“I know broken people when I see them.” She looked away and focused on the passing trees.
I assumed this was the part where she was going to try to psychoanalyze and then fix me. A lot of women had tried, but none ever succeeded. Some of those women were hardcore and understood what it was to have nothing and live a shitty life. The princess in the passenger seat knew nothing of those things.
“Pfft. You know nothing about being broken,” I snapped.
“Yeah, I guess not.” She looked down and shook her head.
Suddenly, the memory of the way her dad treated her and the fact that she had an old, healing bruise across her cheek popped into my head. I felt like shit the minute I thought about it. Who’s to say this girl didn’t get her ass kicked once a week like me?
I knew right away when we made it to her side of town. The trees, broken-down buildings, and trailers were replaced with medium-sized brick houses and then massive houses surrounded by iron fences and perfectly manicured lawns.
She directed me where to go and I turned left or right when she told me to. That was the extent of the conversation for the rest of the ride. When I pulled up to her house, I was taken aback by how huge it was. Why did these people need such big-ass houses? It was a huge, white, two-story house with big columns and about twenty-five windows just on the front. There was a Jaguar parked in the driveway and a plush, green lawn. The sprinklers popped up and water began to squirt all over.
My car looked like a heap of trash sitting in the front of her house and part of me wanted to ram my big rust bucket into that expensive-ass Jag.
She turned toward me and the side of her mouth tilted into a tiny half smile.
“Thanks for the ride. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” I didn’t smile back.
She continued to sit there like she was waiting for something.
“Are you waiting for a goodnight kiss, snowflake? Because you’re not going to get one.” I leaned over her and popped open the door.
Her scent invaded my senses and I felt her warm breath against the side of my face as I leaned across her. For a brief moment, I contemplated a tiny kiss. Mostly because I hadn’t kissed a girl since I was fourteen—kissing was too personal—but also because her lips looked so sweet and juicy that they made me wonder what it would feel like to kiss her.
She cut her eyes at me and sighed and then she jumped out of my car like it was on fire while she muttered something that sounded like “asshole.” I laughed as she slammed my door and turned toward her house. I waited for a few seconds and then sped off. The quicker I got back to my stomping grounds, the better.
Eight
Patience
I cursed Megan’s car the entire ride to my house. Go figure her alternator would go out the minute I needed her to get me. And go figure I’d get stuck riding with someone who very obviously despised me for some unknown reason.
I suffered through another uncomfortable ride as I called out directions. When he pulled up to my house, the first thing I noticed was my dad standing in his office window, looking down at me. I knew in that moment I was going to have a bad night and I contemplated having him drive off and drop me off at Megan’s house. Had it not been for the fact that my baby sister was stuck in that house, I would have.
I looked over at him and attempted to smile through my fear. His eyes looked even darker in the night. His piercings kept catching the light and drawing my attention to his mouth and eyes. I thought of a way to kill time. I never thought I’d ever feel this way, but the last thing I wanted to do was get out of Zeke’s old, ragged-out car. He wasn’t safe, but he was safer than what waited for me inside that huge house full of lies and death.
“Thanks for the ride. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
I was hoping he would say something about the Boy’s Club or his community service. I was hoping he’d say anything to start some kind of conversation. I’d even settle for a sarcastic asshole response. Instead, he barely responded.
“Maybe,” he said with a straight face.
He wanted me to get out of his car. I could tell he wanted to be rid of me and out of this fancy smancy neighborhood. I couldn’t blame him. I wanted the same thing.
“Are you waiting for a goodnight kiss, snowflake? Because you’re not going to get one,” he said.
He leaned into my lap and my entire body tensed up. I thought for sure he was about to do something crazy, but instead, he popped open my door and leaned back. His warm breath caught the side of my cheek on his way up. It was minty, which was surprising to me. I expected him to smell like weed or something equally appalling.
I knew my time was up and I had to face the music. My dad had seen me pull up in Zeke’s hunk of junk and he would know the car didn’t belong to anyone he was okay with me spending time with. A swarm of irrational anger rang through me and I jumped out of the car. Why couldn’t he just be social for once? I just needed a reason to not go inside. Was that too much to ask?
“Asshole,” I muttered as I slammed his door.
I heard his laughter as he drove away.
Once inside, I was met with Sydney who was making herself a bowl of ice cream in the kitchen.
“Hey, you. How was practice?” she asked around a spoonful of cookie dough ice cream.
“Good. We have a game Saturday against Fort Dorchester. I’m going to go get a shower. I’ll come tuck you in, okay?” I called out as I made my way to the stairs.
The quicker I got my shower, the quicker I could go see my mom and the quicker I could go to bed.
I stood under the steaming water and let the heat take the tension out of my tight muscles. I’m not sure how long I stood that way until finally my skin started to feel numb. After I dried off, I cleared the foggy mirror and checked my bruise. It was looking much better, but I was sure Zeke knew how I’d gotten it. It was strange that someone who knew nothing about me knew more about the inner workings of my home life than my best friend. I guess it was a good thing Zeke was so uninvolved with other people. Otherwise, he might be tempted to tell everyone the governor was an abusive asshole.
I’d rather him think I got slapped around. I’d never want anyone to know the kind of actual abuse I went through. It was embarrassing for me and I understood how disgusting my situation was.
When I got to my mom’s room, she looked well. For once she had some color to her cheeks and her smile was an actual smile, versus the fake thing she gave Syd and me so we wouldn’t worry. I crawled up in bed with her and she brushed my wet hair while I told her about my day. I left out the fact that I’d spent an hour of my afternoon at a shitty gymnasium full of juvenile delinquents and one certifiable asshole.
“I wish I could make it to your soccer games,” she said sadly after I told her about practice.
“You’re there, Mom.” I smiled back at her and her eyes filled with tears before she continued to detangle my mass of hair.
It wasn’t long until we were joined by Sydney. We sat and watched TV until both Mom and Sydney fell asleep. I didn’t bother waking Syd. If she was sleeping next to Mom, then she was safe for the night and I could attempt to get some sleep. I had yet to see my dad and I knew as I crept down the hallway on padded feet it wouldn’t be much longer before he came and said his peace or did something else.
I passed my mom’s nurse, Patricia, on the way to my room and she smiled at me and mentioned how Mom had a great day. Once I saw her disappear into Mom’s dark room, I knew I was on my own.
I closed my bedroom door behind me and slid under my blanket. I rolled over onto my side and stuck my arm under my pillow for support. It was then that I saw my dad sitting in the chair by my window, looking back at me. What kind of crazy person sat in a dark room and waited? A predator, that’s what kind.
“Who dropped you off?” he asked calmly.
I knew the minute I said Zeke’s name that calm exterior would crack.
I swallowed hard and sat up on m
y elbow. “Zeke Mitchell.”
I could have lied, but somehow I knew he already knew the answer to his question. Lying would have made it worse, so instead, I was honest.
It was dark in the room so I couldn’t see his reaction, but I’m sure it wasn’t good.
“Why do you constantly ignore my rules, Patience? Where did your mother and I go wrong?”
He sighed into the dark room when I didn’t answer his question. I knew it was a rhetorical question. Anything I said at this point was going to piss him off even worse.
“You used to be such a good girl, but not so much anymore. I’m not very happy with this change.” He stood and adjusted his robe.
I waited with bated breath for him to untie his robe and come to my bed, but instead, he walked across my room and opened my bedroom door. The light from the hallway spilled into my room and landed on his face. I could see his flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes and I knew then he’d been drinking his expensive scotch. I loved that damn bottle of scotch. Whenever he drank he got tired, and once he fell asleep he was out for the night. It was beginning to look like I definitely would be getting some rest tonight.
He turned to leave my room, but suddenly turned back toward me.
“Stay away from that boy, Patience. I mean it. Stay away from him and that girl Megan. You have a car. I suggest you use it. I better not catch you around them again. Do you understand?”
He didn’t even wait for my answer. My room went dark again as he shut my door. I heard his footsteps go down the hall to his office and then I heard his office door open and close. The office couch was where he slept most nights, so I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about him again. I closed my eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.
The next day I rode the bus to school. That was something I hadn’t done… ever, now that I think about it. Megan’s car was being worked on anyway, and I’d walk before I drove my car or asked my dad for a ride.
The school day went by pretty fast and before I knew it, I was on the field practicing. I was sidetracked and missed a few goals, prompting my coach to lay into me about the importance of practicing and getting a good night’s sleep. I thought that was funny considering the night before I actually slept pretty damn good.
I hitched a ride with my teammate, Casey, and had her drop me off at the Boy’s Club for my hour of volunteering. I knew I’d have to call my dad to get me and I remembered I wasn’t supposed to go around Zeke, but I’d made a commitment and I meant to follow through. If I had to jog all the way home I would.
Casey drove like an eighty-year-old woman and by the time I made it the Boy’s Club I was already twenty minutes late. When I walked in, I was met once again with the loud echoes of the boys wilding out around the gym. I narrowly missed a basketball to the face as I made my way across the gym to my group and Zeke.
My group wasn’t where they were supposed to be and I scanned the room until I found them. Tucked away in the corner behind the bleachers, Zeke was sitting in one of the small plastic chairs with his back to me. He was playing a guitar as the three boys sat with their eyes glued to him. The closer I got, the clearer I could hear what he played. It sounded pure, untainted by the rest of his band. I stopped in my tracks and listened as he played a song that sounded familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew I’d heard it before. Afraid to interrupt, I stood there and listened. It was beautiful.
It wasn’t the guitar that I’d seen him play before and I wondered where it came from. It was plain, beige, and looked too small for him, but he still played it perfectly.
“Can you teach me how to play?” the quiet boy, Alex, asked.
I’d never heard him talk until now. His eyes were lit up and he looked so involved in Zeke’s playing. It was such a special moment, but I knew Zeke would snap the kids head off and ruin it. Instead, he stopped playing and shocked me.
“Well, that song is kind of hard, but how about I show you how to play something easier. If you like it, I’ll teach something harder. Deal?”
Alex practically clapped his hands like an excited schoolgirl, then quieted down as Zeke started to pick an easy tune for the boys to listen to. It was a slow rendition of “Smoke on the Water” as he picked each chord slowly for the boy to learn. He was saying what each chord was and showing the boy how to place his fingers on the guitar. Then he handed Alex the guitar.
“Okay, you hold it like this,” he said as he positioned the boy’s hands properly.
Then I watched as he very patiently helped Alex pick each part of the chorus. When he was done, he looked up at Zeke like he was a god. It was so adorable.
“Good job, kid,” Zeke said as he ruffled Alex’s hair. “Now, see if you can do it by yourself.”
He praised Alex when he hit the right chords, then softly chuckled and helped him when he didn’t. It was like watching a completely different person and somehow I knew I was seeing the real Zeke.
I reached down to scratch my leg and it brought attention to me. Right in front of my face, Zeke turned into the asshole. His back went stiff and his eyes pinched at the corners.
“Okay, that’s enough for today. Y’all go play,” he said in a stern voice.
Alex smiled up at him, thanked him, and then ran off with the other boys. I heard him say something about being a rock star as he passed me.
“If there’s a guitar in a five-mile radius you find it, huh?” I asked as I sat beside him.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He didn’t look up at me as he picked at it and tuned it.
“Where’d you get that one?”
“Some kid brought it in and left it on the bleachers,” he answered.
“You’re really good with that thing.” I pointed at the guitar.
He grinned up at me. “I’m really good with a lot of things.”
Somehow I knew the flirty, sexual innuendo side of Zeke was a front. I’m not sure how I knew it, but I just did.
“You don’t have to do that with me, you know?” I wasn’t sure if I was headed in the right direction, but I felt like I should make it clear that I wasn’t judgmental.
“Do what?” His brows turned down in confusion.
“Pretend. I saw you with Alex. You’re a nice guy, Zeke. I don’t know why you insist on playing the asshole.”
“I don’t pretend anything. What you see is what you get.” He glared at me.
“If you say so.” I smiled at him and shook my head. There was no way in hell I’d let him intimidate me with those deep eyes.
It was too late. I’d been given a peek into an alternate Zeke universe, and nothing he could tell me would convince me otherwise. He was nice guy who played the part of the asshole.
I took the guitar from him and ran my thumb across the strings. It made an awful noise and I cringed.
“Well, I suck at the guitar.” I giggled.
He didn’t laugh. He just stared back at me like he was pissed off about something. Then out of nowhere he came over and adjusted the guitar in my arms.
“You’re holding it wrong,” he said.
I jerked when he touched my hand to move it down in the right position. I wasn’t sure if he noticed how uncomfortable it made me to be touched, but if he did, he didn’t mention it.
“There. Does that feel more comfortable?” he asked.
It did and I looked up at him and nodded. He slung his head to the side and shifted his overly long bangs out of his face. I loved when he did that.
“Put your finger here,” he instructed.
Again, he reached down and touched my fingers as he put them in position. His hands were rough and warm. And even though I’d had the initial jerk, the more he touched my fingers, the less uncomfortable it became. This was a revelation for me, since from the time my dad started coming in my room, I’d rarely let anyone but my mom and Sydney touch me.
“Now, strum it,” he said.
I did and it sounded so much better.
He reached down again and rearranged my fingers again
st the strings. I felt a soft pull in my lower stomach as he softly moved my index finger and pressed it down.
“Again.” He was closer now and still I wasn’t bothered by his closeness.
I ran my thumb across the strings again, and again it sounded good. This continued, him moving my fingers and telling me to strum the strings until finally I could hear the song I was playing. It was the same song he’d been playing when I walked in. Except my version was a slower, crappier version.
“I know this song,” I said. “What is it?”
Finally, he grinned down at me and shifted his bangs again. His lip piercing captured my attention and I had to stop myself from looking at his mouth. He must have caught me looking because his grin got bigger. He leaned in closer; his breath shifted the hair around my ear.
“Patience.” The way he said my name sent a wave of heat down my spine. “By Guns and Roses… It’s your anthem.”
I felt my cheeks heat up.
“You were playing it when I came in,” I said as I fiddled with the guitar again. Anything I could do to keep my eyes away from his.
It was starting to make me uncomfortable how comfortable I was with him. He was a stranger for crying out loud and a mean one at that. I should be deathly afraid of this dude, but instead, I felt safe around him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d saved me twice now or maybe we had some freaky cosmic connection. All I knew was being around him was nice. I didn’t have to put up any fronts or play the governor’s daughter. I didn’t have to pretend to give a shit about fashion or be the best soccer player on the field. I could just sit and be me. I didn’t have to pretend to be the Patience that everyone else thought I was because he didn’t give a shit either way.
“I was.” His eyes were darker.
He really knew how to pull off that dark and dangerous look.
“Do you like playing that song?” I asked casually as I handed him the guitar.
He picked at the strings a bit and then shrugged. “Not really.”
“Then why were you?” I adjusted my tank top and sat back in my chair.
Playing Patience Page 8