I Lied When I Said I Didn't Love You
Prissy Little Bitch Can Make You Talk
It was about a week before Billie could stand even being in the same room as me. This had to be the longest he’d purposely ignored me, in the whole of our history. Every time I dared to make some sort of comment in his presence, in the hope he might give me his now famous Armstrong smile and indulged me in a joking reply, he would purse his little lips and haughtily stare over my head (with difficulty, seeing how short he was). I had to laugh. He was a right prissy little bitch when he wanted to be. He wouldn’t even refer to me by name if he were forced (by Tre, mostly) to talk about me. No, now I was called “him” or even “that guy”, these little dodging false names hissing through the gaps in his lips like slim daggers.
It didn’t work, of course. I found him too funny to actually take him seriously, of course. Besides, nothing could match my upset over his reluctance to consult me about his snap engagement. That had thrown my system out of whack for sure. My sleeping patterns, concentration and more had all gone to pot after that scene in my kitchen. Hell, it even gave me indigestion, for crying out loud! It felt like as well as shattering my cognitive reflexes he’d played around with my insides as well. I was just waiting to find some evidence of him using voodoo against me…
Tre wasn’t finding this as amusing as I was. Sure, he found it funny for the first couple of days, making endless bitch jokes and turning everything Billie told him to tell me into some sort of reference to sexual tension (and some other things that would’ve made Freund himself blush). But, after awhile, he started complaining about having to be Billie’s message boy and how stupid this all was. I guess this was part of Tre’s new, slightly sober, and a tiny bit more adult (the mature way. Tre had been the other “adult” for a long, long time before then) demeanour. Before long he was resorting to desperate measures, using all sorts of crazy half-baked plans to get Billie to speak to me. None of them had worked so far.
By the end of the week we were sitting around my kitchen table, idly waiting for someone other then ourselves to get up and make some fresh coffee. Billie and I were sitting across from each other like a Mexican standoff (except, sitting down…), both staring into our dregs until our eyes nearly popped with strain. You know, anything just to stop us from making eye contact. Tre was sitting on the side, drumming his fingers annoyingly on the table. He wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence, oh no. He was going to wait until we spoke of our own accord, without any of his prompting.
Yep. Time felt like it was standing still around the table. It was so quiet that I could hear white noise from two houses down. Tre fidgeted in his seat, acting like a dog with really bad worms. He coughed in the back of his throat, looking expectantly between Billie and I like his cough would trigger our voices. No chance. We were as silent as an abandoned graveyard, no matter how many noises Tre made.
Tim ticked on. I could tell because the only thing remotely interesting in the room to watch was the kitchen clock. Tick, tick, tick- it was only then I realised it was on the wrong time anyway. Damn. That meant my microwave was out of synch too.
Tre cleared his throat again; this time shooting us dirty looks. He obviously wanted to say something insulting to us. He really, really, really wanted to say something insulting to us. His face was almost going purple, that was just how much he wanted to say something. But of course, he couldn’t. Not until we said something. But we weren’t going to say anything. That was the whole point.
I over-elaborated on that.
Billie rolled his eyes at me across the table, pretending to put an imaginary nose around his neck behind Tre’s back. The corner of my mouth quickly quirked up in a subtle smile. Not subtle enough, it seemed. Tre whirled around, almost catching Billie out. Almost. Billie managed to arrange his hands back in his lap just in time. He smiled angelically at Tre, who stared at him suspiciously for a few moments before grunting and turning away. Billie winked at me over Tre’s raised shoulders, forgetting momentarily his petty feud with me.
“He’s going to crack,” he mouthed silently, gesturing delicately at Tre.
He was right. Tre had had enough. He bounced up out of his chair, slamming his fists on the table.
“Oh my fucking GOD! Can you guys be any more childish? Just freaking SAY something to each other! ANYTHING! Gah! Fuck! I’m going to watch some TV…”
After his sudden outburst, the last sentence sounded a little strange.
Billie and I waited quietly for him to exit the room, only daring to breathe when we heard the TV click on and Tre sigh as his ass sank into my couch cushions.
Then we burst out laughing.
“What-a-fucking-idiot,” Billie choked through his giggles, clutching at the table as his little ribs shook against the wood. I reached across the table, scooping up his cup just before it went diving over the edge in a fit of laughter-related murder. That made Billie laugh even more. I guess he still couldn’t get used to me wanting to keep my place clean. Hey, it’s not my fault I have nothing better to do any more! I had gotten bored with watching TV by myself a long time ago.
I laughed along with Billie, mostly just because he looked so ridiculous slumped over my table. Also, it was a laugh of relief. I was glad he was talking to me again. In truth- I kind of missed the sound of his voice. I may tease him occasionally about sounding more like a girl then a guy in his twenties, but deep down I knew I would never grow tired of hearing it.
“So, you’re talking to me now?” I asked (once Billie’s body had stopped shaking around on my table like a spooked snake), getting up to put the cups on the sideboard. Below my bran-new washing machine hummed delightfully. It came with the house, and really wasn’t all that new, but I was grateful for the convenience. I was bored, certainly, but not bored enough to do the dishes by hand! I had enough of that when I worked in a fish restaurant. Plus, Tre and Billie usually made me do most of the chores, back when we all lived together.
I miss those times.
“No, fucktard. I’m not talking to you,” Billie replied, rolling his eyes back as far as they could go. I threw him a cautionary glance.
“You keep doing that and it’ll stick,” I warned, suddenly sounding a lot like Billie’s Mom. “And you know those little fan girls just love your sludge eyes so much.”
“Fuck off. You’re just jealous because I get all the attention. Trust me, you’re not missing anything.”
“Fan girls getting you down?”
Billie snorted loudly.
“Of course they’re getting me down! I can’t let anyone know about my marriage plans for fear they’ll kidnap Adie!”
I went very still at the sink, my head bowed. Ah. He’d brought it up again. It. The one thing in the universe I found hardest to talk about. Well, at the moment, anyway. Maybe in a couple of years, after they actually got married, I wouldn’t be so depressed about the subject.
Who am I kidding? No one, not even myself. I would probably always be sore about that subject. The unfairness still preyed on my mind with unbelievable force. It was a crushing weight on my consciousness, something that got heavier every time the cause was mentioned.
“Mike? Are you alright?” I heard Billie ask from behind me, his chair dragging on the kitchen floor as he slowly lifted himself out of his seat. I shook my head slowly, gazing into the metallic sink to see if any plausible lies would float to the surface of the scummy water.
“Well… What’s wrong? Are you actually jealous of the fan girls?”
“Yes, I’m jealous of the fan girls,” I answered in monotone, not bothering to sound realistic. Of course I wasn’t! And he knew that well. But, I clung to the lifeline without a second thought.
Anything to stop myself from blurting out the real reason and bringing back the silent treatment.
“No you’re not,” Billie sighed, nudging my shoulder as he stood next to me at the sink. I felt his eyes travel up to my face, two spotlights searching for the hidden escapees. I turned my head away, rubbing my cheek on my shoulder.
“No, I’m not,” I dully agreed.
It didn’t work, of course. I found him too funny to actually take him seriously, of course. Besides, nothing could match my upset over his reluctance to consult me about his snap engagement. That had thrown my system out of whack for sure. My sleeping patterns, concentration and more had all gone to pot after that scene in my kitchen. Hell, it even gave me indigestion, for crying out loud! It felt like as well as shattering my cognitive reflexes he’d played around with my insides as well. I was just waiting to find some evidence of him using voodoo against me…
Tre wasn’t finding this as amusing as I was. Sure, he found it funny for the first couple of days, making endless bitch jokes and turning everything Billie told him to tell me into some sort of reference to sexual tension (and some other things that would’ve made Freund himself blush). But, after awhile, he started complaining about having to be Billie’s message boy and how stupid this all was. I guess this was part of Tre’s new, slightly sober, and a tiny bit more adult (the mature way. Tre had been the other “adult” for a long, long time before then) demeanour. Before long he was resorting to desperate measures, using all sorts of crazy half-baked plans to get Billie to speak to me. None of them had worked so far.
By the end of the week we were sitting around my kitchen table, idly waiting for someone other then ourselves to get up and make some fresh coffee. Billie and I were sitting across from each other like a Mexican standoff (except, sitting down…), both staring into our dregs until our eyes nearly popped with strain. You know, anything just to stop us from making eye contact. Tre was sitting on the side, drumming his fingers annoyingly on the table. He wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence, oh no. He was going to wait until we spoke of our own accord, without any of his prompting.
Yep. Time felt like it was standing still around the table. It was so quiet that I could hear white noise from two houses down. Tre fidgeted in his seat, acting like a dog with really bad worms. He coughed in the back of his throat, looking expectantly between Billie and I like his cough would trigger our voices. No chance. We were as silent as an abandoned graveyard, no matter how many noises Tre made.
Tim ticked on. I could tell because the only thing remotely interesting in the room to watch was the kitchen clock. Tick, tick, tick- it was only then I realised it was on the wrong time anyway. Damn. That meant my microwave was out of synch too.
Tre cleared his throat again; this time shooting us dirty looks. He obviously wanted to say something insulting to us. He really, really, really wanted to say something insulting to us. His face was almost going purple, that was just how much he wanted to say something. But of course, he couldn’t. Not until we said something. But we weren’t going to say anything. That was the whole point.
I over-elaborated on that.
Billie rolled his eyes at me across the table, pretending to put an imaginary nose around his neck behind Tre’s back. The corner of my mouth quickly quirked up in a subtle smile. Not subtle enough, it seemed. Tre whirled around, almost catching Billie out. Almost. Billie managed to arrange his hands back in his lap just in time. He smiled angelically at Tre, who stared at him suspiciously for a few moments before grunting and turning away. Billie winked at me over Tre’s raised shoulders, forgetting momentarily his petty feud with me.
“He’s going to crack,” he mouthed silently, gesturing delicately at Tre.
He was right. Tre had had enough. He bounced up out of his chair, slamming his fists on the table.
“Oh my fucking GOD! Can you guys be any more childish? Just freaking SAY something to each other! ANYTHING! Gah! Fuck! I’m going to watch some TV…”
After his sudden outburst, the last sentence sounded a little strange.
Billie and I waited quietly for him to exit the room, only daring to breathe when we heard the TV click on and Tre sigh as his ass sank into my couch cushions.
Then we burst out laughing.
“What-a-fucking-idiot,” Billie choked through his giggles, clutching at the table as his little ribs shook against the wood. I reached across the table, scooping up his cup just before it went diving over the edge in a fit of laughter-related murder. That made Billie laugh even more. I guess he still couldn’t get used to me wanting to keep my place clean. Hey, it’s not my fault I have nothing better to do any more! I had gotten bored with watching TV by myself a long time ago.
I laughed along with Billie, mostly just because he looked so ridiculous slumped over my table. Also, it was a laugh of relief. I was glad he was talking to me again. In truth- I kind of missed the sound of his voice. I may tease him occasionally about sounding more like a girl then a guy in his twenties, but deep down I knew I would never grow tired of hearing it.
“So, you’re talking to me now?” I asked (once Billie’s body had stopped shaking around on my table like a spooked snake), getting up to put the cups on the sideboard. Below my bran-new washing machine hummed delightfully. It came with the house, and really wasn’t all that new, but I was grateful for the convenience. I was bored, certainly, but not bored enough to do the dishes by hand! I had enough of that when I worked in a fish restaurant. Plus, Tre and Billie usually made me do most of the chores, back when we all lived together.
I miss those times.
“No, fucktard. I’m not talking to you,” Billie replied, rolling his eyes back as far as they could go. I threw him a cautionary glance.
“You keep doing that and it’ll stick,” I warned, suddenly sounding a lot like Billie’s Mom. “And you know those little fan girls just love your sludge eyes so much.”
“Fuck off. You’re just jealous because I get all the attention. Trust me, you’re not missing anything.”
“Fan girls getting you down?”
Billie snorted loudly.
“Of course they’re getting me down! I can’t let anyone know about my marriage plans for fear they’ll kidnap Adie!”
I went very still at the sink, my head bowed. Ah. He’d brought it up again. It. The one thing in the universe I found hardest to talk about. Well, at the moment, anyway. Maybe in a couple of years, after they actually got married, I wouldn’t be so depressed about the subject.
Who am I kidding? No one, not even myself. I would probably always be sore about that subject. The unfairness still preyed on my mind with unbelievable force. It was a crushing weight on my consciousness, something that got heavier every time the cause was mentioned.
“Mike? Are you alright?” I heard Billie ask from behind me, his chair dragging on the kitchen floor as he slowly lifted himself out of his seat. I shook my head slowly, gazing into the metallic sink to see if any plausible lies would float to the surface of the scummy water.
“Well… What’s wrong? Are you actually jealous of the fan girls?”
“Yes, I’m jealous of the fan girls,” I answered in monotone, not bothering to sound realistic. Of course I wasn’t! And he knew that well. But, I clung to the lifeline without a second thought.
Anything to stop myself from blurting out the real reason and bringing back the silent treatment.
“No you’re not,” Billie sighed, nudging my shoulder as he stood next to me at the sink. I felt his eyes travel up to my face, two spotlights searching for the hidden escapees. I turned my head away, rubbing my cheek on my shoulder.
“No, I’m not,” I dully agreed.