Pussyboy

Billy Joel

The house did not change at all since I last saw it.

The old kinda Victorian table was still there in the hall. The giant diamond mirror still up above it. The wallpaper was even the same design of fairies and angels with the maude green color that made this house look so haunted.

The couch was still there. The love seat. That ottoman that I accidentally spilled coffee on back a decade ago. The office table they placed the television on was still there but with a wide-screen now. The lamp was the same boring IKEA design. And still, the hallway was the only thing carpeted. The living room I was standing in was still the mahogany I remember but looking so old now.

Nothing changed here except the TV.

I don't know what happened but all that strong façade I had been showing everybody since everybody started shutting me off their radars just came back. I took a seat in the love seat and just stared blankly at everything.

The couch. The TV. The mahogany flooring. The wallpaper.

You know, they say that you should never keep the dead from passing on. You'd get haunted or worse, you'll only be haunting yourself.

What did I do with my life that merited me being corrected by everyone? Why was I so weak and pathetic that my parents had to swoop in to save me when they're dead already?

I remember the times Liam and I spent here.

We'd spend each day listening to one song. It was Vienna by Billy Joel.

I guess, it was the spirit of that time in our lives to think and dream we were gonna go somewhere. Somewhere you didn't have to whore yourself for money. Yeah, they say it all starts in college but it actually starts before it.

College should be the time you go forth and find that precious way to prosperity. As if anyone in this world could ever achieve that.

Maybe they do.

I mean, I'm gonna be married to a man I barely knew. A man who I only know is rich and had previous contacts with my long deceased mother.

I got tear-jerked by that but nothin' really intense. I think I poured all my tears out in Wall Street to what I thought was one complete stranger but turned out to be my number one admirer's father. What fuckin' small world do we live in?

But coming back — was there any Vienna waiting for me somewhere, or even someday?

I hopelessly doubt that.

Mr. Payne entered the room with two glasses of soda. One was your regular coke, the other one was a fiery red color.

Cherry soda.

He remembered my favorite drink back in high school. Liam used to stack those things in their refrigerator because he always brought me to his house. To have sex or just be turored. I guess, Liam Payne was my first paying customer. Well, his payment was in kind.

Patriarch Payne sat on the couch, in the end closes to the love seat, or me. It's kinda the same.

We sat in some minutes of silence. It was dark now. The window behind me told me so. Blankets of snow and blankets of all my fuckin' insecurities.

White land, dirty people.

Kinda ruins the whole wholesomeness of winter time.

He drank the coke slowly. I felt awkward just sittin' there so I drank the soda too. A little bit longer than he.

We ended up placing the glasses on the central table at the same time. They clinked. We looked at each other at that, and the awkwardness of the situation reached its climax and we just laughed lightly.

I think it cleared the tensions in the room because he spoke first to me.

"I know you work as a prostitute."

Feeling lighter than before, I just nodded cautiously.

"And you have a son," he stated then he continued. "With that drug addict Malik kid, right?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Why?

I haven't even asked myself that. It was a question of undeniable life longing that was really unhealthy.

"I don't know, honestly."

"Well, that's fucked up."

I snorted at that response. What would he know? He married such a sweet woman and I got knocked up by the wrong man.

"How would you know — you married a saint of a woman while I was knocked up by an asshole."

I got defensive. I'm sorry because I've already got enough critics inside my head.

"I'm sorry."

"I know," I said exasperatedly. I was tired. He was too. Arguing about what happened never eased anything. We all just keep the banter then we just end it. No one really wins an argument. It's only when the other side is tired that the argument ceases.

"I know that I fucked up but I don't need you reminding me every thing wrong about my life," I sighed heavily. "I already live with it."

He looked at his coke thoughtfully. He turned it in a circle, clockwise and very slowly. There must be something interesting about what he's seeing in the ice cubes there.

Ice cubes in the winter? Who knew they'd be interesting?

"Why didn't you marry my son?"

"Liam?"

"Yeah," he sighed lightly. He was hurt. I was the reason he doesn't have his son anymore.

"Liam."

"Liam."

We looked at each other. Then, we looked the other way.

"I felt something for him, you know."

"I saw that."

I smiled tiredly at that. I really did but life was complicated then as was now.

"He really was in love with you like some lost puppy," he smiled as he spoke – sadly. "I remember those times when he'd stock up out fridge with cherry sodas just so that you'd have your favorite drink ready."

He shook his head and placed his head in his hands and pushed his hair back. I admit that I was tearing up a bit since I – I don't know.

I unwittingly destroyed good people because bad things destroyed me.

This man was crying in front of me because I took his son away by being selfish and insensitive and a downright piece of fucking shit. I caused so much pain for these people.

I teared up and stopped it. I don't wanna cry again. Not again!

The tears flowed and it didn't end. I didn't know that Liam's dad held me as I cried and he comforted me.

I didn't deserve good people.

Fuck me.