Much to Billy's dismay, when he approached to see Merche, she looked at him with tired eyes while a child rested in her arms, his eyes closed—as if trying to slip past the discomfort of the moment. It all felt like a lie, or at least that was what he thought. Something stubborn in the reality of what had happened weighed on him, bringing with it a dull headache.
—He looks like a beautiful boy— Billy said. Even though he already had children, he understood that this might be the first he had ever held—one that was entirely his, in some twisted and exhausting way.
—Thank you for having him, and thank you for being brave. Giving life, and holding a life, is something that can't simply be dismissed as meaningless— Billy continued, still somewhat drained, or perhaps filled with words he didn't usually say. It was a fleeting, magnificent truth, born from a person.
—What did you name him? Or… what name did they give him?— Billy asked Jerry.
—He's registered as Thomas Cullogh. A boy lucky enough to be born with a mother— Jerry replied.
Another blow for Billy. It filled him with a painful warmth, heavy with guilt. What would happen if he spent even a week away from all of this? It would be the same old pattern—avoiding reality, ignoring what pressed in on him and everything around him.
So unlike real life.
—Well… he'll be a strong boy— Billy said, looking at the child's fragile, tired body. Merche's eyes were on him now, and that only deepened the feeling—a separation that gave him a life completely outside his own. He smiled calmly. It was well known that Merche was one of the most difficult women he knew—completely independent. She accepted money as gifts, and despite Billy's insistence, now that life seemed to grant her part of that remarkable independence.
—He'll live in my house, and he'll be mine—completely mine. I can say that with certainty, from any angle. I hope you understand that you won't be making decisions about him— Merche said.
—I understand, and I respect it. I know it's difficult to live with me, and this is the most mature choice. I'm not a man who should be an influence on a child. I think I can be a friend. And I believe you'll do a thousand times better than anyone else— Billy replied.
It was unfair to Merche, because it was a truth wrapped in lies. He was worse than a bad influence—he pushed people to their limits, drove them toward desperation, even ruin, with his chaotic way of living and his disregard for others. He was demanding with traditional people, dragging them down into pain, into vices, into self-contempt.
—Alright— Merche whispered.
—But let me pay—for his health, his education if he chooses to become a man of letters, and for his clothes. I know it may be difficult to accept, but guilt demands it of me. And so does responsibility for my actions. He is my blood, after all— Billy said, now completely overwhelmed, filled with what could only be called pain.
Merche watched him and bit her lip. Billy lowered his head, as if on the verge of tears, then turned to look at Jerry. His expression shifted from sadness to doubt—Did I do it right? his eyes seemed to ask.
Jerry gave a small approving nod, his mustache twitching. They had rehearsed everything before coming, and it was the way things deserved to be handled. And perhaps that sense of "deserving" was inevitable—because, in truth, Billy had been pushed by Jerry to do this, even if it was done quietly and with discretion. What mattered was helping a mother.
—Please, Merche— Billy continued simply, dropping to one knee. —I want to say it in some way… that you are, and always will be, a part of my life now and forever. And if that child needs both you and me, I will do everything I can—
Again, it was Jerry's guidance. He had known parents like this for years—no matter how famous they were, they all carried a burning regret, a pain that lived in the heart and soul, for anyone who had walked even briefly through indignity and fear.
She couldn't help but smile. She knew perfectly well that Billy was deeply charismatic—his eyes, so intense, the way he made everything feel alive. Just like before.
—I'll accept it. You'll never change, that's for sure— Merche said.
—Yeah— he laughed.
—I think when I finally do, I'll grab a beer—so many I won't remember anything, even if I wake up the next day. Maybe I'll end up speeding down a highway—
He meant it as a joke, but Merche only nodded as if it were true. Billy was the kind of man who led women down toxic paths—a bad man, yet irresistible. She would have another child with him, and that was simply how things were. Even when lies felt like truths, she chose to believe them.
The trick was in who he was.
—I also bought something… but I want to give it to you during a weekend, when we take a small getaway—
—Just don't make promises—
—Alright, we'll do that— Billy said. —When the time is right.
He whispered it, speaking of the life that now unfolded before him. Perhaps it was a sweet one. He placed what remained of his heart aside, closing off that inner window, letting the moment define everything. Living in the moment was agonizing—and necessary—for a man like him.
...