Billy would’ve turned forty-four today. I’d have booked a dinner for us at a restaurant that he’d think was too expensive, and I’d cajole him into ordering the New York strip despite his protests that it cost too much. Before dinner, though, back home in our living room, I’d have already arranged a row of presents that would’ve included a new cell phone, and Sirius for his car because he would’ve been whining about not having one since Mickey gave me mine at Christmas. There’