She Screams in Silence

Within ten minutes of departing Bongo Burger, Billie pulled up in front of an apartment building and headed in, Felicity trailing him up the stairs and down the hall to his door.

“Aw, you have a cat?” Felicity cried at the sight of a black cat that appeared at the door as they walked through and immediately began winding itself between Billie’s legs.

“Yeah, don’t tell my landlord, though,” Billie answered, bending over and picking up the mass of black fur. “It was my sister’s, but she couldn’t take it when she moved out, because the guy she married is allergic to it. My mom hates cats, so she wasn’t going to keep it. She just put up with it while Anna was there. So it was either me taking it when I got my own place or shipping it out to the pound.” The cat purred as Billie scratched it under the chin. He grinned, holding it towards her, “This is Fatty.”

Felicity giggled as she pet the cat and then scratched it behind one of its ears, “He’s cute. I like cats. I’ve always wanted one.”

“No pets, I take it?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “My mom wouldn’t hear of it. Too messy, she says. She’s not going to have all her clothes and furniture covered in pet hair or wasting her time cleaning up after them or anything. Besides that, she’s scared I might develop an allergy and ‘nothing’s as unattractive as being congested and miserable all the time,’” she dropped into an imitation of her mother.

Billie raised an eyebrow, “Are you allergic?”

“No. That’s not the point.” She smiled at Fatty. “He’s very aptly named, you know. Your cat is morbidly obese.”

“Hey,” Billie pulled Fatty away from her, mock-offended. “Don’t go hurting his feelings. He’s very sensitive about his weight.” He grinned. “Yeah, Anna gave him this real dumb-ass name like Mr. Tinkerbelle or Captain Von Pussy-Cat or some shit like that. But when she started over-feeding him, I dubbed him Fatty and that’s what he’s been ever since. She never forgave me for it.” He put the cat down and immediately Fatty stalked over to his food dish, contentedly munching away at the bowl of cat crunchies.

Billie walked over and cleared some stuff off the sofa. The place was small and a bit run down, various odds and ends strewn about, including a couple empty pizza boxes, beer cans, papers, as well as a host of accessories for what was presumably his band––guitar picks, drumsticks, an amp, and that whole lot. It wasn’t beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, but Felicity was just happy not to be in a place that looked like she should be getting ready to pose for the cover of Better Homes and Gardens.

“Sorry, I know my place is kind of shitty, but––”

“No, no, it’s fine! I like it!” Felicity cut him off, taking a seat on the now-cleared away sofa.

Billie smiled. “You’re lying, but thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging, “I know it’s not much, but it’s sort of all we can afford right now.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me and the two other guys in my band. It was either a crappy three-bedroom place or a nice studio where all of us shared a bed. And not that that wouldn’t have been lots of homosexual fun, but we thought it was for the best to keep our relationships platonic.” When he saw her expression, he continued, “You know that’s a joke, right? You should laugh.” As she smiled, Billie sunk down on the sofa next to her, putting his hand behind his head and leaning back so he was staring at the ceiling. “This place really is shit,” he nodded. “Home wasn’t that great, either. Six kids, you can’t afford much.”

“Six?! I don’t have any brothers and sisters,” Felicity shook her head. “Though if you looked at our house, you’d think we were keeping an orphanage or something. It’s ridiculous.”

He looked at her, “Must be nice to live like you. Money and all that.”

Felicity snorted in derision, “Money’s not everything. It’s not all that great.”

“Still, you’re lucky, you know.”

“Lucky? Yeah, okay. I’m real lucky,” she said flatly.

“You are, you know. I mean, come on, you get everything you want. You don’t have to worry about clipping coupons or food stamps or paying bills. You don’t have to wear hand-me-downs. Honestly, what have you ever had to worry about?”

She stared at him, “Just because my family isn’t poor doesn’t mean I don’t worry!”

“Yeah, okay. ‘Oh Gawd, I hope I look pretty for my recital!’” Billie’s voice went into a high falsetto.

“Hey, look, don’t think you’ve got me all figured out! I’m not some perfect little princess that’s never told no! I do worry! Don’t you dare think my life is just peachy-keen and I don’t have problems!” She stood up, glowering at him. “I’m sorry if my family has money, but don’t you dare think that means everything’s fine! It’s not! I have to constantly worry if I’m going to fuck things up! Do you know what that’s like? I’m not allowed to fuck up! The only thing my parents care about is me doing and being everything they want, without ever slipping up! I bet I haven’t slept more than six hours this week because I’m so overloaded with it all! And not only that, but I’m expected to be ready to do tricks like a dog whenever they want! They say jump, I say how high! Don’t think it’s okay! Don’t think everything’s all right! I mean, really! Do you understand? Do you have any idea what it’s like being a fucking wind-up performing monkey?! And for that to be all you’re good for?!” She left off, breathing hard as Billie regarded her with surprise. Her voice dropped low, “So you know what, Billie? You want to tell me I’ve got it good? You want to tell me I’ve got some privileged lifestyle? That I’ve got it better than other people? Then I say life really must be shit.”

“You feel better now?” he asked.

“No,” Felicity slumped back down glumly. “Because now that I’ve said all that, I’ve just realized I’m a spoiled little brat.” She turned away from him, leaning her forehead against her hand, and choking back tears. “I’m really sorry. Really I am. I don’t have any right to be going off about how horrible my life is. I mean, what do I know? I do have it a lot better than other people, and I can’t even appreciate it.” She struggled not to cry, feeling so humiliated. “My God, this is pathetic. I’m pathetic.”

“No, you’re not,” Billie murmured, scooting closer and putting his hand on her back, rubbing it gently. “It’s okay.”

She looked up at him, his face a bit blurred by the tears she was trying to hold back, “Thank you. I know I don’t have any right to be complaining, but...thank you.”

He smiled crookedly at her. “It’s all right. I’m kind of getting the feeling this is the first day you ever did any complaining.”

“Sort of. I mean, I always just shut up and do things.”

He grinned again, “So what else do you hate?”

“What?”

“I said what else do you hate? Come on, seventeen years of holding it in, you must want to spill.”

“You don’t want to listen to me rant.”

“Sure I do. Go ahead.”

“Really?” she furrowed her brows. “You really want me to? I mean, you’ll sit here and listen and...” she trailed off, staring at him.

“Yeah. Out with it.”

“Well,” Felicity took a breath, blinking. This was a bit of a new feeling for her and she was a bit uncertain of how to begin. But once she got going, it was like releasing a dam. “I...I hate math. I hate science. I hate playing the piano. I hate dressing up like a china doll. I hate being told I’m supposed to be perfect. I hate being told what I’m doing wrong that’s making me not perfect. I hate being treated like a performing seal. I hate going non-stop and never taking a break. I hate that I don’t have friends or a life. I hate being told what to do and never standing up for myself. I hate that my parents only love me for what I do or what they want me to be. I hate that I don’t even feel like a person most of the time.” A sob escaped her throat. “And most of all, I hate myself.”

She stared down at her hands in her lap, twisting the fabric of her skirt, tears threatening to slide down her face.

“Is that why you broke the mirror?” Billie asked tentatively.

She nodded. “I...it just sort of all piled up last night, you know? And I was just looking at myself and hating what I saw. I mean, really hating it. I didn’t want to be that person and I guess I thought by smashing it, I could...God, I don’t know what I thought. I just...I took this music box I had. It’s got this little ballerina in it. My mom makes me keep it in my room. She wanted me to be a ballerina when I was younger, but apparently that required me to be anorexically thin or something, because she pulled me out telling me I was too fat. She was so disappointed in me. I don’t think she’s ever gotten over it, because she always hounds on my weight so much. I mean, I’m surprised I’m not trying to starve myself to please her. Maybe it’s my own way of rebelling or something, because honestly, I hated ballet. I never wanted to do it. And I hated that music box, because I knew it was her way of throwing it in my face that I had fucked up––that I wasn’t perfect. And I was so mad at myself and her and my dad and everything, I just lost it.” She looked up at him. “I threw the box. Bang. Mirror broken, box broken, everything in pieces. Crazy, huh?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not at all.”

She smiled softly at him, watching him as he grinned back. That brief second suddenly turned into a full minute. And the idea that she had just bared her soul to this guy and they were now staring at each other like this suddenly left Felicity feeling extremely flustered.

“Um, well,” she looked away, jumping up like a shot, “anyway, sorry about that. You don’t want to listen to me go on and on like this and I’m sure you’re bored listening to me talk. Really. I’m sorry.” She kept babbling, falsely cheery, as she suddenly made a point of pulling at a loose thread on her blouse. “So I’ll just stop now, because I’m sure you’re sick of this. I didn’t mean to go off like I just did. You know, sometimes it just happens. You move on. Forget. And everything’s fine and––”

“Felicity, it’s fine,” he laughed a little, standing up as well. “Wow.”

“I beg pardon?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Billie shook his head, smiling slightly. “You’re so...”

“What?” Felicity smiled back, expecting a compliment by his smile.

“Uptight.”

“What?” she repeated, her face falling. “I...I’m not uptight!”

He raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, okay. Look, I hate to break this to you, sweetheart, but you’re wound up tighter than a mattress spring.”

“Please don’t call me sweetheart.”

Billie only chuckled. “See what I mean?”

“I’m not uptight,” she protested. “Just because I don’t like stupid pet names doesn’t make me uptight.”

“It’s not just that,” Billie took a step towards her, causing Felicity to involuntarily step back. “Just look at you. You’re like a cat on speed. You clam up whenever you’re threatening to relax and actually say what’s on your mind. You’re just racing to do everything, going a million miles an hour, so you can stop thinking about what’s going on and if anyone ever laid a hand on you, I think you’d flip and hit the ceiling. You seriously look like you’re about two seconds away from losing it and going schizo.”

“I’m not,” Felicity crossed her arms over herself, feeling hurt. “I’m not like that.”

“No?” Billie took another step closer. As she went to put her foot behind her and open the space between them again, he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She flinched. “Stop stepping back.”

Though she didn’t want to, she forced herself to stay where she was as he closed the gap between them some more so there were only a few inches separating them.

Billie smiled gently, pushing some hair back that had fallen in her face, looking down into her terrified brown eyes. “Felicity, relax. You’re almost shaking. You look like you think I’m about to pull a knife on you.”

“I don’t,” she shook her head, her voice unfortunately quavering.

“I’m just trying to prove a point here. You look scared to death that I’m going to hurt you or something. I’m not.”

“I...I know.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Really? Be honest. I mean, really. What would you do right now if I actually did something? Like if I kissed you right now, what would you do?”

“I...” Felicity breathed, gaping up at him. Was he serious? Was he going to kiss her? She felt her heart pounding in her ears, her mind starting to go haywire.

Billie pulled back slightly, smiling at her, “You’d freak. You’d hit me.”

“I wouldn’t,” she whispered.

He cocked a brow, “Really?”

Felicity felt her face flush. “No, that wasn’t what I...I mean...I...oh, just leave me alone!” she cried, turning away and flopping on the couch, staring ahead of her darkly. He was playing head games with her. And she couldn’t outwit him, couldn’t come out on top.

This wasn’t good.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” Billie shrugged, taking a seat next to her, and grinning as she scooted a few inches away. “It’s just...look, I know you think you sound insane when you start letting everything go like you did, but honestly? You seem a whole lot more normal when you’re not wound up and worried about doing something wrong. It’s...real. If that makes any sense.”

She relented a little, seeing he had a point, “Old habits die hard.”

“Yeah, but I probably shouldn’t have said––”

“No,” she cut him off, grinning lightly, “I’m glad you did. I think...I think I needed that.”

Billie smiled and then rose again, walking across the room to a beat-up looking turntable, pulling a record sleeve decorated with a man about to smash his bass on stage from the messy pile on the floor.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to see around him while he put the LP on the record player, setting the needle on it.

“You need some music in your life. And it’s not The Beatles, in case you were wondering. This is The Clash.”

“The who?”

“No, The Clash. We can listen to The Who later.”

• • •

After a couple hours of Billie’s records and rather complacent conversation that involved more laughing over random stupid things than life-altering epiphanies, Felicity remembered to check the time. She was a bit surprised she had lost track like that––that she was actually having a good time. He was letting her talk and making her laugh and, dark realizations notwithstanding, it was really quite fantastic.

“Oh, I’ve got to go,” she frowned at the clock. “School’s going to let out in about fifteen minutes, which means I’m going to have to be back in the parking lot so my mother never knows I ditched. Because then she’s going to take me to my 3:30 piano lesson. At 4:30, my mother will then escort me over to Vista, because I’ve got two classes there that go from five to eight. Then, I’ll be back home at 8:30, eat dinner with my parents, and then spend the next five or six hours practicing and studying. I then repeat that process every day except Friday, just with different classes and an opera lesson on Tuesday and Thursday. Friday afternoon through Sunday night I’ll be with my parents more or less constantly, so they know my every move and I’m available to entertain their friends should they be invited over or someone else hosts a dinner.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Felicity actually smiled, shaking her head.

“And you’ve only had one panic attack?”

• • •

Once Billie had taken her back to school and she had gotten out of the car, she turned back to him, smiling shyly, “Thanks, Billie. Today was...well...I mean...it was really great to meet you. Thank you.”

He shrugged, grinning and doffing an imaginary hat, “I try.” He looked at her for a few seconds, “So I’ll see you around sometime?”

“You mean it? Or was that your way of saying, ‘have a nice life’?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “No, I mean it. We’re friends now. Right?”

She smiled. Friends. She hadn’t had a real friend since...well, suffice it to say, it had been a very long time. “Yeah,” she nodded. “We’re friends.”

Billie grinned. “I’ll see you later, Felicity.”

“Okay. Bye, Billie.”

He winked at her before pulling the car into drive and turning the wheel to get out of the parking lot.

Smiling effusively, Felicity turned back and walked along, feeling almost like she was going to float right up out of her shoes. She had a friend. A real friend. Billie Joe was her friend. He was a boy and he was her friend.

And she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt half as happy.

“Felicity?” Rachel’s voice brought her slightly out of her dream world.

“What?” she turned to see she had walked right past her mother’s car without even noticing. “Oh, sorry, Mom. My mind just...er...wandered.” She walked back the few yards and climbed in.

“Off to piano!” Rachel said in her sing-song voice as she pulled out of the lot. Glancing at her daughter who was still off in her odd, magical reverie, she asked, “Did you have a nice day at school, dear?”

Felicity shook her head, that dreamy smile still on her face, “It was...wonderful.”

“That’s nice. You wouldn’t believe the day I had! Do you know I drove all the way to San Francisco and Frette was out of the sheets that I ordered and they had to place them on an order from Italy and...”

Felicity didn’t hear a word. She was too busy grinning like an idiot.

Billie Joe was her new friend. Her new friend was also sort of attractive and they had shared some odd tension. Not that she was really thinking about that. That magical “friend” word was taking precedence...at the moment.