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“Isn’t that right?”
His words are all Billy can hear. They coat every surface of the house, every single space, dangerous and suffocating like venom, they take away all the air, and he can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t feel anything aside for his hammering heart and the dodgy wooden shelf pressed against his back.
His usual, shaky yes, sir is forcing its way up his throat when all of a sudden a pair of muddy sneakers and rebellious red hair appear on the doorway.
Max’s eyes zero in on Neil’s fist mid air with Billy’s name on it, wide and panicked and so fucking sincere Billy wants to cry. Wants to spare her from witnessing all of this. Wants to bring Neil’s gaze back to him, except. Max’s eyes, unlike his, aren’t scared. They’re determined.
“Hey!” she calls as she stomps over to where Billy is receiving his lovingly imposed lesson against the dresser and he wants to scream no, no no no no no no don’t do this to yourself, and Neil is taken aback just for the tiniest fraction of a second, unsure how to react as Max puts her small frame in between him and Billy, and Neil’s fist almost redirects, so Billy puts himself in front of Max, and the three all them all stand there just breathing, Neil still gripping Billy’s shirt, Billy defending Max, Max defending Billy, a mess of tangled arms and the air between them so thick until Max pops the bubble of time they were suspended in with her voice again. “I’m here, alright? I’m home. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Neil slowly lowers his arm, his grip on Billy loosens slightly as he watches Max fully plant herself in front of Billy, arms open wide and all. As if she isn’t half the height of everyone in the room.
Billy knows, though, that she’s the bravest of them all.
He wishes he could say or do anything, anything at all, but he’s frozen against the damn dresser.
“This doesn’t concern you, Maxine” Neil tells her, exhaling from his nose.
“It does, if you’re hitting him?” she says, so simple, so obvious, so foreign to Billy.
“Billy still needs a little discipline from time to time is all,” Neil insists, patronizing. “You‘ve seen how he is. He just said something disrespectful about you too, just now. Said that you’re not his sister.”
Max raises her eyebrows at him. “Duh? and he’s not my brother” she replies, again, so simple, makes Billy want to hug her. “…or my babysitter. I’m not five years old”
Neil squints at her, visibly starting to grow restless. “Susan”, he calls, venomous again, a reminder to keep her daughter in check.
“Maxine, come on” Susan replies weakly but quickly, like that startled her awake. It probably did.
Max glares at her, like she wants to scream why aren’t you doing anything, but she knows, she knows the one to blame is standing right in front of her, towering her and Billy, so she doesn’t say anything mean. She’s too wise for her age and Billy wants to cry.
“Look, this means we’re bonding, right?” she tries again. Billy could swear he saw a tiny lightbulb spark alive above her, but then again, his head was just slammed against wood, so. Can’t exactly trust it.
“Isn’t this what you guys so badly wanted from us? I need Billy to keep his braincells to be able to drive me to school” she shrugs, “and I don’t want him to get in trouble because of me.”
At this point Neil just sighs, deflated. Max is too smart of her own good sometimes, but today?
Today, she won.
“She needs to watch her mouth” Neil spits at Susan while passing her on his way out, sending another silent warning to Billy as well when his fingers graze the lock on the bedroom door. On the wrong side of the bedroom door.
Susan nods, moves a little to the side to let him pass by, then follows him outside, closing the door behind her so silently it almost sounds like I’m sorry.
Billy lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. Cold sweat is running down his back, the tips of his fingers are shaking, he wants to melt to the floor and dissolve forever. Suddenly drained of all of his energy he half-slumps forward and drops his head one of Max’s shoulders, trying to preserve what’s left of his dignity and hold himself up the best he can.
“Christ, that moustache is ugly as shit up close” she comments and Billy just starts uncontrollably giggling against the fabric of her green sweatshirt, trying to stifle it against his shaky hand, letting the cold ring pressed against his skin ground him.
Max turns around and he tries to straighten himself, he knows he looks pathetic like this, even more than usual, but she doesn’t give him the time to be miserable to himself because she whispers “C’mere stupid” and pulls him in for a hug, hands gripping at the back of his shirt, right where the dresser was poking at his bones.
She isn’t afraid of him. Never has been.
Billy lets go of another breath he didn’t know he had been holding for months, years.
The hug feels like an I'm sorry and Billy thinks I’m the one who should apologize over, and over, and over.
He tentatively hugs her back like he doesn’t remember how you do it. Kisses the top of her head to make up for it. For good measure.
To say I'm sorry, too. The first of many.
It’s a start.