Billy, the Kid

"I'm looking for Billy! Has anyone seen Billy?" He seemed almost frantic, and I wanted to speak up and help him, but the words were stuck in my throat. He called through the crowd, "BIIIIILLLLYYYYY!! BIIIIIILLYYYYYYYYY!!"

Each cry rose in pitch and desperation. "Where ARE you, Billy??" Before I could loosen my tongue from the roof of my mouth and ask any questions, he'd moved off. At thirty-second intervals for the next half-hour, I could hear the man calling for Billy, though his pleas grew fainter as time passed.

I'd been unable to talk to the man, but I'd observed him while he stood nearby. He was of average height, perhaps five feet, ten inches tall, and although his face had been strained by distress just then, he seemed younger than I thought at first. My first glimpses of his visage reminded me of a man I knew many years earlier, and I shook my head in astonishment. Surely they cannot be related, I mused. The older man has gone to his grave by now, and this one isn't far behind!

While I watched him, however, he didn't seem to notice me, and I stared at the man shamelessly. The longer my stares, the younger he appeared. Why, he's not old at all! He's just worried about "Billy," and that's aging his face! Despite myself, I giggled at my realization, but oddly enough, it didn't draw his attention to me. I sighed and gazed at him again. He's probably in his mid-forties, I decided. I wonder who this "Billy," is that he's looking for? Maybe I should seek him and find out.

It is said that curiosity killed the cat, but I am not a cat, so I decided to follow the man's cries to catch up to him. Oddly enough, I found him quicker than I expected. He was sprawled on a park bench, weeping softly. I crept up to take a closer look, and as I did, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the chrome frame of a food truck. What I saw grabbed my attention, and the man on the bench was temporarily forgotten.

Is that me? I didn't realize I looked so young. I mean, I've heard of having a baby-faced youthful appearance, but this reflection epitomizes it! No wonder this man ignored me earlier. Is..is that a name tag on my shirt? Why don't I remember that?

Before I could read the name on the tag, the man on the bench stirred from his melancholia. "No, I don't know what's happened to me. Yes, I understand how it looks. I just...I don't know. Well, he's got to be around here somewhere! This is where I saw him last, that's why! No, I'm not crazy. Please don't say that. I just...I need a little time. Please. Please! I just have to find Billy!"

Who is he talking to? I looked all around, but no one was there. Oh! He's on a cell phone. I pitied the man. He was lost.

For as long as I can remember, I have observed people. From my earliest memories, I've watched how they react and interact with the world around them. I take my cues from them if I'm in unfamiliar circumstances. I'm not as outgoing as everyone else thinks, and I am terribly afraid of being left behind. In fact, there was one time that my family went home after church without me. I was only six years old, and no one else was in the building. They were halfway home before they realized I wasn't in the car. Another time, when I was walking to my friend's house, a man stopped his car and said I was "very cute." He said he was going to the store just down the road, and if I was still there when he returned, I could go with him to "have some very special fun together, but" I couldn't tell any adults. As soon as he drove away, I ran home and locked the door. This is the first time I've ever told anyone about that.

Thanks to my experience, I know lost people when I see them, and this man looking for Billy was among them. It's sad. He was lost and broken.

Moments later, another man walked up to him. "William, it's time to go. We can't waste anymore time on your silly search."

William. With a shocking realization, I understood his situation. He wasn't lost. He lost himself! I listened to their conversation a little more.

"It's not a silly search, Doctor. I must find Billy. You said I have to recover my childhood memories if I'm ever going to have a chance to heal." William remained on the bench. "I've had a strange feeling that he's nearby, but I just can't see him."

The two men began to argue, and I became bored. I went back to the food truck to look at my reflection again. I admit that I enjoyed a little vanity at my youthful appearance. Then I recalled the nametag, so I twisted this way and that to see my name, giggling as the imperfections in the chrome distorted my image. My name appeared, backward: LLIB. LLIB?

Just then, the Doctor's voice reached a high pitch. "But you said you went by Bill as a kid, William! Why are you looking for Billy??"