Billy (a novelette)

by Shaun Whittington

  "And how's Billy boy today?" Peter joked.

  "Fine. What you two up to?" Billy asked solemnly, as if he couldn't care less.

  "I've got a client in an hour, and Lisa's still in bed. Bless her." Peter leaned over to Billy and said in a whisper. "I think she needs her rest after last night, if you know what I mean." He winked, and gave Billy a painful nudge in his side.

  Billy shook his head. Peter's immature comment angered Billy a little. He never understood why Peter had some sick pleasure on taunting him, it was not as if he was a threat. He and Lisa would never get back together, so Peter's behaviour always baffled Billy.

  Peter was a few years younger than Billy, better looking, had a job, was fit, muscular, and more than likely a better lover. There was no chance Billy could be a threat to this new relationship, even if he won the lottery.

  "Dad!" the seven-year-old Joseph said with excitement; all dressed and ready.

  "Hi squirt."

  Billy and his son gave each other a hug. Billy sank his nose in his son's brown hair and gave it a big sniff.

  Peter shifted uncomfortably and said goodbye to Joseph and shut the door.

  Billy and Joseph walked side by side; Billy looked to the side and saw that his son looked generally happy to be with his dad. Billy felt a wave of emotion forcing his eyes to fill with salt water. He didn't know why his son was so pleased to see him. Peter and Lisa for the last couple of months had spoiled him with trips, whereas Billy had taken him back to the apartment and sat with his son to watch television.

  He leant over and kissed his son; a solitary tear fell from his left eye and rolled down his cheek onto his son's dark hair. Like tiny flung arrows, the corner of his lips rose up as he slowly smiled at his boy. I love you Joseph.

  Billy had always wanted a boy, but the family he and Lisa had planned however, wasn't as straightforward as they would have hoped. They struggled to get pregnant, which resulted in a trip to a doctor who advised Billy to reduce his hot baths and wear looser briefs. As more months passed, Lisa was put on a course of Clomid to help her ovulate, as no one knew what the problem was, and the side effects were horrendous. After the first course was finished, they put her on a second course and it emotionally ripped her apart. Billy had come back from work one day, and found his wife, his beloved Lisa, crying in the bath that she had ran for herself an hour previous. She was so heart-broken, she didn't have the energy to clamber out.

  He remembered Lisa telling him: "It's not going to happen, is it?"

  Billy's response was: "Yes it will. It's early days yet. Let's see what the Letrezole does."

  The Leterezole, which was in liquid form, was given to them and they were shown how much to use and how to inject it. The drug was used so Lisa could grow eggs—or more eggs—to increase their chances of getting pregnant. They used 2.5mg for five days and Billy remembered the first time he had to inject Lisa. He wasn't overly keen, but Lisa's response was ruthlessly honest and true: "I'm going through this hell, the least you can do is inject me."

  She could have done it herself if she wanted to inject her thigh, but her friend, going through the same rigmarole, told her that when she injected in her thigh she couldn't walk properly and felt like she was strolling around with a permanent dead leg. Lisa wanted the injection to be as painless as possible and chose the softest part of her body, her bottom. She lay on the bed exposing her behind and Billy stood over holding the needle. His hands shook so much that he thought that there was a possibility he could accidentally inject her back if he wasn't too careful.

  Once he finally made the plunge, quite literally, he breathed a sigh of relief and saw one solitary sweat bead fall off his head and drop onto her left cheek. An image he would never forget to his dying day.

  The Leterezole course was unfortunately an unsuccessful torture they had to go through, and the next stage of their treatment was the IUI. It was the next stage due to their unexplained quandary. The whole point to the process, was to get a sample from Billy then they could separate the sluggish sperm from the fast moving ones, then place the quick ones back into the womb of Lisa at the time of her ovulation and hope for the best.

  Billy had to give a sample on the same day Lisa was going to be inseminated and could still see the image of him being in that room. He made sure on three occasions that the door was locked and didn't realise that there was a folder in the corner of the room full of pornographic magazines. Instead, he went into the cubicle provided, pulled his trousers down and stood on one leg, the other leg holding the door in case the lock to the room was suddenly opened. Then he performed the most un-erotic episode of his life. It worked, eventually, but at one stage he thought that he was going to leave the room with nothing but rubbing burns on his soft member. A few moments later, Lisa was inserted with his cleansed sperm and then after that it became a waiting game.

  This process was done on four occasions over a five month period, and many tears were shed every time she rung the hospital for her results. It was a resounding no every time.

  The IVF was up next, and the Jones' had two attempts at this on the NHS, and if that was deemed unsuccessful they would have had to have gone private and paid for it. They had made a decision that if it didn't work on the NHS, they would begrudgingly accept adoption, as there were plenty of children out there who were in desperate need of homes as far as adoption was concerned.

  The first attempt of IVF was unsuccessful which led to Lisa breaking down and getting drunk on a bottle of Jim Beam and calling her family about the results. Billy felt helpless as he saw his wife crumble before him, and all he could do was console her and try and keep within him, his own heartache and disappointment. Once she finally passed out, he crept downstairs, opened a bottle of Merlot and broke down himself.

  The second attempt was a few months later, and at this time they were practically looking at adoption papers. They both ventured into hospital and went through the same rigmarole. Afterwards, they told each other that they loved one another in the underground car park of the hospital, and Billy went to work as his wife drove back home. She was due to call the hospital for the results at 1pm and told Billy that he might as well go to work. He asked her not to phone and tell him the results as if they were negative, which was more than likely, he would be in a bad mood for work for most of the day. And if somehow the result was positive, he'd be too excited to concentrate. Billy still remembered on what was the longest day of his life, staring at the clock urging the minutes to hurry up and put him out of his misery.

  When he got off the bus, he remembered saying to himself over and over again: "It's not the end of the world, it's not the end of the world."

  He popped his head around the living room and saw Lisa sitting in tears.

  The only word Billy could muster was, "No?"

  Lisa produced a beam underneath the tears and announced. "We're pregnant."

  Chapter Four

  He made the usual journey to his local shop with his son, and breathed in the air that his body desperately craved for. He entered the shop and was greeted with a hush, and a crowd of three people in unison, all twisted their necks to stare at him. He ignored the folk and grabbed himself a carton of milk and ponderously walked around the aisles of the establishment.

  Once he had decided that was all that he wanted, he walked towards the front and stood behind an elderly woman who had bought fruit and an assortment of drinks. She looked at him, flashed him a thin smile and moved out of the way for him. Billy shook his head, but the woman insisted that he should take her place. The man second in the queue did the same, and so did the young woman who was there to purchase lottery tickets.

  Feeling his face flush with embarrassment, he timidly walked to the front as the three individuals stood aside and paid for his purchase wordlessly. He then gave Ali a friendly wink, and walked out of the shop with his head half lowered. He knew that they meant well, but it made him feel uncomfortable. Was he ever going to get used to th
is? Were they ever going to forget?

  As father and son got to the park, they found it was empty, but it was only ten o'clock so it was still early. Joseph raced for the swings straightaway. Although Billy loved spending time with his son, he did worry if the seven-year-old was having a good time or not. He wondered if it ever came to the stage that Joseph would turn around and decide that he didn't like spending time with his dad anymore, and that the Saturday visits would begin to taper off, like what happened with his own dad.

  A few months ago, when both of them were in Billy's apartment sitting watching television, Billy asked Joseph, "Why do you like coming here?"

  Joseph replied, "Because you're my dad?"

  It was a response that moved and pleased Billy simultaneously. No matter where Peter would take Joseph, and no matter how much money he would spend on him, Billy was still the dad, and Peter could not compete with that.

  Billy sat on the bench watching his son on the swing, and remembered once upon a time he was needed to push his son, but not anymore. Billy looked around to see if he could get away with a crafty cigarette. He thought that it was probably not the best idea to have one in a children's park, but he decided against the idea anyway when he saw another father with his son entering the park.

  When they were together, Billy and Lisa used to take Joseph to the park or swimming on a Saturday. They always noticed that there would be a large number of men on their own out at the park or the swimming baths with their child or children. Billy and Lisa joked that Saturday was probably 'Divorced Dads' Day.' Now Billy had become one of the DDD's himself, and his mocking all those years ago had backfired somewhat.

  The other dad that had entered the park with his son took him over to the swing next to Joseph. Billy looked down, but he could feel the man's eyes on him. He couldn't explain it, but he knew he was being stared at. It was something he became accustomed to. Billy made a decision to gaze up at the man, and when he did, he found that his intuition was correct.

  Once the two sets of eyes met, the man turned away and continued to talk to his son who was a similar age to Joseph, and as the young boy began to gather momentum on the swing, the man looked over once again and slowly walked over to Billy. He sat down next to him on the bench. Billy could almost hear the man's mind working, as if he was thinking hard about what to say to this stranger. Billy wasn't surprised when the man eventually spoke.

  "Nice day, for a change," the man quipped.

  Billy nodded his head in agreement. The man was a lot younger than Billy—thirty maybe, and Billy was in no mood for conversation. Billy could feel the man's glare burning at the side of his head.

  The man fired another question at him. "So what's the story, you divorced?"

  Billy shook his head. For a stranger, it was such an unusual and personal question to ask. Billy finally spoke. "Who are you? Press?"

  The man laughed. "God no!"

  Billy's comment was so absurd that the man began to cough hard as if he was choking on his own laugh. Either the guy was a great actor or he was telling the truth, Billy thought. He believed the latter, but was still in no mood for small talk. "Who are you then? I'm trying to have a relaxing day with my son."

  "I'm just a...an admirer. You are Billy Jones, right?"

  Billy sighed, his eyes looking to the heavens. "Another one."

  "I'm sorry, but what you did was incredible, and the fact that you never made any money out of the situation, no interviews to the press, no book release—"

  "All I want," Billy raised his voice an octave and put his hands on his head, "is to be left in peace and for my son to forget what happened, or at least to put it in the back of his mind. And people...reminders like you, don't help."

  "I read that you had gone off the rails, and—"

  "That's just the press making stuff up because I wouldn't speak to them. I couldn't be bothered to speak to them. So they just made stuff up until the story became old news."

  "All the same, Mr. Jones, you're a national treasure."

  Billy stood to his feet, and called Joseph over. Joseph got off the swing and dragged his feet towards his dad.

  The man also stood to his feet. "I'm sorry if I've ruined your morning, Mr. Jones." He held out his hand apologetically.

  Billy shook the man's hand hesitantly, as if he was unsure. He said, "Don't worry about it, I should be used to it by now." Billy then turned to his son. "Let's go somewhere else."

  Joseph shrugged his shoulders and never put up a fight. He always wanted to try the new park near the pond, and was hoping that was just what his dad had in mind. It would take five minutes on the bus, but the journey would be worth it.

  Billy sighed and shook his head as he left the park holding his son's hand. "Different person, same thing every week" he muttered quietly, being careful that is moan was out of earshot from his son.

  He closed his eyes and saw a familiar film being replayed in his mind. Was he ever going to escape this madness?

  As Joseph talked, Billy's mind drifted off and went back to the scene of nearly three year ago and remembered his eyes scanning the room and seeing the carnage.

  As frantic parents spilled into the room, they screamed and hugged their injured and their dead. But there was one boy who was left on the floor, cruelly ignored. A simple explanation was that maybe both parents worked and hadn't been informed yet, or they had been informed, but it was taking them an age to get from their work back to the nursery. Billy felt for another youngster, who sat in the corner of the room holding his damaged fingers, shaking like a leaf that had been assaulted by a ferocious wind.

  Billy stroked the young boy's red hair while he held onto Joseph.

  "It's gonna be all right," was the only sentence he could muster.

  The boy shook and said tearfully, "Where's my mum? I want my mum."

  Billy could see that the young boy had lost some of his fingers; blood covered the youngster's right arm and soaked the sleeve of his shirt. There was nothing Billy could do apart from the give the distressed boy a cuddle. The boy was quickly taken away from Billy by two teachers and was informed that the ambulances had arrived. Billy took one last look at the injured boy and shook his head at the madness.

  *****

  Billy had dropped Joseph off and made his way back to the apartment. Hours had passed, and not wanting to spend a decent evening being cooped up in his apartment listening to Meat Loaf through the walls from his neighbours stereo, he took a stroll through the night and hoped that his problems would evaporate—or at least dilute, the more he walked.

  As he took his stroll, he noticed that the streets were overshadowed with melancholy, as he walked with scissor steps almost feeling the tension rising out of his battered and tortured frame. He gawped up to see the young moon hanging in the intense azure sky. It looked beautiful.

  Before, Billy Jones always thought that walking, or any other form of exercise for that matter, was a waste of time. He thought that the concept of walking as being tedious, repetitive even. Putting one foot in front of the other, over and over and over again, at a sickeningly uniform speed, in order to gradually get from one miserable, grey place to another equally miserable and equally grey place. What was the point? But he always found it was a healthier alternative to release stress, than taking in too much alcohol, which was also a method he opted for every weekend.

  His body shuddered slightly, as the wind hushed by him and he could see the leaves dancing in the trees to its almost silent tune. He had lost the moon for a second, and then looked up to see the shy creature peering from behind a solitary cloud. The heavens were beginning to open and he welcomed the clouds' tears that began to kiss his face.

  Chapter Five

  The young man had rubbed his delicate eyes with his two forefingers and had little sleep after a nightmare he had. His nightmare consisted of him and his little brother, running away from a man donning a knife.

  He didn't normally have these dreams, but because he
had found out who his new neighbour was, what happened nearly three years ago was all he could think about. It seemed at his age, he should be too old to be kept awake by a nightmare, but the vividness of the dream was so intense, it was all he could think about once his eyes opened.

  He had only moved into the apartment two weeks ago and although the area wasn't great, he thought that it would do until he managed to get up the ladder at his work. He worked in a supermarket, and knew unless he managed to get himself a girlfriend who earned obscene amounts of money, the apartment would be his home for a while. Although it wasn't his dream home, he was glad of the independence. He joked to his parents that he was probably the only person in the apartment block that worked for a living.

  He noticed that there were two families at the bottom that looked like they needed a good wash, and looked like they spent most of their welfare money on cigarettes and booze. Their three children constantly played in the hallway and were already driving him crazy.

  The family that was opposite were quiet, and would only be seen every now and again. On the first floor, there was a guy with long hair and a beard who looked like an ex-Hells Angel, and would play Meat Loaf and Status Quo music at ridiculous times, despite knowing that there were two families below him with young children.

  Opposite the Hells Angel was an older gentleman in his late fifties, who never seemed to leave his apartment, unless he was going out for food. And on the second floor where he stayed, there was the quiet man who kept himself to himself.

  At first he didn't recognise the man, then suddenly something clicked in his head. It was Billy Jones! He couldn't believe it.

  He thought that the guy should have been a celebrity, who should be constantly in the newspapers telling his story, especially now the anniversary was coming up once again. He could have been a guy that should have had a New York Times bestseller with a novel entitled Billy Jones: My Story. He thought that he should have been handed an OBE or even a Knighthood for his contribution to British society. He was a national treasure who shouldn't want for anything. But no! There he was, living in the worst area of the town, amongst tax dodgers and drunks, and looked like he had aged ten years in the three years since the young man last saw him.