“Billy!” Joel shouted as they headed backstage after a less-than-enthusiastic concert at the Roseland Theatre in NYC, the backstage area just one long, bland hallway with cream color walls and a gray floor, many doors on each side into each realm of the backstage life, Billy pacing faster ahead then the rest of them. “Dude,” Joel called out, grabbing Billy’s arm, forcing Billy to stop his trance-like walk.
“What?” Billy responded austerely, yanking his arm back to himself.
“You were so off tonight,” Joel enlightened him, Billy’s face levitating to the floor.
“You’ve actually been kind of out of it like all week, Billiam,” Benji joined in the conversation, swallowing a large gulp of water before coughing in a deep spasm, the water traveling down the wrong pipe.
“I think he’s always like that!” Paul piped in with a goofy grin, the boys not slightly amused by Paul’s futile attempts at humor.
“What’s up, man?” Benji asked hoarsely, touching Billy’s shoulder, Billy shrugging away as his face cowered and tears began to sprinkle his cheeks.
“My joke wasn’t that bad, was it?!” Paul shouted sincerely, feeling horrible for making Billy cry.
“Paul, just shut up,” Joel told him firmly, turning his attention back to Billy. Billy didn’t say anything. He still felt like there was a heavy weight against his chest and every time Toran’s pretty eyes or her scar entered his mind, the weight squeezed harder and harder against his heart. “It’s about Toran, isn’t it?”
Billy only nodded, feeling shameful for crying as he inhaled a deep breath and wiped his face with a white towel. “She’s dying, guys,” Billy whimpered, Paul, Joel, and Benji’s eyes growing wide with shock, “She has HIV. She’s dying.”
Joel and Benji clammed right up, not knowing what to say to him in this time of need, their heads tilted downward as if paying their premature respects, both of the twins’ arm hanging off Billy's shoulder to show support, the static of electricity and rumbling of the ice machine the only sounds to fill the void.
“Well, what are you doing here?” Paul suddenly asked him, leaning against the opposite wall and rocking back and forth on his heels.
All three of them lifted their heads simultaneously, Joel and Benji understanding exactly what Paul was referring to while Billy was left back in the dust.
“That’s the most intelligent thing you’ve said all day!” Benji congratulated Paul, reaching over and giving him a firm handshake.
“I try my best,” Paul responded happily.
“What?” Billy asked, totally befuddled by what was going on.
“Listen, Fool,” Joel began, pushing him forward as they walked and talked like there was some big secret that must be told, “What is moping gonna do for you? Only kill precious seconds you should spend with her. You think it will be any better for you when she’s gone?”
“Seize the moment!” Benji yelled behind them, him and Paul following them like puppies, Paul giving Benji a high five.
“Shut up, I’m on a roll,” Joel scolded Benji behind him.
“She won’t forgive me,” Billy frowned, tapping the Halloween picture in his khaki Dickies pocket, sighing, “not after what I said to her.”
“Please!” Joel begged, stopping short at the exit door, the red letters glowing in the dimness of Billy’s situation, “When hasn’t she forgiven you? I bet you can’t think of one time…”
”Itchy?” Billy called softly, seeing his little friend Toran holding herself into her knees on her front porch, her face scuffed with dirt, her white Keds patchy with grass stains, her wavy orange hair damp from her cries.
“Go away, Billy,” her tiny voice responded, turning away from him, “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, Toran,” Billy replied, feeling horrible because this was the first time he saw her tears, walking sheepishly over and squatting down next to her, kind of afraid she’d deck him again. “I didn’t mean to…I just wanted to play kickball with them, to belong…”
“Why did you say those things?” Toran asked huskily, her voice wavy with hurt and anger, “I though I was your friend. How could you tell those kids down the street that I wasn’t your friend? How could you tell him my mommy doesn’t have a job and we’re on..wel…welfare. How could you say that my Daddy left mommy and me because he didn’t love us?”
“Toran, I’m sorry!” Billy yelled earnestly, taking her tiny hands in his, Toran’s sob dying down as she looked into his eyes...
Billy remembered clear as day what he did next. To prove to the skeptical Toran that he was sorry, he marched right up to those boys and said that I am best friends with Toran O’Brian and if you don’t like it, you can kiss my butt (his new catch phrase). Well, for his loyalty to Toran, he got a black eye and a bruised knee, but gained Toran’s respect and companionship for a lifetime.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Billy replied, breezing swiftly out the door, knowing he needed to do a lot of thinking tonight…
~*~
“Toran,” Nana called up her staircase, soup ladle in hand, her beady eyes enclosed behind sweaty wrinkles, “The aid left some stuff on the counter. I’m going to make chicken stew.”
“Great,” Toran shouted down to her as she hovered over a box of unpacked things. She’s been here a week and its felt like an eternity against her heart. Her baby-fied room with its pink wallpaper, white dresser, GI Joes and Barbies placed on a white shelf, her soccer ball and baseball bat sitting close against the corner of her room, her white window panes with flowery drapes she tried to pry down when she was younger, reminded her of her past which didn’t help her much. She unpacked most of her things, set up her pictures along the dresser and put her clothes in the closet. Her hands moves slowly as she ripped through the packing tape, as if maybe Billy would come and wisk her off her feet and they’d go sunbath in Milan just because they felt like it. Billy was right, and she didn’t have enough courage to tell him that. She couldn’t shake off her frown. She felt like half a person without Billy by her side. The idea of going through this ordeal without him made her want to take a razor and…
Toran took a deep breath in and tied her hair behind her head, her navy v-cut long-sleeved shirt tightening against her chest, wondering if Billy was in agony as she was. Just like that, she heard the front door slam and Nana call “Billy Bumpkin!”
Toran let a smile slip through her gloom as she leaned her ear against the frame of her open white door, listening in like a spy, but she couldn’t hear anything. Suddenly, Billy popped in front of her, Toran stumbling backwards with fright, her breath hitched in her throat. Her green eyes bored into him icily, Billy standing in front of her uncomfortably with a look of sorrow plastered on his face.
“Have you told her?” Billy asked casually, pointing with his thumb downstairs, Toran whisking by him like he wasn’t even there and began re-unpacking things from the box, her faded jeans hanging dangerously low in front of Billy.
“No,” Toran curtly responded, placing her iron on her white dresser, then crossing to hang her leather jacket on the back of her door, “Already told one person and now he’s out of my life.”
Billy actually cringed when he heard her refer to him so harshly, Toran feeling a pang of guilt when she looks at his shattered face. “That hurts, Toran. It hurts when you think that I’m gone.”
“You said it yourself!” Toran disagreed, throwing her hands in the air as she gathered clothes and shoved them vehemently in her dresser, “You said you don’t know if you could watch me die. I consider that being gone.”
“Look,” Billy began, stepping forward, Toran leaning against her big bed with crossed arms, her glare boring a hole in the wall. Billy gazed down at her and sighed. “I just want you to know that I still care and I still love you. That’s what it comes down to. I worship the ground you walk on and I’ll worship you until your dying day and after. Just…” Billy took out the Halloween picture and tore it down the middle, leaving the half with him in it with his silly grin and outstretched hands next to her on the bed, “Remember, I’ve been there, through everything. Don’t shut me out now.”
Toran gazed down at the picture, her arms still tied around her chest, Billy proceeding out the door and down the stairs, feeling defeated, like no words could get far enough to her heart.
Toran picked up the picture gingerly and ran her thumb over the glossy finish. It was up to her to change the future, it was all laying in her hands. She could sit and mourn and be alone or…
“Billy!” she screamed, sprinting down the oak stairs and past the living room and kitchen, stumbling over the deck and spilling on the grass, Billy watching her fall and running from him car, kneeling down next to her as blood began to protrude from the scrape on her shin, Toran’s eyes wild with fear, Billy taking it calmly as he tore a piece of his white wifebeater off and wrapped with care around her shin, Toran’s smiling beaming as he was through. Toran pulled his neck and pressed her lips hard against his, both of them longing in the cool grass until supper was ready…