blushing.
"Uh... I'm sorry, Emily... The answer is no! I don't know this Nick boy. If I knew him, it would be different," Billie told me.
That night, I didn't sleep well. I thought to myself, I should look at the piece of paper from out of Billie's glove-box. I hid the paper and picture in a shoebox under my bed. In there I had a necklace that mom gave me before she died, the picture, a notebook, that I wrote in everyday since she died, and the piece of paper.
I dug the shoebox out and scavenged for the paper; I grabbed my phone then turned on the flashlight it read: Lynn, it's Billie, I have been holding my secret from Emily for a while now, and it has been eating at me since the day, I picked her up from the police station. I was going to tell her on her birthday. I miss you, Lynn! We will see each other soon. I wish you were here, Billie!
'Oh once in your life you find someone who will turn your world around bring you up when you're feelin' down yeah nothin' could change what you mean to me oh there's lots that I could say but just hold me now... and baby, you're all that I want when you're lyin' here in my arms I'm findin' it hard to believe we're in heaven' - Bryan Adams; Heaven (1984)
What "secret" is he talking about?
I don't know of any "secret".