Billy Watson Character Analysis

But Emmett hadn’t given [Sally] much cause for expectations since he went to Salina. […] He hadn’t asked her to do a thing.

Was he grateful to discover she had chosen to do these things on his and Billy’s behalf? Of course he was. But being grateful was one thing, and being beholden, that was another thing altogether.

Billy touched the empty page with a hint of reverence.

––This is where Professor Abernathe invites you to set down the story of your own adventure.

––I guess you haven’t had your adventure yet, said Emmett with a smile.

––I think we’re on it now, said Billy.

––This must be who you were named for, Ulysses.

And though Ulysses had heard his name spoken ten thousand times before, to hear it spoken by this boy in this moment […] was as if he were hearing it for the very first time. […]

And Ulysses found himself sitting beside the boy and listening to him read, as if the boy were the seasoned traveler hardened by war, and he, Ulysses, were the child.

[Ulysses] understood that the consequences of what he had done should be irrevocable. That is what had led him […] into the life of a vagabond––a life destined to be lived without companionship or purpose.

But maybe the boy was right…

Maybe by placing his own sense of shame above the sanctity of their union, by so readily condemning himself to a life of solitude, he had betrayed his wife a second time.

By tossing them together, it seemed to Emmett, Abernathe was encouraging a boy to believe that great scientific discoverers were not exactly real and the heroes of legend were not exactly imagined. That shoulder to shoulder they traveled through the realms of the known and unknown making the most of their intelligence and courage, yes, but also of sorcery and enchantment and the occasional intervention of the gods.

He felt the heat of indignation […] that this man whom he had only just met should take the liberty of scolding him as a parent scolds a child. But at the same time, Emmett understood that his taking umbrage at being treated like a child was childish in itself. Just as he knew that it was childish to feel […] jealous over [Billy and Ulysses’] sudden confederacy.

––[…] the point of utter abandonment––that moment at which you realize no one will be coming to your aid, not even your Maker––is the very moment in which you may discover the strength required to carry on. The Good Lord does not call you to your feet with hymns from the cherubim and Gabriel blowing his horn. He calls you to your feet by making you feel alone and forgotten. For only when you have seen that you are truly forsaken will you embrace the fact that what happens next rests in your hands, and your hands alone.

­­––[W]ere it in our power to gather up all the personal stories that have been experienced […] around the world and across time, I haven’t the slightest doubt that doppelgangers would abound. […] It is one of the most basic principles of infinity that it must, by definition, encompass not only one of everything, but everything’s duplicate, as well as its triplicate. In fact, to imagine that there are additional versions of ourselves scattered across human history is substantially less outlandish than to imagine that there are none.

––I’ll start in front of the cabinet at FAO Schwarz, he said to himself with a smile. And my sister will come […]. And after Duchess meets me at the statue of Abraham Lincoln, he and I will attend the circus, where Billy and Emmett will suddenly reappear. Then we’ll go over the Brooklyn Bridge and up the Empire State Building, where we’ll meet Professor Abernathe. Then it’s off to the grassy train tracks where, sitting by the fire, we’ll hear the story of the two Ulysses and the ancient seer who explained how they could find their ways home again––how they could find their ways home, after ten long years.

But one mustn’t rush, thought Woolly […]. For a one-of-kind kind of day deserves to be relived at the slowest possible pace, with every moment, every twist, every turn of events remembered to the tiniest detail.

Though Abacus had no infirmities to speak of yet, his world too was shrinking. […] And then […] a little boy from Nebraska appears at his doorstep with a gentle demeanor and a fantastical tale. A tale not from a leather-bound tome, mind you. Not from an epic poem written in an unspoken language. […] But from life itself.

How easily we forget––we in the business of storytelling––that life was the point all along.

––You should have been there when your brother talked about the house he wants to build in California. I’ve never seen Woolly so excited. He could just picture the two of you living there together. If we go to the cops now, I’m telling you, within the hour this place is going to be crawling with people, and we’ll never get to finish what Woolly started.

Sitting together on a nearby bench were Woolly and Billy, smiling at the floor plan of the house in California. And there was Sally leaning over a pram to tuck in the blanket of the child in her care. And there by the flower cart was Sister Sarah looking wistful and forlorn. And right there, not more than fifty feet away, standing by the door of his bright yellow car, was Emmett, looking honorable and upright.

[…] I could hear the distant chiming of a clock. Only it wasn’t a clock, and it wasn’t distant. It was the gold watch that had been tucked in the pocket of my vest […].

But Emmett hadn’t given [Sally] much cause for expectations since he went to Salina. […] He hadn’t asked her to do a thing.

Was he grateful to discover she had chosen to do these things on his and Billy’s behalf? Of course he was. But being grateful was one thing, and being beholden, that was another thing altogether.

Billy touched the empty page with a hint of reverence.

––This is where Professor Abernathe invites you to set down the story of your own adventure.

––I guess you haven’t had your adventure yet, said Emmett with a smile.

––I think we’re on it now, said Billy.

––This must be who you were named for, Ulysses.

And though Ulysses had heard his name spoken ten thousand times before, to hear it spoken by this boy in this moment […] was as if he were hearing it for the very first time. […]

And Ulysses found himself sitting beside the boy and listening to him read, as if the boy were the seasoned traveler hardened by war, and he, Ulysses, were the child.

[Ulysses] understood that the consequences of what he had done should be irrevocable. That is what had led him […] into the life of a vagabond––a life destined to be lived without companionship or purpose.

But maybe the boy was right…

Maybe by placing his own sense of shame above the sanctity of their union, by so readily condemning himself to a life of solitude, he had betrayed his wife a second time.

By tossing them together, it seemed to Emmett, Abernathe was encouraging a boy to believe that great scientific discoverers were not exactly real and the heroes of legend were not exactly imagined. That shoulder to shoulder they traveled through the realms of the known and unknown making the most of their intelligence and courage, yes, but also of sorcery and enchantment and the occasional intervention of the gods.

He felt the heat of indignation […] that this man whom he had only just met should take the liberty of scolding him as a parent scolds a child. But at the same time, Emmett understood that his taking umbrage at being treated like a child was childish in itself. Just as he knew that it was childish to feel […] jealous over [Billy and Ulysses’] sudden confederacy.

––[…] the point of utter abandonment––that moment at which you realize no one will be coming to your aid, not even your Maker––is the very moment in which you may discover the strength required to carry on. The Good Lord does not call you to your feet with hymns from the cherubim and Gabriel blowing his horn. He calls you to your feet by making you feel alone and forgotten. For only when you have seen that you are truly forsaken will you embrace the fact that what happens next rests in your hands, and your hands alone.

­­––[W]ere it in our power to gather up all the personal stories that have been experienced […] around the world and across time, I haven’t the slightest doubt that doppelgangers would abound. […] It is one of the most basic principles of infinity that it must, by definition, encompass not only one of everything, but everything’s duplicate, as well as its triplicate. In fact, to imagine that there are additional versions of ourselves scattered across human history is substantially less outlandish than to imagine that there are none.

––I’ll start in front of the cabinet at FAO Schwarz, he said to himself with a smile. And my sister will come […]. And after Duchess meets me at the statue of Abraham Lincoln, he and I will attend the circus, where Billy and Emmett will suddenly reappear. Then we’ll go over the Brooklyn Bridge and up the Empire State Building, where we’ll meet Professor Abernathe. Then it’s off to the grassy train tracks where, sitting by the fire, we’ll hear the story of the two Ulysses and the ancient seer who explained how they could find their ways home again––how they could find their ways home, after ten long years.

But one mustn’t rush, thought Woolly […]. For a one-of-kind kind of day deserves to be relived at the slowest possible pace, with every moment, every twist, every turn of events remembered to the tiniest detail.

Though Abacus had no infirmities to speak of yet, his world too was shrinking. […] And then […] a little boy from Nebraska appears at his doorstep with a gentle demeanor and a fantastical tale. A tale not from a leather-bound tome, mind you. Not from an epic poem written in an unspoken language. […] But from life itself.

How easily we forget––we in the business of storytelling––that life was the point all along.

––You should have been there when your brother talked about the house he wants to build in California. I’ve never seen Woolly so excited. He could just picture the two of you living there together. If we go to the cops now, I’m telling you, within the hour this place is going to be crawling with people, and we’ll never get to finish what Woolly started.

Sitting together on a nearby bench were Woolly and Billy, smiling at the floor plan of the house in California. And there was Sally leaning over a pram to tuck in the blanket of the child in her care. And there by the flower cart was Sister Sarah looking wistful and forlorn. And right there, not more than fifty feet away, standing by the door of his bright yellow car, was Emmett, looking honorable and upright.

[…] I could hear the distant chiming of a clock. Only it wasn’t a clock, and it wasn’t distant. It was the gold watch that had been tucked in the pocket of my vest […].