Remembering Billie

Two Years Earlier... [Billie's P.O.V.]

"She's got a smile it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories..."  Sweet Child O' Mine blasts uncertainly out of Louie's radio. My father's old periwinkle falcon, that is. I groan inwardly "Dad! This song absolutely SUCKS!" I screech loudly like a barking seagull. He continues to tap the wheel and hum along, ignoring my explicit comment. I huff narrowing my eyes and reach out with my spindly arm to change the radio channel. And finally, he decides to pay attention to my presence. His eyes widen with horror to the sound of a classical violin harmony. "C'mon Billie," He rolls his eyes grinning. "Guns and Roses are a literal classic. Especially Sweet Child O' Mine." He changes the radio back to Rock Classics. "In the world of Rock maybe, but a true classic, is Mozart or Beethoven Dad. Not that you'd know anything about it." I gaze sternly at the speedometer, refusing to make eye contact. "Girl," he shakes his head smiling "If only someone would bring you around to the idea of Rock." He chuckles lightly at my ever boasting enthusiasm towards classical musicians. I toss my head with a dull sarcastic snort. "You wish!!" I cackle like a crow and lean my head out the window ignoring the small world that is him and I and the radio, inside of Louie.

We round the corner onto Monarch Lane and pull up in front of our small house. It's an old rundown manor with green ivy climbing up its cracking cobweb covered walls. The windows large and wide. The house provides the greatest example of fine antique architecture. Louie creeps up the crumbling driveway slowly and comes to a halt outside the entrance way. I'm sliding out of the seat when I hear an abrupt bark, followed by a patter of doggy paws on tile as my German Shepard, Cop bounds out of the house, tongue lolling to the side. I give him a small smile and whistle "Cop! Come here boy! C'mere!" He leaps into my arms and covers me in kisses. "E-Yuck!" I screw up my face, pushing him away lightly. "Doggy breath!!" Rose my mother's little spaniel runs over to me and I pick her up, the little bundle of fur, a warm comfortable, fluffy brown and white ball in my arms. Cop follows us inside, my father lavished in grocery bags dumps them all on the breakfast bar with a thud. "Careful!" My mother scolds him and thoroughly starts to put everything away. He holds up his hands in mock surrender, grinning cockily at her. My father, everyone! This is him! He's tall, buff with thick muscles and a toned, tanned body. A chiseled face with gleaming white teeth, and a thick black leather jacket which teams nicely with his revving motorcycle collection and sense of rock music. He's the definition of "cool" and it's a wonder I'm not popular at school when I have a father like him. Him and my mother are complete polar opposites. Literal romance movie clique. She's small and soft hearted and walks around in long wispy skirts with floral patterns. And she works with plants as a botanist. I always wonder how they ever actually worked out okay.

I plop down onto a squeaky, leathery table seat; Cop's tail wagging and his heavy body pressed against my legs. My father sits down across from me with a stern expression on his face that from experience, either means "Billie, I have to work late again, sorry" or "We know what you did, why did you lie?" And I guess I should be worried with him looking at me like that, but my mother is still stacking away groceries so it can't be that bad. One of the few examples I just thought, probably...

  "Jamie." My mother lifts her newly plucked brows at him and sighs through her nose. He flicks her a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with sparkles that never disappear. "Flora." He replies and swallows slowly. She glances at me and him, before abruptly chucking her cleaning cloth into the sink and sitting down on a squeaky leather chair beside him. They look at each other before my mother says "Billie, sweetheart, we've noticed that lately..." She trails off as if what she's about to say may cause the sky to fall apart. "-You've been ignoring us and being rather rude, Billie." Its my father who declares this. Obviously oblivious to my mother and her slow approach into telling me. My heart jumps when he says this, and my instant reaction is to defend myself from his lashing claws. "Takes one to know one." I growl and narrow my eyes. "Billie! Mum scowls at me. "We're trying to be nice here!" "Too nice, fake" I mutter with a dull expression on my face. "Lies" I say bitterly. My father pushes back his chair with a loud squeak that makes even Mum cringe in fear. His face shows anger and hurt; he's fuming."Don't you dare accuse us of lying to you!" Anger threatens to bursts out of every pore, as I stand up to face him and spit loudly, "I'll give you one damn example of when you lied to me!" I'm shaking, because everything that I've been holding inside me is about to finally come out in a rush and flurry of emotion. I take a deep breath and continue shakily. "My whole freakin' life!" His face softens slowly back to the gentle giant I've always known him as, but that doesn't stop me from talking and stupid tears from swelling up in my eyes. "Since when did you guys bother tell me that I'm a mistake?!" Tears trickle down my cheeks. I halfheartedly brush them away. "That I'm a teen pregnancy, probably a drunken one too!" I screech loudly at the end, causing my voice to crack ear-splitting high. My mother's eyes fill with dread, her face a usual vibrant cheeky red, now pale and distraught with wrinkles I didn't realize existed. My father's eyes are filled with surprise, they're round and wide, with tears gathering at the rims. "Billie, sweetheart.." My mother's voice breaks the silence. I glare over at her, and watch as tears leave snail tracks down her ghostly cheeks. She reaches up to softly brush my hair away, and its the least I can do, to sit there and oblige. "You were not a mistake. Perhaps not planned as such, but if you were a mistake, don't you think we would've put you up for adoption? Or gotten an abortion." She breathes out with a deep sigh. "whatever" I sniff angrily. "I'm going. I'll be back before curfew." I stand up with a huff and snatch a pair of car keys off the counter. They follow me as I walk out the door and into the garage where my red 1960 Ford Mustang, Chang, awaits me. I slump into the driver seat as my parents question my safety. "Are you okay?" "Do you need time alone, you can go to your room?" I sigh and look them dead in the eyes with a cobra death glare. "I need some time away from this house, from you two. With Chang." They lower their gazes knowing they're beat. I'm only Sixteen, but they know I have my ways of slipping under the radar, and often decide to play it quiet and calm rather than lose me. Saying I'll be back before curfew is straight up, beyond generous of me. Mum nods her head, placing a small hand on Chang's door. "We love you, Billie." I warm the engine before twisting my way down the driveway without a backwards glance at them. 

I drive down Courtney Way, Chang humming underneath me, and slot in a Violin Piece of music: Sibelius Violin Concerto (D Minor) which I belt through Chang's tiny speakers. I drive along the motorways, ignoring the looks of awe I receive from passersby and continue until I reach West Beach, outside of the square. I pull over, head in my hands and let the tides roll in endlessly. Both literally and metaphorically. Waves lap tirelessly, only a couple hundred metres from the car park. I open the windows and listen to the world. The shaking pines, the rushing of waves and the hum of crickets fill my ears along with the Violin Concerto. Silent tears pour down my face until I'm sobbing, barely heard over the chaoticness of the stupid universe around me.

I sit there, for what seems eternity before I leave a message for my parents, saying that I'll be at a friend's house for the night. I close my eyes, humming along to the Violin, and somehow find myself asleep in Chang for the night instead.