Fall had slipped to winter before I saw Billy Collins again. We had minimally kept in touch, a few emails, a couple of late-night phone calls. They each came with a hollow feeling; he was lonely, and I was powerless to change that despite any wishes to the contrary.
My roommates had headed home for the holidays on the snowy December evening. I had settled onto the couch, content to read the history of salt from a book someone left on the coffee table. The knock immediately irritated me, causing me to rip the door open with more force than necessary. His head snapped up at the unexpected energy.
"Billy?" He was there, as physical as the door I clung to for stability.
"Hey, Lil." His words came acute and dripped with uncertainty.
"What are you doing here?" My surprise made the words come harsher than intended.
"I'm sorry. I should've called." His dark eyes dipped to the floor as his hair fell into his face. He looked much younger with downcast eyes.
"No." I reached for his arm, hoping to raise his face and spirits. "That's not what I meant. I'm just surprised. Come inside." My words came out quickly and wavered from the heavy hand of guilt. His eyes flickered up as his lips pursed into a tight line. I moved aside and tugged on his arm to usher him in with a softer "how are you?"
"Good." His voice came coarse like rock salt from overuse and too many cigarettes. "I don't mean to intrude," he offered again.
"Billy, you aren't an intrusion." His quiet presence warred with his substantial physical stature. "How are you?"
"Well." It was unconvincing, and the subtle nod didn't help.
"I missed you." My words came low, matching the mood of the room, causing his eyes to dart up again.
"Sorry I didn't stay in better touch. It's been..." His words tapered off to nothing.
"Let me take your coat." I held out my hands as he shrugged off the coat. The thick leather landed heavier than expected in my hands. The smoke from countless cigarettes saturated the material. "Tea." It should've come as a question, but it wasn't.
Billy awkwardly settled on one of the cheap wooden chairs around the small table in the kitchen space. His size made the chair appear child-sized.
"What brings you back my way?" I harmlessly asked as I set the kettle to boil.
Billy's eyes dashed from me when I turned to him. "Mixing," he mumbled.
I gave a soft smile. "I'm glad you're here." A loaded pause hung in the air as I gazed at him and he stared at the floor. We were disconnected. Sporadic calls and emails were better than being detached. It tore into me. "Billy, what's wrong?"
"I'm sorry I didn't stay in better touch." His words came rehearsed but still heavy with admission.
"Communication is two-way."
"I intended..."
"Billy, can we cut through the bullshit?"
His eyes blinked up at my abrasive ask. "I should upset you."
"And why is that?"
"I made a promise that I didn't keep."
"Did you?"
"I wanted to continue..."
A laugh slipped from me before I even realized it was brewing, but the kettle disrupted my thoughts before any words could follow. I turned to tend to the tea with the lingering trace of humor on my lips. I set a steaming mug in front of Billy before settling into my chair.
"Billy, I'm not upset with you. I have no ill-will nor shattered expectations."
"Maybe not yours."
"What were you expecting?" I prodded.
"More of myself. I've thought of you, but when I considered reaching out to you, I felt like an interruption."
"You're not an interruption." I unsuccessfully tried to strangle the humor in my face.
"You're laughing at me." A glint of jesting struck his face.
"I'm sorry you're just so serious."
His mouth pursed, revealing his dimples as he bit back his smile.
"So, you've thought of me often?" I added with a tease.
"Don't be mean." His voice came as though he were singing one of his songs.
"Be you," I directed. "I don't want the sever of you thinking you owe me something. I haven't had much time in the past, and I doubt this time is no different; so be you."
Billy nodded before dipping his eyes to the steam of his tea.
"Seems like a good night for a movie. How about it?" The allure of a distraction tempted us to dispel the awkward air.
"What's playing?"
"I had an idea, but I'm open to persuasion. I have unusual movie tastes."
"What does that mean?" The spark returned to his dark eyes, the curiosity as though I was his favorite puzzle.
"I prefer older movies to modern ones."
"Why is that?"
"They smooth out the edges. There's nothing gratuitous, but the sentiment is just as powerful, if not more."
He mulled over my words for a few moments. "What got you started down that path?" He always looked for the roots.
"My daddy. On weekends, we'd watch old movies." My mind drifted to Sunday mornings with the flickering of black and white movies on the TV. "The first thing I remember watching was The Music Box; then Duck Soup. From there, he started me on Hitchcock movies." I had nearly forgotten Billy was there as my mind moved through the warm memories.
"Hitchcock? How old were you?" A low roll of laugher came from deep in Billy's chest.
"Oh, four or five, I'd say."
"Bit young for that level of suspense."
"I'm the youngest of three. My daddy always says I'm the functional one, being the third and all. He did less to protect me than he did my older siblings."
"Did it bother you?"
"Oh no, the reverse."
"I have many questions, Lily Turncott."
"I'll have a few answers, a fair number of frustrations as well," I teased.
His chest leaped from a stifled laugh. "What's your favorite movie?"
"Oh, that's not fair. That's like asking the sun to pick its favorite flower."
"Is it?" Billy sat back and assessed me for a moment. "I'm sure I'm not the first to ask."
"You're right, but you're the first one to care, which means I need to be honest."
"And if you were dishonest?"
"Depends on my moods, but often I'll say Rear Window."
"But it's not your favorite?"
"Oh no, it is, but there are others. I love Jimmy Stewart. I suppose he was my first crush."
Billy let out a laugh. "You must be the first person to say that in a while. Dare I ask who your current crush is?"
"No," the blood rushed to my face, warming it like a sunburn.
Another entertained purse passed his lips as he mulled over his next path. "Perhaps we should watch a movie with your current crush in it. Then I could guess."
"No, I don't think so. You should pick the movie."
He sat back and surveyed me for another long moment. "I enjoy the classics as well." His admission didn't surprise me. "Have you seen Citizen Kane?"
"Of course." The flush again hit my face at his proximity to Orson Welles.
"Would you care to watch it with me?" His gentle presence was impossible to resist.
"Mmhmm."
Billy's strict sense of propriety came through that night. He insisted on sleeping on the couch as penitence at his perceived lack of care in his absence. It frustrated me, having him so close and not convincing him to stay with me, but his rigidity wouldn't offer the warmth I sought.
I woke up to an empty apartment. The surprise didn't fill me, only disappointment. Still, it had been a pleasant visit, and I smiled a brighter smile than the day prior.
"Hello." Billy had a way of projecting his voice even with his quiet tone. It punctured the space between us and startled me as I entered what I had expected to be an empty living room.
"I thought you had gone." My words passed my lips before I assessed their impact.
"I suppose I deserve that," his words were mournful. "I went to get coffee." The cardboard carrier still held three untouched cups. "You take it black, right?"
"I do." I plucked up a cup. "Are you expecting guests?"
The pinch of his stifled smile came again. "No, I drink a lot of coffee." He plucked a second cup from the carrier before adding, "I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."
"I didn't mean it that way."
He slightly nodded, busying his focus on the lip of his coffee cup. "I like you, Lily."
"I like you too, Billy."
"We could be happy if I stuck around for a while." The assertion hung in the air.
"No, we wouldn't."
His eyes flared up to me, surprised by my disagreement.
"You don't belong here; you have too much bravado for a quiet life," I offered.
"Someday, I could take you with me." The hope in his eyes stabbed into me.
I mustered a smile, but the effort was evident. "How long are you in town?"
"I leave today." The full admission fell out after a pause. "It took me longer than it should've to visit." I gave him a genuine smile, hoping to ease his conscience. "I have a guess of your crush, but it may be vain." His shyness pulled a smile to my face. "Was he in the movie last night?"
"There is a stature and presence that appeals to me."
Billy dipped his head at my words, aware of his similarities to a young Orson Welles.
"You're much shyer than I remember," I added, but no tease entered my pitch; it was just a fact.
"I suppose I've more to lose now."
"I'm a hard friend to lose."
"I'm not making any promises this time." He had a slight wince as he spoke, as though the concession hurt him.
"What's it like? Being on the road so much."
"Lonely and empty most of the time. You pull in the trivial to fill the gaps and push away the important." Even as he spoke, a fondness came through.
"But it's part of you."
"It appears that way." His eyes dropped to the floor again, with his thick eyelashes fluttering as his mind wandered through his thoughts. He was beautiful despite his homeliness.
"I admire that," I smiled.
His future was unfolding for him.
"I don't have that passion," I shrugged. A broader smile spread across my face as I dreamed of my unmapped future; "yet."