These nightmares continued from that night on, and I was starting to think I’d never sleep again.
It was exactly a week later that I started missing Zeke like crazy. The dark fog of my mother’s death and the drama were beginning to clear and I realized I needed him more than I thought. I missed his voice, his smile, everything about him, and being so far away from him only made it worse.
After dialing his number and not hitting the send button several times, I got up the nerve to call his cell. His number was disconnected. Thoughts of him doing something stupid and sinking into a drunken state and getting himself killed invaded my mind.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful had happened to Zeke and I was starting to freak out. What had I done? Yes, I was in the middle of a distraught moment, but I pushed away the only man I’d ever loved, a man who was willing to serve life in prison for me.
In the sudden moment of clarity, what my mother did made sense. I could see it from her point of view. Why let your daughter or the man your daughter loved serve jail time over something that was well deserved? She knew her time was coming to an end and she knew we had long lives ahead of us.
I called Megan in a panic.
“Hey, Pay!” she sang into the phone.
“I’m trying to contact Zeke, but his phone’s been disconnected. Do you know how I can reach him? Maybe you could call Chet and get his new number?”
She was silent on the other end and I heard her take a deep breath. Every bad thought I could conjure ran through my mind. What if something happened to him? I couldn’t handle losing another person that I loved. I wanted Zeke and I wanted him here in Florida with me.
“Pay, I don’t know how to tell you this, but literally the day after you left, the big news was that Blow Hole got picked up by a label out of California.”
All the bad thoughts disappeared and happiness filled me for the first time in what felt like ages. Zeke was probably ecstatic and I hated that I wasn’t there to celebrate the milestone with him.
I closed my eyes and envisioned the smile I’m sure he had when he heard the news. I loved the way his lip ring would tug on his bottom lip and I adored the tiny dimple on his cheek that peeked out when his smile was big enough. I could almost hear his deep, amused laughter, and if I pushed my mind far enough away, I could almost feel his fingers in my hair.
I popped my eyes open and smiled into the phone.
“That’s great, Megan. I bet they’re happy. Why would you be afraid to tell me that?”
Again, she was silent on the other end.
“Well, because he’s gone, Pay… All of them are. They hauled ass to California.”
And just like that, my smile disappeared. The floor shifted beneath my feet. Zeke was thousands of miles away instead of hundreds, and his loss was sinking in and leaving me in a state of distress.
I didn’t even remember hanging up with Megan. Zeke was gone, off living his dream, and I’d probably never hear from him again. The only real connection he had in South Carolina was his father and they didn’t even talk anymore. I had no way of getting a message to him. He ran away to California, thinking I hated him. He was there surrounded by bleach-blond California bimbos and knowing him, he was probably taking out his heartache and anger on one of them in the form of rough sex at that very moment.
The weeks flew by from that point on. I lived my life in a never-ending state of depression. My sister and aunt commented on my behavior, but I couldn’t help it. He was gone and I couldn’t find a way to reach him.
I got a shitty job at a restaurant close to my aunt’s house and since school was out, Sydney spent most of her time with Aunt Sarah at the beach. Every day was the same—wake up, go to work, come home, sleep. But no matter what I was doing, I thought about Zeke.
Between the depression and not playing sports anymore, I gained five pounds and my jeans started to get snug. I’m sure it had more to do with the ice cream I used to soothe my pain, but at least it was better than drugs and alcohol.
My high school diploma was forwarded to me and again, Aunt Sarah went into her college speech. College was the last thing on my mind and even though I’m sure my mother was rolling over in her grave every time I thought it, I knew in the back of my mind I was never going to attend. I didn’t want to think about school or sports. I just wanted to wallow in my crappy life.
The recurring nightmares had started to take their toll on my sleep habits and I was finding that I was sleeping less and less. When it wasn’t a nightmare about my mother’s death, or the dreaded one that included my father and his disgusting hands, I’d have nightmares that I was surrounded by fire and melting away to nothing.
The sleep deprivation was becoming noticeable every time I looked in the mirror. The dark circles around my eyes were a direct contrast to my light skin and even lighter hair, and the bloodshot look in my eyes reminded me of the girls who used to throw themselves at the boys at The Pit.
“More nightmares?” Aunt Sarah asked when I finally made an appearance in the kitchen.
I pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a strawberry-banana yogurt. Rifling through the silverware, I found my favorite spoon before collapsing in a kitchen chair.
“How’d you know?” I asked around a mouthful of pink yogurt.
She wiped at the kitchen sink and shook her head. “I heard you scream this morning. I think maybe you should talk to someone. I think it could be good for you, Pay.”
She followed up with an apologetic smile that told me she felt sorry for me.
“I don’t need a shrink. The last thing I want to do is sit in front of some quack who’s probably worse off than me and spill all my deepest, darkest secrets. No thanks. Besides, I think I’m doing great. There’s nothing wrong with me. I had a problem, I dealt with it, people died in the process, and here I am in the great Sunshine State with the best aunt alive,” I said as I jumped up, threw my yogurt container in the trash, and gave her a tiny peck on the cheek.
It was my way of saying the conversation was over. Did I have nightmares? Yes. But so did the rest of the population. It was normal to dream. I’d been through some crazy stuff, but I’d always dealt with it my way and that’s what I’d continue to do.
I grabbed my bag on the way to the door and threw it on my shoulder as I snatched up my keys.
“Patience, I think you need help,” Aunt Sarah said in a tiny voice.
She spoke to me as if she were poking a dangerous animal, and it made me wonder if I’d become so aggressive since my world tumbled into chaos that the only family I had left was afraid to talk to me.
I didn’t respond as I slipped out the front door and went to my car. Work. Work would make me forget and so work is what I’d do for the rest of the day, even if I had to cover other shifts.
Technically, I didn’t have to work. My parents’ life insurance was enough to cover everything Syd and I could ever want, but working centered me out, and at this point in my life I needed to feel secure and centered more than anything.
Getting the life insurance had been hell since it was on record that my mom murdered my father. Aunt Sarah hired some of the best lawyers Florida offered and before we knew it, the money was deposited into an account and ready for us to live off of.
The rumors continued to swarm around South Carolina and a few even reached Florida, which made me sick to my stomach. It was a big government cover-up and anybody who was anybody was pointing fingers and making suggestions about how the governor really died.
I wanted more than anything to push that part of my life away and start feeling alive again, but the memories of Zeke wouldn’t let me go. His smile, his eyes, everything about him seemed to brand my mind and burn my heart.
Megan kept her promise and called often. Part of me had an inkling that Sydney was putting her up to it. Syd was more worried about me than Aunt Sarah and something told me she was calling Megan and filling her in on the fact that I wasn’t doing as great as I’d l
et on.
To add to the pressure of going to a shrink, I was also being bombarded with soccer scholarships that I tried to hide from Aunt Sarah. I missed playing soccer. Feeling the joy of getting a goal had always been one of my favorite feelings. That is, before Zeke came into my life and showed me that he could make me feel a ton better than that.
“Hey, Patience, do you think you could cover my shift this Saturday?” Tarah asked as she wiped up a table that had left a big mess.
She was only a year older than me, but had a two-year-old son at home and he seemed to always get sick.
I didn’t even hesitate. “Sure,” I said with my signature fake smile.
My little shitty job at the restaurant by my aunt’s house was a lifesaver. It was a mind-numbing job that took little to no effort, but it was enough for me.
Months went by and while I was starting to feel more alive, I was still followed around by the black cloud of sadness. It was made worse the day I heard Blow Hole’s first song on the radio. The guitar stuck out to me more than Finn’s loud voice. Damn, I missed Zeke.
Six months later, Sydney was comfortable in seventh grade at her new school and I was working double shifts at the restaurant. I stuck all the extra money into a savings account and pushed through.
I was at work when I overheard some girls at a table talking about a rock festival that was coming to Orlando. One of the girls threw out the names of the different bands that were coming.
I was wiping down a table that had just left without a tip and my hand paused when I heard her say the name Blow Hole. My feet moved before the rest of me as I left the table and rudely interrupted their conversation.
“Excuse me, did you just say Blow Hole was going to be at some rock festival around here?”
The girls looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was, but love made you do crazy things and regardless of everything that had happened in the previous months, one thing remained the same. I was in love with Zeke Mitchell.
“Uh, yeah, it’s this weekend. The tickets are still for sale I think.”
I didn’t even listen to the rest. I turned and went for my purse. I told Gladys, the lady who owned the place, that I had a family emergency and then I drove home as quickly as possible so I could get on my aunt’s computer.
I Googled rock festivals in Orlando and, sure enough, it was there. I pulled out my wallet and bought a ticket to Orlando Rockfest with plans of hopefully seeing Zeke. For the first time in months, I felt like I had something to look forward to. I felt happy. I just hoped it wasn’t too late and I really hoped he wasn’t seeing someone new and had forgotten about me.
The rest of the week dragged. The weekend had never seemed so far away. I spent the afternoons after work helping Syd with her homework and when I wasn’t helping with homework or working, I’d do housework for Aunt Sarah.
When the weekend finally came, I dug through my closet for anything Rockfest friendly and took extra time getting ready. I hadn’t cared about my appearance in months and it was nice to see myself looking somewhat normal again.
Since I was going to Rockfest alone, I waited until later in the afternoon when Blow Hole was planning to take the stage. My fair skin and the Florida sun didn’t like each other very much. I’d already suffered several bad burns since I moved there and I had freckles on my shoulders that never existed before. The fear of skin cancer was a very real fear in a heated place like Florida.
When I got to the festival, the band before Blow Hole was still playing. I stopped by a drink stand and grabbed a bottle of water and then pushed my way through the crowd with hopes of getting as close as possible to the stage. I could only hope he’d be able to spot me in the large crowd and I prayed if he did spot me, he wasn’t so upset with me that he’d ignore me.
My heart rate sped up when the band said their good-byes and I knew I’d be seeing him at any moment. A DJ from a local radio station loudly introduced Blow Hole, and when Zeke and boys came out on stage, the night sky lit up with lights and the girls went crazy. It was then that noticed all the “I’m a freak for Zeke!” T-shirts the girls wore. I wasn’t afraid to admit that I was totally jealous.
He picked up his guitar and hooked the strap around him. He looked different, yet somehow he was the same. There was a tension around his eyes that was never there before. While he’d always had the look of an angry asshole, what I saw on his face was different. It wasn’t anger; it was pain. He wore the heated expression of a man who’d had his heart ripped out, and I swallowed hard knowing I’d been the one who did the ripping.
Once they started playing, it was near impossible to get to the stage. Girls swarmed and a mosh pit formed right in the front center. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t squeeze myself through. My toes were stepped on and some people pushed me back as if I were trying to become a part of the wild crowd. Guys grabbed at me and girls rubbed themselves on me. It was the most annoying thing ever.
Finally, after spending three songs trying to get close to the stage, I gave up. If this was going to be the last time I ever got to see him, then I wanted to actually see him. I wanted to see his expressions and I wanted to watch him play. I always loved watching him play and I wanted to take advantage.
The entire time so far I’d spent trying to move closer and I had yet to just stop and look at him. I missed him so much and I had no pictures of him. I was starting to forget what he looked like. There had been times when I would close my eyes and try to see his face, but all I saw was the blurry image of a guy with dark hair, yet no distinguishing features.
I took in his dark jeans and ripped T-shirt. His midnight bangs hung down into his face as usual and the light kept catching his facial piercings and making him shine. He was gorgeous. He was everything I ever wanted and I’d pushed him away and ran from everything he stood for.
I smiled when I saw he was still using the guitar I got him and I smiled even wider when I was able to see a tiny spot on his forearm from far away that I knew was my snowflake. But the longer I stood there, the more I realized that what I was trying to do was impossible. I should’ve been smart and came earlier. I should’ve braved the hot Florida sun for Zeke. At least that way I would’ve been guaranteed a front spot and could’ve gotten his attention.
Their last song was playing about the time I felt myself start to tear up. I’d failed and it was so hard to see him so close yet so far away. He was right there, yet I couldn’t touch him. I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted to feel whole again and Zeke was the only person in the world who could make me feel that way.
When their set was over, they said their goodnights and left the stage. Watching him walk away was so hard. Knowing I’d lost my chance was even harder. When I couldn’t see him anymore, I turned to leave in hopes of getting out before the swarms of people headed to the parking lot.
The whole thing was a bad idea. If anything, I was leaving feeling worse than I did before, but I had to at least try. Zeke had been responsible for putting me back together and now I was more broken than I was when I first met him. I didn’t need him to live, but he sure as hell made me feel alive.
It was pitch black outside once I was far enough away from the show. People sprinkled the parking lot and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air around me as people walked by with joints hanging from their lips. A girl was throwing up next to her car while her friends laughed hysterically. The sounds of her retching made my stomach turn.
I passed by a bunch of buses and the smell of diesel fuel replaced the familiar smells of Finn’s garage. The roaring of the buses drowned out the loud groups of people leaving the festival.
As I passed the buses, I thought maybe I could catch him on the way back to his bus, but I didn’t know which one was Blow Hole’s and everyone else seemed clueless about who was in what bus, too. There were people already lined up around the buses, trying to get a glimpse of their favorite band, so I didn’t even bother. I was emotionally exhausted and the though
t of going home and crawling in my bed to cry seemed like the perfect thing to do.
I was lost in thought and kicking at the white rocks of the parking lot as I walked to my car. I didn’t see the dark shadow of a man as he stepped out in front of me until I was right up on him. I gasped and pulled back, but it was too late. He wrapped a rough hand around my wrist and pulled me into the darkness between two buses. Another hand covered my lips before I could scream and the salty taste of skin filled my mouth. It was so dark I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel the warmth of a hard body as it pushed up against me and pressed me up against the back of a bus.
A single finger softly pushed a lock of hair out of my eyes before a hot hand ran down the side of my face and cupped my cheek. Warm, minty breath struck my nose as he moved his face close to mine and nuzzled my chin.
Great, I was being raped by a romantic. Some crazy druggie had singled me out, saw that I was alone, and now he was going to take advantage of me. Life had been hard. Awful things had always happened to me. What else could possibly be added to the top of the shitty Patience pile?
Then I heard a familiar deep chuckle. It vibrated its way down my spine and left my knees weak. Warmth rushed down my skin as a tiny kiss was planted on the side of my neck. Then a whisper of breath echoed against my ear.
“Damn, snowflake, if you get any hotter you’ll melt.”
Happiness erupted from every pore in my body. I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my body hard against his. I felt the tension that I’d been carrying around for months slowly leave me. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in forever, and when his hand moved away from my mouth and his lips were on mine, I felt whole again.
My dreams were coming true. The guys and I were getting everything we wanted. A damn good record contract was signed with LA Records. The only downside was that we had to move to California. I’d always been a South Carolina boy and the West Coast had always seemed like a million miles away. Maybe getting far away was exactly what I needed.
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