Perfecting Patience

After I was cleaned up from the game, I met up with Megan. We stopped by my mother’s grave. Megan stayed in the car while I sat next to my mother’s headstone and talked to her as if she were there with me.

It was the first time I’d visited since we buried her and it was hard. I cried and explained the situation while wishing she were still there with me. She’d have excellent advice. I missed our talks and regretted the fact that I didn’t open up to her. The fact that I didn’t get to say good-bye still stung, but not as bad as it had when it first happened.

I left purple roses on her grave, her favorite. After a while, I pulled myself off the grass by her headstone, told her I loved her and missed her, and made my way back to Megan’s car.

Megan said nothing when I got into the car with red eyes, and we didn’t talk until we pulled in the restaurant parking lot for dinner.

She looked different. Her hair had grown out since the last time I saw her and she lost the multi-colored strands and was going all natural on me. The honey brown suited her nicely.

She was already in her third semester at the University of South Carolina and looked to be doing pretty well for herself. It was as if we’d gone off and switched positions. I was a mess and she looked like she had her shit together, but I knew better than anyone that it was easy to put on an act.

It was like old times. Things seemed to be going well for her and I was happy to see her smile, but once I brought up Zeke and the rest of the boys, there was a tiny crack in her façade.

“It’s good that you and Zeke are doing this. I think y’all are good for each other. So Chet’s doing well?” She nervously played with her straw.

It took a lot for her to ask about him.

“He seems to be. When’s the last time you talked to him?” I asked.

She took a draw from her sweet tea. “Right before they left,” she said sadly.

I tried to stop my jaw from dropping, but I didn’t catch it in time. “You mean he hasn’t contacted you at all?”

She shook her head no and her curling-ironed curls fell a little.

“I’m so sorry, Megan. Here I am talking about meeting up with Zeke and things getting better between us and you’re still pining over Chet.”

I felt like shit officially. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to still be hoping to hear from or see Zeke.

“Oh what-the-hell-ever, I’m not pining over his punk ass. I was just asking how he was doing. Honestly, I couldn’t care less.” She called the waitress over and ordered a piece of cake.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Megs. Remember, I know all about pretending.”

We spent the rest of dinner talking about Chet and how much she missed him. She told me about a nice guy she was kind of seeing up in Columbia. He was in her algebra class, but she couldn’t get past Chet and his silly ways. She even talked me into texting Zeke and seeing if he could talk Chet into calling her. I felt awful for her.

Somehow, we ended up at The Pit—something about her needing to be somewhere that reminded her of Chet, but I was convinced she just wanted to choke down some drinks. I agreed. After panicking before my game, missing Zeke, and going to my mother’s grave, I was in need of something to drink myself.

I ordered a beer at the bar and turned and listened to the band. The place looked exactly the same and it reminded me of when I first met Zeke. He was a total asshole then and it was hard to believe the sweet guy that kissed me through the phone every night was the same guy that was a complete prick all those months ago.

I made sure the bartender gave us both unopened drinks, and Megan and I spent the rest of our night drowning ourselves in entirely too much alcohol and dancing to a band that wasn’t even close to being as good as Blow Hole.

It was so loud that I’d missed all the phone calls from Zeke calling to tell me goodnight. It wasn’t until I followed Megan into the bathroom that I caught them. I dialed his number back and waited for him to answer.

“Where have you been, babe? I was worried when you didn’t answer,” he said into the phone.

“I’m fine I promise!” I yelled.

The music from outside the bathroom was still making its way past the grimy tiles that covered the walls. I plugged my ear so I could hear him speak.

“What’s all that noise? Where are you?”

“I’m with Megan at The Pit. There’s some crappy band on stage. They’re nothing compared to Blow Hole.” My loud voice echoed off of the bathroom walls, but I didn’t care.

My phone decided at that exact moment to lose signal. I could hear broken pieces of what he said, but nothing made any sense. Finally the call was dropped and no matter how many times I tried to call him back, I couldn’t.