Re: Carriage House: Atticus & Billy
Atticus knew he was socially inept. Didn't care much. Didn't try to be popular. Didn't try to be liked. These days, he did less than not try. Had taken a long time for him to feel comfortable in his own skin, and accepting of his own circumstances, but he had. Acknowledgement had come late, but it had come.
"Never said you weren't good at numbers. Said didn't think numbers were your thing. You love numbers? Tell me if I'm wrong." He said it with a lazy sureness and an idle grin down at the toes shoving against his thigh. He watched Billy eat for a few seconds, and then he served himself a scoop of white rice, which he spooned roe onto. The bowl was lifted close to his chest, and Atticus forked in while Billy smiled about lawyers. Could see Billy as a lawyer. Decade down the line, going for the bar, and Atticus wished for that in his lazy way. Wouldn't make it happen, because Atticus wasn't a savior, but he thought Billy would do well in that life. "Could see you defending people no one listened to. Nice kid like you, superhero type." Because Billy liked his comics.
Billy flipped Atticus off, and Atticus chuckled and scooped more roe and rice into his mouth. He couldn't argue with the kid about Thompson, but Atticus still liked what the man said. It resonated. Atticus looked for emotional impact in words. Didn't see the point of them otherwise. "Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the "good life", whatever it is and wherever it happens to be." He stammered, forgetting the words partway through, but the quote was like an old friend and comfortable on Atticus' lips.
Atticus wasn't expecting an actual response to Thompson's question, and he put down the bowl of rice and took another sip of the wine as Billy spoke. "Think Thompson would say the former was the right answer. Would say life was always a storm, if lived well. Not a bad word for it, storm. Can't image a life without it, though. Who gets the secure life? Never met them."