Perfecting Patience (10 page)

“Dude! What the fuck? Are you always this rude?” She ripped my fingers from her arm.

“Always. Have you seen Patience?” I looked around the room again.

“Yeah. She went outside. I think she was looking for you.”

I didn’t even say thanks. Instead, I went straight for the front door. I made my way through the wet grass of the front yard until my boots sank into the muddy spots, making loud sloshing noises. I was halfway across the yard when I saw her leaning up against her car. Time seemed to slow down as I made my way over to her.

“Where have you been? I was looking all over for you?” She smiled innocently.

She was far from innocent. I knew that now. She could play that naive trick on some other dumbass because I wasn’t falling for that bullshit anymore. She was the biggest player in the game. I mean, she had to be; even I fell for her shit. Maybe she really was a sweet innocent girl when I first met her, but that was no longer the case. I was the one that got to break her in and other fuckers were taking advantage of that fact.

“That’s funny. I was looking for you
, too,” I said bluntly.

Her smile melted away. “What’s wrong?”

This shit was getting really old really fast. I didn’t even bother playing around with her. I went straight for the kill.

“I saw you come out of the room with that guy. I never pictured you as a cheating whore, but I guess I’m allowed to be wrong sometimes.”

My face shifted when her tiny palm struck my cheek. My face stung and felt stiff. It felt good to be hit. It had been a while since someone slapped me around, and the sick asshole inside of me howled with pleasure. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her to do it again.

“Don’t ever
call me that again,” she said sternly.

Calling her a whore was wrong, but I was angry and my feelings were hurt.

“I call it like I see it, babe.”

“You saw wrong.” She huffed.

“Oh, okay. So I didn’t see you coming out of a bedroom upstairs with some fucker? Damn, I must be hallucinating. I had no idea. Maybe someone spiked my drink. Maybe I should crawl into the closest bathroom and pray someone will come and save me. Maybe I could even get that dumbass to fall in love with me so I can fuck them over.”

I was being a total dick and I didn’t care. The thought of her being with another guy hurt
, and like a wounded dog, I was biting. I wanted to scream and hit something. I wanted to rip something to shreds and make anything feel as bad as I was feeling in that moment.

“It’s not what you think
,” she said as panic filled her eyes.

“Then please enlighten me. What other reason is there for a guy and a girl to lock themselves in a bedroom upstairs. Oh wait! I know! You were showing him your strike zone? Let me ask you something, Patience
.” I said her name in disgust. “Did you let him score, baby?”

Again
, she slapped me across the face, and I almost begged her to do it again. I wanted to feel physical pain so the pain inside my heart wouldn’t be so bad. I wanted anything, no matter what it was, to come in and make it all just go away.

Instead of standing there arguing, I turned and walked away. I didn’t need to put up with this shit
, and if I stayed there any longer, I’d go upstairs and kill that asshole with my bare hands. I could be in California getting some ass from some strange chick I gave less than two shits about. I could be smoking some of the best green I could find until my face was numb. But I wasn’t doing any of that.

I was in Florida
, playing best boyfriend to a girl who had been obviously fucking someone else. I moved my life around just so I could be all domesticated and end up arguing in the middle of the party like some old married couple. Fuck that. If she wanted to spread her legs for every cock in Florida, I no long cared.

Thirteen

Patience

I sat on my couch and watched the sun come up. It lit up the old exposed-brick wall, sending tiny shadows dancing about as birds and tree limbs moved around outside my window.

I still hadn’t heard from Z
eke and I worried that he’d hopped a flight back to California. I couldn’t see him leaving like that, but then again, he’d never been so upset with me.

I called his phone so much that it started going straight to voicemail and there were seventeen unanswered text messages. Most o
f them were me trying to come up with some kind of explanation for what he’d seen. I couldn’t very well tell him I was meeting with a guy about drugs. I still had most of the Xanax that Hope got for me, but my fear of running out had me meeting with Phillip, Hope’s drug-dealing friend, and buying more just in case.

Phillip was a nice guy and he had a girlfriend, but that didn’t stop him from harmlessly flirting with me. It wasn’t anything serious, nothing I couldn’t handle. If it meant getting what I needed so I could pretend to be okay, then I’d do whatever I had to do.

I was torn.
Part of me was upset that Zeke didn’t trust me, but the understanding parts of me, the parts that knew where Zeke came from, got it. In his world, a girl going into a room alone with a guy meant something sexual. But I was in that room alone with Phillip for an entirely different sin.

After staring at the sunlit wall for an obscene amount of time, I finally decided to get up and unpack f
rom California. I separated all the dirty clothes and put everything in its place. Then I stuck all Zeke’s bags in the closet. I would have unpacked them, but a little voice in the back of my head kept telling me I’d be paying to ship them to California soon.

I found the guitar case I’d bought him under everything. Setting the heavy case on the b
ed, I popped it open and took out the guitar. It looked exactly the same except he’d added a random snowflake along the side in permanent marker. I ran a finger along the jagged lines of the symbol he gave me.

I smiled to myself
and hugged the guitar close. He’d come back for this guitar. No way would he be okay with me shipping it to California when there was no telling what could happen to it. As long as I had his precious guitar, I was guaranteed to see him again.

I
adjusted the large instrument in my arms they way he’d taught me so many months ago and ran my fingers across the strings. Soft, off-tune sounds vibrated and made the guitar rumble a little in my arms. As I ran inexperienced fingers across it, I closed my eyes and thought about the past. I took myself back to the time when Zeke had tried to teach me how to play.

Things were
messed up then, and the way it looked now, things were never going to be perfect for Zeke and me. I didn’t want to lose him, yet it seemed like we’d never be together and happy. There was a tiny black cloud that followed us around and struck us with lightning every time things seemed to go well. No way did other couples have to deal with so much drama. Other couples didn’t seem to struggle as much as we did. It wasn’t fair. Didn’t we deserve as much of a shot as everyone else?

I was prepared to fight for Zeke. I’d been fighting to be with him
almost from the start, but was Zeke in the same place in our relationship as me? He’d always fought for me, but watching him walk away from me so easily the night before made me think he didn’t have any fight left in him.

It was to be expected. He’d only been fighting for most of his life. I couldn’t blame him if he said screw it and walked away permanently. I’d always thought Zeke would make everything better. Once I found him again
, I expected to get better and run right into a perfect existence with him, but that’s not what happened. Instead, the panic attacks started and the nightmares continued. He was no longer what I needed, he was what I wanted.

It sucked th
at I was just realizing that—now that he’d walked away thinking for sure I sexed some strange drug dealer at a party. Need and want were two different things. I needed air, sunshine, food, and water to survive, but I wanted Zeke to be there to make that survival worth it. Life was obviously not all hearts and roses—I knew that better than most—but he made things easier to deal with.

I continued to fiddle with his guitar
, checking my phone every few minutes. He still hadn’t responded or called. I’d told him the only thing I could think of, that Hope had a crush on Phillip and I was talking to him for her. It was high schoolish, but it was quick. I needed a reason, other than buying drugs, to be in that room.

I lost myself in the moment
, playing random things that sounded okay to my own ears and checking my phone. The sunlight that was so bright had already started to dim. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the clock because I knew it would only worry me worse.

“I hope you don’t always leave your front door unlocked like that.” His voice scared me and I almost dropped his guitar.

His eyes flicked to the instrument in my arms and then back up to my face. Expressionless, he was blocked completely from me—a stranger standing in front of me, angry, locked inside, and cold.
I didn’t like seeing him that way. I wanted him warm and open, accepting of me and all my craziness, the way he’d always been.

“I usually lock it. Where’ve you been? Did you get any of my messages?”

He ignored my questions and went straight for his pain pills. Popping open the bottle, he took two without anything to drink. He’d probably spent the night in pain on a street corner. To my knowledge, he didn’t know anyone in Florida. I felt awful just thinking about him being in pain and alone.

“I’m sorry
,” I said as I stared up at him with sad eyes.

And I was sorry.
Sorry he was in pain. I felt like shit because I caused him more pain. Thoughts of him lost around Florida, alone, made me feel even worse. I just wanted to take it all away. I wanted to hit rewind and make everything better.

T
hen the craziest thing happened. He walked over and towered over me. His dark hair fell into his eyes and the remaining bit of sunshine reflected off his lip ring. He tucked the hair that escaped my ponytail behind my ear with his good hand and then ran a thumb across my bottom lip.

“No. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’
t have freaked out like that and called you such an awful name. That’s not who you are, and I wish I could take it all back. I should trust you no matter what. My only excuse is that I went temporarily insane with the thoughts of someone else touching you. I can’t handle that. It doesn’t matter who it is. I get this wild protective streak that runs through me and makes me want to kill whoever it is. I walked away because I was seriously considering killing him. Please forgive me for not trusting you. You’ve never given me any reason not to. You’re an honest girl. I should’ve known better.”

I was in shock and I felt even worse because I
had
been dishonest with him. I should’ve taken that moment for what it was—the perfect opportunity to confess all and start over fresh with Zeke—but I couldn’t. My mouth formed the words, but I couldn’t push them onto my tongue. I just sat there and stared up at him like an idiot.

He sat next to me and smiled a guilty smile. “Do you forgive me?”

I wanted to scream. It was wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling like crap; I should. Reaching up and pushing his hair from him eyes, I leaned in and kissed him. It wouldn’t make everything better, but it made me feel better.

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” I said.

I wanted to forget about it because technically, I was the one in the wrong. No, he shouldn’t have freaked out like that, and no, he shouldn’t have called me a whore, but at least his reactions were honest. Meanwhile, all I could think about were lies to tell him. I was being dishonest and it felt awful.

All the excitement and drama start
ed to take a toll on me. My heart raced and I began to feel lightheaded. A panic attack was coming. They came at the most inconvenient times, but at least I had some kind of control over whether or not I’d let it happen.

“I’ll be right back
,” I said as I stood and made my way to the bathroom.

I locked the door behind me and reached on top of the medicine cabinet where I hid a few
Xanax in a sandwich baggy. I didn’t even bother swallowing the pill. Instead, I stuck it under my tongue and let it melt. It seemed to work faster that way, even if it tasted bitter and disgusting.

I stood in the bathroom
, staring at myself in the mirror until I felt the shakes and anxiety melt away. I hated it. I never wanted to be that way, but nothing I did made me better. The best thing I could do was go back to Dr. Jenson and figure out what the hell was wrong with me, but I’d stopped going to her when I went to California, and I hadn’t attempted to reschedule. It wasn’t really necessary. I’d have to be honest with her, too, if I wanted to actually get better, but being honest with her could mean jail time. I understood what I was doing was illegal, but I could’ve done worse. I had done worse.

Zeke was sitting on the bed
, holding his guitar, when I came out of the bathroom. The sun was completely gone and dark shadows had replaced all the sunny spots.

“Everything okay?” he looked up with a sweet
and understanding expression.

And then I looked down at him, smiled, and told another lie.

“Everything’s perfect.”

We spent the next hour playing his guitar together. He’d place his fingers on the chords and I’d strum the strings. It was an innocent moment. I needed more of those. Moments when we could just shut out everything else and be together.

Not long after that, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I later found out Zeke had spent the night with Aunt Sarah and Sydney.
Apparently, they spent the rest of the night playing cards after Zeke told them we needed a break for the night. I was relieved to find out he hadn’t been on a street corner somewhere. Instead, he’d slept on Aunt Sarah’s couch.

It was nice to know he and my
family were getting along so well. All three of them meant so much to me and it warmed my heart when Sydney would tell me how much she adored Zeke and vise versa.

*

The next few weeks moved along without any problems. I went to all of my classes and practices while Zeke would get lost around campus or hang out at the apartment. He seemed to be okay with it.

Every now and again, we’d grab dinner at the closest Chinese restaurant or catch a movie. Sometimes we’d go to a party with a few friends I’d managed to make from soccer. A few times people would approach him for an autograph and get a jagged, left-handed signature.
We were slowly becoming known around campus. They started referring to us as the stars—me being the soccer star and Zeke being the rock star. We just laughed it off.

In that little bit of time, my anxiety issues were slowly going away, but that could’ve had more to do with the fact that I was now taking the pills every morning. If I took them before I needed them, I’d never need them. That was my way of thinking. It was an expensive problem, but it was worth it if it kept me sane.

“I swear, if coach makes us run one more lap around that fucking field, I’m going to choke her with that damn whistle,” Hope said as she set her basket of fries and her bag on the table in front of Zeke and me.

I rarely
ate lunch at the little café around the corner from the school, but on the days I did, Zeke would come and eat with me.

It was a charming place where you could get a burger and fries
or a home-cooked meal when you were tired of something quick. It was small and inviting and the lady who owned it always had a smile on her face.

“Tell me about it
. I think she’s trying to kill us,” I said as I dipped my fry into the pile of ketchup in Zeke’s empty basket.

“Oh
, look who’s here. It’s freak,” Hope said, referring to Zeke.

They had a love
-hate relationship. They both loved to hate each other.

Listening to them sarcastically put each other down could be entertaining, but sometimes it could be downright mean. I’d have to step in every now and again, but I think Zeke missed bullshitting with the boys and Hope missed her three big brothers.

I’d had the pleasure of meeting her brothers before. They were big, ruthless, and had a smartass comeback for everything that came out of anyone’s mouth. Needless to say, thanks to them, Hope was on an even playing ground with Zeke when it came to wordplay.

“Oh look, s
nowflake, it’s that guy from your classes. What’s your name again, dude?” Zeke countered.

She threw
a fry at him, and her face turned red. “Fuck you, douchebag.”

“I don’t swing t
hat way, man, but thanks for the offer.”

“Whatever. Okay, girl, I’ll see you on the field later
.” Hope snatched up her fries and grabbed her bag. “Zeke, as always, it was a pleasure. Oh and by the way, you’re a dick.”

“Well, considering I have a dick, that makes sense. Should I point out what you have and what you’re being?”