Playing Patience

Like a robot I reached up and pulled at the back of her hair. She seemed like the kind that would like that and I got the response I expected. She sped up, the mattress moaning against my hips as she pressed me deeper into its springs. I worked my hands down her back and gripped her ass. Maybe if I pressed her down harder and she moved faster something would happen and I wouldn’t have to fake an orgasm. I’d never had to do that before and somehow it made me feel like less of a man.

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention and the world around me paused as my eyes connected with Patience. For a brief second I thought maybe my mind had conjured her up as a sort of reward for a possible orgasm, but the single tear that cut a path down her cheek let me know she was all real.

The look in her eyes burnt me all over. It effectively made me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world. The hurt she felt was evident and immediately it broke my heart and pissed me off at the same time. Who knew hurting someone I cared about would kill the tiny, living pieces inside? Who knew caring about someone would make me so angry?

I wanted to push Stephanie away and go to her. I wanted to hold her and tell her how sorry I was that she had to see this. I wanted to tell her I was sorry for being me, for not being enough for her, because deep down it’s all I ever wanted. I wanted to be good enough and since I had no way of ever becoming even close to good enough, here I was sabotaging any decent part of me.

Her name fell from my lips and then she apologized. Why the hell was she apologizing? She didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one in the wrong; I was the one that needed a good swift kick in the balls. I was nothing and there she was hurting over me, and then she was gone.

I knew in the back of my head that those tear-filled eyes were going to be the last thing I ever saw of Patience. For years to come, I’d have nightmares about those eyes. I’d lie awake in my bed at night and replay that moment over and over again in my head. It was the moment I broke her, the moment I destroyed myself.

I removed Stephanie from my lap and pulled my jeans up.

“Get out,” I said calmly.

“What the fuck, Zeke?” She stood there, naked and furious. “Is this because of that little blond bitch?”

I glared over at her.

“You heard me… Get out.”

She dressed quickly with a pissed-off look on her face. Snatching up her shoes and keys, she flew down the hallway of my trailer and slammed the front door.

I buttoned my jeans and grabbed my wallet and keys, then made my way into the kitchen for a beer. I pulled open the fridge and popped the top on a cold one. Turning toward the living room, I threw back my head and took a large swig. That’s when my eyes landed on the guitar case sitting on my couch.

I set the beer on the counter and cautiously walked to the couch. I stood above the guitar, finding it hard to open the case and look inside. I think part of me knew that inside was something that would be the equivalent of a kick in the balls. Leaning over, I ran my hand over the letter Z embroidered into the top of the case in bright red. I popped the locks on the side and flipped the lid open.

Inside was a black, 1967 Fender, and while that was enough to make me drop to my knees in front of my couch, it was the bits and pieces of my old guitar that did the trick. The minute I saw the piece with my mother’s signature, tears filled my eyes and for the first time in a very long time, I let them fall.

I swiped angrily at my eyes and shut the case. Snatching it up, I took it and the rest of my stuff to my car, setting the case up front with me. Bits of rock and dust flew from my back tires as I peeled out of my dad’s yard. I texted her two times on the way to her house, but she never responded.

I didn’t remember the ride across town. It was as if I’d driven to the ritzy side on auto pilot. I was stuck inside my head and in a rush to get to Patience—to tell her I was sorry and beg for her forgiveness. I wasn’t good enough for her and I still wouldn’t drag her down to my level, but knowing she was walking around with a broken heart because of me didn’t sit well. Especially considering what she’d given me.

Other than my guitar, she’d given me hope in a hopeless place. She’d given me light when I’d been stuck in the dark so long. She’d done so much for me, and how did I repay her? By hurting her, ripping her heart out and taking a bite out of it. I was the lowest of low.

When I got to her driveway, I cut my loud engine. I climbed out of my car and made my way across the freshly manicured lawn to the front door. Standing at the front door of the governor’s mansion felt wrong, but at that point I hadn’t even thought about the possibility of running into him. Not until he opened the door and peered at me with those familiar hateful stare did I even think about him at all. He leaned his body against the doorframe and crossed his arms.