Belated Birthdaytines to Billy Boyd (Mission One)
Monday, September 8th, 2003
Belated Birthdaytines to Billy Boyd (Mission One)
A Billy/Dom Chat
Billy: *It’s been over a week since my birthday, and when put down my school bag and shuffle through the afternoon’s mail, I’m troubled to see that the birthday card from my sister has not arrived yet. She called me on the actual day and told me she had sent one out the week before, and it’s strange that it hasn’t arrived yet. Makes you wonder just how safe your bills and checks are in the mail. It’s probably just the damn unreliable British post. Sighing, I open my bag and pull out a drawing that one of my students drew for me today and tack it onto my fridge. One of the best parts of my job. Continually new artwork to cover my house. I then make my way into my bedroom and change into more comfortable jeans and a t-shirt before returning to the kitchen for a beer. Another day done. I drop into a kitchen chair and take a long swig. Is it summer yet?*
Dom: *It’s been a week. I can’t believe I’ve kept Billy’s mail for a week. At home. Wondering whether to open it and end my anxiety, or attempt a more legal fashion of things and just give it to him like I was supposed to last Tuesday. But here I am – standing outside of his house for the second time today, trying to make up my mind for the twentieth time today to just give the envelope to him and be done with it. What will I say when he asks why it wasn’t in his post this afternoon? Perhaps I just now found it in the mailroom, thought “pink” was the sort of colour that looks generally important, and rushed it over right away. I suppose it would be improper to say, “Oh yes, and here’s a letter I’ve been holding for you. In my pocket. For a week.” Hm, yes. “Blasted British post” it is, then. I step lightly up the steps to his porch and ring the bell, trying out different whims of a glad expression. The butterflies have landed at the bottom of my stomach, and are fanning their wings for another take-off. Knowing that Billy /wouldn’t/ dust the envelope for prints doesn’t mean I’ll ignore the fact that he /could/ if he wanted. And if my opening line is, “Here’s a letter from your wife,” I could see how he might want to.*
Billy: *The doorbell rings and I set my beer down with mild reluctance. But that soon passes as I walk out in the hall and see who my guest is. I grin broadly and swing open the screen door, beckoning inside.* Come in, sit down, have a beer. Let’s celebrate the fact that another Monday is nearly dead and gone. *I imagine that Dom’s day must be quite boring but also tiring, and I’m flattered that it’s my house he chooses to use as his recuperation spot. I could get used to having company in the late afternoons.*
Dom: *I smile when I see Billy peek out from behind the door, and the butterflies ascend.* Hey, Bill. *I move past him inside and observe his recreational setting. I’m not partial to Mondays myself, and a beer does sound like a good end to the day, but there is business to deal with. I pull the bright envelope from behind my back, giving it a quick look over before holding it out to him as he shuts the door.* Found this in the mailroom today… *I try not to let those few daring butterflies flutter to my face. How does one try to look like he’s not trying?* It looked … *I shrug. Not sure if that was the kind of thing I’d do anymore.* …important. *Or personal. Addressed to just “Billy”. From “Boyd”. Devised to make Dom “nervous”.*
Billy: *I can feel my entire face lighting up as I see the envelope, a familiar pink that is most likely the missing birthday card from my sister. I almost snatch it from him as I grin and gesture into the living room.* Thanks! Sit down and I’ll bring you a beer. *I dodge into the kitchen and grab my bottle and another out of the fridge for Dom before returning to the living room and plopping down onto the couch next to him, handing him his beer.* I’ve been waiting for this all week. *I rip the envelope open and pull out the card (a slightly sappy one with flowers), reading it before propping it open on the end table.* My birthday was last Thursday, and I didn’t expect it to take this long.
Dom: *I look at him, holding my beer unspoiled in my hand, and wondering what I would say to him now if I weren’t expecting catastrophe at any moment.* Birthday? *I try, eyeing the card sitting motionless at the other end of the table.* Sorry I missed it. *I glance back to him, then grin.* Happy birthday, then! A few days late. Though, so was the card. Nice of her to send a card for you on your birthday. Why does she live so far away? *I think I’ve left a few sentences out. And a few hesitant pauses. Where was the part when I explained that I’d seen “Scotland” on the return addy, and the part where I’d assumed it was from a “she”? I nervously take a sip of my beer, cooling my heated throat.*
Billy: *I take another swig of my beer, noticing that I’m going to have to return to the kitchen in a moment to get another one. And for some reason, it looks like Dom is going to need one too.* She’s not the one who lives far away, I am! *Grinning, I look down at the tattered envelope to see that old familiar post mark.* When I got this house, I made the choice to come over here all by myself. I couldn’t very well expect her to pack up and move out here with me! *I smile fondly at the card.* It doesn’t matter, though. We’re still very close.
Dom: *I raise my brow, suspending my expression for several seconds.* Oh… *Slowly, I nod, take a drink of my beer, and settle back into the couch.* Well, that’s good. Close bonds are important in these kinds of relationships, I understand… *I continue to nod assuredly, but I can feel my insides breaking as I speak.* I just would have thought that a … well, a commutable nearness would have been a benefit… Of course, if it’s all working out for you two, I suppose there’s no problem. *I try to smile, but it just doesn’t work they way I planned.* I’m … happy for you.
Billy: *I enjoy Dom’s company, really I do. He’s a great guy. But sometimes he’s a muddled sort of bloke, and it’s really rather perplexing to see him get the wrong end of the stick all the time. He doesn’t have to say anything else for me to know what he’s interpreting this female Boyd to be. I laugh softly, feeling a bit ashamed to be amused at his confusion.* Dom, Margaret’s my sister. Not my wife. Believe me, if I were ever inclined to get married my spouse would be right here, glued to my side.
Dom: *I try to look surprised – surprised that he would assume I would be thinking such a thing as… what I was thinking. I really do. But I’m sure a bit of my relief is hanging on the brink of my lips. The words, “glued to my side,” leave something of an impression in my mind.* I… *I blow a huffed breath from my mouth, ready as ever to straighten out his misdirected assumption. But instead, I pause. My beer bottle is beginning to bead with condensation. A kind of defeated smile grows onto my lips.* Oh. *I turn my eyes to him again, hoping inside that I didn’t seem like an insistant ass.* Hell… *I grin, however. She’s not his wife… I shake my head softly, finally breathing, and again turn to my beer.* Scared me, Bill.
Billy: *It seems I’ve hit the nail on the head, which leads me to wonder why he would assume that Margaret was my wife in the first place. Was it the pink card? But I shan’t bother him about that. I shake my head and grin, finishing off my bottle with one long swig and get up from the couch.* Another? *I ask and don’t wait for an answer. Quick as I can I’m back on the couch, handing him another bottle and grimacing as I tear my hand open on another twist-off top, or so it feels anyway. Never have got the hang of those things. I shake my head again, small smile still lingering as I slouch on the couch, stretching my legs out in front of me. This is the life. Naw, a wife would cramp my style.* Well, what about you then? *I venture conversationally once it seems Dom is back in sorts again.* Obviously from your dismay over my situation you’re not married, but have you got a girlfriend waiting for you anywhere?
Dom: *I purse my lips as I come out of a gulp.* No, no… No one, really. *I try not to hesitate too much at this point, but I can’t help a small moment of silence for his sake. I notice him. I mean, really. I notice him, in a way I haven’t really done before. He’s completely relaxed; lying back into the cushion of the couch and sipping a beer with moist lips. I try not to think about that. But, then, there is his upper lip. Kind of adorable in a way; in an odd way – but only odd because I’m staring at it at all. And what’s even odder, I can’t take my stare away. He’s…well…* Incredible, huh? No girl seems to want to stick with me. Or the other way around. *I grin and rest my bottle against my thigh.* The last one broke it off when I said I was visiting the states. *My eyes drift into the reflection on the glass and watch myself within it, smeared and foggy.* I could never really stay in one place, you know?
Billy: Hmm, I’ve noticed. *I roll my eyes at the ceiling and raise up my beer bottle.* A few weeks in this place and you already can’t wait to get out of here. *I wrinkle my nose, hearing my own words’ meaning come bouncing back to my ears, and shrug.* Can’t say I blame you, though. A place like Lauderville doesn’t hold much for the young and the unattached. After all, my highlight of the day is getting the post, and I rarely even get personal mail! *I glance over at him sideways and nearly burst out laughing. I can’t help it; it’s the way he’s staring at me like I’ve grown three heads or something.* How bloody miserable is that when a man looks forward to getting home and seeing if he’s received the newest issue of People magazine in the sodding post?
Dom: *A lazy grin slides onto my lips. I’d like to take his interest in seeing the daily post as an interest in seeing me as well, but I really shouldn’t. But I do anyway.* Yeah, People magazine… Must be bloody awful for you that they don’t send an issue every day. But, as long as you aren’t beginning to look forward to bills and things… *Or perhaps he is, with no personal mail. One birthday card a year? Does anyone know he exists on his unbirthdays? So, maybe his sister writes occasionally. But only his sister? I turn my eyes to the card on the table. That’s it. The one piece of evidence that anyone in the world cares about him… I try to hold my careless grin when I look at him, but in my head I know: things have got to change.*
Billy: You have no idea. Catalogs are another big perk. *I stop my smile halfway, trying to determine whether to pretend to be serious or turn this into an instant joke, but deciding he’s probably frightened enough by my reclusive tendencies I shake my head with a wry grin.* No, you’ve just got to find something to keep yourself occupied. I can’t imagine how housewives survive in towns like this. Luckily, I doubt I’ll ever have to know!
Dom: *I laugh good naturedly into another drink from my beer bottle. My thoughts are quickly shifted from “Billy the postless” to “Billy the housewife”, which is amusing enough for a thought… I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. The little darling tidying his house with dainty hands. He really shouldn’t soil them with dirty dishwater. Or muddy them in the garden. He should have someone around to do it for him. …Quite a daring insinuation, Dom. Sit up straight, concentrate…don’t let your thoughts wander too far. Not yet. I gulp down my beer and grin broadly.* So, what do you do then? To keep yourself occupied? *I raise an eyebrow.* Read People magazine?
Billy: *I sniff indignantly, turning a phony haughty glance towards him.* Among other things, yes. You know... papers, tests to correct, that sort of thing... *First grade tests. Riiight. Wholly convincing, Mr. Boyd.* I read a lot of novels. *Smirking, I turn my head at the familiar sound of the side of the house being clawed to splinters. My gaze flickers down to my watch and I nod with a sigh.* Dinner time then, I see. *I nod towards the kitchen where the noise is coming from.* I had a cat door installed in the kitchen door, but BM has unfortunately grown a bit too expansive to be able to use it. So he reminds me when it’s time for supper. *I begin to rise, smiling at him.* I’ll just go take care of that before the door gets ripped off its hinges.
Dom: *My eyes flicker around the room as Billy moves away.* Which was the cat that tore my head off then? *I can’t help but be a little nervous. As much as I’d love to spend more time with Bill, I think it’s just about time for me to be running for cover. As Billy strides away from my question, I get to my feet as well and give a short sigh.* Well, I’d better be off anyway. I’ve got to get to the market for some… things. *Believable. Very nice.* Toiletries and the like… *Better. I twist my emptied bottle in my hands, and then step lightly toward the door. I can imagine that Fangs is awaiting a pounce just outside. If only he hadn’t eaten that neighbor boy, he might have been able to squeeze in and grab a leg at least.* Good luck with the cats, Bill… and… maybe I’ll stop by again tomorrow?
Billy: *I poke my head out from around the kitchen door, unable to completely hold in my disappointed expression. Another afternoon goes nearly down the drain, leaving me with cans of tuna and Wheel of Fortune for my evening. At least I had some company for awhile.* Yes, come on by tomorrow. Come anytime. *I make a mental note to feed the cats before he comes tomorrow as I smile brightly and move to pull open the door for him. As the screen door swings open, a furry streak tears into the house, spitting and hissing as she goes. MD then.* Oh, it was that one, by the way. *I grin and wink at him, holding out my hand. Another narrow escape by Mr. Monaghan.* Thanks for stopping by, Dom.
Dom: *My eyes aren’t any smaller as they drift from the sight of the cat to Billy’s outstretched hand.* Not a problem… *I’m fond of the man, really, but… he is rather odd. Perhaps it’s just another thing that I like about him. After all, he’s not like anyone else in this town. Or, maybe it’s all just due to his cats. And the fact that he finds them completely usual. I smile a bit and take his hand, squeezing it gently before turning out of the door.* Anytime. Later, Bill. *Mission one seems to have gone successfully. I grin to myself, already formulating my newest stroke of genius. Now on to mission two. With a last glance of him over my shoulder, I head back down the ruddy pathway to my bike.*
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