Perfecting Patience

by Tabatha Vargo

  “Be an asshole all you want. You don’t think I know this is my fault?” She jumped up from the bed and started to straighten up my bedroom.

  I couldn’t do anything but just sit there and watch.

  “Say and do whatever you want to me. I’m not leaving you. You wouldn’t leave me if the situation were different.”

  And with that, she walked out of my room and slammed the door behind her.

  Three days later, she was still there. I didn’t say anything to her and she didn’t say anything to me. The only time there was any need for communication was when she was trying to help me do something. I fucking hated her helping me do simple things.

  “Just lift this arm and I’ll pull it off,” she said as she tried to undress me.

  The stupid piece of shit cast kept catching on my shirt and I was three seconds away from ripping the damn thing off.

  “I can do it myself!” I yelled.

  She flinched, and instantly I hated myself more. She held up her hands in aggravation and left my room. I ended up ripping the shirt off and taking a shower. I didn’t bother putting another on afterwards. Fuck shirts and fuck their tight-ass sleeves, too.

  The bedroom door opened again after I was settled in bed. I looked up to see her standing in the doorway. Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying, and I felt like I’d been punched in my stomach. I did that. I made her cry. No matter how pissed off I was at the world, I needed to keep my shit in check. I started to apologize, but before I got the words out of my mouth, she spoke.

  “The replacement guitarist is here. The guys want you to listen in. They want this to be your decision.”

  The tour had to continue and while I hated the idea of someone else playing my part, I understood the guys had to do what they had to do.

  I limped behind her into the living room. With my head down, I could feel the eyes in the room penetrate me and I felt like a fucking invalid. It was embarrassing as hell limping around like some little punk bitch, but it hurt like hell to put too much pressure on my right knee.

  When I looked up, all eyes turned away as if they weren’t just staring. The guys didn’t even look at me as I sat on the couch and ignored them. I knew they felt guilty for moving on without me, but it had to be done and I understood. It was decent of them to allow me the decision of who would take my spot until or if my hand healed.

  Everyone was lined up around the huge leather sectional. My eyes settled on a girl sitting on the end of the couch directly across from me. She looked at me with angry black-lined eyes as she chewed roughly on a piece of gum. The only sound in the room was when she occasionally popped her gum.

  She had hot-pink hair and her fair share of tattoos. A peek of fishnet stockings could be seen between her knee-high boots and short black schoolgirl skirt. Her top, which was also made of fishnet, covered a bright-pink bra. She was the typical rock chick, lip, nose, and eyebrow rings to match. I assumed she was a bang for one of the boys.

  “So where’s this replacement guitarist?” I asked, aggravated.

  The guys started to laugh loudly. The punk girl across from me stood and cut her eyes at them.

  “That would be me.” She crossed her arms as if she were begging for a fight.

  I couldn’t help but laugh a little as well. She looked about ready to kick some major ass.

  “Is that so?” I asked in cocky tone.

  Her eyes took in my naked chest before clashing with mine. “Yep. Want me to play or what?”

  She put her hands on her hips, her black nails digging into her revealed skin.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” I asked the guys.

  They looked at me and then burst into loud laughter again.

  “It’s not a fucking joke. Quit being a chauvinistic asshole. Either you want me to fucking play or not. Say something and quit wasting my goddamn time,” she said angrily.

  She was pissed and she stood her ground. She wasn’t all batting her lashes at the boys. She was quick and to the point, and in some fucked up way, I respected the hell out of that.

  “Then play,” I said calmly.

  I’d be sure to call the record label and give them my two cents as soon as this bitch was out the door.

  She stepped over to her guitar case that was sitting on the kitchen counter. She flipped it open and pulled out a beautiful red Les Paul. She had decent taste in guitars, which was another plus for her.

  She strapped it on and started to play and we all sat there in shock. I’d never heard a female play so well. She put us all to shame and the laughter instantly died on our lips. The girl had skills. There was no doubt about that. I’d even go as far as to say she could almost play better than me. She closed her eyes and destroyed the strings as she hit every note to one of our songs perfectly.

  Instantly, I both hated her and liked her for being able to play so well. It sucked being replaced, but if I was being replaced, then it better be by the best. At least until my fucked-up hand was better.

  When she was done, she unstrapped and set her piece back in the case. The click of the lock filled the silent room as we all stared back at her in shock. Patience lifted her hands and started to clap.

  “That was amazing!” she said with a smile.

  I couldn’t agree more.

  “What did you say your name was again?” I asked.

  “I didn’t. No one bothered to ask. My name’s Constance.” She popped her gum and pinched her lips all bitchy like.

  I looked over at the boys and they looked back at me in shock. I knew what I had to do.

  “Well, Constance, welcome to Blow Hole.”

  After she left, there was a major debate.

  “You let a bitch in the band? What the fuck, Zeke?” Tiny said.

  “Dude, she could play. She’ll do until Zeke can play again.” Finn had my back.

  Chet was too busy thinking of ways to get in her pants.

  “She’ll do, all right. I bet she’s a biter. What do you think, Finn? You think she’s a rough rider?”

  Finn laughed. “Dude, I think she might be a little too hardcore, even for you.”

  “No such thing.” He leaned back and lit a cigarette.

  * * *

  A few days later, the boys left to finish the tour without me. Once they were back on the road, Constance included, it was just Patience and me at the condo.

  Soon she’d have to go back to Florida and I’d be alone. My physical therapy was starting in a few weeks and I was still trying to figure out how to get my ass there. But first thing was first; I needed to try and fix whatever was going on with us. Things still weren’t back to normal. It wasn’t her and it wasn’t me, but something was just off. We’d go to bed apart and I’d wake up with her snuggled tightly against me, but we didn’t talk. I hadn’t kissed her properly since the accident and I missed it.

  “So you’ll be going back to Florida soon?” I poked at my frosted flakes with my spoon.

  She was silent a bit before she finally answered.

  “I need to. I’m so far behind in everything and I’ve already missed three practices.”

  As badly as I wanted to, I couldn’t trap her here with me. I couldn’t just lie around while she waited on me hand and foot until my hand was better. I’d never wished to be left handed in my entire life, but I wished it more than anything at that moment.

  “I understand. I’ll call and book your ticket in just a bit. Is tomorrow good?”

  I felt sick just thinking about her leaving me, but there were so many things back home that were more important. School, soccer, and Sydney were way more important than a broken-down guitar-playing piece of shit like me.

  “Tomorrow’s fine. What are you going to do all alone in California? You don’t know anyone here but the guys.” She looked up at me with sad blue eyes.

  “I’ll be fine. I have to start physical therapy if I ever want to strum a string again.” I shrugged.

  Without asking, she picked up my empty cereal bo
wl and took it to the sink. The water turned on as she rinsed and washed the few breakfast dishes.

  “There are physical therapists in Florida, you know,” she said with her back still to me.

  Her sandy ponytail bobbed up and down as she scrubbed the pan she’d scrambled her eggs in. The entire place smelled like fresh breakfast and dish detergent.

  “I’m not going to Florida,” I said adamantly.

  Just the thought of dragging her down made me mad. Since the moment I’d met Patience, I knew I was no good for her, but when my career started to take off, I thought maybe I could be. Now I was back to square one. I felt like nothing all over again, and the minute she realized it, she’d be gone forever.

  “Why not?” The dishes were done, but she still hadn’t turned to face me.

  “We have a dishwasher, you know.”

  I didn’t want to answer her truthfully. I didn’t want to tell her that once she saw me beside all her new college friends who didn’t have fucked-up lives, she’d never look at me the same.

  “Don’t change the subject, Zeke. Why won’t you come to Florida with me?”

  “Because I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” The stool scratched the expensive tile flooring as I pushed it from under me.

  I was almost out of the kitchen when I felt her cool fingers grip my arm. I wanted to shake her off and yell at her, but instead I just stood there and let her speak.

  “You once said you wanted us to take care of each other. I don’t want to babysit you. I want to take care of you. And honestly, I need you there to take care of me. I’m all alone in that apartment, Zeke. It’s lonely and sometimes I feel afraid. I wake up from awful nightmares and wish more than anything that you were there beside me. Please come home with me. I need you more than you need me. I promise.”

  There was once a time in my life when a woman’s pleas did nothing to me. Females were just my solace, a place for me to drop my load. I never worried about what they needed or wanted, and I could think of a million different comebacks for a female who said she needed me.

  I’m not sure what happened to me when I was younger to make me that way. Maybe it was the weekly ass beatings the old man gave me. Perhaps it was seeing the way my father treated my mother before the cancer weakened her.

  I used to attribute it to the loss of my mother. Maybe in the back of my head I blamed her for leaving me, and treating women badly was kind of like my payback. Either way, I was a fucked-up example of the male species. I knew it and every woman who’d ever crossed my path knew it—all of them except Snowflake.

  Go figure she’d be the one I couldn’t say no to. It’s just my luck that I’d fall crazy in love with the one female in the world that had me by the balls. She knew what she was doing when it came to me. And so an hour later, I booked two one-way tickets to Florida.

  Eleven

  Patience

  He was just out of my reach again.

  I remembered how cut off he was when I first met him, and he was slowly transforming back into that guy. Leaving and going back to Florida when things felt so weird between us wasn’t something I was willing to do, but I was running out of the magic pills that kept me from freaking out and I couldn’t afford to miss anymore school and practice.

  Zeke coming to Florida with me was the only solution, and I could hardly believe it when he agreed. I hated using his worries about my getting hurt against him, but it was the only card I had up my sleeve.

  Aunt Sarah picked us up from the airport and we went back to her house for dinner. Sydney was her usual ball of happiness and even with her, Zeke didn’t respond in his normal playful way. I was starting to miss him, yet it was my fault he was being this way. It was my fault he felt so useless, and I’d do anything I could to give him purpose until his hand healed and he could go back to work. Hopefully we’d get some good news once he started therapy.

  “So how long are you staying in Florida, Zeke?” Syd asked around a mouthful of chicken.

  Her mouth and hands were covered in BBQ sauce. It was pretty adorable. I handed her a paper napkin and she smeared it across her face even more. She thought she was so grown, yet she hadn’t mastered BBQ chicken.

  “Just until my hand’s all better. I’m not doing anything back home right now anyway. The least I could do is come and make myself useful for Patience.”

  I was quickly missing my nickname. Hearing him call me Patience over and over again was getting on my nerves. It sounded strange on his lips, and even though it was my name, it sounded so impersonal.

  When we finally got to my tiny one-bedroom apartment, it was close to midnight. It was the perfect place for me. I was thrilled when I happened across the small space located directly above an exotic coffee shop. Not only did I get delicious coffee anytime I wanted it, but my apartment always smelled great.

  The rent was cheap and it included water and sewer. I couldn’t very well pass that up. I decorated it to fit my taste, buying most of my stuff from Target, and I settled right on in. It felt like home to me. Sydney even came to stay the night on some weekends when I wasn’t slammed with schoolwork.

  Zeke helped carry bags upstairs the best he could, and I didn’t say anything when he cussed himself for not being able to carry more. He was such an independent guy. I hated seeing him struggle so much. I moved quickly up and down the stairs with more bags than my poor arms could handle just so he wouldn’t have to try so hard.

  He looked like a giant in my tiny space. When I first rented the apartment, I remember thinking how big the living room space was, but the minute I shut the front door and took a look at the space including him, I knew I’d been wrong about the size of the room.

  “So what now?” he asked.

  He looked awkward standing there.

  “Well, welcome home,” I said as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  He squeezed me back and I enjoyed the moment. When I leaned back and looked up at him, I expected him to kiss me. Instead, the side of his mouth lifted in a forced smile and he looked away like he wasn’t interested.

  I pushed away and ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m going to take a shower. Make yourself at home.”

  As soon as I got in the bathroom, I pulled out my cell and called Hope.

  “What’s up, soccer star? Where the hell you been? Coach has been kicking our asses on the field.”

  I turned on the shower water so Zeke wouldn’t hear me.

  “Sorry. I had some business to take care of out of town. I just got back. Listen, Hope, do you have any more of those pills. I hate to ask, but… you know?”

  The line grew silent and I could feel the panic starting at the base of my spine. What if she didn’t have any more? What if she couldn’t get more? I’d started to depend on that tiny pill to help me feel better. I hated those stupid episodes.

  “Damn, Patience, I wish you called me yesterday. Mom’s all out and I have nothing, but do you have any money?”

  “I have a little. Why?”

  “There’s this guy I know. I can get you something similar from him for twenty bucks if you want?”

  “Something similar?”

  “Yeah. It’s just a little stronger so you can take half and get the full effect. It’s nothing dangerous, chick. I wouldn’t do that to you. So, do you want me to call him?”

  This was a new low for me. Buying drugs from some guy I didn’t know wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I needed to. The thought of going into a panic attack in the middle of class or right before taking the field made me panic more. I didn’t want Zeke to know I was half bat-shit crazy, and with him living with me now, finding out was a very real possibility if I didn’t have any of what I liked to call my “chill pills.”

  “Yeah, call him.”

  After a long, hot shower, I found Zeke asleep on the couch. When I tried to wake him, he complained and rolled over. I wanted him in my bed, but at the same time, I didn’t want to bother him. With his hand being the way it was, he rarely
slept much anymore.

  I pulled all of our bags into the bedroom and threw them into the corner until tomorrow. I climbed into my bed, turned on my TV, and adjusted the sleep timer, and then I went to sleep.

  A loud banging on the front door woke me the next morning. I was almost fully awake when I could hear Hope’s voice in the living room.

  “What the fuck, dude? This is my girl’s house. I don’t know who the hell you are, but let me in or I swear to God I’m going to go all crazy bitch ninja on your ass.”

  I jumped out of bed and ran into the next room.

  “It’s okay, Zeke. You can let her in.”

  Zeke let the door open and Hope gave him a big kiss-my-ass smile as she walked into my apartment.

  “Sorry to wake you up, but I wanted to bring these to you and get my money back before class,” she said as she reached into her book bag.

  “Not here,” I said in a rush.

  Both she and Zeke looked at me like I was nuts.

  “In the room. We’ll be right back,” I said to Zeke. “It’s girl stuff,” I said before he could ask any questions about why I was acting so weird.

  I shut the door behind us when we got into my room.

  “He doesn’t need to know. This is between me and you, okay?”

  “Whatever you say,” she said as she shrugged.

  She pulled out a cellophane wrapper from a pack of cigarettes and inside were three long bar-shaped white pills. I held up the baggy and shook it around. I’d never felt like a criminal in my life, even after taking a life, but for some reason, being holed up in my bedroom and exchanging money for pills made me feel like I belonged under the prison.

  “What are these?” I asked.

  I’d never seen pills that were long and rectangular.

  “Xanax. They’re better than Valium, I think. Just take half and you’ll be set.”

  “What does it do?”

  I had no business taking pills. I was entirely too paranoid.

  “Chill, girl. All it will do is relax you when you feel like you’re about to lose it. Trust me, these come in handy. Anyway, I gotta run. Class starts in twenty minutes. I’ll see you at practice this afternoon?” She turned toward the mirror and used a thumb to wipe away extra eyeliner from under her eye.