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monaboyd Dec. 28th, 2006 10:24 pm)
hyacinth-sky747.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Dec. 28th, 2006 10:24 pm)Christmas Music
d/b
Disclaimer: This is all made up
Being sick was never any fun but being sick on Christmas was the worst, especially if you were nine-years-old. On the days leading up to the holiday the whole family held its collective breath, hoping that Walter’s sniffle wouldn’t turn into a cough and the cough wouldn’t settle down into his chest, leaving him wheezing and ragged.
It did. As the sun set on Christmas Eve Billy looked with concern at his youngest nephew who was sitting solemnly by the fire with a cup of tea growing cold in his hands. He was disappointed. He couldn’t go to the caroling party, which was his favorite. He didn’t cry.
“I would, Uncle Billy, but it would just make me hurt more.”
Billy nodded at the wisdom of his choice. He was disappointed too. Christmas was ever so much more fun when you had little people about who still believed in Santa Claus. Everyone else in the family was too old to believe anymore. The party wouldn’t be the same without Walter running around in a fever of excitement, singing at the top of his lungs.
By the time it was fully dark Dom was sick too.
“I’ll stay with Walter,” he said. “We can give each other germs for Christmas.”
“Oh no,” Margaret said but Dom was firm.
“No reason for everyone to miss the party.”
Walter, for his part, was much cheered. It was okay to be sick if Uncle Dom was sick too.
Billy sighed as he poured a round of pre-party drinks. First Walter and now Dom, were all his favorite people going to miss Christmas? Dom accepted a brandy to soothe his throat and went to prepare some games for Walter’s amusement.
“I should stay too,” Billy told Margaret.
“If you think you should, Bill. But I don’t think you have to. Dom’s not really a house guest; he’s one of the family. He’ll be alright.”
Billy glowed a little at this remark and kissed his sister softly on the cheek. “Thank you for that.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s the truth.”
Billy set his drink down and wrapped his arms around her. “Happy Christmas,” he whispered into her ear.
Billy made his way through the candlelit halls of the house while the rest of the family struggled to get on their coats and mittens. He could hear them warming up their voices for the caroling and squealing as they were caught under the mistle toe. The back door slammed behind them and Billy could hear the muffled strains of “Oh Holy Night” as they picked their way down the icy walkway.
On the dark stairs he hummed the tune to himself and, because he was alone, fell to his knees for a minute. He didn’t pray. He didn’t often pray, but he took a moment to feel thankful, to drink in the beauty of the dark night, to feel blessed to be safe and warm.
He found Walter and Dom in the tiny den upstairs. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner and a soft, yellow light on the table. They were nestled together like sugar plums on the love seat, sound asleep. Dom held his i-pod in one hand and one wire snaked to the earpiece in Walter’s ear, the other was snug in Dom’s.
Billy felt a flash of nostalgia. He and Dom had often sat that way, back on set in New Zealand, on long flights across dark oceans, in hotel rooms waiting and waiting to move on. Once, late at night when Billy couldn’t bring himself to leave Dom’s house he had said, “Listen to this,” and held out the ear piece to Dom. Dom took it, his face puzzled as he listened.
“I’ve heard it before. Did you not think I knew The Cure?”
“I know you’ve heard it before. Hear it again. Pretend you’re me, thinking about you.”
Dom’s face grew serious as he listened.
“You don’t have to look at pictures to remember me, Bill. I’m right here.”
“Shh, listen. It’s not those kinds of pictures. It’s the pictures I carry around with me. In my head. In my heart.”
“Things that were. Things that are. Things that have not yet come to pass.”
“Something like that.”
“Things you hope for?”
Billy was silent.
“Listen, I’m not always ‘so lost in the dark’.”
“No? Sometimes you seem to be. Maybe I just hope you are, so I can find you. Selfish, I know. Would you want to be rescued? If you were, I mean. If you were lost, would you want to be rescued? By me?”
Dom’s face fell and Billy quickly switched the music off. He didn’t want to hear the end of the song, didn’t want Dom to hear it, though Dom knew it already, knew what came next, knew what Billy wanted more than anything in the world.
Billy thought he might cry at the look on Dom’s face. He knew then that Dom couldn’t give what Billy wanted. Worse, he thought Dom might cry too.
Billy didn’t cry. He didn’t cry because Dom kissed him. Dom cried a little but Billy pretended not to notice as best he could.
“Just happy,” Dom said. “Just really, really happy.”
~*~
Billy crept into the den and gently took the ear piece from Walter’s ear. Ella Fitzgerald’s voice floated into him, one of the most perfect voices of all time. He always thought of feathers, clouds, whipped cream when he heard her. It made him sad. He thought of all the perfect voices that had existed before recording devices were invented, all the voices that were lost for all time.
“It’s pretty,” Dom whispered, “but not so pretty as yours.”
“I didn’t think you were awake.”
“Just. The brandy. I either need to sleep or have more.”
“You shouldn’t. Not being sick.”
“I’m not sick.”
“No?”
Dom nodded at Walter. “Didn’t want him to feel left out.”
“Dom,” Billy sighed. “Heart of gold you have.”
“Not really. I thought you’d stay too. I wanted you all to myself. I’m selfish really. Heart black as coal.”
“Coal’s not so bad. It burns. Keeps me warm.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s what I got you for Christmas.”
“Was I bad?”
“Wicked. Just the way I like you.”
Billy looked down at the sleeping Walter and held a finger to his lips. Dom thumped the cushion next to him and Billy sat, letting Dom wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him in close. He whispered something in Billy’s ear and Billy pulled the speaker out and put it in his other ear.
“What?”
“I said, is it wrong to want you so badly on Christmas Eve? It is a sacred holiday after all. The birth of our savior and what not.”
Ella stopped singing and Judy Garland came on, mournful and low.
“Wasn’t Christ actually born in the spring?”
“So they say.”
“Then I don’t think he’d mind if we were a bit horny tonight.”
“We should put the wee one to bed.”
“Nah, we’ll wake him. Just settle him here. We’ll get him later.”
Dom eased himself out from under Walter’s body and Billy fetched a blanket to cover him.
“It’s a shame. It might be the last year he really believes and he’s missing it.”
Dom shook his head. “I think he’s the sort that will always believe.”
“Like you?” Billy said.
“Why not? Why shouldn’t I believe? I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve got you.” Dom fiddled with his i-pod. “Listen to this,” he said and Billy smiled at the opening notes. “You’ll never have to play this song again and be sad.”
“I still like it though. It reminds me of you.”
“I lied to you. I think I was lost in the dark, only I didn’t know it. I didn’t know what light was until I met you.”
“Isn’t it strange,” Billy mused, “The darkest days of the year seem the most filled with light.”
“We make our own light.”
Billy smiled in agreement and then took Dom’s hand and led him off for a long winter’s nap.
~*~
Lyrics
"Pictures Of You"
I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are
All I can feel
Remembering
You standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in
Holding you close
How I always held close in your fear
Remembering
You running soft through the night
You were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow
And screamed at the make-believe
Screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage
To let it all go
Remembering
You fallen into my arms
Crying for the death of your heart
You were stone-white
So delicate
Lost in the cold
You were always so lost in the dark
Remembering
You how you used to be
Slow drowned
You were angels
So much more than everything
Hold for the last time then slip away quietly
Open my eyes
But I never see anything
If only I'd thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart
If only I'd thought of the right words
I wouldn't be breaking apart
All my pictures of you
Looking so long at these pictures of you
But I never hold on to your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true
But always just breaking apart
My pictures of you
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart
All my pictures of you
d/b
Disclaimer: This is all made up
Being sick was never any fun but being sick on Christmas was the worst, especially if you were nine-years-old. On the days leading up to the holiday the whole family held its collective breath, hoping that Walter’s sniffle wouldn’t turn into a cough and the cough wouldn’t settle down into his chest, leaving him wheezing and ragged.
It did. As the sun set on Christmas Eve Billy looked with concern at his youngest nephew who was sitting solemnly by the fire with a cup of tea growing cold in his hands. He was disappointed. He couldn’t go to the caroling party, which was his favorite. He didn’t cry.
“I would, Uncle Billy, but it would just make me hurt more.”
Billy nodded at the wisdom of his choice. He was disappointed too. Christmas was ever so much more fun when you had little people about who still believed in Santa Claus. Everyone else in the family was too old to believe anymore. The party wouldn’t be the same without Walter running around in a fever of excitement, singing at the top of his lungs.
By the time it was fully dark Dom was sick too.
“I’ll stay with Walter,” he said. “We can give each other germs for Christmas.”
“Oh no,” Margaret said but Dom was firm.
“No reason for everyone to miss the party.”
Walter, for his part, was much cheered. It was okay to be sick if Uncle Dom was sick too.
Billy sighed as he poured a round of pre-party drinks. First Walter and now Dom, were all his favorite people going to miss Christmas? Dom accepted a brandy to soothe his throat and went to prepare some games for Walter’s amusement.
“I should stay too,” Billy told Margaret.
“If you think you should, Bill. But I don’t think you have to. Dom’s not really a house guest; he’s one of the family. He’ll be alright.”
Billy glowed a little at this remark and kissed his sister softly on the cheek. “Thank you for that.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s the truth.”
Billy set his drink down and wrapped his arms around her. “Happy Christmas,” he whispered into her ear.
Billy made his way through the candlelit halls of the house while the rest of the family struggled to get on their coats and mittens. He could hear them warming up their voices for the caroling and squealing as they were caught under the mistle toe. The back door slammed behind them and Billy could hear the muffled strains of “Oh Holy Night” as they picked their way down the icy walkway.
On the dark stairs he hummed the tune to himself and, because he was alone, fell to his knees for a minute. He didn’t pray. He didn’t often pray, but he took a moment to feel thankful, to drink in the beauty of the dark night, to feel blessed to be safe and warm.
He found Walter and Dom in the tiny den upstairs. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner and a soft, yellow light on the table. They were nestled together like sugar plums on the love seat, sound asleep. Dom held his i-pod in one hand and one wire snaked to the earpiece in Walter’s ear, the other was snug in Dom’s.
Billy felt a flash of nostalgia. He and Dom had often sat that way, back on set in New Zealand, on long flights across dark oceans, in hotel rooms waiting and waiting to move on. Once, late at night when Billy couldn’t bring himself to leave Dom’s house he had said, “Listen to this,” and held out the ear piece to Dom. Dom took it, his face puzzled as he listened.
“I’ve heard it before. Did you not think I knew The Cure?”
“I know you’ve heard it before. Hear it again. Pretend you’re me, thinking about you.”
Dom’s face grew serious as he listened.
“You don’t have to look at pictures to remember me, Bill. I’m right here.”
“Shh, listen. It’s not those kinds of pictures. It’s the pictures I carry around with me. In my head. In my heart.”
“Things that were. Things that are. Things that have not yet come to pass.”
“Something like that.”
“Things you hope for?”
Billy was silent.
“Listen, I’m not always ‘so lost in the dark’.”
“No? Sometimes you seem to be. Maybe I just hope you are, so I can find you. Selfish, I know. Would you want to be rescued? If you were, I mean. If you were lost, would you want to be rescued? By me?”
Dom’s face fell and Billy quickly switched the music off. He didn’t want to hear the end of the song, didn’t want Dom to hear it, though Dom knew it already, knew what came next, knew what Billy wanted more than anything in the world.
Billy thought he might cry at the look on Dom’s face. He knew then that Dom couldn’t give what Billy wanted. Worse, he thought Dom might cry too.
Billy didn’t cry. He didn’t cry because Dom kissed him. Dom cried a little but Billy pretended not to notice as best he could.
“Just happy,” Dom said. “Just really, really happy.”
~*~
Billy crept into the den and gently took the ear piece from Walter’s ear. Ella Fitzgerald’s voice floated into him, one of the most perfect voices of all time. He always thought of feathers, clouds, whipped cream when he heard her. It made him sad. He thought of all the perfect voices that had existed before recording devices were invented, all the voices that were lost for all time.
“It’s pretty,” Dom whispered, “but not so pretty as yours.”
“I didn’t think you were awake.”
“Just. The brandy. I either need to sleep or have more.”
“You shouldn’t. Not being sick.”
“I’m not sick.”
“No?”
Dom nodded at Walter. “Didn’t want him to feel left out.”
“Dom,” Billy sighed. “Heart of gold you have.”
“Not really. I thought you’d stay too. I wanted you all to myself. I’m selfish really. Heart black as coal.”
“Coal’s not so bad. It burns. Keeps me warm.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s what I got you for Christmas.”
“Was I bad?”
“Wicked. Just the way I like you.”
Billy looked down at the sleeping Walter and held a finger to his lips. Dom thumped the cushion next to him and Billy sat, letting Dom wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him in close. He whispered something in Billy’s ear and Billy pulled the speaker out and put it in his other ear.
“What?”
“I said, is it wrong to want you so badly on Christmas Eve? It is a sacred holiday after all. The birth of our savior and what not.”
Ella stopped singing and Judy Garland came on, mournful and low.
“Wasn’t Christ actually born in the spring?”
“So they say.”
“Then I don’t think he’d mind if we were a bit horny tonight.”
“We should put the wee one to bed.”
“Nah, we’ll wake him. Just settle him here. We’ll get him later.”
Dom eased himself out from under Walter’s body and Billy fetched a blanket to cover him.
“It’s a shame. It might be the last year he really believes and he’s missing it.”
Dom shook his head. “I think he’s the sort that will always believe.”
“Like you?” Billy said.
“Why not? Why shouldn’t I believe? I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve got you.” Dom fiddled with his i-pod. “Listen to this,” he said and Billy smiled at the opening notes. “You’ll never have to play this song again and be sad.”
“I still like it though. It reminds me of you.”
“I lied to you. I think I was lost in the dark, only I didn’t know it. I didn’t know what light was until I met you.”
“Isn’t it strange,” Billy mused, “The darkest days of the year seem the most filled with light.”
“We make our own light.”
Billy smiled in agreement and then took Dom’s hand and led him off for a long winter’s nap.
~*~
Lyrics
"Pictures Of You"
I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are
All I can feel
Remembering
You standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in
Holding you close
How I always held close in your fear
Remembering
You running soft through the night
You were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow
And screamed at the make-believe
Screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage
To let it all go
Remembering
You fallen into my arms
Crying for the death of your heart
You were stone-white
So delicate
Lost in the cold
You were always so lost in the dark
Remembering
You how you used to be
Slow drowned
You were angels
So much more than everything
Hold for the last time then slip away quietly
Open my eyes
But I never see anything
If only I'd thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart
If only I'd thought of the right words
I wouldn't be breaking apart
All my pictures of you
Looking so long at these pictures of you
But I never hold on to your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true
But always just breaking apart
My pictures of you
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart
All my pictures of you
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