Playing Patience (21 page)

The logical side of me knew I was being irrational as I fought to get away from him, but the sick parts of me knew there was no good in what we’d just done. A panic I’d never experienced before swept over me and I went into a full anxiety attack. I wasn’t so much trying to get away from Zeke as I was just trying to get out of the car. I needed air. I needed to breathe and the car was too small and he was too close.

Once I was free of the car, I ran straight into the one place I never wanted to be again, the arms of my father. His eyes beat into me and his grip was so tight I was sure he’d snap my arms in half. At that point, all I wanted to do was climb back into Zeke’s car and disappear, but there was no running, especially not when I saw the police officers standing behind my dad.

My eyes found Zeke’s and something passed between us. I needed help and I wanted to beg him to save me, but that couldn’t happen. I could never ask for his help. Asking for his help would require revealing truths, and I could never do that.

“Let her go,” Zeke said. His voice held a hint of a threat.

My dad’s fingers tightened and I knew it was his way of saying I’d better stay put. I knew my dad was powerful and I also knew he could destroy what little bit Zeke had. Just as Zeke had promised to protect me, I’d do the same for him, so I stood there. As badly as I wanted to run back to him, I didn’t.

“Zeke Mitchell, haven’t you learned your lesson yet, son? I could have these nice officers arrest you, since I’m sure you have drugs in your car, but I won’t do that. All I ask is that you get in your car and go home. Patience is going home, too, and whatever this is between y’all needs to stop. Patience is leaving for college in a few months anyway.”

Zeke’s eyes met mine like he was searching for the truth. The truth was this was the first I’d heard of any college plans. I hadn’t even applied for any since I had no plans of leaving Sydney unattended. If anything, I’d jump on board a local technical college until Syd graduated.

Instead, I shrugged and gave him a tiny, crooked smile that said I was sorry. He didn’t buy it. His eyes told me he knew I was playing into my dad’s shit. So I plastered on the realest smile I could just for him.

“It’s okay, Zeke. Tell Megan I’ll text her later. I needed to get home anyway. I had fun. Thanks for the ride.”

He looked angry at my words and I knew it was because he felt dismissed by me, but I didn’t want him to get arrested again. He’d already been arrested twice thanks to me and there was no way in hell I was going to let that happen again.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said with determination.

And in that moment I knew I had to be like Zeke. I had to lie about my feelings and push him away. I cut my eyes at him and then rolled them. Then I said something that made my stomach turn.

“Look, it was fun, but now it’s time you go back to your shitty little trailer park. I wanted to see if what they said about you was true, and now that I see it isn’t, I’m done messing around with you.”

I had indeed hit my mark. The crushed look in his eyes told me it was a direct hit. I didn’t wait around for him to respond. I turned away and got in the passenger’s seat of my dad’s car. Zeke stood there in shock, staring back at my father, until finally he turned, got in his car, and drove away.

The window was cracked and I could hear my dad talking to the police officers. He was thanking them for finding me and thanking them for their service. He was playing the role of good politician so if the stories circulated about his delinquent daughter he could play it up as the good guy who was trying to help his child.

I knew the way these things worked. I wasn’t an idiot to that side of life. The cops seemed to fall into the palm of his hand just like everyone else did. It wasn’t long until he joined me in the car and another silent ride home commenced.

It was nearly dawn before I was free of my dad. I stood in the hot shower and tried to wash his punishment away. It was the worse one yet, but I made it through thinking about all the wonderful things Zeke said to me in his car.

The next day, I spent most of my time with my mom. She looked good and was actually sitting up in bed watching TV, versus being completely out of it.

“So, are you going to tell me who he is?” she asked as I painted her thin nails with a bright-pink polish.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

She smiled at me and shook her head.

“I wasn’t always a sick woman, you know. I remember what it was like to be young and in love. Don’t tell your father this, but I was in love before him. His name was Robert and he was wonderful. I fell in love with him almost instantly.” She had a happy, dreamy look that made me smile.

“So what happened?” I asked.

“Well, my father told me to stay away from him. He said he wasn’t good enough. I guess you could say he was a bad boy.” She grinned. “But when it came to me, he was the sweetest guy in the world.”

I was shocked by how similar our stories were. Maybe that’s what made me comfortable enough to open up to her.

“His name’s Zeke,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, now we’re getting somewhere.” She patted my hand. “Tell me more about this Zeke. Is he a bad boy?”

And in that moment I’d never felt more close to my mother. I didn’t tell her the entire story of how I met Zeke because I didn’t want her to worry, but I did give her a few details.

“I’m so glad I got to see this,” she said sadly.

“See what?” I asked confused.

“The look on your face. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when one of my girls would fall in love and I’m grateful that I at least got to see it once.”

A tear slipped down her cheek and I couldn’t hold mine back no matter how hard I tried. I reached out and hugged my mother’s small frame to me and we cried together.

“Do me a favor, Patience,” she said to me as she captured my tear-stained face in her hands.

“Anything,” I croaked.

“If you love him, don’t let him go for anyone and tell him how you feel. I never got that chance with Robert, and I found out ten years ago that he died. I never got a chance to tell him how much I loved him. Don’t let that happen to you.”

An hour later, my mother slept and I was standing in the middle of the garage next to the dreaded gray Toyota with a set of never-before-touched keys. I took a ton of deep breaths and grasped the door handle five times before I was even able to get in the car.

The inside smelled brand new since technically it was a brand new car. My dad had forced me to drive it once when I first got it and I silently cried the entire time. Even now, climbing inside the car felt wrong. I felt like I was saying what my father did to me was okay. It wasn’t, but I needed to get to Zeke and I couldn’t keep calling Megan every time I needed to go somewhere.

I knew my way to Zeke’s house well. What I didn’t know was what the hell I was going to say to him once I got there. He’d probably never talk to me again and I couldn’t blame him if he didn’t, but I promised my mom I’d be honest about my feelings toward him and that’s what I was going to do.

I had the feeling that once I confessed my feelings to him he’d never talk to me again. Guys like Zeke ran from emotions, but deep down I could feel things getting out of hand. Soon, we’d never talk to each anymore anyway. This way I could get my feelings off my chest and have a peace that my mother never got.

When I pulled into Zeke’s muddy yard, I parked between his car and his dad’s tow truck. I cut my engine and got out. My shoes sank into the dirt as I cut across his small yard. The steps squeaked as I went up. I held my hand up and was about to knock when I heard a loud smashing noise on the inside.

Someone was yelling and then there was another loud noise. Without thinking I grabbed onto the knob and turned it. The door opened easily. Stepping inside the small, shabby space, the first thing I saw was Zeke on the floor with blood on his face. His father was standing over him with fist in the air ready to come down.

Without thinking, I jumped. I latched onto his dad’s arm and held on tight as he tried to shake me off. Once I released his arm, I jumped in front of Zeke and stared into his dad’s eyes.

He was a big man, much bigger than my own, and he smelled awful, like beer and cigarettes. His grease-covered shirt was too tight and his hair was disheveled like he’d just woken up.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

His hot breath struck my cheek and I accidently breathed it in. The smell made my stomach roll and I thought for sure I was going to throw up all over him. The room spun as fear smashed into me, but I’d known fear many times in my life and I wasn’t going to let it get the best of me, not when Zeke needed me.

“Don’t you dare hit him again!” I growled back at him.

My voice surprised me. How was I able to stand up to this stranger? How was I able to get past the deep-set fear that had taken over me? When faced with my dad I couldn’t do this, and I
knew
how far I could go with him. I didn’t know this man from a hole in the wall, yet I stood toe to toe with him and dared him to touch Zeke.

He towed over me and his chest bumped into my face. From behind me I could hear Zeke coming to and getting up from the floor.

“No, snowflake,” he said through a bloodied lip. “Just let it go and get out of here.”

Just like that, so many things made sense now—the bruises I’d seen on him, his anger toward everyone, his quickness to fight another human being. Just as I had my defense mechanisms, Zeke had his. He had shields just the way I did.

Our lives weren’t so different. Abuse was abuse no matter its form. One wasn’t easier than the other; either way it hurt. Either way it scarred the person on the receiving end. It scarred them and broke them into tiny pieces. Zeke and I were both broken parts of a whole person and no matter what piece you put where, it would fit, because we fit. I’d always known it. We fit.

“Mind your own fucking business, little girl,” his dad said.

And then he pushed at my chest with big, meaty fingers and knocked the breath out of me just that easily. Still, I stood my ground.

“You’re
not
going to touch him again!” I said with more strength than I felt.

The room spun when the back of his hand connected with my cheek. I landed face first into the foul, shag carpeting. There was a scuffle behind me, so I quickly turned onto my back and tried to get up. My mouth filled with blood and the room continued to spin. Zeke had to be one tough guy if he went through this all the time.

When my vision finally cleared, I looked up to see Zeke beating his father unmercifully. His dad didn’t give up and went back in with a punch to his cheek. The thin, paneling wall cracked when Zeke slammed into it, but he shook it off and kept punching his dad in the stomach and face over and over again.

His dad caught him in the stomach and I heard the air squeeze from his lungs as he fell to his knees.

“Come on, you little fucker.” His dad baited him. “Is that all you got? I bet your little bitch hits harder than you!”

Zeke crawled from the floor and went on the attack again. He threw punches so fast his hands started to blur. Once his dad fell to one knee, Zeke attacked harder and then out of nowhere, he reached over for the guitar his mother bought him and brought it up over his head. Things started to move in slow motion.

I saw where this was going and I heard myself scream for him to stop, but before the words left my lips, he brought the guitar down and slammed it into his dad’s back. There was a loud crack and then tiny pieces of guitar flew everywhere.

He brought it up again and this time he brought it down and cracked the already broken guitar over his dad’s face. His dad fell hard and the trailer shook.

Zeke pulled back a broken piece that still had the strings attached. The larger, shattered part of the guitar hung above his unconscious and bloodied father. He looked down at his guitar and then he looked down at the heaping pile of asshole he’d managed to knock out. Sorrow seeped into his big, brown eyes and then he looked over at me. He held the pieces of the guitar up as if to show me what he had done.

It was broken beyond repair, his most prized possession. The guitar his mother bought for him years ago was gone… irreplaceable… gone. I couldn’t help but feel like it was my fault. I was the reason he’d lost something that meant more to him than anything else in the world and once he realized that he’d hate me. I hated me.

Dark, unreadable eyes looked back at me before he looked down again and shook his head in what I assumed was aggravation.

“Are you okay?” he asked roughly as he wiped at his bleeding lip.

Me? Who gave a rat’s ass about me? I was fine. All I could think about was him and his guitar. He’d told me how special that guitar was and I knew what it meant to him.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“I’ll live.” He looked like he was about to cry.

“I’m so sorry, Zeke.”

The floor shifted as I stood up and went to him. I reached out for his hand and he didn’t pull away. Brushing his hair from his sweaty face, his already swelling eye was turning black. He flinched when I ran my finger across the bruise.

“Don’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong. I should’ve stood up to him years ago.” He sat on the couch and the broken guitar fell to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

I sat beside him and laid my hand on his knee. He looked down at my hand and then looked back at me.

“I came to tell you I was sorry. I didn’t mean what I said the other night. I just didn’t want you to get arrested.”

The side of his mouth tilted up and he blew out a deep breath.

“You could’ve just texted me that.”

I went in for the kill.

“But then I wouldn’t have been able to see you.”

He turned to me and his eyes took in my face. Reaching up, he laid his palm against my sore cheek. Anger filled his eyes and he breathed hard, making his nostrils flare.

“He hit you. I’m so sorry I let him hit you.” His thumb caressed what I was sure was already a forming bruise.

“You didn’t let him do anything.” I covered his hand with mine. “Do you guys always fight like that?”