She Screams in Silence

After several hours of the intoxicating bliss of closing themselves off from the world (Vicky being polite and not barging into the room once she returned), Felicity glanced at the clock on her nightstand and sighed.

“What is it?” Billie asked, watching her sit up and wrap the sheet around her frame, looking a little dejected.

“I have to go,” she explained, sighing again as she turned to look at him.

“For what?” he gave her a woeful expression.

“I have to be on stage in two hours.”

Billie raised an eyebrow, “Um, I think you’re getting the two of us confused.”

“Well, it’s not quite a rock concert. I’m sort of in a...theatre production.”

“You’re ‘sort of in a theatre production.’ Well, either you are or you aren’t.”

“I am,” she relented.

“You go up on stage in front of people? Voluntarily?”

“What can I say? It’s the masochist in me.”

“Exactly what is this theatre production of which you speak?”

“Les Misérables. You know, early Nineteenth Century French revolutionaries, social commentary, impressive musical score, so on and so forth.”

“Yeah? Could I manage to score a ticket for this?”

She frowned in mild confusion, “Well, yeah, Sunday matinee usually isn’t sold out, but...you really would want to go?”

“Fuck yes!” Billie grinned. “Do I get to hear you sing?”

“It’s a musical. What do you think?”

• • •

As Felicity departed her room for the bath, she noticed Vicky was perched on the sofa, making a pretense of filing her nails.

“You,” Vicky said suddenly, pointing at her with the emery board.

“What?”

“Stop. Come over here.”

“Can it wait? I really need to get showered and dressed and everything.”

“No. This won’t take long.”

Sighing once more, Felicity made a detour over to her roommate. “What do you want?”

“Your little virtuoso beau is coming to see your play tonight?” Vicky queried.

“Um...well...I wouldn’t call him...I mean...uh...” she felt her face redden and gave up, “yes, he’s going.”

Vicky put her head down, applying the emery board to her nails again, “And, uh, are his bandmates tagging along?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Maybe they should.”

“Again...why?”

Vicky shrugged, “Well, I was thinking about maybe going to see you, too, and I was just curious if they were going to go and if they were...” she paused for a moment, “attractive at all?”

“...You want me to set you up?” Felicity blinked, mystified. In all their years as roommates and quasi-friends, this was a novel occurrence. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not! I’d do it for you!”

“You have done it for me,” Felicity replied flatly, referring to Vicky’s few ill-fated attempts to set her up on blind dates through the years. “Against my will and better judgment.”

“Aw, come on! Have a heart!” Vicky begged. “Please? If you introduce me to his friends––and that’s all I’m asking!––I’ll...I’ll clear out tonight so you and your Billie-boy can fu––”

“Vicky!” Felicity cut her off, feeling her face flame scarlet. “Fine! I’ll see what I can do!”

• • •

By the time the curtain rose, Vicky’s wishes for the drummer and bass player, as well as the drummer’s lady fair of the blue highlights, to be in the audience were fulfilled. The aforementioned trio were only to happy to accept the invitation to see Felicity in performance, and were all situated next to Billie in prime front-and-center seats before the stage. However, good fortune had not completely blessed Felicity’s roommate, for she had managed to come in late and was now seated at the back of the audience, left with little recourse but to watch the sung struggles of Jean Valjean before the real object of her coming could be achieved.

Felicity herself felt her nerves exacerbated tenfold with Billie in the audience, and it was all she could do to step out on stage when the time came, praying she wouldn't collapse in a dead faint or go run screaming for the exit. But somehow adrenaline managed to keep her conscious and in the spotlight. There also seemed something rather bittersweet and ironic in singing about wandering the streets at night heartbroken and alone, and then the joy of finally sleeping in the embrace of the one she loved (though, of course, her by-this-time mortally wounded character speaking of a slightly more permanent slumber).

As Felicity-as-Eponine’s eyes closed, her frame going limp and her voice dying off before the song actually did, Tre leaned over and poked Billie’s arm, whispering loudly, “Dude, I think your girlfriend just died.”

“Maybe she fainted?”

“No. She’s dead.”

• • •

Once Jean Valjean had departed this mortal coil, and the entire cast returned to the stage for curtain call (Felicity smiling bashfully at the very clear cheers for her emanating from the front row as she came to take her bow), she was on pins and needles, waiting for the freedom to exit. The second the curtains closed, she rushed backstage to the dressing room, haphazardly discarding her costume in favor of her shirt and jeans. Though she would never say so, she hardly thought the outfit they had given her did anything in the way of making her look like the poverty-stricken Parisienne circa 1830 she was playing. At this moment though, she hardly cared one way or the other. She was too desperate to finish dressing and return to the company of a certain young man. She leaned forward, examining her reflection in the mirror and frowning distractedly as she tried to wipe off the “dirt smudges” applied to her face. She grabbed a kleenex, almost rubbing her face raw. “Come on, come on,” she muttered, as though that would speed up the process of removing stage makeup.

“In a hurry to get out of here?” one of her fellow actresses asked her idly.

“Huh? Oh, yes,” Felicity nodded, satisfied with her appearance as she picked up her bag and headed for the door. She’d apologize for being so rude and inattentive later. That, and it wasn’t as though she were friends with any of her fellow cast members and they were going to feel neglected by her leaving so early. They were nice people, certainly, but they spent a great deal of their free time discussing their more impressive, avant-garde performances, smoking like chimneys, sleeping with one another, and then getting very mad about it. Needless to say, they and Felicity had not bonded.

She dashed down a dark side corridor, heading for the door that led to the audience. Pushing it open, she scanned the dispersing crowd, searching for a particular face.

Where was he?!

Suddenly, arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her in close. “You, my dear, are amazing,” Billie murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder. His voice quickly alleviated her fears that some random stranger had decided to manhandle her, and she turned around in his arms, smiling up at him.

“Where did you come from?” she laughed.

“I’m magical.”

“Of course.”

He grinned for a few more moments, before beginning to study her with a rather bemused expression.

“So...did you like it?” she asked when he only continued to look at her.

“Well, yeah, you were fantastic! But...”

“But what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You didn’t tell me you died.”

“I thought you knew!” Felicity protested. “Even if you didn’t, was it that much of a shock? Almost everyone in the show dies.”

He smiled, “Well, give me some warning next time. There I am, sitting, la-la-la, thinking, ‘Oh, wow, she’s incredible! She’s doing an amazing job! This is wonderful! She’s...wait, she’s dead.’”

Felicity began to laugh, but paused at the sight of a quickly advancing form in her peripheral vision. Before she could turn her head towards it, it gave a loud cry of, “Felicity!” and a familiar combination of black and blue hair barreled into her, pulling her away from Billie. “I can’t believe it’s you! Tre said that he saw you but I just thought he was stoned!”

Though she was knocked a little off-balance, Felicity was all too happy to wrap her arms around the first girl to ever offer her the olive branch of friendship. “Cat!” she cried. “You came! I’m so happy to see you!”

“Aw, you’re real! And you sing! And you have heartrending death scenes! And you’re still even shorter than Billie and Tre!” Cat cried happily.

“A feat no one would have believed possible,” Mike’s laughing voice came to her, the face obscured by the fact that Cat was still joyously hugging her.

“I’m not that short,” Billie muttered darkly.

“In comparison to dwarves,” Mike nodded.

“Hey, short is sexy!” Tre protested, appearing on the scene as well and intercepting Cat’s jubilant embrace. “You’re just jealous because Billie, City-Street, and I are super-cool and exude crazy sex appeal––me, especially. Well, really just me. The other two just sort of hopped on the bandwagon by default. Anywho,” he turned back to Felicity, “I’m so glad we found you. You have no idea how much poor Billie needed to get laid.”

“Um,” Felicity blinked.

Mike put a hand on her shoulder, “Well, get laid specifically by you, anyway.”

“Right,” she nodded. “Thanks. Please stop.”

Mike laughed, going on, “So he calls this morning like we’re his mother wondering why he didn’t make curfew and goes, ‘I’m over at Felicity’s.’ Yeah, no shit, Billie.”

“Fuck off,” came Billie’s reply.

Mike snickered and looked like he was about to make another joke at his friend’s expense, but he stopped abruptly, his gaze zeroing in on something beyond Felicity. “I think someone wants your attention,” he cleared his throat, nodding to where he was looking.

Felicity turned to see her roommate standing there expectantly, a bright smile on her face, having finally made her way through to the front of the audience. “Oh, guys, this is my roommate, Vicky. Vicky, this is Tre, Tre’s girlfriend Cat, and Mike.” Vicky obligingly grinned, taking each hand in turn, but at the latter of the roll call, a noticeable change came over her.

“Hi,” Vicky smiled shyly as she took Mike’s hand. Felicity raised an eyebrow. She had never seen her roommate so subdued.

“Hey,” Mike returned Vicky’s dopey grin. They continued looking at each other like they had each just shot up morphine.

“And it’s not girlfriend anymore!” Cat spoke up, brandishing her hand for Felicity to see, a decent-sized diamond gracing her ring finger.

“Cat! Oh my God! Congratulations!” cried Felicity, giving the other girl another hug. “When did this happen?”

“Just a couple months ago,” Cat grinned. “And now you can be in the wedding! You will, won’t you? Please say yes! You’ll look fantastic in the canary yellow bridesmaid dresses I have picked out––they come with hoop skirts!” Seeing Felicity’s smile drop, she laughed, “Joking, joking. Good Lord, if you came in a pair of sweats, I wouldn’t care, honestly. Just say you’ll do it!”

“Of...of course. If you’d like, that is. I’d love to,” Felicity nodded. She turned to Billie, whacking his arm, “I asked you how Tre and Cat were! You didn’t think them being engaged was news?”

Before Billie could reply, Tre cut in, “Of course he didn’t say anything. He’s jealous of what a mature and responsible adult I’ve become, wanting to settle down and pay mortgages and complain about my sciatica. Terribly jealous.”

Cat rolled her eyes, “Yeah, you’re the epitome of maturity, dear. Not to mention, if you hadn’t left, Felicity, I’m pretty sure when they got back from touring Billie would have––” She immediately halted, seeing the look of death Billie was shooting her.

“So...” Felicity said suddenly, trying to cut the awkward tension, “does everyone want to grab some dinner? There’s a nice Italian place just down the street.”

The other five acquiesced, and they departed the theatre, Felicity trying very hard to forget the thought Cat hadn’t finished.

• • •

Dinner consisted primarily of Vicky lavishing much attention on Green Day’s unattached bass player, which appeared to be happily reciprocated.

Vicky smiled, scooting in and giving Mike’s arm a light squeeze, “So you live in the Bay Area? I’ve always wanted to spend a weekend in San Francisco, see the sights and everything, but I don’t know anyone there and I wouldn’t know where to start, you know?”

Mike stared at her in rapture, “Well, if you’re ever in town, I...I can show you around, if you’d like. I’d be more than happy to. I know my way around and I know...things.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Vicky’s face lit up.

“Yes! Whenever you’d like!” he nodded fervently.

“Well, that’s just the nicest thing!” she gushed. “God, you’re sweet!” She paused in her effusions for a moment, glancing around the restaurant and the other two couples sharing the booth before returning her gaze to Mike, “Hey, I could really go for an after-dinner cup of coffee right about now. There’s a great little cafe just ‘round the corner that serves awesome cappuccinos. Would you like one? My treat.”

“I would love one,” he was already climbing out of the booth, his gaze locked on Vicky as he tossed a couple twenties from his wallet onto the table. “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” he presumably murmured to Billie and Tre, though still staring at the cappuccino-offering redhead.

“This place serves coffee,” Felicity reminded Vicky.

“Yes, but I don’t care for it,” Vicky shook her head, grinning at Mike and latching onto his sleeve as she began heading for the exit.

• • •

The next evening found Felicity on her bed, perusing a novel (though she had spent fifteen minutes on a single page, too easily distracted by the gentleman sitting next to her). Billie was munching thoughtfully on a cookie from a bag of Chips Ahoy he had discovered secretly stashed in the kitchen cabinet earlier that day. Had Vicky come into her room with the aforementioned snack and plopped down on her bed, Felicity would have shooed her off for fear of crumbs, but in this case, she was instead pondering how unfair it was that someone could look that amazing while consuming a chocolate chip cookie.

“Hey, I wanted to tell you something I did recently,” he said suddenly as he finished his cookie and so courteously did not get crumbs on her sheets.

“Hm?” she smiled up at him, marking her page and closing the book she hadn’t really been reading.

“I bought a house,” Billie announced proudly.

“I’m impressed. You’re like an adult.”

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpanned. “But yeah, I mean, it’s a bit weird having an entire house to myself, but it seemed sort of ridiculous to keep that shit apartment when I can finally afford something better.” He paused for several moments. “Me being all alone in my house sort of brings up a question I wanted to ask you.”

“Which is...?” she smiled. “I assume you don’t need help making payments on it. And I wouldn’t be the person to ask if you did.”

He smiled briefly and then stared down at the duvet, pulling at a loose thread. “No. You see, I was wondering if––hoping, really...” Billie brought his gaze up to her face. “Would you come back to Berkeley with me?”

“What what?” she blinked, convinced she had heard him wrong. “What do you mean go back to Berkeley? Where would I even live?”

He gave her a look. “That wasn’t obvious?”

“You’re asking me to live with you?” she whispered.

“That was my general idea, yes.”

“Oh, I...” Felicity gaped at him, “I don’t know. I can’t even––that is to say...” She paused in her spluttering, trying for any sort of coherent response. “I mean, I...what about any ties I have here?” she finally managed.

“...Like?”

“My job, for one.”

“Well, I might be wrong, but I do think there are a couple newspapers that operate out of the Bay Area,” he replied sarcastically.

“And...my sort of quasi-theatre thing?” she ignored the mocking remark.

Billie raised an eyebrow, “You are aware Berkeley is near some civilization? I’m not asking you to come live me in a fucking hut in the middle of the woods.”

She grinned faintly, swatting his arm. “Smart-ass.” She frowned again, “And my apartment and Vicky? I can’t leave her in the lurch.”

“Uh, I’m not sure I was supposed to be the one to say anything, but if you don’t, she might.”

“What?”

“Well, either Mike is on a high because he’s dropping some serious acid or he really digs your friend.”

“He likes her that much?”

“Considering he doesn’t take LSD, yeah, I’d say so. You don’t think the feeling’s mutual?”

“You may have a point. She’s friendly, but I suppose she doesn’t normally go around trying to score personal tours of large cities.” Felicity paused. “And that might also explain why she isn’t back yet.”

Billie grinned, closing his eyes and putting his hands behind his head as he reclined on the bed, “I think she might be giving Mike a personal tour of her host city.”

“That sounded really sick, Billie.”

He snickered, not opening his eyes, “Yeah, well, you’re the one who took it the wrong way.”

Felicity rolled her eyes, and continued, “Well, if she must develop a fondness for someone, at least Mike is nice and...normal. It’s a very welcome change of pace, if you ask me. The last guy she dated was named Kip and he liked to wear argyle sweaters and have existential crises. It was a little troubling.”

“What was the last guy you dated like?” Billie asked casually, opening his eyes to glance at her.

She grinned faintly. “Dangerous box to open, don’t you think?”

He sat up, shrugging uncomfortably. “Well, I can’t expect that you...I mean, I’m not assuming that...have there, uh, been a lot of other guys since...?” he trailed off.

“Have there been a lot of other girls?” she asked him pointedly.

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t even been on a date––mostly through the intervention of Mike and Tre, as I kept having times where I’d become an anti-social asshole and it was take a girl out for a drink or have them murder me.”

Felicity nodded. “Vicky’s tried to set me up a few times. It was just so awkward, you know? Needless to say, she and I don’t exactly have the same tastes, so any of her guys rarely asked for a second date––and by rarely, I mean ‘never.’ And I’ve been so busy with work and school, I never really had any time to meet anyone on my own––not that I put in much of an effort. Trust me, I’ve been more misanthropic than you have.”

“So you haven’t...?”

“Are you asking if I’ve brought a guy home? Or gone home with them?”

He shrugged again. “Maybe you were right about this being a bad conversation.”

“Well, I haven’t. Though before your ego swells to colossal proportions,” she continued, “it’s not been just because of you. I really haven’t had the time and I’ve hated the blind dates I’ve been forced to go on.”

“I’m...sorry,” Billie offered awkwardly.

“Yeah, you really look it,” she grinned as he tried and failed to mask the overwhelming relief flooding his face at the knowledge that she hadn’t found someone else. She went on, “And I’m...sorry that none of the girls you took out for drinks seem to have struck your fancy.”

He smiled, seeing the relief just as apparent on her face, “Yeah, not unless you like some kiss-ass groupie going, ‘Oh, Billie Joe, you’re so talented and amazing! Now please come have unprotected sex with me so I can get you for millions in child support!’” Seeing the smile had left her face, he exclaimed, “I didn’t! I swear there are no illegitimate children of mine running around.” He went on, “But anyway, back on the actual topic––the moving-in-with-me topic, I mean––so what do you think? I mean, I won’t force you, but...well, fuck, actually if you say no, I’m going to have to hang out here and start serenading you from your window––really loudly. It’ll be very embarrassing for everyone involved. Because then I’ll be so obnoxious, I’ll get arrested for disturbing the peace and you’ll have to come bail me out of jail. And that’ll be expensive. And annoying.”

Seeing her smile and start to waver, though the hesitation still clear in her eyes, he continued, “Look, maybe don’t say yes or no just yet. How about you come back to Berkeley with me, see the house, see how it is being back there again, see if you like it? Just to visit. Then you can make an educated decision.”

“What, now?”

“Did you know of a better time?”

Felicity raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t you guys, oh, I don’t know, on tour right now?!”

Billie waved his hand in dismissal, “Correction––we’ve been touring. We only have a few more shows and we get a few weeks’ break until the next one.”

“My play doesn’t end its run until the end of the week.”

“So we go to Berkeley after it’s done. By ‘now,’ I didn’t mean right this second.”

“I don’t know...”

“What have you got to lose?” Billie asked. “Either you like it and you say yes, or you don’t and you stay here...and we’ll figure out some sort of long-distance thing, I guess.”

“Do you really think that would be practical?”

He shrugged, “That doesn’t mean we can’t do it. And not to mention, my first choice is the one that involves seeing you on a slightly more consistent basis.” He gave her an anxious look, “I swear you don’t have to commit to anything. Just come with me for the weekend or something. If you really hate being back there, or you think my house is worse than a landfill, or you think it’s too fast or whatever, that’s fine. We’ll work something else out. I just...want you in my life.”

Felicity was weighing her options. Though the idea of returning to Berkeley was a little terrifying for various reasons, he certainly had a point that she had nothing to lose. If she hated it, she wouldn’t stay and they would try to figure something out despite the distance issue. Then, of course, there was the possibility that she would love it––that in itself was vaguely frightening.

But with Billie’s last statement and his emerald eyes locking with hers, the uncertain, scared part of her was down for the count.

“Okay,” she nodded, smiling lightly. “I’ll come see your house. I’ll...come to Berkeley with you.”

“No commitments?” he grinned.

“None,” she shook her head.

“Yet,” he smirked.