Work Text:
2002
Patrick’s fork scraped unpleasantly against his plate as he pushed the bits of overdone swordfish around. Tim Bryce sat across from him, jabbing at his meal (a salad) and talking in between bites about what his kid was getting up to. As if it was a big fucking deal his son was learning to play the trumpet in his school’s band after Tim bitched about how poorly half his grades were the other week.
“I mean yeah, he has problems with simple math equations, but he’s not a dimwit, you know?” Tim asked, not really looking for an answer beyond agreement.
Patrick never met the boy outside of Take Your Child to Work Day but he could tell he was slow. He once thought to ask Tim if he and Evelyn thought to put their son in any of those special classes, but decided he didn’t want to deal with being responsible for Tim’s second relapse.
So instead he said, “That’s all really…interesting, hope he can read music.”
“Well, you know his teacher said that some kids learn in different ways. Some kids who are dogshit at reading or math are geniuses at things like music,” said Tim. Yes, but was that actually true or something teachers say to keep you from leaving?
Patrick hummed, finally taking another bite of his food, it had gone cold at this point. He didn’t know what to ask and he surely did not want to ask about Evelyn. Tim had done enough of his fucking groveling back when they came out about the whole thing and got engaged. He didn’t care then, and he didn’t care now.
“What about you, man?” Patrick looked up as if waiting for a follow-up to the question, and thankfully Tim understood. “With your whole thing.”
“My thing?” Being gay, you dumb asshole, he internally screamed at himself. Tim was his only colleague and friend who knew after Patrick called him in the middle of the night years ago while on a guilt-fueled breakdown. This was sometime around when Paul started pulling away from Patrick, around when his father died which Patrick would never understand.
Long story short, it just slipped out and Tim, ever the newly enlightened guru, decided he would try to understand his friend’s demented life. No one knew, not even Evelyn. That was until Tim’s second relapse and suddenly around the early 2000s, Van Patten was squirrelly around Patrick. He swore it had to be because of that, but Tim denied it to this day. McDermott was…normal so he supposed it didn’t get far enough, which was a surprise considering what a playground the company always had been.
“It’s…well it’s fine.”
“You have a kid don’t you? What’s going on with that?”
“She is going to school right now to study forensics, lives on campus and all.”
“Can’t imagine jumping straight to having a teenager, I gotta say. Especially you.”
“Me?” Patrick raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Well,” said Tim, scraping the last of his meal, “you know how teens can get. Just seems masochistic, I know I’m not looking forward to it.” Tim rubbed his ever growing forehead, his hairline getting worse and worse with each day.
“We get along great, never better.” Not totally a lie, over the years him and Rachel had gotten closer. She arrived at 16, took Paul’s last name and primarily lived with him, it only made sense that she’d cling to him more. He was always so soft with her, but Patrick saw the sides of her that were surprisingly like himself. It used to frighten him, but the feeling waned over time. Possibly due to the fact that he finally had someone who enjoyed forcing Paul to sit through one of his many horror movies he’d rent.
Tim just shrugged, signaling for more seltzer.
Patrick downed his Scotch. “How’s Van Patten, anyway? What’s he been up to since he seems to forget I exist.” Patrick made sure to really emphasize that last sentence, just to push Tim’s buttons.
“What else? Trying to fuck another 20-something while going through his third divorce. Heard this one caught him and some college girl in their own bed, marriage lasted a total of half a year.”
“A new record for him,” Patrick smirked.
“Yeah well, I’m sure we’ll see his next attempt soon. Hey, you hear Carruthers and Courtney had a kid?” Patrick silently urged for Tim to continue. “Apparently it weighed like six pounds, go figure even that was a whole thing for those two.”
He wondered for a moment how Tim even knew this about Carruthers, only to come to the easiest conclusion that Evelyn said something. But there was no way in hell it was Carruthers’ kid, and Patrick hadn’t slept with Courtney for years. Was it Tim’s? Was that why he was so incessant on talking about how great his son with Evelyn was? Tim sipped his seltzer, eyes glancing at the floor, then to the side.
How in the hell was Patrick the biggest faggot at Pierce & Pierce at this point? On top of it, it appeared as though he were watching everyone around him have their lives first into flames between special ed kids, divorce and whatever Carruthers had going on. Somehow he and Paul were crawling by unscathed.
Right? He and Paul were happy weren’t they? Happier than all of his friends, surely. There’d be times where Paul would rather Patrick sleep on the couch or at worst, his own apartment, but those were few and far between anymore. Last time it was because he screamed at the cat and threatened it for scratching up his new tie, he wasn’t actually going to do anything.
But they were fine.
“Hello? Bateman?” Tim snapped his fingers inches from his face, close enough to bite them off.
“What?”
“Still such a fucking space cadet, I asked what it’s like to always be around Allen. He make you light a menorah or anything this time of year?” They rarely celebrated holidays, Paul and Rachel would go down to his mother’s for a weekend and leave Patrick with the cat. At first, Paul would extend the invitation, but sooner or later stopped since he didn’t accept a single one.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “No, we, uh, keep that separate.”
He wasn’t anti-Semitic, he just hated being around Paul’s mother (who definitely wanted to fuck him the first time they visited) and his bitchy sister. On top of that, beyond holiday parties, Patrick really couldn’t care less about Christmas. When Rachel wasn’t at school, they would do a small celebration, but really it was just about fulfilling the expectations of what to do for the holidays than anything else. The first year they adopted her, she gifted him a half-assed card she put together with cut-up magazines she probably found from one of Patrick’s subscriptions; a collage. It sat in his desk drawer. Last year, she gave him a cologne that Paul probably instructed her to buy.
Patrick, as always would just give her money ever since the first year where he tried to help her fashion sense and she immediately tossed the clothes in the closet. Her and Paul had the exact same fashion sense, all she wore was thrifted crap or Paul’s old clothes.
“What about the girl?”
“We do both.”
“Must be nice to have the extra gifts,” Tim scoffed. “She’s probably real into that.”
“She’s in college,” said Patrick, jabbing at his plate, “so she doesn’t really care much at this point.” Patrick could never tell where Rachel fell on holidays. It seemed like a chore sometimes, but other times she looked forward to it. Probably just happy to get out of the house even if it meant spending a weekend with Paul’s family.
To get away from him?
“I don’t know, chicks just like gifts.” Tim stopped himself. “No offense, I’m sure she’s a great kid.”
“Yeah, she can even solve simple math equations.”
“Come on, you know what I mean,” said Tim, raising a hand. He already finished his last seltzer. “You bring a kid in already at the age where they typically hate their folks, and it’s not like you built up memories to fall back on.”
“Uh huh…” Fuck, he was right. For as much as he despised his parents, Patrick, in a drunken state, would fall into old memories. They had none of that, Rachel came in already wary of him. Fucking Paul just had to pull something so stupid as adopting a teen instead of just putting his fucking sperm in a cup.
“And you know I don’t think there’s anything wrong with fa— I mean…” Tim cleared his throat. “Gays? But don’t they usually try to get the whole package with starting a family?”
“How should I know?”
“Come on, man I know you two are cool. You don’t get all limp-wristed and make taking it up the ass your whole identity. It’s just a strange choice, that’s all I’m saying.”
Patrick’s fish looked utterly mutilated on his plate, pieces smeared around it haphazardly. He pressed his lips together in a futile attempt to smile and disarm his friend. He’s been fucking a man for decades but any conversation with Tim nearly sent him sprinting back to the closet. He wished he had his cocktail of medication with him right now, but it was just something to look forward to later.
“Right, yeah well,” Patrick chuckled and wiped some sweat off his lip, “guess that’s just how it goes.”
Tim spent the rest of dinner complaining about one of the maids stealing Evelyn’s jewelry and avoiding the topic of Patrick’s personal life. Patrick did not offer any more insight to it either, signaling for the check and pulling out his Amex card.
They took separate cabs, and Patrick had to wait half a minute longer than Tim while snow blanketed the sidewalk.
—-
“Fuck, Pat,” Paul groaned, rocking his hips and splaying his hands across Patrick’s chest. Patrick stared up at him in what Paul could only assume was pleasure, but wouldn’t say anything. As long as he wasn’t getting pushed off, Paul assumed it was all good and kept going, murmuring affirmations. It was strange though, since Patrick was the one to initiate tonight. He came in after having dinner with one of his friends, and Paul could barely get a greeting in before Patrick shoved him against a wall, kissing him in a near-primal state.
That led to dragging Paul to the bedroom and taking him onto the bed. A little foreplay and suddenly Paul was on top, Patrick’s fingernails scratching his thighs. Then when Paul eased Patrick’s dick inside him, that was when the guy went quiet. Again, no objection so Paul grinded and bounced in his lap, stroking his own cock and groaning Patrick’s name. And all while, Patrick just laid there while Paul rode himself to climax, coming just after Patrick.
Collapsing next to the other man, Paul winced at the slight discomfort in one of his knees but said nothing. He turned to look at Patrick, waiting for him to say anything but he seemed to be lost in thought.
“Something on your mind?” Paul asked.
“Huh?”
“Thought so.” Paul flopped on his back, scratching at the stubble on his cheek. He had stated to get lazy with shaving, and Patrick bitched him out about it at every given opportunity. We can’t all be obsessed with still looking in our twenties, Paul would tell him.
Patrick came closer, his lips brushing Paul’s neck, then pressing quick kisses to his cheek.
“You need to shave,” Patrick mumbled.
“Yeah, thanks. Is that it?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You just seem out of it, man.”
Paul was too spent to play 20 Questions with a grown man on his feelings, yet somehow he always needed up doing so.
“What? You worried once Rachel’s back during her break we won’t be able to fuck? We’ll just go to your place,” Paul laughed.
“We are not fucking at my place, not since last time.”
“How was I supposed to know you hired a cleaning lady to dust an empty apartment? She didn’t see anything, anyway.”
Patrick just rolled his eyes and pulled Paul into a full kiss, his fingers twisting in his hair, but not pulling.
“Come on man, really, be serious.”
“It’s nothing, Paul. Christ, does it always have to be something with you if I’m not actively fucking you?”
“Okay, forget it.” Paul waved his hand and got up, heading towards the bathroom.
There was something on his mind. What it was Paul couldn’t tell, but he wasn’t going to play mommy to a guy his own age.
Stepping into the shower, Paul scrubbed the new body wash Patrick had insisted on buying him into his skin. In his mind, he ran through the schedule he would have for when he got Rachel for her winter break. He’d leave early to pick her up from campus tomorrow, then they’ll leave for his mom’s Friday evening.
There was that pit in his stomach at the thought, one that occurred here and there over the entire year. Not about seeing his mom or sister but the realization that it had officially been over a decade since his dad’s death, just a few months ago. He was never close with his father, far from it and in fact could barely stomach showing up to his funeral. Despite that, he was somehow the one shelling out the most money to pay to put the fucking asshole in the ground. Turned out his life insurance policy only covered half the cost, the rest he had cashed out at some point and blew it; probably in some trashy casino in Atlantic City. All that shit about being put together and thinking he was so high and mighty, only to be a gambling addict. Go figure.
Between that and his hospital bills, that left a few thousand to be paid. Paul, being the bleeding heart he was, told his mom not to worry about it. It was nothing against her, but he hated the thought of giving that son of a bitch anything, let alone his own money. But he did, nothing he could do about that, and now that it’s hit a milestone he knew this would be brought up by either of his family members. He could just sense it, and then Rachel would ask about him and get fed a fairytale. And what could he do? Argue during the holidays and cause a scene?
Stepping out of the shower, Paul threw on his briefs and t-shirt. He wiped away the fog on his mirror and combed his wet hair back with his fingers. Maybe he could do with a shave, after all.
—-
Patrick wandered into the living room with a post-coital ringing in his ear. The room was dark, save for one small lamp and the faint glow from a cheap menorah Paul kept in the kitchen. It was one where he would just screw in a new bulb the next night, not a real flame. Patrick had a feeling that mattered, but didn’t dare bring it up.
Paul went off to shower in a bitch-fit after Patrick dared to let Paul get off. God forbid, what a cunt he was. Patrick shut down the mental berating towards Paul, thinking back to his conversation with Tim. He didn’t want to end up like all of them, full of resentment for their pathetic lives. He found himself wanting to actually make an effort during this season for once.
When Paul emerged looking for Patrick, he was half naked, same as Patrick except Patrick had enough decency to slip into a robe. But he wasn’t judging that.
“Hey there you are,” said Paul.
“Hey.” Patrick coughed into his hand, watching as Paul’s cat scampered over his feet. “Sorry I, uh, ruined the mood before.”
“It’s whatever, I shouldn’t have said anything. I got a lot on my mind.”
“What time are you getting her?” Really, Patrick thought, she should be driving herself by now. Or calling a cab, they would pay it. He didn’t understand why she always asked Paul (and not Patrick) and Paul enabled it.
“She said to come tomorrow morning, I just hope she’ll be up.”
“And…what time are you going to New Jersey?”
“Evening, what’s with the third degree?”
Patrick shrugged. “Nothing, nothing I just thought…”
“You wanna come?” Paul asked, eyes widening. “Thought you were the one who said you’d leave us to go do our ‘Jew thing’ on our own?”
“I did not call it that.”
“Pretty sure you did,” said Paul. “So then what is it?”
“I just thought we could do something…together before you two go.”
“Sorry did something happen? What’s with the family man act?”
Couldn’t he make an attempt at connecting without Paul giving him shit? Jesus christ, what was wrong with him? No, no, Patrick calmed himself, it was fine and he would do this.
“Just thought I’d give it a try, pumpkin,” said Patrick with that signature smile as he pecked Paul on the cheek.
“Okay, number 1: don’t call me that, and number 2: what did you exactly have in mind?”
Patrick didn’t think this far ahead and searched his memory bank for any possible ideas.
“What about a movie?”
“What’s out?”
Patrick thought again and blurted out, “What about that new Adam Sandler movie? The Hanukkah one?”
Paul raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?” He didn’t answer, knowing what would follow would be a separation. “Why don’t you just come down with us? You’d have fun, you wouldn’t have to do anything if it’s such a big deal.”
“Paul, your family hates me.”
“No…Come on.”
“Your bitch sister is always glaring at me anytime I have to be in the same room as her.” Patrick bit his tongue when Paul stared daggers at him for calling his sister that. As if Paul hadn’t said worse things about women’s he’s barely known.
“Maybe they’d warm up to you more if they saw you more, hm?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“You’re the one who wanted to do something together.”
“Yes, before you both left. Who’s gonna…” Patrick searched around the room. “Who will watch the cat?”
Paul shrugged. “We’ll bring him.”
“Who will get your mail?”
“Do you seriously think I have mail thieves here?” Paul scoffed, pushing his wet hair back. “If you don’t wanna go that’s fine, but I seriously think if you’re so hellbent on doing something together, you should come.”
“Is it…something you’d want?”
“Of course, baby.” Patrick cringed at the pet name, even as Paul cradled his face in the way he couldn’t resist. “You know I want you to go, even if you do piss me off and I know you’ll say something completely ignorant.”
“Thanks…I don’t know.” Paul’s expression deflated, his lips pressing together.
“Is this related to lunch the other day? What were you guys talking about to get you all bent out of shape?”
“It’s completely unrelated, okay? I’ll go if it gets you off my back.”
“I don’t want it to be a chore, man,” said Paul. “You’re the one bringing this shit up, I just thought it’d be nice. You don’t have to.”
“It’s fine, Paul really. I’ll go.”
Paul huffed, clearly not looking to argue about it anymore. It must have felt like arguing with a child. It was what Patrick did want in some way, why did he have to make it so fucking difficult?
“Alright, fine whatever, I’ll call and let them know you might come,” said Paul, another kiss to his cheek. “How about we go out for dinner tonight?”
“I’ll make the reservation,” Patrick said, a bit too quick for his liking. He popped one Prozac then made the call.
Patrick had gotten them a reservation at Orso, Paul ordered the flatbread while Patrick ordered the mussels. He also took the liberty of ordering a latte for Paul after he got up to use the restroom.
Paul made a comment on what a gentleman Patrick was and sipped from intricately decorated cup. Patrick was so grateful Paul shaved his face, he always looked better like that, even as age began to show on his face through fine lines. Under the dim restaurant lighting, Patrick could make out the wrinkles around Paul’s eyes as he smiled. He couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else other than the other man, and feeling so at ease.
—-
Rachel’s roommate, Brenda, left early that morning for her train, leaving her alone in the half-empty room. She gave Rachel shit about forcing (said in the most sarcastic way) her poor dad to come up and get her, but it was always easier than coordinating with a train or bus. This time, Paul offered to order a cab, but ultimately said he’d just get her.
Besides Brenda, she didn’t have anyone else close enough to her to say goodbye to for the break. It didn’t bother her too much until the loneliness of the empty dorm set in, but it was like that at the end of every semester.
She triple-checked her bag to make sure she had all her clothes, toothbrush and the cards she got for Paul and Patrick when there was a knock on her door.
Rachel peeked out to see a girl in a puffy white jacket that was cropped above her waist and low-rise jeans. She couldn’t help but think about how ineffective the jacket actually was when it left her mid-section exposed. Then she saw her face and recognized her as a girl from one of her classes. Ruby was her name, right? Why was she here?
“Hey, wasn’t sure you’d still be here, but I was trying to find you,” she said.
“Oh? Uh…yeah, yeah my dad was coming to pick me up today.” Rachel rubbed the back of her neck and opened her door more, realizing she’d been secretively crouching behind it. “What’s up?”
“You left your notebook in the room. Not sure how much you’ll need it now, but I didn’t want a janitor to toss it.”
Rachel took the book, nodding. “Thanks, yeah I didn’t really notice it was gone.”
“Kinda figured, but it was a bitch to find where your dorm was. You must really keep off the grid,” she said laughing. Rachel smiled but wasn’t sure if the laugh was with her or at her.
“Right.”
Putting her hand in her back pocket, the girl peered inside then back to Rachel.
“I wanted to grab a coffee before the dining hall closes for break, wanna come?”
“Eh, I don’t know, I should probably finish packing.”
“Looks pretty packed up in there, to me,” she said, looking in again. “Come on, is your dad about to appear?”
Looking back into her dorm, then to her zipped bag, Rachel conceded but only for a little. She wasn’t totally sure when Paul was showing up, but she supposed she had a little time.
The two sat in the mostly empty hall, Rachel never came when it was like this and it definitely was eerie how quiet it could actually get. There wasn’t even anyone out working save for the woman manning the cash register. She sipped at her coffee, eyes traveling down to the girl’s long nails that were painted with glittery, light blue paint. Right, she still didn’t have her name.
“Hey sorry to just now ask this but…what’s your name?”
The girl let out an uncharacteristically loud laugh.
“Appreciate the bluntness, it’s Emily.” Rachel wasn’t even close. “You’re Rachel, right? The teacher only ever called us by our last names, so I’m not surprised you didn’t know. I thought your name was Allen half the time.” They both laughed, but truth be told, Rachel couldn’t even recall Emily’s last name. She didn’t have to push it by asking what that was too, though.
She was pretty, pretty in a way that Rachel felt awkward hanging out with her so casually. Even in the dead of a winter, a girl like her found a way to push through it fashionably. Emily flipped her dark hair off her shoulder and leaned forward, sipping her coffee which left a light stain of lipstick on the foam rim.
“So your dad always comes to get you?”
Rachel flinched at the question. “Yeah…it’s just easier, you know?”
“Don’t have a car?” More like don’t have a license, Rachel thought.
“No, not right now,” she said with a shrug. Was that nonchalant enough? “Maybe sometime soon, though.”
“That’s cool, I get it, my folks were scared to get me a car at first too.” Rachel could feel her face warming up at the embarrassment of feeling behind in life. Emily’s words, whether they actually were or not, appeared drenched in judgement towards her. She looked down into her coffee.
Truth be told, she wasn’t interested in getting a car because she wasn't even interested in getting a license. Not that she couldn’t, but there was always a mental barrier. It was a car wreck that lead her to where she was and even though she was too young to remember, she could never psych herself up enough to get in the driver’s seat.
“Rachel?”
“Hm?”
“I asked what your holiday plans were. I’m visiting a lot of my family in Brooklyn.”
“Oh, yeah I’m gonna be doing that too but in New Jersey.”
“That’s cool, your mom’s or dad’s?”
Rachel paused. “Uh, dad’s family. Sorry, so why did you want to hang out right now?”
“No reason, just figured since I was bringing that notebook to you, might as well. Feels like you were always so quiet in class.”
“I guess.”
“Plus, I like your little outfits.” Rachel couldn’t conceal her laugh. “I’m serious, it’s that whole grunge look, right? You pull it off.” Rachel looked down at the old t-shirt, baggy flannel and jeans, all of which she most likely took from Paul’s closet. She couldn’t tell if this was an elaborate joke or not.
“I guess if that’s what they’re calling it, sure. I like your outfit too, you always dressed up for class.”
Emily beamed and gave a grateful nod. “I always like to look my best.”
“Even if it means freezing, apparently,” said Rachel, grinning. “The nails are cool too.”
“If you want I can do yours sometime.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think they’d last long.” That nervousness in the pit of her stomach ate at her, that familiar feeling she’s felt before. A feeling that told her she didn’t deserve to be there. Rachel checked her watch, finished her coffee and stood up. “I should probably get going.”
“Already? Alright well, good to finally talk, let’s meet up after break, ‘kay?”
“Sure, okay.” Rachel kept her grin to seem casual and backed out the door, her heart skipping.
Paul picked her up within half an hour of her getting back to her dorm, his black Honda pulling up in the lot closest to her. He was sporting a warm grin that matched his equally warm and layered outfit of a long coat and scarf. Pulling Rachel into a one-armed hug, he took her bag and threw it into the trunk.
As the car drove off, Rachel looked back at the campus, thinking she spotted Emily in the lot and getting in her own car.
—-
After some convincing through private half-arguments in the bedroom, Patrick agreed to go with Paul and Rachel that evening. He just couldn’t stand the voices of he and Tim’s conversation the other day and Paul nagging him about how it’d be good for him to go if he’s so interested in doing something together. Him and his big fucking mouth.
So they quietly rode to New Jersey, with Patrick counting his teeth over and over again while imagining how wonderful it will be to take his medication and knock out. All while he could hear the cat crying from his crate in the back. He made some conversation with Rachel, basic questions that soon evolved into movies he had seen while she was away. That was always a good way in as she immediately became more interested in the conversation, listing movies they could watch.
Somehow the conversation led to Paul butting in and saying, “You know, Rach, at some point maybe you could do this drive down.” That was when Rachel went silent, face falling back to disinterest.
“Yeah,” was all she said. Then it felt like it was back to square one with trying to talk to her. Fucking Paul.
When they arrived an hour or so later, Patrick carried their bags and trailed behind. Paul’s hippie mom greeted Paul and Rachel with hugs then looked at Patrick.
“Dear, you can bring those right up to your room.” She smiled and gave him a one-arm hug. It was already a nightmare to be there, but Patrick would survive.
They lit the candle while saying a prayer, which Patrick didn’t participate in. Again, and he cannot emphasize this enough, he was not prejudiced. If anything, it would've been worse to even try following along through half-assed mumbling.
The dinner was as expected, his sister’s bitchy, backhanded remarks that Paul would snicker at. Rachel sometimes spoke, but mostly to Paul’s sister. It was irritating, but tolerable until Paul’s father came up in conversation. That was when he noticed the way Paul stiffened in his chair, staring down at his plate.
“I just can’t believe it’s been over a decade, it feels weird,” his mom said, shoving a fork full of food in her face. “He wasn’t perfect, but to see him like that…I don’t know.”
“It’s normal to miss him,” Paul’s sister cut in. Apparently, when she wasn’t making passive aggressive remarks at Patrick, she was looking for any chance to talk about a man that Paul would only describe as a ‘stupid, piece of shit.’
“You know, after everything, your father would send me a card this time of year.”
Paul scoffed, arms wrapped tight around himself. His mother and sister’s gazes snapped to him.
“Paul?” His sister spoke up, less of a question and more of a warning in her tone.
“I mean, seriously?” Paul said, arms falling to the sides of his chair. “A card? He was never even here.”
“Paul, come on don’t talk like that.”His sister again.
“It’s true though, he left Mom and us, gambled a ton of money then came back when he needed something.”
“That something,” his mother said, eyebrows raised in the exact expression Paul makes, “was him dying of a terrible disease. We couldn’t abandon him, I raised you better than to think that.”
“I just-“
“Paul, just stop,” said his sister. “Come on, give it a rest while Rachel’s here.” There was that eyebrow raised expression mirrored on Paul’s face as he glanced at Rachel. Patrick watched as the other man breathed in and out, then looked down at his lap.
He didn’t know why he did what he did next, but Patrick actually opened his mouth to speak.
“What’s the big deal? Can’t a guy talk anymore?”
All three voices came in unison, “Stay out of this.”
Then Paul paused, fists clenched then unclenched in his lap.
“Sorry, yeah you’re right.”
“I mean come on, Paulie, I know that’s not in your heart.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, alright? I shouldn’t have said anything, let’s drop it.”
With that, Paul announced he needed a cigarette and excused himself for the next ten minutes. Patrick excused himself to the bathroom or to locate the cat, whichever would take the longest.
They did, but the air was frigid until Rachel brought up the topic of her classes. Then it became the two of them fawning over how well, how smart she was. Paul interjected on occasion, but it was obvious he was thrown off for the rest of the night until going to his old bedroom with Patrick.
Rachel stayed down with the two of them, which raised the question of why did he even come in the first place?
—-
He just couldn’t keep his mouth shut, Paul thought to himself as he brushed his teeth. He knew his dad was gonna be brought up, and he still let himself slip like that. When did he become so soft?
He found Patrick sitting up in his childhood bed, waiting for him before even laying down. Paul sat next to him, leaning over.
“God, sorry you had to see that,” Paul mumbled into Patrick’s neck.
“Whatever, it’s nothing compared to what you’ve seen from my family.” Paul could feel Patrick’s hand creep under his t-shirt, pushing it up so he could graze his fingers over his waist. “I have to say, I never get to see you lose it like that.”
“Are you seriously getting turned on from that?” Paul snorted.
“Not like there’s much else to do here.”
“I told you before, it’s too weird to do it here.”
“Just be quiet, I know that’s hard for you but you could try.” Patrick’s fingers brushed his abdomen, making the muscles flutter under the touch.
“I’m not in the mood.” Patrick’s fingers kept prodding at him until Paul spoke again. “I’m serious, I’m not fucking you right now.”
He heard Patrick mutter something under his breath, but moved his hand so it rested outside of Paul’s shirt, on his hip. Breathing into the crook of Patrick’s neck, Paul squeezed his eyes so he could somehow wipe the memory of tonight’s dinner. No luck, but at least that was over. Only a whole other day to pray that nothing like that would come up again.
“It was because of lunch, by the way,” he heard Patrick say.
“What?”
“When I was talking to Tim, and he was talking about all the guys and how god awful their home lives were. That got me thinking.”
“This better not be a break-up speech, I swear to god.”
“No, asshole, shut up,” snapped Patrick. “I just meant, I didn’t want what we had to turn to shit like them. I mean, I can handle your stupid family not liking me, but you or…”
“Rachel? She doesn’t hate you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Look, Pat, I’m glad you came.” Paul took Patrick’s face in his hands, forcing their eyes to lock. “I like to see you put effort in, it’d be nice to see it more often, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”
Turning away, Patrick leaned further back on the bed with his hands resting on his chest. He looked all around Paul’s room, eyes focusing on random objects, but Paul couldn’t pinpoint which ones.
“I just don’t want to be a fuck up or screw that girl up like your…”
“Don’t.”
“Paul.”
“Patrick, please I don’t want to think about him, this is not the same thing.”
“Yeah? Why is it I have to tell you everything, and with you it’s always a big secret?”
“Not right now, okay? Besides, I swear you’re not like him so don’t pull some Freud shit on me.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be,” said Paul, moving in closer. “We’ll do what we do best and take it as it comes.”
“That’s not very comforting, Allen.”
“It’s all I got right now, take it or leave it, babe.” Just like that, Patrick’s hand was back around Paul, now around his shoulders.
Paul wasn’t being facetious or blindly optimistic, he wanted to be better than his dad. He knew him and Patrick could be better than what his dad was for him. He hoped so, at least. The fact that they were talking about it, that Patrick did all this because of one conversation, had to account for something. Some kind of proof that it would all work out for no other reason than because it just had to. Otherwise, what was the point?
—-
Rachel, upon the drive back, was convinced Patrick coming was a bad omen because this was the first year it was as awkward as it was at Paul’s mom’s house. The drive wasn’t much better, Paul uncharacteristically silent in the driver’s seat and Patrick of course not saying anything.
Paul didn’t even try to get her to practice driving like he joked about on the way.
She didn’t dare bring up his dad, as that was the trigger for when things went to shit. Still, she knew next to nothing about him apart from the passing murmurs from Paul’s sister, Jen, Paul’s mom and now him. Maybe at some point she’d ask, a point where he could easily spin out while bottling up anymore pent up rage and issues related to him.
So instead she opted for, “Sorry we didn’t get to practice like you wanted.”
“What?” Paul asked, looking through the rearview mirror.
“Driving, we didn’t get to do that.”
“Oh,” Paul said with a flat tone, “that’s alright, we can try sometime over the break.”
Rachel looked out the window at the passing cars on the highway, that tightness in her stomach returning.
“Is it shitty of me that I don’t even have a license yet?” she asked. Paul glanced up at her through the mirror again.
“Huh? No, I mean you should get one, but…I don’t know, I didn’t even have a car til a few years ago.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean, not like you really need it where we are. Pat didn’t even know how to drive when I met him.” As the last sentence came out, his usual cheerful tone began to return. She could see Paul nudge Patrick, then tilt his head to the back.
“No, I didn’t. I…didn’t need to know, then Paul gave me so much shit I let him show me some things.”
“He means I taught him everything he knows.” Patrick didn’t argue with him about that. “All I’m saying is, it’s not a race.”
“Yeah, got that,” said Rachel. Paul looked at Patrick again, making some kind of expression she couldn’t make out from the back.
This time Patrick was the one to talk. “Maybe I could help you. Since I get where you’re coming from.”
It was a random proposal from Patrick, who could barely hold a conversation with Rachel outside of shared interests. The one who anytime he attempted to connect, failed miserably, now wanted to help her overcome this. Was he dying? Would she get yelled at for asking?
“Sure, maybe,” she said with a shrug.
The rest of the drive felt a little lighter in the backseat.