Patrick
April 10th
Okay, Tuesday. It's Tuesday.
Tuesday's are good.
On Tuesdays is when I get to visit my mom.
He's at an institution about an hour away, and I'm allowed to see her ever Tuesday from 4:30 to 8:30. Gerard usually drives me, and Frank tags along too. The three of us go up to visit her together. When we were all in middle school, and she was just starting drug-use, she loved seeing Frank and Gerard. At that point it was just the three of us against the world.
Then in eight grade towards the end of the school year, she tried to get help for the first time, but quickly relapsed. Form that point on she's just been trying to get better so she can come home.
The day goes by way too slowly, classes dragging on and hours seeming to be days.
By the time I'm in last period my foot is violent tapping the floor in anticipation and my finger nails are being pitter-pattered across the table. Gerard sits down in front of me, smile on his face and coffee in his hand.
"You ready, Trick?" He asks.
I nod vigorously, only 45 more minutes until I'm set free and can go see my mommy.
"What's the scoop?" Dallon sits next to me.
Gerard laughs, "penis."
Dallon laughs as well, glancing over at me. He snorts at my expression.
"What's up with you? Gee did you give him coffee?" He smiles.
"No, we're-"
I cut him off, "we'RE GOING TO SEE MY MOM TODAY."
Dallon tilts his head in confusion, "I think I'm missing something."
Gerard nods, "you weren't in the car when we talked about this, right. Patrick's mom is in an institution to detox, and he gets to see her ever Tuesday."
Dallon smiles sadly, "I'm glad you get to see her."
I nod, delicate look on Dallon's face.
"You seem happier." Gerard sips his coffee.
"Yeah," Dallon smiles at his hands on the table, "Pete apologized at lunch. Now I just need to talk with Travie if Pete hasn't already."
Gerard smiles more, "I guess this week is starting off pretty well for everyone."
Dallon and I agree.
"Alright, everyone shut your angst's teenage mouths." Mr.Walker starts class.
I chuckle at his choice of words.
"Get your work and...work on it." He facepalms at his own words.
I love this guys I swear to god.
———
"Alright, my little potatoes, are we all ready?" Gerard asks as I sit in the backseat.
"Hell yeah!" Frank yells.
"Fucking yeeeess!" I laugh.
Gerard rolls his eyes playfully and starts driving. Radiohead is lightly playing in the background, Gerard humming the tune under his breathe. Then Frank gets to choose the song and I roll my eyes as Smashing Pumpkins blares into the speakers. After a few songs I get to choose.
I flip through our CD case and pick an older Christina Aguilera album. Frank hysterically laughs as 'Genie in a bottle' starts playing.
"And we all thought you were straight in Jr. High." Gerard chuckles, focused on the road.
I hear the buzz of Frank's phone against his sweatshirt pocket. He picks it up, turning down the music and answers.
"Hey, Bob. Holy shit. Oh my god. Okay...um, wow. Fuck...ugh...I know I know,"
Gerard and I look at each other from the rear view mirror, Frank looking on the verge of a mental breakdown.
Gerard reaches over places his hand on Frank's knee, rubbing loving and calmly. He keeps his eyes glued to the road, though.
"Does he...? No, okay. I'll let them know...okay. Thanks for telling me, Bob. Okay, I'll see you tonight. Tell him we're sorry. Mhm...okay bye."
Frank's hangs up the phone, turning to look at us.
"Travie was in a car accident and isn't doing so well."
Our eyes go wide, "is Pete okay?" Gerard asks.
"No." Frank responds quietly.
"Oh...oh my god." I say astonished.
"Bob told me that Pete wants all of us to meet at the hospital, however, we can't until later for obvious reason. Bob suggested we could all get dinner after too...to lighten the mood. Apparently Pete's not doing too well." Frank breathes out heavy.
"Why...why does Pete want us there...?" Gerard asks softly.
"I don't know." Frank responds.
"I'm going to call Pete." I say sadly.
Frank nods back at me, Gerard sighing in agreement.
I open up my phone, scrolling through my contacts. Finally I stumble upon his, at the way bottom. I haven't texted him in years—literally. I only have his number because, like I've mentioned, we used to only not like each other. We didn't used to hate each other when we first met.
"Calling '🅱️eter'" my phone reads.
I chuckle. '🅱️eter'? What the hell? Why is his contact a meme..? I...the fuck? I laugh more.
Frank gives me an off look, the rolls his eyes as I put the phone to my ear. There's four rings, I count. Then I hear a groggy, low voice on the other end of the phone.
"Hey, Patty."
I frown, "hi, Pete...how is he?"
There's a pause and then I hear a more broken, cry-voice from him.
"Bad."
I frown more, "I'm going to visit my mom up state at an detoxing institution with Gee and Frank. We'll be home around nine thirty. Is that too late?"
He composes himself a bit, "no. You can visit for a half hour. Visiting hours end at ten. Afterwards Bob said we should grab a bite to eat after. I'm not so sure about that..."
"Do what you feel comfortable with. Are you staying home from School tomorrow?"
He sniffles, "y-yeah...I'll be at the hos-hospital all day," I hear his heavy and broken breathes, "Patrick, I'm-I'm scared...he's not doing well..."
I can hear the tears running down his face, the broken sobs, the heart ache, the pain. I never thought I'd live to see the day. The day when Pete lost it crying. But I guess what your best friend your whole life; you're brother, you're partner in crime, you're other half...this, this is how it effects you so.
"Breathe, Petey. Please breathe. Hang in there, okay? Are you at the hospital?"
"Yeah..."
"Who's with you?"
"Hayley and Bob. Dallon and Brendon are on their way...Dal had to pick Bren up. Hayley had just been rubbing my back and I feel so damn weak. Bob is keeping his cool, like always...are you happy to see your mom..?"
I smile lightly, "so excited. I only see her once a week on Tuesdays for only a few hours."
"I can't imagine." His voice brakes at the last words.
"It's okay...you worry about Travie. Stay by his side. And it's okay to cry. You'd be weak if you held it in."
I hear a sniffle and broken breathing.
"Thanks, Space Boy."
I smile sadly, "no problem, Sandman."
