Sequel: Making the Album ›
Changes
Not Himself.
Eventually, Billie let Tre and Mike bundle him into the car and drive him somwhere.
He didn't care where he was anymore. As far as his heart was concerned, Billie knew that he would never have a home again.
~~~~
"He's not quite... Himself, is he?" Mike muttered into his coffee. Tre gave him a quick look over the rim of his glass.
"And you're just noticing, Mike?"
"No... Just sort of thinking out loud."
Tre sighed. He picked up his glass, stalked over to the window and opened it. Mike watched quietly, not quiet sure what Tre was about to do. Tre hefted the heavy glass in his hand, then threw it out the window. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the thunder.
"And that solved...?"
"Anger management, Mikey."
"I'm not sure that's what they had in mind."
Tre shrugged.
"I've got to do something..." His voice trailed away.
For a few blissful moment, there was silence. Then Tre looked at Mike, his eyes serious.
"Have you talked to the driver?"
Mike stiffened, and clenched his mug so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Not since the trial."
"Bastard." Tre made a sudden movement with his hand. Mike snatched his beer bottle away before it could make its way out the window.
"Whatever. He's done now."
"Heh. Jail, fines, probation, rehab. Nothing can change what he did to Adie... To Billie... The boys..."
"Billie's going to recover, Tre."
"And how do we know that?" Tre's voice rose and he stood involuntarily.
"How do we know he'll be okay again? He's just BROKEN, Mike. Did you see him? Did you see his eyes? He's dead inside, and knowing that bastard all but got away with it is not helping him!"
Mike sipped his expresso quietly. It would have been so easy to give in to his own anger, which had been quietly raging throughout the funeral. In fact, it had been raging since he'd seen Billie sitting at the funeral home looking at tiny coffins that should never have needed to be used.
"Tre, he's done. He's going to jail for a long time, then he'll be in rehab. He's not going to have privacy, or freedom, for a long time."
For a few seconds, the two of them just glared at each other. Then Tre's face crumpled slightly and he sat back down.
"It'll never make up for it." He said quietly. Mike sighed and walked over to the window, mug in hand.
"I know, Tre. But it's a start."
And with that, he flung his mug out the window and watched it shatter against the neighbor's shutters.
He didn't care where he was anymore. As far as his heart was concerned, Billie knew that he would never have a home again.
~~~~
"He's not quite... Himself, is he?" Mike muttered into his coffee. Tre gave him a quick look over the rim of his glass.
"And you're just noticing, Mike?"
"No... Just sort of thinking out loud."
Tre sighed. He picked up his glass, stalked over to the window and opened it. Mike watched quietly, not quiet sure what Tre was about to do. Tre hefted the heavy glass in his hand, then threw it out the window. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the thunder.
"And that solved...?"
"Anger management, Mikey."
"I'm not sure that's what they had in mind."
Tre shrugged.
"I've got to do something..." His voice trailed away.
For a few blissful moment, there was silence. Then Tre looked at Mike, his eyes serious.
"Have you talked to the driver?"
Mike stiffened, and clenched his mug so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Not since the trial."
"Bastard." Tre made a sudden movement with his hand. Mike snatched his beer bottle away before it could make its way out the window.
"Whatever. He's done now."
"Heh. Jail, fines, probation, rehab. Nothing can change what he did to Adie... To Billie... The boys..."
"Billie's going to recover, Tre."
"And how do we know that?" Tre's voice rose and he stood involuntarily.
"How do we know he'll be okay again? He's just BROKEN, Mike. Did you see him? Did you see his eyes? He's dead inside, and knowing that bastard all but got away with it is not helping him!"
Mike sipped his expresso quietly. It would have been so easy to give in to his own anger, which had been quietly raging throughout the funeral. In fact, it had been raging since he'd seen Billie sitting at the funeral home looking at tiny coffins that should never have needed to be used.
"Tre, he's done. He's going to jail for a long time, then he'll be in rehab. He's not going to have privacy, or freedom, for a long time."
For a few seconds, the two of them just glared at each other. Then Tre's face crumpled slightly and he sat back down.
"It'll never make up for it." He said quietly. Mike sighed and walked over to the window, mug in hand.
"I know, Tre. But it's a start."
And with that, he flung his mug out the window and watched it shatter against the neighbor's shutters.