Riot time in Paris // Billie Eilish G!P

twenty-four

"There's my Eilish." Billie winced when her father hugged her so tight that it hurt her ribcage.

"It's good to see you too, Dad." She handed him one of her suitcases and followed him to his pick-up truck that was parked at least a mile away from the airport. Parking fees was something her father had managed to avoid his whole life, and he wasn't going to give in now.

LA was warm and humid, and the discomfort of the hike reminded her of her early school days, when she used to walk for half an hour, just to reach the bus stop. There was still the scent of rain in the air, from earlier that day, and the mosquitos were buzzing around her, attempting to eat her alive. Billie knew she didn't have to bother with polite chit-chat. Her father wasn't much of a talker, except for when it came to the farm.

"How are the chickens?" She asked, when they were finally seated in the car. She rolled down the window, gasping for air. Although it was dark now, the heat and the humidity were still close to unbearable to someone who wasn't used to it.

"Chickens have been a bit rowdy lately," he father mumbled. "Starting to think there might be a fox or a wild dog snooping around, trying to get into the farm at night." He turned onto the Highway 66, but instead of speeding up, he kept on creeping over the road as if he was driving a tractor. Billie didn't comment on his driving, despite the five cars behind them.

"Oh, that's not good. Have you seen anything?"

Her father shrugged. "No, but it's been keeping me up, worrying. I might sleep outside in the barn tonight; see if I can shoot the damn creature."

"Okay..." That was the end of the first conversation they'd had in two years. Billie watched the familiar road signs pass them. Not much had changed since she had last been here, but then there wasn't much to change either. Small country roads, farms, motels, family-run restaurants and lots of churches with well-kept gardens and cemeteries.

Billie had always felt like she didn't belong, as if she was a tourist in her own hometown. But today, it was comforting to see some familiarity after staying in a soulless airport hotel for two nights. She came here once, sometimes twice a year. Tristan had always accompanied her when she did, ever since they started dating in University. But as their company grew and the years passed, the absence of Wi-Fi on her parent's farm had made them reluctant to stay for longer than two days.

This time around though, there would be no phone calls, no urgent emails or contracts to be drawn up, and no Tristan. They passed a restaurant where Tristan had taken her for dinner once, on their way back to the airport. He was never keen on her mother's cooking and had insisted on getting some 'real food', as he called it. They had left earlier than planned and dined for two hours while they caught up on their emails over their first two courses, both their laptops in between them on the table.

Thinking back to that night, Billie realized that romance had died a long time ago. She didn't miss him, yet it was surreal to be here without him. Her father turned onto their drive, just before Pineville, and as they drove towards the house, Billie could see the light was still on in the kitchen.

"My baby," her mother said, as she gave Billie a long hug. "What's happened to you, Bil? You look so skinny." She looked Billie up and down and rubbed her shoulders. "Don't you think she looks skinny, Pat?" she asked, not expecting an answer. Her husband rarely answered, but that was how they communicated. She talked, and if she was lucky, he pretended to listen.

"I'm fine, Mom." Billie studied her mother's face. It had only been two years since she'd last seen her, but she looked older, and smaller than Billie remembered. Her grey hair was thinning out, and the crow's feet around her eyes were significantly deeper than last time she'd visited. The pink velvet robe her mother always wore at night looked bigger on her now, the color doing her complexion no favors.