The Brink of Destruction

The next hours seemed muted, as if we were wrapped in cotton. A stream of people came and went--Angelina, weeping into a handful of Kleenex; the neighbors from next door, who offered to take Bat's cat, Geppetto, and look after him; and Mike, who had broken all the speed laws getting here after I called him. All I'd had to say was that we were at Bat's, and that Billie needed him. "I'll be right there," he blurted, and he was as good as his word.

Familiar as he was with the old man's home, he let himself in the front door. I was sitting beside Billie on the sofa, stroking his back. He hadn't spoken since the ambulance had left, and sat staring numbly at the bowl of glass grapes on the coffee table. He didn't look up when Mike came in, and his hands hung limp and helpless between his knees. I kept thinking how much he reminded me of pictures I'd seen of tornado victims, wandering dazed through the remains of their neighborhoods, with hollow, unseeing eyes, and it scared me for him.

Mike squatted down beside him and put a big hand on Billie's shoulder. He looked up at me, his throat working as tears tried to fight their way out, and swallowed hard.

"Bill, I came as fast as I could," he said, slowly and gently. "I'm so sorry about Bat." He looked sadly up into his friend's face, clearly hurting as much for Billie as for the old man.

In slow motion, Billie's head turned toward him, but no hint of expression crossed his face. He regarded Mike coldly, almost as if he didn't recognize him. My hand on his back seemed to be the only connection I could make, and so I kept moving in senseless circles, over and over, because it was the only thing I could do. But instead of calming him, I could feel the tension winding tighter and tighter, like a clock spring near the breaking point.

Clearing his throat, Mike tried again. "Billie, I understand how upset you are, and if there's anything I can do to help--"

It was like a bomb exploding. Billie rocketed up from the sofa, knocking an astonished Mike flat on his ass, and the coffee table flipped up and over, shattering the glass grapes.

"FUCK if you understand! You don't understand a goddamned thing! How many fathers have YOU lost?" he spat, fury and grief pouring off of him in waves that threatened to scorch the walls. His fingers wadded into a trembling fist and cocked back by his ear, leveled directly at Mike's face.

"Billie, no!" I cried. Mike scrambled backwards until his back hit the edge of the recliner, and he pushed himself quickly to his feet. Billie lunged toward him, snarling through gritted teeth, and just as his fist pistoned toward Mike's temple, the taller man caught his wrist in one large, bony hand.

"Bill, it's me, man," he pleaded, and pushed Billie away from him defensively. "Ease up!" He put his hands up in front of him, to show he wanted no part of a fight, but there was blood in Billie's eyes. He rushed at Mike again, roaring like a demented grizzly, and this time Mike had no choice but to tackle him. Their bodies tumbled to the floor, faces red and straining as they struggled, and there was a crash as a lamp toppled off the side table and broke against the wall.

Without thinking, I flung my arms around Billie's waist and tried to pull him away from Mike to calm him down. "Baby, please stop, please don't hurt him!" I begged, but when he wrenched out of my arms, he spun around to look at me through eyes that barely seemed to recognize who I was. He stood panting, a snarl still curling his lips, and he had the same mad look I'd seen the day of the party, when the kid had messed with his car. It made my blood run cold.
Mike was poised, ready to put himself between Billie and me if need be, and his eyes darted back and forth between us warily. The possibility that I might need his help seemed ludicrous--Billie and I were in love, and he would never do anything to hurt me!

Would he?

Emotions warred on his face like dark thunderheads, and I saw a flicker of agony in his flashing green eyes. Following Mike's lead, I was holding my breath, trying not to move or say anything that might make him lose the momentary control he'd gained. His lips were so tight the color had vanished, and his nostrils flared with every breath. Sweat trickled down his temples and dampened the blond curls around his ears, and his breath was harsh and ragged. The only clue to the hurricane raging inside him was the single tear that slid slowly down his cheek.

Pushing past Mike, he slammed his fist against the latch of the glass storm door and raced across the yard to his car. I ran to follow him, but by the time I got down the steps, his tires were squealing on the pavement and he was gone, leaving loops of burned rubber and wisps of pungent blue smoke.

Mike was right behind me, watching the car as it sped out of sight. His long, thin face looked drained, and as he rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, he sighed deeply. His shoulders drooped as if he were completely exhausted. Bruises were beginning to rise on his arms, and there was a long scratch down the side of his neck.

My insides were shaking, my mind spinning. "Shouldn't we follow him?" I asked Mike. He'd known Billie so much longer than I had, and I trusted his instincts more than my own right now. I was too emotional, seeing Billie's furious face in my mind no matter how hard I tried to block it out, feeling the coolness of Bat's limp hand on mine.

He thought for a minute, and shook his head. "I don't really like the idea of his being alone right now, but he's got to cool down. He's like a fire that's got to die down before you can get close to it."

"Mike, what would he do without you?" I asked. "Does he know how lucky he is to have a friend like you?"

His usual affable grin tried weakly to lift the corners of his mouth, but the effort was too much, and his bottom lip began to tremble, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to hold everything he was feeling inside.

"I just...he's like my brother, Gen. I have to take care of him. I love the little sonofabitch." His deep voice was cracking, and his head dropped onto his chest. He looked up at me as his eyes filled, his hands lifting and falling awkwardly, and my heart was breaking for him, for his loyalty and selflessness. I hugged him, and he buried his face in my shoulder, sniffling.
"I don't know if he can take going through this again. I'm not sure either one of us can."

It had been nine hours since Billie had stormed out. Nine long hours. It seemed like forever.

Mike and I had found Bat's house key and locked everything up. After that, there was really nothing left for us to do. Now I lay on my bed, wrung out and red-eyed, checking my cell phone every so often to make sure it was still working. My stomach had knitted itself into knots, and a throbbing headache had settled behind my eyes.

Nine fucking hours. Where could he be?

I'd begun to regret not going after him. Maybe Mike was wrong. Maybe what Billie needed was to know that he wasn't alone, that we'd come with him wherever the pain took him. He hadn't turned up at any of the places that I thought he might have gone, no one had seen him, and my imagination was starting to paint some troubling pictures.

The door clicked open and Wynn slipped quietly inside.

"Any word yet?" she asked.

"Nothing." I felt so hollow it made me queasy.

"Everybody at the restaurant is keeping an eye out for him. They sent you some lasagna, just in case you feel like eating." She set the bag down on my desk and sat down beside me, draping her arm around my shoulders.

"Thanks," I said weakly. The idea of eating was the farthest thing from my mind.

"He's okay, Gen. He just had to deal with this by himself, let it sink in. You'll be the first person he calls, I'm sure of it."

I sighed heavily. "I'm trying to believe it myself. This whole day just seems like some kind of nightmare. I can't believe we were just at the party last night. It seems like ages ago."

She got up and fished in her purse. "Speaking of the party, Tre wanted me to give you this. He kind of hoped it might give you something positive to focus on." The picture had been taken while Billie and I were dancing, just before we left the party. Seeing him so happy, mere hours before, sent a needle of sadness through my heart.

"Thanks, Wynn. Tre's a goofball, but he's got a big heart."

She sat looking at her shoes for a moment. "Gen, is there anything I can do to help? I feel so...useless."

"I don't know. That's what's driving me crazy! I should never have let him leave. Now I have no idea where he is or if he's okay, and there's nothing I can do. He could be off in the middle of nowhere, with no one to talk to..."

And suddenly I knew exactly where he'd gone.