Perfecting Patience

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 bowl 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.