“I’ll love you until I don’t exist anymore, and even after I die, if there’s any good left in me, the love I have for you will continue on in my soul.”
I closed my eyes and then I could feel my loss as he walked away from me. All the warmth that usually radiated from him dissolved, leaving only cold air in his wake. It was then that the tears decided to fall. They were aggressive and ugly, and no matter how hard they fell, I didn’t feel relief.
The front door opened and I knew he was leaving. I couldn’t just let him walk out of my life thinking I hated him. I didn’t. I loved him and I felt anxiety when I thought about being without him.
Before he could shut the door behind him, I ran down the short hallway to the living room.
“Zeke!” I called out.
He stopped and cracked the door back open to see me. His brows pinched down in confusion and he bit nervously at his lip ring.
“Yeah?”
His voice sounded flat. Not hopeful. Not happy, just flat. As if I’d sucked him dry of every ounce of emotion. In some ways, I did. I’d turned him inside out and he’d done the same to me. He was right; we were lethal, and if we continued this, one of us wouldn’t make it out alive.
My tongue felt thick. Tears clogged the back of my throat and threatened to choke me every time I opened my mouth to speak. I swallowed the clog and it filled my stomach with ache.
“I love you, too. Always.”
His dark eyes watered, but he understood we were done just like I understood. He nodded his head, attempted to smile, and then he turned and shut the door behind him.
Rock bottom was a fucked-up place to be. I’d been there before, though, and I was sure to visit at least a dozen more times before I died. That still didn’t mean it was a vacation. It was hell.
I’d never put my hands on a woman in my life. There was only one incident at The Pit where I had to hold a woman down to keep her from hitting me in the middle of a bar fight, but that was the extent of it. Of course, I’m not sure if that one counts since she was more man than me.
It crushed me to know I’d physically hurt the woman I loved. It was as if I’d been stripped raw and someone poured alcohol all over me. Every part of me, inside and out, stung. I hurt everywhere, and years of watching my father hit my mother slammed into me and paralyzed my soul.
I just stood there and watched as Snowflake and Hope ran from the scene and out the door. As badly as I wanted to run out and stop her, I couldn’t. The shock had immobilized me. It wasn’t until minutes later that I came back to myself and ran toward the exit to check on her.
By the time I got outside, she was pulling away. Her face was covered in napkins and I could see the pain in her eyes when she looked back at me. I wanted to run alongside the car and make it all better, but what was done was done and there was nothing I could do to go back in time and fix it.
Looking down at my messy shirt, her bloody handprint was like a punch to the back of my head. I didn’t even bother pulling the shirt over my head. I ripped it off my body as quickly as possible. I needed her blood away from my skin. It was like poison, and I could feel myself getting sick knowing it was on me.
Things were really fucked up this time. What we had was over. It had to be over or we’d terminate all the good that was left in ourselves. Even though I’d probably bleed out without her holding me together, I had to let her go. She was obviously ready to move on with the guy I kept seeing her with, and I couldn’t take feeling crazy anymore.
Still, I needed to know she was okay. I’d never forgive myself for hurting Patience, even if it was an accident. No matter what she did to me, she didn’t deserve that. No woman deserved to be hurt, even if she’d managed to rip out my heart and tear it to pieces.
When I got back to the apartment, I packed all my stuff and got everything ready to leave. I needed to see her once more. I had to see that she was okay and then I could fly away into the West and hopefully never look back.
I played her song over and over again and watched the clock. My phone was sitting on the bedside table next to me since I hoped she’d at least text me back or call and let me know she was okay, but it never made any noise.
When I looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, I felt relief and devastation all at once. Relief that she was okay after I’d spent the night worried about her, but the bruising on her face did me in. I could barely breathe seeing what I’d done to her. I felt like a madman. I wanted to tear up everything in the apartment, but all I could do was crumble into a big heaping pile of fuck-up on the bedroom floor at her feet.
It seemed I’d done a lot of that lately. I’d begged and cried. I’d fought and fought for what I wanted, but sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes you just have to give in and lick your wounds. That or do so much drugs that you don’t feel your wounds anymore.
The plane ride back to California was awful. I tried not to think about the last few weeks, but I was already starting to miss Patience. I refused to be that dumbass that got cheated on over and over again but stayed because he was so in love. I loved her. I’d do anything for her, except share her. Maybe that made me selfish, but I didn’t give a fuck.
I was back at the condo, alone with my mind and memories for a week, when the guys finally showed up. I’d never been so happy to see those assholes. They were just as fucked up as me, but they were honest and they had my back no matter what.
The first thing we did was sit and get as high as we could. I could remember a time when drugs, alcohol, and partying were all my life revolved around. It wasn’t that way anymore, but it was still nice to just lay back with my boys and forget about everything.
“So how did it work out with the new chick?” I asked, referring to my replacement guitarist.
I took another hit, held it in my lungs, and exhaled. A ripple of calm spread through my body and ended at my toes.
“Constance is good people. She was alright to work with and would bust our balls when we needed to be straightened out,” Finn said. “Her and Tiny had words a few times. She played the fuck out of that guitar, though.”
“That’s good. Did I miss anything?”
“Not really. It was just a bunch of crazy bitches trying to jump our shit, like usual.” He took a swig from his beer.
“He’s just pissed because he didn’t get laid as much as me.” Chet laughed.
“Fuck you, man. You keep on going around blowing your hot cock snot everywhere if you want. You’re going to fuck up and get some chick pregnant. Then you’ll really be screwed.” Finn chuckled.
“Whatever. I wrap my shit up tight.”
I remained silent through most of their talk. It wasn’t until later when I was about to crash that Finn came in and checked on me.
“You look like you’re in the depths of despair, dude. Whatever happened while we were gone, I hope that shit gets better. You know where I am if you want to talk.”
I appreciated him for not prying. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to simmer in my sadness until I was too angry to give a shit anymore. I wanted to wallow in my regrets and replay certain moments in my head over and over again until the only thing that would make it better was a cold beer or a hot woman.
Except that never happened. Every day I woke up thinking that day was the day, but I never got so angry that I didn’t care and I never got so fucked up that I wanted to relieve myself with a drink or a quick screw. It just got worse and worse, and I could feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into depression.
I separated myself from the boys, even after I was released from the physical therapist and went to work on the second album. I came in, I did the job, but I was never really present. I didn’t joke around with the guys much anymore; I didn’t even really join in when they were smoking and drinking. I’d hit the tip once or twice and then I’d go hide out in my room.
If the guys noticed I was being weird, they didn’t say anything. I think they knew just by the fact that Patience was nowhere to be fo
und and I wasn’t walking around with my phone in hand that something was up between us. I wanted to text her and check on her. I wanted to know she was okay, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was weird; things were done yet still so unresolved.
After recording the third song on our new album, I skipped the ride back to the condo with the guys and decided to walk home. I needed the time away from everything to just breathe. When I was in the car, I felt like I was suffocating. Hell, when I was outdoors, I felt a certain lack of oxygen.
I knew what I needed to feel better, but going back for Snowflake wasn’t an option. I could never trust her again. She’d never admitted to cheating with the fucker that I later found out was named Phillip. At least if she would have admitted to it, I could’ve had some form of closure.
On the walk home, I passed a jewelry store and right in the front window was a necklace with a snowflake charm. It reminded me of the last night we were together. I remembered thinking how badly she needed a necklace to wear with her dress. I wished I’d given her something to remind her of me. I had so many reminders of her, and I wanted her to have the same.
Even though I doubted I’d ever see Patience again, I went inside and bought the expensive necklace. I’d keep it for myself as a memento of the times we had together, as a reminder that sometimes, even when things are dark and fucked up beyond belief, there’s light. Even if it was for a brief time in my life, Patience had been that light.
Not long after buying the necklace, Sydney sent me a text message asking if I was okay. She said she and Aunt Sarah were worried about me. Parts of me hoped Patience had put her up to texting me, but it was nice to feel cared about anyway. I liked Sydney and Sarah, and for a brief moment, I even considered how nice it would be when they became my family as well.
At the three-week mark, when things should’ve been getting easier, I was still all fucked up. I could remember how crazy I was for the months we were apart after the death of her father, and this time was way worse. At least before I lost myself in the music, but even my music wasn’t curing me.
We’d just finished recording for the day when my phone started to ring. I set down my guitar and answered.
“Zeke?”
The voice wasn’t familiar.
“That’s me. Who’s this?” I lifted my bottle of water and sucked it down.
“This is Sarah, Patience’s aunt. Do you have a minute to talk?” She sounded off.
She was usually so outspoken and happy. I could hear the tension in her voice through the phone, and that tension made its way into my stomach.
“Yeah, of course I have time. Is everything okay? Are Patience and Sydney okay?” I knew when I asked that one of them wasn’t.
The guys were mouthing something to me, and I just waved them away. I stepped out of the recording room and into the lobby. Falling into a big chair outside the door, I braced myself on the arms, waiting for the bad news I knew was coming.
“It’s Patience. She’s in the hospital.”
Her words were simple and to the point, but they took a minute to make their way through the fog in my brain. When they finally reached their destination and I fully understood what she’d just said to me, the floor beneath my feet went away and I was falling. At least that’s how I felt.
Patience needed me and I wasn’t there. Suddenly, every reason for us breaking up and me leaving didn’t seem so clear. None of it mattered when she needed me. Nothing mattered if she was hurt.
I jumped from the chair and ran outside. I hailed a cab before I spoke again.
“What happened?” I asked.
I jumped into the first yellow car to pull up. The driver looked back at me like I was crazy, then turned on the meter. I called out my address and shut out everything but Sarah. Her deep breathing filled the silence and her worry somehow worked itself across the country and into my heart.
“She overdosed. It was accidental, but still it happened. Apparently, she’s been taking an obscene amount of Xanax every day. A few weeks ago when she got hit in the face with the soccer ball and she went to the emergency room, the doctor gave her something for the pain. She mixed the two and her friend Hope found her in her apartment when she didn’t show up for a game.”
The moisture in my mouth was gone. Between that and the shock, it took me a minute to respond.
“Is she okay?” The words came out as a whisper as I struggled to push them past my lips.
“She’s okay, but I’m having her admitted. She’s a sick girl, Zeke. When you left, it only got worse. She finally admitted to medicating herself. She’s been having panic attacks all the time and she quit seeing her therapist. I really feel like this is for the best.” I could hear the tears in Sarah’s voice.
How could I have lived with her and not known all of this. I thought she was getting better. I thought she was moving past all that, but really, she was medicating herself. I hadn’t even known she was going to a therapist.
It hurt to know I was the “soccer ball” her aunt referred to. I was the reason she went to the emergency room. I was the reason she overdosed, and I wanted to shut down because of it, but shutting down wasn’t an option, not when Patience needed me.
She was a sick girl. Her father had made sure she would have issues to move past for the rest of her life, and even if we were just friends, I would help her. I’d put her before everything else in my life, since she was the biggest part of my heart, and I’d be there for her no matter what she did or didn’t do to me.
“I’m on my way,” I said before we hung up.
She filled me in on the hospital information, and I was packed and headed to the airport in the blink of an eye. I texted Finn and told him what was up, and an hour later I was in the sky.
Sarah picked me up from the airport and we went straight to the hospital. Patience had been moved to the psychiatric floor, and even though technically she hadn’t tried to kill herself, she was on watch.
Sarah let me go in to see her alone and I was thankful for that. So much needed to be cleared up; so much needed to be said. If for nothing, I felt like I owed Patience an apology. Of all the people in her life, I should’ve known what she was going through. I should’ve been the one she ran to, but she didn’t. I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t come to me, but I had no other choice but to believe it was because of something I did wrong.
I was put in a tiny meeting room, sitting in one of the most uncomfortable chairs I’d ever sat in, to wait. When the door opened, I stood, but my knees felt weak when she entered. Her hair was limp and dull, her eyes were watery and lifeless, and her face was branded with what looked like a permanent frown.
The generic grey pants and white T-shirt she wore washed her out even more. She looked almost nothing like the beautiful girl I’d fallen in love with. Her eyes reached mine, but their usual light never came. She just stared back at me in silence.
The nurse who brought her in smiled awkwardly at me before she quietly shut the door behind her. It was just Patience and me standing in the stillness of a practically empty room.
“Are you okay?” It was the only thing I could think to ask.
“I think so.”
Her voice sounded tiny and as fragile as she looked. I wanted to hold her to me and take it all away. I wanted to take her away from everything and plant her in the California sun and pray she’d grow back into the girl she used to be.
“Good.” I swallowed hard. “You should’ve come to me. I could’ve helped.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she shrugged a little and I saw the regret on her face.
“I didn’t even know you were going to a therapist. I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me these things. Of all the people in the world who could understand drugs and life issues, I would’ve understood. I didn’t even know you had a prescription for Xanax.”
It was a generic conversation, but I was too afraid to push, and she was obviously not in the mood to talk.
“I didn’
t have a prescription,” she whispered.
She pushed back a strand of dull blond hair and closed her eyes in embarrassment.
“Then where did you get them?”
None of this made any sense to me. I felt as if I’d lived with a stranger all the time I was in Florida. Patience knew me better than anyone, yet I obviously knew nothing about her. It hurt.
“I bought them from Phillip.” She opened her eyes and a tiny tear rolled down her cheek.
And then everything made sense. She wasn’t fucking that dude. They weren’t meeting behind closed doors for secret touches and kisses. He was her dealer. How could I have been so blind? How could I, of all people, not realize what was going on right under my nose?
“You mean you didn’t…?” I couldn’t even say the words. The thought of anyone else touching her made me sick.
“No.” I barely heard the word.
“You should’ve told me. I still would’ve kicked his ass for selling to you, but you should’ve told me.”
There was so much more I wanted to say, but I was full of mixed emotions. I was relieved to find out she wasn’t cheating on me, but I was hurt that she was still dishonest with me about the drugs. I thought we were closer than that.
She looked up at me and desperation filled her eyes. She looked weak and out of sorts, and it took everything in me not to kidnap her and take her away from the boring white walls and intrusive hospital smells.
“I wanted to be perfect for you,” she said as another tear fell. “You deserve someone perfect. I didn’t want you to know I was just another screwed-up girl. I was scared to lose you.”
I was out of my chair and on my knees in front of her. Wiping away the tear that was working its way down her face, I captured her cheeks in my hands and forced her to look at me. I wanted to see her eyes. I needed to see that the girl I loved was still in there somewhere.
“But you are perfect, snowflake. It doesn’t matter what you go through or what you’re doing, you’ll always be perfect to me because I’m in love with you and when you love someone, nothing else matters.”
Get Rocked Page 39