Diamonds and Rust

At that point, I had to laugh. Billy thought I might be so distraught over his running around that I'd hurt myself? It showed me just how selfish and self-centered he'd become. He wasn't the man I'd fallen in love with, that's for certain. It was over; the only thing left was to bury the remains.

I'll give him credit. He manned up and confessed when I finally got around to calling him back. I made him sweat most of the day, though. Just a small victory in an otherwise sorry state of affairs.

We parted on reasonably amiable terms. I boxed up his things and they were waiting for him when he returned. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but I couldn't find the words. Billy simply said, "I'm sorry," and walked out of my life.

I'm not sure why, but in the time since the day he took his things and left me, our paths have never crossed. I've seen a few of his shows, but I've never had the urge to venture backstage, which I probably could have done if I'd wanted to.

I know he still keeps an apartment in New York, but he also spends a lot of time in California and he's gone back to Davenport and built a house there for his mom.

Over the ensuing 10 years after we broke up, Billy was rocketing up the charts and my career was taking off. My first book was a modest success, but it was my second one -- the one I wrote in the aftermath of my breakup with Billy -- that really got me going.

It made the New York Times best-seller list -- into the top 10, no less -- and critics called me a "vibrant new talent," and praised my sensitivity, whatever that means.

I've had one other novel that made it into the top 10 and all of the others -- I've written eight, so far -- have charted. I have a decent following and I've moved on from the small apartment I shared with Billy into a house out on Long Island.

As for my love life, I've had a few steady relationships, but nothing like what I had with Billy, and I'm starting to think I may stay single. At this point, I'm 37 and no prospects of romance anywhere in sight.

I'm convinced Billy Crane spoiled me, gave me this ideal of perfect love, and I've never found anyone else who measured up.

^ ^ ^ ^

All of that flashed through my mind in that briefest of pauses, although it must not have been very brief, because I snapped out of my reverie with the voice on the other end of the line asking if I was still there.

"Yeah, I'm still here," I said sadly. "I was just taking a trip down memory lane, and it wasn't an especially pleasant journey. So, how have you been, Billy?"

"I'm all right," he said guardedly. "How about you? You seem to have done pretty well. You write beautifully, although your poetry is still lousy."

I laughed, and we chatted about our lives, about the pratfalls of celebrity, talked about some old friends, a couple of whom had passed away at much too young of an age. And, finally, we came to another awkward silence.

"So, how are you really, Billy?" I said. "You didn't just call me after 10 years, from Saginaw or wherever, just to chitchat about old times. Is the legendary Billy Crane feeling nostalgic?"

"I'm not nostalgic," he said. "Janice, I'll be honest. I'm lonely. I've never quite gotten over you. I'm really sorry about the way I treated you. It's bothered me all these years, but I don't know what to do about it. The thing is, I have a lot of acquaintances, but no real friends. Sparks and I have drifted apart. He's still my bass player, but we're not running buddies any more."

"Finally figured out I was right about him?" I said with just a trace of bitterness.

"He wasn't so bad, Janice," Billy said. "The thing about you was that you intimidated him with your intellect and he was jealous of what we had. But he's still a little too much of the party animal."

"So what about all the girlfriends you keep?" I pressed on. "Don't they keep you occupied?"

"Most of those girls have brains the size of peas," he said forcefully. "None of them are half the woman you are. It's taken me awhile to understand that. I just look back on my time with you as the best time of my life and I fucked it all up. I'd really like to see you when I get back to the city."

"Not nostalgic, are you?" I said, with a little more sarcasm than I intended. "Then give me another word for it, you who are so good with words. What do you call looking for something from the past that's dead, something you killed?"

"I'll bet if you searched your heart, you'd find there's still a little of that spark left," he said in that tone that always sent goose bumps down my arms when we were together.

"Damn it, Billy, that's the problem," I said, and now I had tears running down my cheeks, although I wasn't in full-blown sob mode yet. "I still love you even though you took my heart out 10 years ago and threw it around like a football. I knew I was making a mistake when I fell for you, but I did it anyway. And, yes, it was the best time of my life, but we've both moved on, or at least I have. That's the way it is with you. You're offering me diamonds in one hand and rust in the other, and I've already played that game with you. I think I'll pass."

"I really am sorry, Janice," Billy whispered into the phone. "And I'll always love you, just like I said that night when I signed my first record deal. I loved you then and I love you now."

"Why did you call me, Billy?" I said, and now I was sobbing. "What purpose do you have for crashing back into my life after all this time?"

"I just wanted to hear your voice and hear you tell me you love me," he said. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me?"

"I ... forgive you, Bllly," I said after a long pause, my weeping a little more under control.

"That's my girl," Billy said. "Now dry your eyes. Crying doesn't suit you. You're stronger than that. Look, I gotta go. I'll call you when I get back to New York. Promise."

"We'll see," I said. "See you around. And, Billy? I do love you. Still."

We rang off then, exchanging goodbyes, and I sat back down to marshal my tumultuous thoughts. Then I turned my chair back to my computer, back to the passage I was having so much trouble with, and all of a sudden it just flowed out of me.

The knotty plot problem seemed to work itself out, and I ended up writing long into the night, getting very close to the finish.

When I finally crashed, it looked like I might just get it to my editor and then to the publisher before the end of the year, just like I had hoped.

As I fell asleep thinking of diamonds and rust, I wasn't sure what the future would bring, whether I'd invite Billy Crane back into my life or not.

There was so much baggage there, so much heartache from the past that had to be resolved. But we were both older and wiser, so maybe there was a chance for us after all.

One thing was certain, though. As always, he did wonders for my muse.