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Chapter 13

Perry Como and cooking with Mary were just the remedy to pull me from the day's thoughts. Although cooking was a bit of a stretch for what I was doing, she mainly tasked me with peeling and chopping. Still, I didn't mind. A joy sprung from Mary when she cooked, which was only amplified when cooking for her family. Sunday dinner was for the family. All the boys came over; five Collins boys and one Denning boy.

"How many grandkids will be running around here tomorrow?" I asked, as the bulk of my focus was on not cutting myself.

She let out a laugh, "running around; none. Jackson is the youngest."

"Oh, that makes sense. I forget Billy is the youngest sometimes."

"Really? Huh, I don't think anyone else has ever forgotten that aside from you." There was still a tone of jest in Mary's voice. I couldn't tell if it was from me accusing thirteen-year-old Jackson of running around like a toddler or of Billy acting like anything but the family's baby.

"But Jackson and Viv are with their mother this weekend," I added.

"Oh, they'll be here in time for Sunday dinner." Mary didn't adjust her focus and missed the wince on my face.

For some reason, that I was actively trying not to root out; I was looking to avoid Billy's kids. I wanted to pretend it was because kids mirror their parents, and I didn't want to see this new Billy up close, but any reflection pulled me to not wanting to see my father's reflections in Billy's parenting.

"James too," Mary added, shattering my thoughts. "That's it for the grandkids. Most are off starting up their lives." There was a wistful tone in her words. "They'll be home in a couple of weeks for Christmas."

The thought of Christmas made my stomach drop. I'd been avoiding all thoughts of the holiday. My only idea was that, without my father, it was a non-event looming at the end of the month.

"It's getting late," Mary spoke in a soothing, apologetic tone.

I realized she had thoroughly cleaned up the kitchen, barring the small pile of carrots before me. "Oh, sorry, I guess I haven't been great company tonight."

"Quiet company isn't poor company," she corrected. "Throw those in the fridge when you're done," she added before heading to bed.

I finished my pile and put them away before being pulled to my makeshift office by the lure of the record player. I settled on the couch as my favorite Billy Collins album spun on the turntable. The style was the same, but something about this album kept drawing me back. I scoured the liner notes for a clue as to what it was. The mix of dangerously close-to-happy love songs with Compelled to Yell stuck in there. A different song captivated me. It was a quick song that I hadn't paid too much attention to the first few listens. Billy tucked it in after Compelled to Yell. It was riff-driven, with a simple hypnotic heartbeat pounding through it. I stared down at the song called Something is Better Than Nothing. I played it over and over, trying to understand it. Billy was married at the time. He was still in that blissful state before everything crumbled. It'd be years before the cracks started to spiderweb out of control. But in this song, the narrator was cautioning and conditioning the listener, chastising them for their lack of emotion. Had the cracks already been present? Had Billy been lonely long before he acknowledged it?

"Hey," Tim answered on one ring. "Oh, I know that one. Still stuck on Compelled to Yell?" He let out a laugh.

"No, just background music," I lied.

"Mmhmm, and you're calling me in the middle of the night because you were thinking of me?"

"Maybe," I lied again.

"You realize that your voice gets very high when you lie?"

"I've been told that before." I sighed.

"What's going on?" Timmy pressed.

"I don't know," I admitted. I didn't know why I bothered calling Timmy.

"You want me to come over?" The shades of concern flooded his voice.

"No." A silence filled the line before I broke it with, "he asked me to fight for him, present tense."

"It's a trap!" Tim's voice raised at his visceral response. "You two can't do this again. You start up, are all obsessed with each other, then you watch a fucking movie, start talking about your relationship, and suddenly I lose my Lilipop for ten years and Billy... Just don't, Lil."

"I don't even know him anymore. Sometimes it feels like no time has passed, and just yesterday, we were making Viv peanut butter toast. Then other times, I feel like he's a stranger."

"He is a stranger, Lil. He changed a lot in ten years, and so did you."

"The guy I knew is gone." There was mourning in my voice.

"Honestly, Lil, after ten years, it'd be weird if you both hadn't changed."

"Then why would he want me to fight for him?"

"Lil, if anyone can understand the struggles of unraveling Billy Collins, you can. Maybe he's bored; maybe he's lonely; maybe he's still figuring out that you've changed over the past ten years. I honestly don't know, but whatever you do, don't watch a movie with the man. You both have too much going on to light up that dumpster fire."

"What do you have against movies?" I teased.

"They're like kryptonite for you two," he shot without hesitation.

"I feel like you've given this a lot of thought; which one of us is Superman?"

"Speaking of traps, I gotta get to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, Lil."

"Good night, Timmy."

I should have gone to bed. Intelligent people go to bed when they're tired. They turn off their thoughts and float away to dreams of winning the lottery or arriving at a meeting naked. I was not wise, and I didn't go to sleep. I tired texted. It's like drunk texting, but worse because you don't have the built-in next-day excuse.

"Hey," I hit send before I could talk myself out of it.

"Hello," Billy shot back, surprisingly quick. "You okay?" Old Billy, straight to worry that I was hurt when I reached out.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Then what do you want?" New Billy, angry.

"I don't know. To say I'm sorry again."

"Which is it?" He shot back before adding, "are you sorry or confused?"

"Both." The full impact of how terrible an idea it was to start a texting conversation with Billy in the middle of the night with no goal or point sunk in like a shard of glass pressing into my skin.

"And what do you want from me?"

Many thoughts ran through my head; most were unfair. I wanted the old Billy. I wanted one night of the Billy from twenty years ago. The gentleman that treated me like the slightest shadow would cause me harm. I wanted to pick his brain for every interaction he had ever had with my dad. I wanted to feel that relationship, and be a part of it. I wanted to ask him about every song he had ever written. I wanted to know where they came from, what was invented, what was embellished, and what was him. But I didn't write any of those things. I just stared at my phone.

As though he could hear my thoughts, the phone rang. Without hesitation, I answered.

"Hello," I murmured.

"Hello," he sounded tired.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, I was up," he admitted. "I just finished an oil change for the Consul. You know, getting my hands dirty."

I smiled at the nod to my suggestion. "You sound tired."

"I feel tired."

"Do you sleep well?"

"Define well? Actually, no need. No, I don't sleep well."

"Is it your back?"

"Nope, it's my mind, but the back doesn't help."

"How do I help? How do I fight?"

"I honestly don't know, Lil." He let out a sigh that I matched. "I'd like to let you back in. Truly I would. But then..."

"I'll keep trying," I promised.

After a long moment of silence, a choked voice added, "good night, Lily," and then he was gone.

It didn't feel like a proper interaction; nothing was accomplished. I wanted to fight; I wanted to make Billy happy. The thoughts buzzed through me like lightning. Sleep would be impossible. I did the only thing I could. I took a deep breath and headed to my car.

I expected to find the house dim and the lights from the barn casting golden reflections on the driveway, but instead, the warm glow came from the living room. I paused on the porch and got lost in the roaring fire. It looked cozy. I wished I could go inside and curl up with Billy, no questions asked, but I didn't deserve it.

I cracked open the door without knocking.

"Hello, Lily," Billy said, unsurprised and without looking away from the fire. The White Album by The Beatles spun from the turntable in the corner. Sitting on the coffee table were two glasses of champagne.

"You were expecting me," I noted.

"I get an alert when the gate opens; it's a long driveway, and you're reluctant."

"Reluctant of what?" I asked.

"Everything, Lil." Billy let out a breathy laugh. "Join me," he invited.

"Dear Prudence is underrated," I added as I sat.

"I'm not sure if underrated is the right word for any Beatles song," he challenged.

"Fair," I agreed. "Are we celebrating?" I asked as I picked up the wine flute.

"You like the sparkles," I recalled.

"I do," I smiled before taking a sip.

"Why are you here, Lil?" Billy finally met my gaze.

"Tell me about you," I murmured.

He looked at me for a moment. "I can't."

I nodded, trying to hide the fear his response pulled from me. "Tell me about your music," I continued.

"Why don't you tell me about my music?" He tossed back.

I sucked in a deep breath. He wouldn't make this easy.

"Something is Better Than Nothing," I began.

Billy shifted his body, so he was facing me more, intrigued by the song I chose as a starting point.

"Was that you or an invention?" I pressed.

"A little of both."

"Were you already that lonely with Sarah?"

"I don't know if I was lonely with Sarah, but I was lonely in the world. When you become famous, your world becomes small, claustrophobic even. I couldn't breathe," he admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

"Why didn't you hear me?" He countered.

I nodded, accepting his barb. "Do you feel lonely now?"

"Yes," Billy flatly said. "It's different now, though," he continued. "I've learned to find solace in my people, but I find it hard to trust people."

"Does that include Tim and Tess?"

"Sometimes," Billy admitted.

"Why?" I continued.

Billy took a sip and pondered the reason. "I trust them, but there are moments when I feel like because they have been around the whole time, they think they have the same experience and expertise. It's different being spotlight adjacent; I don't know if they get that. Their experiences differ from mine. And failures are mine. If the studio puts out a flop, it's my name attached to it. If it's a success, it's the artist."

"Have you talked to them about it? About the pressure you feel?"

"No," Billy said as he downed the rest of his drink. "It's not worth it."

"Why would you say that? It's how you feel, and it's a lot," I argued.

"There's no way to have that conversation without me announcing I'm the celebrity and they're the others. No good comes from that," he countered.

"You've given this a lot of thought," I noted.

"It's a lot of pressure," he agreed.

"I saw the dance video," I switched the topic. "Where did it come from?"

"A dream," he automatically answered as he poured another drink and topped mine off. "I hadn't slept in a week, and Ma made me see a doctor. She asked about my sleep habits, schedule, and all the like, then shoved pills at me. I should have known better." Billy shook his head as he spoke. "Well, I didn't have the kids and," he paused as a thought rolled through his mind. His eyes lifted to mine as he added, "I didn't care what happened."

It stuck me with the blow he had expected. My head swam at the idea and clung to the words of his last album. I took a large gulp of my drink to steady myself, and when I returned his gaze, he continued.

"So, I took them, and I had a dream. This weird twisted dance video just played over and over. When we were done, I watched it and knew what it was."

"What was it?" I stammered.

"I was fulfilling a commitment. I had hoped with it done that I could release you, but..."

"But?"

"But it made me miss you," he admitted.

"I missed you too," I offered.

"What made you miss me?" He asked; curiosity filled his face as his shoulders eased to have the focus off him.

"What didn't?" I giggled, but Billy didn't reciprocate. "It was never the same thing twice," I continued. "One time, I was at the grocery store and a man passed by that must have been a smoker because all I could think of was you that first night."

"Wow, my bad habits are what you remember?" A laugh escaped him.

"That first night, you ripped so many butts," I noted.

"I was incredibly nervous. Without the cigarettes and my guitar, I wouldn't have made it through the night." His dimples peeked through.

"I was in a meeting once and all someone said was that a coworker was eating like a billy goat. I had to leave; I almost burst into tears." Tears welled in my eyes. "I missed you in every moment, Billy. Staying away from you was like holding my breath for ten years."

"Why didn't you come back?" His hand slipped to mine.

"You got to decide, Billy. I wanted to respect you; your choice."

"It wasn't my choice, Lil. I begged you to stay. You took the choice away from me." Billy's hand tensed around me.

"And replaced it with another one," I challenged.

"Don't do that, Lil. Don't put this on me. I couldn't chase after you anymore; I had the kids, the studio, and people depending on me."

"I wasn't putting it on me. I left. I did this."

"How do I know you won't leave again? Convince me you are going to stay," Billy pleaded.

"All I can give you is my word," I meekly offered.

"What word are you offering?" Billy pressed.

"Forever," I whispered without hesitation.

"Not a bad line, Lil," Billy said on an exhale as he slumped back into the couch.

"It's not a line. I'll prove it," I confidently noted.

"Yeah, how are you going to do that?" He cocked his head to the said at my sudden faith.

"With patience, understanding, and love," I explained.

"Another good line, Lil. You keep this up and you may find yourself a songwriter."

"Your back still bothers you," I noted.

"Yeah." His brow furrowed at the sudden topic change.

"Let me help?" I requested.

"How?" Billy said as he down his drink again.

"Do you not remember how savvy I am with a back rub?"

"No way." Billy shifted away from me at the thought.

"What? I was great at giving you back rubs," I challenged.

"Yeah, and they always ended with..." Billy let his words fall out but motioned his hands in my direction.

"I'm not offering you sex, Billy. I was sincerely offering you a back rub," I laughed.

"Really? When have you ever given me a back rub and not ended up on my dick?" He managed before busting out in laughter.

"Well, there is a first time for everything," I offered.

"Oh, like you can resist this?" Billy shot back.

"Wow, your humbleness is exceptional," I teased. "Besides, you're the one that will need to control yourself."

"Really? Don't you think I can control myself? I have all the self-control," he shot.

"Great, so do I. I guess we have nothing to worry about."

"Why do I feel like this is a challenge?" Billy questioned.

"I am offering you a back rub because I don't want you to be in pain. If you think you can't control yourself, then that is fine. I don't have to give you one."

"Fine. I accept your back rub, but when you can't control yourself, you have to admit that you have the impulse control issue for Seraphina." Billy stuck out a hand to seal the deal.

"Agreed. However, this feels unfair since you were the one that actually named it Seraphina. I'm clearly going to win."

"Mmhmm, we'll see," Billy agreed. "Since we have nothing to worry about, do you want to do it upstairs where I can lie down easier?"

"Yes, that would be much easier. You should probably take a shower first to warm up your muscles," I noted.

"Sure, you want to join me," he teased.

"Did I just win? I think I just won," I declared.

"Relax, Lil. I was kidding. I'll get in the shower; you get another bottle," he winked.

"Mmhmm, I'm so winning," I teased as he headed upstairs.  

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