Twist of Fate

Max was over the moon, walking around the house with a pep in her step. Even during their movie night last night, she couldn't keep the antsy sway or bounce at bay. She'd chosen the spot next to Billy, and even when he'd rolled his eyes and scooted further into his corner away from her, it didn't cause her delight to fade. He hadn't snapped at her to get up, nudged her with his elbow, or even mumbled. If anything, Max would have referred to his reaction as brotherly exasperation.

Sister. He actually called me his sister!

She was on a high. So much so, she forgot how tired she was. It was a huge milestone even if he didn't realize what he had said. He was her brother and she, finally, was his sister. He saw her as his sister! It was like some sort of bridge had been built between them. Sure it was flimsy and made of twigs and rope. It still swung wildly if you jostled it too much, but it was there. Solid and real. Three months ago, she would have never thought that'd be possible, didn't even know she'd want it. But now that she had it, she couldn't even imagine things going back to how they started. She enjoyed his company… their conversations. More than that, she wanted his trust. To see him look at her without annoyance or anger but with comradery. To see someone he liked being around. And where Billy was involved, that was definitely a feat.

For their movie night, Neil had chosen First Blood with Sylvester Stalone. It was action-packed and hardcore, and Max couldn't see how some man named Rambo of all things was the equivalent of a superhuman… How does one guy even evade capture for that long?

After the first half, she stopped paying as much attention to it and kept glancing at Billy. His expression stayed the same the entire time–flat and unimpressed. Not once did he look at Neil, even when he would grunt or comment something on the movie. Not even when the sound of a breaking bone would make her mom cringe and make Neil hiss, "It's not that bad, Susan." Billy didn't even react when Max realized her knee had been bobbing excitedly the entire time. That surprised her more than anything. Wasn't he annoyed? Was this the new norm between them? Peace?

And just like that, the night came to an end and life was back to "normal". Her mom and Neil were back to working their regular hours–in and out day after day. Billy too, whenever her mom came back home, came and went to what Max assumed was his job as well, whatever that may be. Of course, his petty self never wanted to tell her exactly what he was up to. Some things would never change it seemed.

Sure Max was happy about officially being BIlly's bratty sister, but she was also excited that winter break was coming to an end. That might sound weird to some, but the break was supposed to be fun, not imprisonment. And yet Neil had made sure she couldn't enjoy her free time unless it was under the house away from her friends. So yes, Max was on a high. But Billy was the opposite.

He was still moody, with that flat expression that seemed to roll over into the following day. The same one he wore during the entire movie. It's like his face was stuck in a state of perpetual boredom, or numbness. It was like he was… moping around the house. His shoulders were slumped slightly, and every so often she would hear a deep sigh. She couldn't put her finger on it really, what the cause could be. He didn't really meet her eye at all, so at first she wondered if he was still embarrassed about the blow-up doll she'd found, but that didn't seem right. Then she wondered if it had to do with him back to being confined in the house, which even for her and her good mood was getting old. Stale even.

Max didn't really know and it made her unsure of how to proceed. She wanted to ask but thought better of it every time the words were at the tip of her tongue. The fact that he wasn't speaking to her, or anyone, meant there could be that chance he was still mad.

She was losing sight of the reasons he could still be mad at all. Her mind was constantly back and forth the more she watched him. The list she'd dreamt of titled "Reasons Billy is Angry" was beginning to blend and blur in her mind. Because, at times, it seemed like his actions were about her… and at other times not. Was he even bothered by the blow-up doll anymore? Was he thinking about the deal? Pissed at Neil for his pretending? Was he numb to it all finally? Or was he still thinking about what she'd said about the necklace? Did he not believe her?

Or maybe it was something else…

The more she pondered, the more her own thoughts spiraled. No, it wasn't anger at all, per se. But a moodiness she couldn't pinpoint. An ansty-like state of being, seeing as how he paced from his weights to the kitchen, to the bedroom, and then the bathroom. Back and forth like he couldn't pick a spot to be in. Was he as ready for the break to be over as she was? After all, he barely got to do a single thing he wanted (party not included), but he would have his car by the end. Was that it? The need to be behind the wheel again?

Maybe you should just ask him, Max, she complained to herself. But no…not yet.

Since then, Billy seemed stuck in his head. That typical bored look or furrow in his brow was gone. In place was a vacant, far-off look in his eyes similar to the time she'd watched his expression transform in the record shop. But she had a feeling he wasn't thinking about Elvis. Yet, she did have to wonder if he was regretting the fact that he told her about the necklace… if his thoughts were on his mom. She couldn't put a finger on it, but it was like someone trying to solve an impossible equation that only they could see inside their head.

Max really tried to give him plenty of space, not crossing his path as he floated from room to room. Instead, she watched from afar, waiting for him to snap out of it or to show any sign that normal Billy was still there. But when he'd given up on lifting weights for the third time with a huff so sudden she thought it was a scoff at first, she realized it was more serious.

Peering around the corner, she watched as he slammed the weights down, removed his headphones, and raised up to run his fingers roughly through his hair, tugging slightly before blowing out what seemed like an irritated breath and shaking his shoulders. When he stood and glanced back at the weights with that lost-in-thought look, she knew she couldn't let it go on anymore.

She tried to think quickly of something she could do to make him smile, or at least just knock him from his own head, so when he stomped toward the kitchen where she stood, she crept behind the wall and waited. The second his sock-covered foot entered the room, she jumped at him, yelling to the top of her lungs with her hands shaped like claws.

"Goddammit!" Billy flinched as though she struck at him and whirled on her. "Fuck, Max! That's not funny!"

"Oh, so it's not funny when it's happening to you?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips. She hadn't anticipated it making him that mad, but she pushed a bit more anyway. "I seem to remember you belly laughing at the way I screamed the last time you did it. You should be able to handle what you dish out."

He scowled and turned to leave the room as though he didn't want to be in there anymore, or at least decided a fight wasn't worth it. Instead, he paced once again, but this time back toward his room. She followed this time, bouncing on her feet, trying to keep her voice light.

"Lighten up. You've been moping around the house all week."

He glared at her over his shoulder before grumbling so low she almost didn't hear it, "Not like I don't have a reason to be…"

She frowned at his back, chewing on her lip to think of a way to save the moment before he could slam his bedroom door in her face. Why was he so distracted that even lifting weights didn't seem to be enough?

A thought came to her and she smirked. Though she knew well enough that her usual teasing might not break through his current mood, she opted for another push, hoping it would give her an opening—a chance—to get some kind of smile out of him.

"Are you still mad I laughed about your inflatable girlfriend? You know, I can't imagine it's good for the plastic to be in a trunk–"

Billy swiveled, throwing a pointed glare at her as he pointed a finger. She thought for a moment he might pop a blood vessel given the way his eye twitched. "Do not. Bring that up again. Ever."

Max gulped. Crap, I'm losing him and fast. He turned away from her again and she pressed her fist to her mouth as she tried to think, keeping after him as he stomped past the living room. She huffed, "Come on, Billy! There are only a few days left of break. Aren't you happy you'll get your car back?"

He gave her a sharp look that she took to mean, Are you kidding me? "I would have been happy if I could have actually done something with the break instead of watching you for most of it."

Max took note of the sharpness in his tone. Yep, definitely moody. "Why not do something fun then? The break isn't over just yet. What about going to the movies?"

Billy grunted, dismissing her idea without even looking back at her. "We just had a movie night."

"Then… Oh, maybe we could–" She cut herself off, remembering that she had agreed not to ask him to take her to the arcade. Of course, he had been drunk and likely didn't remember, but she didn't want to go back on the promise. "We could do something here?" she offered, realizing how not tempting that really sounded. Was her arsenal for operation "Cheer Billy Up" really that empty? Apparently.

Billy shot her a frustrated glance. "Here? Doing what, exactly? Your brilliant plans never work out."

Max bit her lip, trying to come up with another idea. "We could have a snowball fight. There's still some snow on the ground."

He rolled his eyes, growing more irritated. "What the hell makes you think I want to go outside in the cold and play some stupid game like that?"

"I don't know, I just thought you might enjoy the fresh air."

"Max, just leave me alone, OK?! I don't need your suggestions, and I don't want to go out right now. I just want some peace and quiet."

Max fell silent at the sudden raise of his voice. Taken aback, she stammered, "I was just trying to help…"

"How 'bout you help by giving me some space. Now go away!" Billy slipped into his room and slammed the door in her face.

Max swallowed hard, feeling her throat tightening. I made it worse.

She stared at the closed door, wondering if she should just go back to steering clear of his way. Giving him more space (like he said) to do whatever the heck it is he's been doing, but that far-off look he gave still flashed in her mind. The whole thing didn't sit well with her. There was something going on in that massive head of his, and she couldn't bring herself to let him sit there and wallow in it.

The old Billy would normally go out of his way and take things out on her when he was upset, that was his outlet, but he wasn't doing that this time. Not anymore. A sign of their relationship mending Max supposed. Problem was, now he had no idea how to let off steam. So, Max needed to give him a different outlet by being an ear he could confide in. At least…she hoped so...

With a breath of courage, she hesitantly twisted the knob of his door, pushing it open until it hit the opposite wall, but she didn't take a step inside.

Max half expected him to shout at her to get out, maybe even throw her out… literally. But he didn't. Instead, he sat on his bed, sifting through his cassettes. He was back to being somber….lost. It made her chest pinch. She didn't like seeing him this way.

"Billy, are you OK? You seem out of it."

"Leave me alone, Max," he grumbled with a hint of irritation, but his voice was soft.

Max shifted on her heels, twiddling her thumbs. She contemplated listening, not wanting to rile him up more than she already had, but she just couldn't bring herself to listen. "You… you don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to. I just don't like seeing you like this."

"Like what?" he asked, his tone getting a little sharper in a way that told her to be careful with how she chose her next words. She tried to give him a placating look that asked him to relax, but was careful not to stare at him in pity.

"Like this…" she said, gesturing toward him. "You seem… lost. And a little…on the sad side."

He huffed, "Not sad, shit bird. Annoyed you won't leave my room."

"Really? So why were your shoulders slumped then? And why were you staring at that cassette like it has a hole in it? I mean it does but… you know what I mean," she said, her voice light and speculative. It was like teetering on a ledge with him sometimes and she was never sure what might cause her to slip and fall off the edge. Having those moments with Billy made being stuck inside much more tolerable. In some ways, she wanted to help him because having this bond with him settled her. Things were rocky at best before, and having him not hate her gave her a sense of belonging now. She just wanted to do that for him too. But how could she make him see that?

Billy said nothing. Max sighed.

"Billy," she said softly. "I'll leave if you really want me to. I just… I just want to understand. You helped me out when I was upset before." She took the risk of stepping inside, inching toward the couch. He stared at her for a moment, his jaw working and clenching as though sorting through all of the possible things to say. He looked back down at the cassette in his hands.

Max expected him to stick to his tactic of getting her out of the room, but instead, his voice was low and almost tired.

"I'm fine, just… got a lot on my mind…"

"Like what?" She took slow steps across the room, sitting on his couch. She waited, not pushing him too fast as he seemed to think more about what to say.

After a moment, he shrugged. "Just thinking about… stupid things I guess."

"I doubt they are stupid," she said. "Why don't you try me?"

He rolled his eyes, "Does it really matter?"

She didn't want to push too hard, but it felt like an opening. "It does to me, Billy."

Billy glanced up at her. His eyes moved along her face as his jaw churned, and for a moment, she wondered if he'd say anything. But then he looked away again and cleared his throat, replacing the cassette in the walkman before clapping it shut and shooting to his feet.

"Just drop it, Max. I need to finish my workout anyway, not discuss stupid, pointless crap with you," he snapped, yet his face remained as impassive as before. She smirked, his words not carrying the weight they usually did.

She stood up too as Billy headed for the door, contemplating if she should ask what popped into her head. Her other suggestions failed, but she didn't want to leave things as is. "What if I spot you? You seem distracted anyway, so I could be there to help you not bash your face in."

He snorted and she frowned. "Not with those shrimpy ass arms," he said.

"Hey!" she snapped, watching as he turned to look at her with a raised brow. "I'll have you know I could pack a mean punch if I wanted to. I might be smaller than you, but it doesn't make me weak. I could take you on."

He chuckled, "Only in your dreams, Max."

She wasn't sure why she did it, but it was like her hand had a mind of its own. A need to prove to him she wasn't weak. Or to just get some kind of reaction out of him other than this bored irritation. Just as he grabbed the doorknob, her fist connected with his arm and nothing happened. Absolutely nothing happened. His arm didn't budge, and for a moment he just blinked at her before looking down as though the delayed shock of her hitting him finally connected in his brain. Max couldn't tell what he was thinking, or what he was feeling and panic set in. Her fist was still raised in the air and her eyes were wide as her stomach flipped back and forth.

Oh, you've done it now, Max!

"Did you just hit me?" he asked, still blinking at her.

She swallowed nervously and gave a hesitant nod, trying to play it off. "Yep…"

"But like, you punched me? Actually tried to throw a punch?"

What is happening right now?

She bit her lip, wondering if this was the moment before all hell broke loose. She squeezed her toes against the floor and nodded, waiting for him to pop.

But then he laughed. At first, it was soft, and gradual until it shaped into a sound laugh. And not one of his mocking chuckles, but a full-bodied, right-from-the-belly laugh. He doubled over, taking his hand from the door and holding his hand over the spot on his arm where she'd hit him, and for a second she wondered if it had hurt him at all. But then he looked at her fist and laughed again, making her realize that he was laughing at her, but she didn't actually mind. He was smiling.

A smile pulled at her lips. "It wasn't that bad, Billy."

He sucked in the air and shook his head, "Damn, Max. That was the most pathetic punch in the history of punches. Did you even try?" He looked at her hand finally and snorted, "You're not even holding it right! Seriously, do you want to break your thumb hitting someone like that?"

He reached out to peel up her fingers to free her trapped thumb before pushing them back down and tucking her thumb over the top. "Remember the thumb stays out. And don't punch straight forward like that. Go with the natural movement of your arm and swing your fist forward. And put your weight into it. You want to let the guy on the other end know you mean business."

"Figures you would know how to do this. I bet you have all types of enemies with that temper of yours. Had to practice throwing punches a lot, Billy?" It was then she realized what she just asked. She focused on his face, seeing it up close for the first time in days. The bruises were fading, turning more of a yellow in color with very little purple remaining. Soon there would be nothing left to show he'd taken a hit at all. Like it never happened. But Billy was unbothered by the question.

"Come on, try again," he said, slapping at his arm with a smirk still on his face.

He's enjoying this, she thought to herself, amused at my inability to throw punches.

She shook her head. "What? No, I'm not going to hit you again…Besides, what if I hurt you?" He laughed once more, as though she'd just told him a funny joke. She sighed, "Fine, but you can't get mad if it hurts."

He snorted and she did as he'd suggested. She squared up, putting all her focus into one blow, delivering a nice right hook to the shoulder. Only this time when she expected him not to move, his body shifted to the left as he caught himself on the doorframe. His eyes were wide, and he looked down at his arm again but this time he reached up to rub at it. The ghost of a smile was pulling at his lips and she felt a sense of pride bubbling in her belly.

"See, no shrimpy arms. I can help you finish the workout."

The smile faded and he rolled his eyes, moving further out of the room to get outside the door. He was being unpredictable Billy again. Hadn't they just had a bonding moment?

"You aren't going to help me with anything. I'm finishing my workout on my own," he said. "Go practice punching in the mirror and enjoy my impeccable teaching skills."

She narrowed her gaze but smiled. "So I did hurt you."

He scoffed, an annoyed twist of his lips as he sneered, "You wish."

Max chuckled. "You know my dad taught me a lot, but he never actually taught me how to throw a punch. He wasn't really a guy who believed in violence, you know? I mean, don't get me wrong… I'd throw a punch at anyone who messed with me or my friends if I had to. Actually, there were a few times I did back in California, and my dad would be proud when he heard I defended myself. But he'd always remind me to use violence as a last resort."

Billy stood halfway outside of the room, watching as she spoke.

She continued, "He'd say 'Max, you know the saying… sticks and stones? But I say every punch thrown or word spoken leaves a mark. Every action has consequences.'"

Billy frowned, that far-off look slowly glazing over the light in his eyes. He looked away. "Funny how every little thing others do—how every damn choice or action—leaves an impact… even if you don't want it to."

Max frowned, studying his face while trying to figure out what choices or actions he could be talking about. Was he thinking of Neil and his behavior lately? Or was it something else?

"Is that what's been on your mind then? Someone's actions?" she asked.

Billy shrugged, and for a moment, they just ruminated in the silence. Max opened her mouth to ask another question but stopped when he looked back up at her.

"You know, sometimes people we thought would always be there…they just up and vanish. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Whether anything they ever said or did mattered at all."

Max felt a sudden tightness in her chest. She couldn't help but picture her dad's face in her mind. How, when she really let Billy's words sink in, she realized that sort of happened to her. Her dad was kind of no longer in her life. She hoped it was too soon to tell, but the fact that he hadn't exactly called to talk to her. To say he missed her or loved her. She knew he got busy a lot, yet it still felt like…he just up and disappeared.

In any case, Billy's words, that chillingly somber look, it wasn't something he'd usually take on when thinking about Neil. So was he talking about someone else?

Was Billy thinking of his mom in the way she was thinking of her dad? Has that been what's been bothering him? It made sense when she really thought about it. How his mom was like her dad in many ways. But the main one was that it seemed, to her, like they'd been ghosts in their lives, leaving only remnants of their actions and words...

Max didn't know what to say to that—to what Billy had said. She didn't know if anything she could say would do any good or just make it worse. Asking about his mom might trigger him to be annoyed at her again. All she wanted was to cheer him up, and she was starting to lose hope. Was there really nothing she could do to get him out of this mood? No tricks up her sleeve.

She sighed, looking up at the wall, and her eyes stuck on the Metallica poster. The tickets. She had been going back and forth with herself from the moment she got them, wondering when to give them to him. So far there had never seemed to be a right moment. But now was as good a time as any, right? Like he truly needed to feel excited about something again.

The tickets would take him out of his funk, Max decided. It would be the one thing that might actually wipe that vacant expression off his face. And it was likely he'd appreciate them even more now than before.

I'm going to give him the tickets.

Max shifted, almost knocking something over in her sudden excitement, and Billy glanced up at her, frowning a bit. "What are you doing now? Trying to wreck my room?"

She smiled, ignoring the accusation to hold her hand up in pause. "Just wait here, okay? I'll be right back."

With a bright smile on her face, Max rushed to her room, straight to her closet. She dug behind old boxes of stuffed animals and memorabilia she never unpacked. Slipped her hand behind and paused. Patting nothing but empty space.

What the…

She stood on her tiptoes to get a better view and froze again, then shoved the boxes aside.

Wait, where did I…

She brought out a large box before standing on her tiptoes again, trying to peer above her closet shelf.

Nothing.

Her heart plummeted.

No… No, no, no, no!

She threw down the old boxes, rampaging through them to find that white box. But it was nowhere in sight. She shoved at another box in frustration, giving a little growl. Max didn't even flinch when it crashed to the ground, sending her stuffed animals sprawling on the floor. Her hands tangled in her hair as she locked eyes with the old stuffed bear.

Billy's voice rang out, "Max, what the hell are you doing in there?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to scream as dread coursed through her veins.

They're gone… the tickets… they're gone.

To be continued…