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First Love
This love usually happens at a young age. You eventually grow apart or call it quits over silly things. When you get older, you may look back and think it wasn’t love. But the truth is, it was. It was love for what you knew it to be.
When she wasn’t at practice, Petra was practically glued to her new boyfriend’s hip. Not that it was a big deal to Patricia. Jean seemed like a nice guy, and he made Petra happy, from what Patricia could tell. And hey, Petra was handing off some pretty good- if not slightly concerning- lyrics.
The problem came with the constant on-off fighting. One minute, they would be sucking each others’ faces off, and the next Petra would be harshly scribbling down hurtful words with tears running down her face.
Currently, it seemed to be “All Quiet on the Western Front” as the girls were touring Take This To Your Grave. No whisper of fighting, no gag-worthy PDA, and honestly things seemed to have settled for a while. Patricia had a sinking feeling it was because Jean hadn’t joined them during the tour, and once they got back, she feared the flip-flopping would begin anew.
Peace was kept for about a week upon their return.
However, it ended quite abruptly on a Tuesday night, waking Patricia up with a loud thud against her bedroom door. Sharing an apartment with her bandmates was only a good idea in theory and on paper. Not when it woke her up in the middle of the night.
The singer grunted loudly, signaling to whoever wanted in that they could enter, but she definitely wasn’t getting up. The offending intruder shuffled in and closed the door quietly behind them- Petra then.
“Can’t sleep?” Patricia asked, her voice slurring and thick with the dredges of sleep.
The lack of response was slightly concerning, but what really kick-started Patricia’s brain into awareness was how Petra had shoved herself under the covers with her, her body shaking with quiet, but violent sobs.
Patricia quickly sat up and switched on her bedside lamp, looking blurrily at her best friend and tugging her closer.
“Petra? What’s wrong?”
It took a few tries between her heaving breaths, but eventually the older girl choked out her answer.
“T-the whole tour…he-he was cheating on me the whole fucking tour, Trish.
Realization hit Patricia like a bus, sending an equal mix of heartbreak and anger surging through her body.
“Oh Petra,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Petra shook her head and clung tightly to the shorter girl, her head buried in her lap, tears staining her ratty sleep pants.
“I should have seen it coming. He wasn’t even upset about how long we’d be gone when I first told him. That bastard…” she broke off in harsh sobs once again. Patricia just knew her throat would be sore for the next few days.
That’s how the night went, Patricia just sitting there, rubbing Petra’s back and humming until the older girl finally cried herself to sleep.
None of them ever saw Jean again after that.
—
Second Love
The Hard One. You get hurt in this one. This love teaches us lessons and makes us stronger. This love includes great pain, lies, betrayal, abuse, drama, and damage. But this is the one where we grow. We realize what we love about love and what we don’t love about love. We know exactly what we want and what we don't want.
Being the maid of honor at Petra’s wedding was sort of surreal for Patricia. She’s sat with Jo while the two had their nails done - black and red to match the theme- and explained.
“I’ve been there through so many break-ups that I think my mind can’t actually compute this is really happening.” She chuckled.
Jo smirked, agreeing. “Yeah, but God am I ready for this. Ash really makes her happy.”
Patricia smiled widely. It was true, and the hopeful excitement in Petra’s eyes when she asked her to be Maid of Honor had completely solidified her faith in the relationship.
And it was a faith she would put so much trust in during their hiatus.
Her and Petra talked for a while in the year after they announced the break. Calls and texts mostly. They met up a handful of times.
But as the two slowly began to drift apart, Patricia put a silent trust in Ash that he would take care of Petra, now that she and the band could not.
The years passed. Solo tours and projects came and went. The world kept turning, and that was that. What Patricia wasn’t expecting was to find out (two months after the fact) that Petra and Ash had gotten a divorce.
It was such an honest to God shock, that Patricia texted almost everyone she knew, just hoping it was another media hoax, cooked up in their downtime because some small-time journalist was bored. But, after calling and talking with Petra’s mother, she had to accept that it was no joke.
For the first time in almost two years, Patricia sent her (still?) best-friend a text. Nothing big or complicated, just four words.
-Lunch? I’m in town.-
A reply didn’t come until three hours later.
-sure. Gianna’s tmrw @ 12?-
-I’ll be there.-
Patricia had never booked a flight or hotel faster in her life.
L.A. wasn’t Patricia’s favorite place. Hell, it wasn’t even in her top ten, but she braved the traffic and bustling city to make it to the surprisingly quaint cafe Petra had suggested.
Petra was easy to spot, sitting slightly hunched in a booth, the bright splashes of color on her otherwise black hoodie drawing Patricia’s attention. However, everything else about her (former?) best-friend seemed downright alien to her.
Her non-painted nails, no make-up on, save for light foundation, and her constantly straightened hair was loose in its natural state, curling and twisting it’s way into almost an afro.
Warm brown eyes glanced up and met ocean blue as the chimes on the door signaled Patricia’s arrival. The smile that fit Petra’s face felt like coming home, and Patricia couldn’t help but echo it with a smile of her own.
Their conversation was a little awkward and stilted at first. The stereotypical “How have you been?” question was met with knowing looks from both sides. Neither of them had been in good places recently, but neither wanted to be the one to bring it up.
“We tried to make it work, really we did. For B’s sake if nothing else, but…” Petra trailed off with a half-shrug. Patricia knew how hard Petra had fought to stay with Ash. He had called her that morning, having heard about their plans from Petra and wanted to give his own explanation.
Her tone had been understandably cold at the beginning of the call, but Patricia knew she might be jumping to ‘protective best friend mode’ if she only heard one side of things. The call ended with Ash giving her the same request she had asked of him all those years ago, “Watch out for her, please?”
Patricia had gone into the cafe expecting to be the solid shoulder to lean on once again, so she didn’t really expect the concerned glances from Petra when she flipped the conversation.
“What about you, Trish? I know we haven’t really talked, but I saw the blog post…”
The singer winced internally, but honestly, she should have known Petra would have seen it, or at least heard about her little meltdown after Soul Punk.
She’d taken the post down, but Patricia knew she’d have to answer for the soul-baring she had done while far too drunk and far too alone.
“Oh…that.” Patricia sighed and fidgeted with the cup in front of her. “The dangers of drinking alone, huh?” She tried to give a disarming chuckle. “I went a little overboard, but I’m okay.”
Petra looked skeptical. She knew what Patricia was like drunk, and it wasn’t self-depreciating and borderline suicidal. But, it wasn’t a conversation to be had over lunch after a silence this long, so she let it drop.
A shrill beeping from Petra’s phone startled both of them.
“Oh, shit. Sorry Trish, but I gotta go get Bronx from daycare.”
The mention of the young boy had Patricia smiling again.
“Mind if I tag along?
—
Third Love
This one comes blindly. No warning. It creeps on you silently. You don’t go looking for this love, it comes to you. You can put up any wall you want, it will be broken down. You’ll find yourself caring about that person without trying. They look nothing like your usual crush types, but you get lost in their eyes daily. You see beauty in their imperfections. You hide nothing from them. You want marriage and family from them. You thank the universe for them. You truly love them.
“You know I give my love a f-f-four letter na-a-ame!”
The crowd went crazy. Patricia’s voice soared through the arena, Jo’s riffs boasting it higher, and Andi’s precision and power blasting to the back rows. Petra was lost in the sensation that performing never failed to give her.
It had been two years since their fiery return, and Petra thanked every deity that may be that she had the chance to be up on the stage with these girls again.
Patricia and her had basically almost slid right back to each other's side like puzzle pieces. It was different than before the hiatus, that was certain. It was quieter. Less wild trips out and parties, and more nights in, talking and binging Netflix.
The break had left scars on both of them.
Petra learned when to push issues - “You better finish your plate, Stump, or I’m telling your mom.”- and when to step back- “You don’t have to wear that if you’re not comfortable. I can ask the stylist for something else.”
But she didn’t mind. The grateful look in Patricia’s eyes assured Petra that she was never a bother. Soon, taking care of each other had become routine.
The hotel they had that night was nice. Plush comforters, plump pillows, fully stocked minifridge and lounge area- the whole shebang.
Petra flopped face down on the closest bed, groaning loudly. Patricia set her suitcase in the corner of the room and headed straight for the bathroom.
“I call first shower. Have fun making out with your pillow.”
Petra exaggerated a moan into the pillow as the bathroom door shut, Patricia’s muffled laughter making her grin.
The performance high was wearing off, but instead of the hollow emptiness it used to leave, Petra was content to revel in the warm calmness of the hotel room, the sound of the shower running relaxing her even more.
She must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing Petra was aware of was Patricia running her fingers through her messy hair.
“Wakey-wakey. As much as I wanna let you sleep, you’re going to whine all day tomorrow if you don’t shower.”
Petra grunted and attempted to burrow deeper into the comforter. “Five more minutes, mom.”
Patricia rolled her eyes and started to gently rock the older girl by pushing her shoulder. “Nuh-uh. You gotta get up.”
Actually awake, Petra huffed and flung her arms out, grabbing Patricia around her waist and pulling her down in retaliation. Patricia yelped and tumbled down on top of her friend, causing them both to grunt at the impact. Patricia wriggled around until she was face-to-face with Petra, who was looking up at her in feigned annoyance.
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s your fault.”
Petra grinned mischievously.
“I don’t know, Trish. There’s worse places to be then pinned under you.”
Patricia’s face flushed slightly, but she grinned back. “Is that so?”
They stayed like that for a split second before blood rushed to Petra’s face and she looked away, blushing madly.
“I, uh, I should probably shower, ya know?”
Patricia cleared her throat and clambered off the older girl. “Right, yeah.”
Petra jumped up, grabbed her toiletries and pajamas, and ducked into the bathroom. Once the door was closed, she leaned against it, heart racing just as fast as her mind. What was that about?
Sure, Patricia and her had cuddled and rough-housed before, but she had never really felt her heart jump like that before. Or…had she? Maybe…
Shaking it off, Petra hopped into the shower, marveling at the fact that the water was still warm after Patricia. Nice hotels were heaven on earth. Too bad there were no angels. Ah well, Patricia was close enough.
Wait, stop brain. Ugh…
Petra’s thoughts kept drifting back to her best friend. Taking a deep breath, she channeled the words her therapist would say, and took a second to actually try and listen to them.
Almost an hour later, Petra emerged from the steamy bathroom. Patricia was lounging on her claimed bed with her laptop open in front of her. She glanced up and smiled as Petra ruffled her towel over her head in a poor attempt to dry her hair.
“I was about to go make sure you hadn’t drowned. You were in there for a while.”
Petra shrugged and once again flopped face-first on her bed, towel abandoned on the floor.
“I was playing out that scene in the movies where my lover leaves me behind in the pouring rain.”
Patricia snorted. “For an hour?”
Petra turned her head to look at the other girl. Her attention seemed to be 100% on her laptop. Her eyes were focused and her bottom lip was wedged between her teeth. The epitome of concentration.
Petra’s heart swelled, and this time she didn’t question it. Too much of her life had been spent questioning her own heart and feelings. This time, it hit like a freight train, and Petra was done questioning.
“Hey, Trish?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
A hum answered her, followed by a series of keyboard clicks. It was a good while before Patricia froze mid-click and blinked over at Petra.
“...huh?”
Petra smiled, completely captivated by the surprised look on Patricia’s face.
“I love you.”
Patricia smiled back, her brow slightly furrowed in confusion. Petra said this often, why now was any different was beyond her.
“Okay, I love you too?”
Petra sighed lightly, smile still on her face as she slipped off her bed and walked over to Patricia’s. She gently moved the laptop to her own vacant bed and climbed up next to Patricia with her head resting on the shorter girl’s shoulder.
Patricia settled her arms around the older, still confused, but definitely not complaining. They laid like that for a moment before Petra whispered again.
“Hey, Trish?”
“Petra?”
Petra tilted her head to catch Patricia’s gaze. Deep blue stared back at her. The ghosts of everything they’d been through just flitting at the edges, and a stretch of the rest of eternity held like a promise in the center.
“I love you.”