She Screams in Silence

Late Friday morning, Felicity checked her room one last time for any essentials. Satisfied that everything she needed for the weekend was packed, she turned for the duffel bag sitting on her bed and zipped it shut. Her play having ended its run the night before, and having procured a couple days off work, Felicity was now heading off to Berkeley.

That is, as soon as Billie returned from the rental car company with a vehicular mode of transport for the two of them, as Felicity lacked a car and the tour bus was not particularly suited to this private weekend venture.

Felicity had spent the morning trying to chase away the nerves plaguing her, but had met with little success, her stomach a permanent icy knot. When she had left Berkeley four years ago, she certainly had no intention to ever return. Of course, it wasn’t as though they were planning to visit her parents, but she wasn’t all together sure that the thought of seeing Billie’s home and deciding if she was going to move in with him was any less terrifying.

Hearing Vicky rummaging around outside her door, Felicity slung the duffel bag over her shoulder and walked out, hoping the other girl could provide momentary distraction from her nervousness.

Vicky was standing before the bathroom mirror, preening and checking for any glaring imperfections in her appearance. Dropping the bag by the sofa, Felicity went over and stood in the bathroom doorway, observing the intense primping process.

“So you’re going to Berkeley for the weekend?” Vicky asked, pursing her lips in the mirror and applying a fresh coat of lipstick. She had a lunch date scheduled with Mike shortly and was awaiting his arrival.

So much for a distraction.

“Yes, Billie wants to show me the house he bought and...” Felicity hesitated. Should she tell Vicky the entire truth behind the visit? It would seem a bit pointless if she decided she hated it or something, but if she didn’t, it would be extremely rude not to give the girl some warning that she might soon be sans-roommate.

“And...?” Vicky prompted her, watching Felicity’s reflection.

“And...” Felicity grimaced and then decided it was best to be honest, “well, um, he wants me to...move in with him.” She braced herself, waiting for the other girl’s reaction.

Vicky smirked into the mirror, continuing her lipstick application, “So is that your way of saying I need to find a new roommate?”

“Well, not exactly. I haven’t said I would yet.”

“But you’re going to,” Vicky shrugged matter-of-factly.

“I...I don’t know. I really haven’t decided and...I...um...I really don’t know. I just thought I’d let you know on the chance that I did.”

“Why wouldn’t you? I mean, don’t get me wrong––you are a fantastic roommate and I love living with you, but I should think you’d much rather be with him, don’t you?”

“I do want to be with him,” said Felicity. “But this...this is kind of a big thing. Living in Berkeley again, living with Billie, sort of dropping whatever life I have here––”

Vicky laughed briefly. “Your life? The grand, exciting existence you’ve been cultivating here?” Seeing annoyance flash across the other girl’s face, Vicky’s smile dropped, “Sorry, that was really rude. I didn’t mean it like that.” She capped the lipstick and turned to look at Felicity, “Honey, like I said, you’re great and I love you as my roommate, but...well...if you haven’t noticed, you’ve been miserable here. Until I found out why, I actually thought you might be clinically depressed or something. I know you enjoyed school, you like your little acting gig, your job’s okay, but...you’re not happy. You’ve been sleepwalking through a lot of it. And...and...please don’t take offense to anything I’m saying here, because I don’t mean to insult you, but sometimes I think you just go through the motions just because it’s a distraction for you. You’ve kept yourself so busy so you never have to stop and think about whether or not you’re really happy. Which I don’t think you are. Felicity, you’ve smiled more in the past few days than I’ve seen you do in the past few years.”

Felicity frowned. Had she really been that much of a zombie? She knew she had been like that growing up under the gaze of her parents, but was she still? She hadn’t moved beyond that? Or if she ever had, she had apparently regressed?

Vicky bit her lip, an embarrassed flush coming over her naturally pale face, “God, Lissie, I’m sorry. I’m being really awful saying this. I just...you should be happy, you know? Everyone deserves a little bit of happiness.”

Happiness. A concept that had often eluded her through the years. This speech wasn’t new though––how many times had Billie told her something similar?

As Felicity struggled for some sort of response, a knock sounded at the door, most likely Mike to pick up his date. Vicky turned for the door, pausing to put her hand on the other girl’s shoulder, “Hey, just do what feels right, you know? If it turns out you really want to stay here, I’m happy to have you. If not, don’t worry about any sort of rent situation or anything like that, all right?”

Felicity nodded, managing a smile back. Maybe she had a point.

“Oh,” Vicky added as she crossed the room, about to open the door, “have fun this weekend, okay?”

“I will.”

Vicky grinned wickedly as she pulled the door open, “Yes, do shag him senseless.” Seeing the look of horror on Felicity’s face, Vicky turned and rather than meet the expected Mike, Billie stood on the threshold, his eyebrows raised and smiling slightly.

“Was she looking for some encouragement?” Billie asked lightly.

“Oh! I...oh...oh God...um...” Vicky’s face turned bright red as she tried to find a way to salvage the situation, “we were talking about someone else!”

“I certainly hope not,” he replied, still amused by the duplicate mortified expressions that met him.

“You’re here early,” Felicity nearly squeaked.

“The rental car company didn’t take as long as I thought it would,” he shrugged. “You’re not disappointed to see me, are you?”

“Of course not,” she shook her head, attempting to dispel the embarrassment from Vicky’s faux pas. “I’ve been waiting for you. See?” she pointed to her duffel bag. “Packed and all ready to go.”

Billie smiled, crossing over to her and pulling her into his arms. “Why do you look so jittery? And you feel like an ice cube,” he leaned in close and whispered, laughing quietly.

Trying to ignore the fact that his breath against her neck was sending tremors down her spine, she grinned up at him, shrugging, “I’m fine, I promise. I was just, you know, sitting in the freezer before you came. I thought it would be fun.”

“Ah,” Billie nodded, still smiling as his grip tightened and he pulled her in closer.

Their lips had barely grazed when Vicky’s voice interrupted them anxiously, afeared that Mike would arrive and they would still be standing there, off in their steamy version of la-la land, “Well, it’s probably best that the two of you get going, don’t you think? Only eight good hours of daylight left!”

“Right,” Billie sighed, breaking their embrace. “You ready to go?” he grinned.

“I suppose,” Felicity shrugged, stepping towards her bag.

Billie beat her to the punch, his hand shooting out for the bag before she could grab it, slinging it over his shoulder. Before Felicity could protest, he had his hand on the small of her back, propelling her towards the door, “Come on. Out we go.”

“Bye, Vicky,” Felicity started to turn for her roommate.

“Yes, yes, auf Wiedersehen. Out with you!” Vicky merely shooed them out the door.

Trying to quell the anxiety still rushing through her, Felicity followed Billie downstairs to the car and climbed in, looping her seatbelt across herself, the click as it locked into place unnaturally loud.

“They were out of Ferraris. Sorry,” Billie remarked dryly as he turned the ignition, taking the look on her face for disappointment in his vehicle choice.

“No, no, the car’s fine. I’m sorry. It’s just...this is real.”

“...Yes. You’re quick, aren’t you?” Seeing that she did not appear to appreciate his sarcasm, he gave her a grin, patting her leg, “Hey, nothing to stress about, okay? Think of it as a...mini-vacation. Though before you relax, you have a job to do.”

“What?”

“Be navigator, please,” he handed her a map. “I have no idea where the hell I’m going.”

Once on the freeway, and no current need to give or take directions, they lapsed into silence for a time, Billie concentrating on the road, and Felicity occupying herself with the road map spread across her lap. She had her head bent over it, her index idly tracing the highway.

“So...” Billie gave her a malicious grin, breaking the silence, “I hear that you’re going to be shagging me senseless this weekend. That sounds like fun.”

“Vicky was just being an idiot,” Felicity rolled her eyes.

“Please don’t let that stop you.”

“I’ll think about it,” she told him, trying to hold back from smiling.

“I, for one, think it sounds like a marvelous idea. In fact, if you were in any rush to get to it, I can always pull over.”

“Please just keep driving.”

“Are you sure? That could be dangerous. I’d probably crash the car. Safety first, you know.”

“Billie!”

“Fine. Have it your way,” he sighed.

After a couple hours of driving and still a ways shy of Berkeley, Billie pulled off the freeway.

“Billie, I’m not having sex with you on the side of the road. Or while you’re driving!” Felicity said.

He raised an eyebrow, nodding towards an In-N-Out Burger. “Um, I’m hungry, actually. It’s past two and I haven’t eaten.” He smirked, “Don’t you ever think about anything else?”

Felicity felt her face grow hot. “Oh. Well...I...I mean...you...oh, shut up.”

Billie laughed as he pulled into a parking space. He cut the ignition, and then reached over her for the glove compartment, digging for a pair of sunglasses and putting them on.

“Is the sunlight bothering your eyes?” Felicity asked lightly, the sky being distinctly overcast.

He only grinned at her, zipping up his jacket and pulling the hood over his head.

“Nice get-up. You know, if you grew a beard, you’d look like Ted Kaczynski,” she remarked as she opened the passenger door and climbed out.

“Look, I know you can’t resist me, but restrain yourself with the compliments, please. It’s almost indecent.”

“Seriously, what’s with the disguise? Hiding from the Feds, are we?” Felicity asked as they walked across the parking lot, receiving only a withering look for her troubles. “Don’t tell me you really think you might get mobbed at In-N-Out Burger?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

They were essentially ignored during their lunch, and Felicity was just about to tease him about his paranoia, when, just as they were leaving, they could hear a high-pitched voice call out, “Oh my God, isn’t that the guy from Gree––” immediately cut off as they dashed out the door for the car.

Some time later, as the rental car cruised down 80, signs and sights becoming increasingly familiar the closer they got to their destination, Felicity felt her anxiety come rushing back. She had been able to temporarily push it to the wayside during the long drive, but now she was unconsciously grabbing the sides of her seat, digging her nails into the fabric. It hadn’t changed. And pulling off onto University Avenue, it felt like it had been mere days rather than years since she had been down these streets. Surely she had fallen into some surreal time warp. Same buildings, same compact city, same peculiar mix of flashy BMW’s and homeless folk begging for change on street corners. People from every walk of life all crowded together within ten and a half square miles. Billie could have been driving her home from her piano lessons she wasn’t actually ending, for all of how similar it felt. Oh, that miserable house with those miserable people, Felicity as their miserable little china doll.

“Felicity,” Billie put his hand on her arm, shaking her gently, “breathe.”

She shook her head and exhaled sharply, unaware that in her little trance, she had been holding her breath. “Sorry,” she smiled weakly.

“You look like you think a bomb’s about to go off. I promise this is all very low-key. You’re about to go look at a house. Actually, if anything, that’s a bit boring.”

“It’s not that. It’s just being here again. We just passed the turn to head towards my parents’ place, if you recall. For a second, I guess I kind of felt like I was seventeen again and you were about to drop me off back there and I was going to sneak in and count down the hours until––” she paused, flushing as she realized what she had been about to say.

“Until...?”

She shrugged uncomfortably and replied, “Until I’d smile again––which was when I was with you. And I know that sounds incredibly pathetic and sad, but––”

“Well, who wouldn’t smile in my company?” he smirked. He reached over and took her hand, giving her a crooked grin, “It’s not pathetic and sad. I smiled more when I was around you, too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have two people at home making you want to bash your head into a wall.”

He gave her a look. “...Do you remember who I lived with? Granted, your parents were screwed up, emotionally abusive people, but...they weren’t massacring the furniture or lighting things on fire, now were they? Intentionally.”

“You may have a point,” she conceded. Looking up, she noticed they had entered a nice residential area starting to climb into the Berkeley Hills, the neat grid of the commercial sections giving way to a jigsaw network of streets. “Oh, are we almost there?”

“Nearly. It’s after the next right,” he nodded to the approaching stop sign.

“Which one’s yours?” Felicity asked as they turned onto a winding cul-de-sac and the houses came into view, sitting up a little farther in her seat so as not to miss anything.

“Guess,” Billie challenged, slowing up further to give her a chance to look at them.

Felicity’s eyes wandered over the street, picking over the houses one by one. Homes were spaced out a bit more than they were near the main drags (though this was not to imply any of them were set upon endless rolling acres, the city of Berkeley too dense for such things), most lawns neat and well-manicured, and old-fashioned mail boxes at the end of each drive. They were all different designs, some Spanish stucco with bright red tile roofs, the rare East Coast brick, and many the brightly painted high-gabled gingerbreads so predominant in the city across the bay. It was pretty without being ostentatious or descending into cookie-cutter suburbia.

Her gaze finally settled on one in the middle, a two-story affair, painted white, with a high-sloping roof and wide bay windows on both floors. She didn’t know how she knew, but instinctively, she knew that was it.

She could have sworn her heart missed a beat––she was in love.

“That one,” she pointed it out to him confidently.

Billie raised an eyebrow, looking crestfallen by how quickly she had chosen, “Mike or Tre told you which one it was, didn’t they? They ruined the surprise. Assholes. I really wanted it to be a––”

“They didn’t,” Felicity protested. “I swear! I had no idea. They didn’t say a word.”

“So how’d you guess so quickly?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “It just...felt like that was the one.”

They pulled into the drive of the pretty white house, Billie killing the engine and hurriedly climbing out, racing over to her side to open her door and pull her to her feet.

“You don’t park in the garage?”

“I do,” answered Billie, “but of all first impressions, do you really want the garage? I mean, I guess it’s a nice garage, but...it’s a garage. We’ll go in through the front.” He led the way up the walk and the short flight of stairs to the porch.

Billie unlocked the door and eagerly took her hand, pulling her in. Felicity prayed he couldn’t feel her pulse, because it was rocketing, a crazy, inexplicable adrenaline rush. They stood in the darkened entryway for a moment until he hit the light switch, illuminating the room. Felicity drew away from him, slowly turning as she took it in. The entry was wide and high-ceilinged with hardwood floors, opening directly into the bright and airy living room on one side, and at the back, a staircase led up to the landing, flanked by a white balustrade. Beautiful without any pretension.

“So...what do you think?” Billie interrupted her quiet observation, on the surface his voice casual and disinterested, though Felicity knew this was hardly the case.

Her reply came in the same detached tone, though certainly its impassivity was no more genuine than his had been. “It’s very nice,” she nodded, shrugging slightly. “Very pretty.”

Billie’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t go overboard or anything.”

In truth, she thought it was the most fantastic place she had ever seen. This is not to say that of all homes in the entire world, his was unrivaled in majesty. It was lovely, just as she had been willing to admit, but that wasn’t it. It was, rather, the wild leap of excitement that had gripped her from the second she spotted it from the street, walked over the threshold. The feeling that she wanted to race from room to room, taking in every inch of it she could. It was the feeling that she could belong there, could see herself there.

And quite possibly wanted to be there.

But she most certainly was not going to tell him that.

“What? It’s very nice, as I said,” she continued passively.

“Come on, let me give you the grand tour,” he took her hand, pulling her towards the living room, his face set with a hard expression, determined that she would find at least something in the house that appealed to her, that she would love about it. She followed him from room to room, grinning at the room that was apparently supposed to be used as some sort of office space, but was instead home to every guitar Billie owned, sheet music, tablature, as well as a black Steinway upright piano. Both the living and dining rooms possessed either bay or floor to ceiling windows. The kitchen was enormous, with a large island in the center, a chef’s dream come true (of course, neither Billie nor Felicity could claim the “chef” title, but that was beside the point).

However, the best of the downstairs portion of the house was saved for last.

Felicity caught her breath. Upon rounding the corner of the wide kitchen, it opened up into a small, sunny breakfast nook, French doors leading out onto the patio in the backyard, filled with dark spruces, the Golden Gate bridge just faintly visible beyond them. Instantly, she imagined herself sitting there in the mornings with a cup of coffee and a book or newspaper, wearing her pajamas, her legs tucked under her. Billie would sit next to her with his own cup of coffee, his hair even more tousled from sleep.

Billie carefully watched her expression. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” he gestured to the breakfast nook, his voice a little smug, knowing by the look on her face she couldn’t just shrug it off.

“Very,” she nodded. “I––” she hesitated, not particularly wanting to give away the fact that she had just been creating idealistic breakfast scenes in her head. She immediately switched to a safer topic, “May I ask what made you decide to get such a big place if it’s just you? Isn’t it a little...much?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged uncomfortably. “But like I said, I could finally afford it. That, and I’ve never lived in a house much larger than a shoebox. Which is really fun with five other brothers and sisters.”

“Bigger houses aren’t always nicer,” she replied softly. When she saw him frown, she whitened slightly, rushing on, finally being completely honest with him in her embarrassment, “God, no, I don’t mean this isn’t...I mean, Billie, this place is gorgeous! Seriously, it’s really amazing! You have no idea! When I walked through the door, I...I couldn’t believe...I think it’s fantastic! That wasn’t what I was talking about at all! It just made me think of––” she stopped short.

He studied her for a few moments, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “Please tell me that my house is slightly less of a morgue than...other houses you may have lived in.”

She laughed a little, shaking her head, “It’s not at all like a morgue. It isn’t like some ridiculously expensive model home where you can’t move or touch anything. It doesn’t feel...dead. This place is actually nice to walk into.” She smiled and then added lightly, “Nice to live in, too, I would imagine.”

“Damn, I’m going to have to fire my real estate agent now. I told her I wanted something cold and creepy and miserable. And yet you tell me it’s...inviting? I’m so ashamed.” As she began to laugh, he continued, “Of course, we haven’t finished the tour. You still haven’t seen the upstairs.” He took her hand again, walking towards the staircase in the entryway.

The landing at the top of the stairs led to a hall, and he walked down it, opening and closing the few doors to reveal rooms mostly still devoid of furniture, containing a few boxes that had yet to be unpacked.

“...How long have you lived here, did you say?”

“Shh, no talking,” he put a finger to her lips.

Saving the master bedroom for last, he stopped before the door, grinning wickedly at her, “My room.”

Felicity blinked. It was twice the size of the other bedrooms, none of which had been what might be termed “cramped.” Although, the room may have felt so large as it, like the other rooms of the house, still lacked many furnishings. In fact, the eye was immediately drawn to the principal object of the room––a large king-sized bed, centered against one of the walls. It was positively heaped with pillows and a large down comforter, unmade, of course. It was the sort of bed that, had she been several years younger, would have prompted to her to take a flying leap and jump upon it. Notwithstanding, in her youth she would not have done such a thing anyway, just because that would have warranted a lecture on wild and indecorous behavior not befitting to little girls.

Billie, however, ignored the restrictions of age and propriety and suddenly leapt upon it himself, landing amongst the confusion of pillows.

“Very mature there,” she hid a smile, walking over to him.

“My house, I can jump on the furniture if I want,” he shrugged. He scooted over, patting the space next to him, “Come on, plenty of room here. You know you want to try it.”

“I don’t need to jump on your bed.”

“No, you don’t need to. No one needs to jump on the bed. That’s just stupid,” he shook his head.

“Nevertheless, I think I’m good.”

“Fine, fine,” he threw up his hands, hopping off the bed. “Suit yourself.” He came over and stood next to her, studying her for a few moments. Slowly, an evil smile began to grace his devilishly handsome face.

“...Why are you looking at me like that?” Felicity asked nervously, making to back up a step or twelve.

But before she could do so, Billie’s arms suddenly seized her waist and he flung himself forward towards the bed, taking her with him. Her fall was obviously cushioned by the bedding, though she still had the wind knocked out of her as Billie had inadvertently decided to use her body as a landing pad.

“You killed me,” she croaked after a few moments, making an exaggerated show of trying to draw air into her lungs.

“I’m not that heavy,” Billie rolled his eyes, making no move to alter their current position.

“That’s beside the point! You just body slammed me! Was that necessary to throw me across the room and then crush me to death?”

“You were standing about two feet away from the bed. That’s hardly ‘across the room.’ And I could be wrong, but the fact that you’re still talking suggests you’re alive.”

“Details,” she waved her hand.

He grinned, and then abruptly his expression became serious. “Okay, so you’ve seen the house and tried out bed jumping.”

“Yes.”

“So...what do you think?” Billie repeated his question from earlier, though the casual pretense was gone from his voice.

“I think it’s wonderful,” she smiled.

He grinned back, though it quickly faded again. “I’m glad, but...that didn’t exactly answer the real question I’m asking.”

Still smiling, her voice dropped to a whisper as she answered back, “Yes, it did.”

“You mean it?” he smiled again, though still looking anxious. “I mean, I want you here, but I don’t want to push you into it or anything. I know it’s asking a lot, what with your job and your place and––”

"...Don't tell me you were lying about there being newspapers in the Bay Area," she exclaimed, mock-horrified, making him laugh.

“So really? You really want to live here?” he asked, grinning excitedly like a little kid who had just been told he was going to Disneyland.

“Really really,” she nodded, laughing. His lips were on hers before she could draw another breath, and after a minute or so, she pulled back, continuing to smile, “Okay, well, I’m not moving in just this second, you know. I’m going to have to put in my two weeks’ notice, make sure there’s no problems with getting out of my lease with Vicky, pack, and all that. So it might be a few weeks, but yes, if you want me here, I’d love to move in with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to be with you...more than anything.”

“Great. And if that’s the case, you can have this then,” he sat up, whipping out a small gift box from his coat pocket and setting it on the bed in front of her. He paused and added, “If you want it.”

“You got me a present?”

“Sort of.”

“‘Sort of’? What is it?” Felicity raised an eyebrow at the little white cardboard box, smaller than her palm.

“You could try opening it. That might be one way to see.”

She scowled at him, shaking her head and lifting the box’s lid. But upon revealing the contents, she dropped it like she’d been burned.

“Okay, ow,” Billie raised a brow at her reaction.

Felicity didn’t hear him. She was too busy gaping at the object that had rolled out of the box onto the mattress when she had let it go. It was a smaller box, though not nearly so mysterious. The box was black. And velvet.

Jewelry. Very particular jewelry.

Long rectangular boxes indicate necklaces or bracelets. Squat rectangles indicate earrings.

The one on the bed was square.