Perfecting Patience

Page 48

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 found 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.