The Brink of Destruction

There was nothing to feel guilty about, but still my stomach did a lazy roll when I saw the look on his face. His eyes dropped to the rose in my hand, and he held the door open for me as I slipped back into the house.

"I don't think you need to tell me who that was," he said, his voice tightly controlled. "And I think I can figure out what he was talking about."

"He's having a hard time letting go," I said simply. "I think somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks if he waits long enough, I'll decide this was some kind of phase, and go back to the way I felt before."

"Before what?" He stared at me intently, searching my face for answers.

"Before I left home. Before I met you and found out what I really wanted, what made me truly happy. But I think he finally understands now. At least I hope he does."

"And what if he doesn't? How long is he going to keep trying to get you back?"

"It doesn't matter, because nothing he says or does is going to make any difference to me. The only thing I want in the world, in my life, is to be with you."

"Are you sure? Because I gotta tell you, if I were him, I'd never give up on you. I'd chase you to the end of the earth if I had to, if I thought there was even a prayer of a chance I might have you back again."

"You'll never have to chase me, Billie. Wherever you go, that's where I want to be."

"But Gen, I--" He broke off, shaking his head.

"Hey, Billie, get yer ass back in here! The Raiders are getting ready to score!" Tre's voice sailed through the house just as the announcer shouted "Touchdown for Oakland!" and a chorus of cheers went up in the living room.

"Yeah, Tre, I'll be there in a minute," he said, sounding irritated at the interruption.

"What is it?" I asked, touching his arm. He'd never held back from me before, but now there was something he couldn't find words for.

"Get your coat," he said at last. "Let's walk to the barn."

Our shoes crunched on the gravel as we walked. My hand was wrapped tight around his inside the pocket of his leather jacket, and wisps of steam from our breath trailed behind us. The sky was lead-gray and fish-scaled, with a tang in the air that held an omen I recognized from long experience.

"Looks like it might snow before we leave," I told him. "Maybe we can go sledding, if you want." I was trying to recapture the amazing mood that we'd been enjoying before Dustin showed up, but it didn't seem to be working.

"Mmmm...that's cool," he said absently, his mind a million miles away. Could he really be doubting himself, doubting us that much?

The horses snorted as we opened the barn doors, thinking, no doubt, that feeding time had come early. A rush of warmth poured out, chasing away the chill that had settled into the air.
Billie closed and locked the door behind us. He stood looking lost for a moment, running his fingers nervously through his perfect, messy hair, then sat down on a bale of hay near the stalls. I sank down beside him and slid my arm around his waist.

"Genny, I don't--" He was struggling so hard to find words. "Ah, fuck, I'm no good at this! What I'm trying to say is, what if Whatsisname is right, that he's better for you than I am?"

I was thunderstruck. "I don't understand! Are you trying to tell me you don't think we should be together?"

His head jerked up in shock. "Jesus Christ, Gen, how could you even think that? If I try to imagine living without you, I--I can't breathe, I feel like I'm gonna be sick!"

"That's exactly how I feel about you. How can that be wrong?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"It's just that...I keep thinking about the plans you had for your life, and how it seems like they're changing now. And I'm scared it's because of me, because I'm not doing the right things to help you. I don't want to sound like a fucking dad or something, but if you give up all the things you dreamed about doing, I'm gonna feel like it was my fault for the rest of my life."

I started to speak, but he stopped me.

"Gen, here's the deal. I'm a punk. I didn't finish school, I'm never going to be anything special, I'm never gonna be stable or dependable or any of the things you deserve. I just make music, and that kind of future is worlds away from what you have in front of you. How can I drag you down like that when I love you more than my life?"

My throat was tightening around my words, and I could barely choke them out.
"Billie Joe, I don't know how to tell you this so that you'll understand. Before I knew you, I was only going through the motions of living. Everything was planned out for me, and I felt like a fucking chess piece, just moving from one square to another. With you, I feel alive for the first time in my life. Nothing is impossible. Nothing is off limits. And it's all because of you."

Our eyes burned into each other. Somehow, even surrounded by friends and family, it felt like Billie and me against everyone else. He and I were two halves of the same raging heart, standing up to everything the world could throw at us with our heads and middle fingers high. He was a fire that I wanted to consume me, a deadly storm that I would offer myself gladly to.

He stood, and swept me into his arms as he had done at the farm back home. Holding tight around his neck, I kissed his lips feverishly, desperately, my fingers running through his tousled curls. He mounted the steps up to the loft, and laid me gently down in the soft hay piled loosely in the warmth under the eaves.

We had shared everything, our passion, our anger, our laughter and grief. He knelt above me, looking down into my eyes with a hunger I'd never seen before. It was more than love, more than lust. It was his heart, his spirit, calling out to mine to save him from the doubt and fear that chased him like a pack of wolves.

"Stay with me, Genny. Love me the way I love you," he whispered roughly. "If you don't, I don't exist."

My head was spinning as he bent to take my mouth with his, and pulled aside clothing impatiently. His eyes never left mine as he made love to me, wild and furious, as if he were trying to bond us together for all eternity and drive Dustin's specter away once and for all. And with every touch, every moan of pleasure and passion, our hearts clung tighter together, until it felt as if we had left the world behind and become something pure and perfect, and nothing was real but our love.

**************************

It felt as though a hurricane had passed through the barn, and left our bodies trembling in the aftershock. His head lay on my belly, damp curls cool against my skin, and his fingers traced feathery circles on my thighs. I loved the feeling of his leg draped over mine, so familiar and intimate that we might have laid together like this for years.

"I love you," he whispered, and his lips pressed against my stomach softly.

He'd left me helpless. I curled my arms around his head and stroked his hair, wishing we could melt into each other and never be separated again.

"I love you too, Billie. With everything in me." No matter how I said it, it never sounded close to what I felt.

He kissed his way up my belly, across my chest, brushing warm and soft against my neck, until our lips found each other again. Pulling me into his arms and onto his shoulder, he pulled my coat back around me again.

"You're shivering," he said, kissing the top of my head. "Let's get you covered up and head back to the house." His fingers toyed with the necklace he'd given me so long ago. "You never take it off, do you?" he said with a smile.

"It makes me yours," I told him, tracing the line of his jaw with one finger. "Forever and ever."

We petted the horses, and reassured them that dinner would be coming soon. The barn door swung open with a squeal of hinges, and I heard him gasp. A thin layer of white blanketed the ground, frosting the trees and erasing all the color from the hillsides. Fat, feathery flakes twirled down from the sky, and I tilted my face up, nose crinkling, to feel them settle on my cheeks.

"Fuckin' A!" he cried. "It's really snowing!"

"I told you!" I reminded him.

"But it's only November!" he marveled.

"Sweetie, winter up here starts around Thanksgiving and ends just before Easter. Sometimes even later." Childlike delight had spread across his face, and his cheeks were turning pink in the cold. He looked down at the sleeves of his jacket, where the fluffy crystals stuck and began to melt.

He looked up at me incredulously. "This is awesome!" he laughed. "We have to go get the others. They'll love it!"

He was already running back toward the house, pulling me along beside him. He never slowed down as we approached the steps, and before I could warn him, his foot skidded on the slick bottom runner, and he fell flat on his ass.

"Oooohh, baby, are you okay?" I asked, helping him to his feet and trying like hell not to giggle. "Sorry--I should have warned you those get really slippery, really fast."

But even wounded pride and a broken ass didn't seem to slow him down. He was still laughing, and as soon as he made his way cautiously onto the porch, he thrust his head inside, wiping his boots on the mat.

"Mike! Tre! Come out here--you gotta see this!" he called, and I heard pounding footsteps coming down the hall. Breathless, their faces swam into view behind the glass, and their mouths formed perfect circles of surprise as they saw why he had called them.

"Where the hell have you been?" Mike asked, turning to grab his baggy Army jacket. His rugged face was beaming, and Tre had slipped past him wearing sweats, a tee shirt and socks to run to the end of the porch for a better view.

"None of your business, you big wuss!" Billie cackled. "Just go in and get your women and get out here so I can kick your ass in a snowball fight!"

There was no need to send them in--Wynn and Criss had already heard the commotion and joined us on the porch. Criss jumped down to the yard with catlike grace, and I stood at her feet, holding her hands as she sank backwards onto the ground to make a thin, threadbare snow angel. Wynn was twirling round and round, her arms flung wide and face tilted to the heavy sky. There wasn't enough snow yet to make proper snowballs, but the guys were scraping up golfball-sized wads and hurling them at each other.

I was captivated by the look on Billie's face. It seemed that years had blown away like smoke, and he was a cherub-cheeked, golden-curled little boy again, his biggest worry finding a place to hunker down to stockpile ammunition.

There was no wall around his heart. What lay inside was there for everyone to see. The highest highs, the darkest lows, all rode right on the surface, undisguised. It was unnerving sometimes to realize how real he was, how completely unvarnished.

And now that the demons had retreated back into the shadows for a time, the joy on his face was shining like the sun.