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“No, man. I went down to the lobby to leave a note in Avery’s mailbox, and she came in. I asked her about the alcohol, and she said we could go right then and pick it up. I drove us to the liquor store a few blocks over. She bought it with her card and I gave her the cash I had on me.”
“Wow, this is great! Nice job, man,” I praised as I unlocked our door. We placed the bags on the counter in the kitchen, then pulled the bottles out.
“Remind me while we’re at the store to get some condoms,” Patrick said as he put the beers in the fridge. I was thrilled to hear him talk like that and bring up sex. He sounded happy and excited about the possible chance encounter with Avery.
“I will definitely remind you,” I said.
The condoms were the first thing I suggested we put in the cart when we got to the store. I didn’t want him to miss out on an opportunity with Avery because he forgot protection. We grabbed lots of food, and I remembered the card for Morgan. We had everything ready for tomorrow and were excited for our first official party.
Later that night, I was sitting in the great room watching some tapes on mute of my upcoming opponent when I heard Patrick groan. My gut thought was that it was a nightmare, though he also could have been jacking off. I turned my head in the direction of his room to see if I could tell if the noise derived from agony or pleasure. I didn’t hear anything for a few minutes and turned my attention back to the TV. A few moments later, I heard his voice again, and it sounded more strained than before. I was sure that he was definitely having a nightmare. I hurried to his room and stepped between the doorframe and the partially open door.
“Patrick,” I called as I walked to his bed. I repeated his name as I fumbled to turn his nightstand light on.
His head thrashed from side to side on his pillow as damp wisps of his hair stuck haphazardly to his forehead. His hands clutched his t-shirt while his feet slipped out from under him as he tried pushing away from the monster in his dreams. I sat on the side of his bed and covered his hands with mine while I called his name. I squeezed hard enough that he’d be able to feel me.
He jerked awake and stared at me with wide, terrified eyes. When he realized it was me, he sat up and leaned toward me until his forehead touched mine. He was breathing hard and panting. I wrapped my hand around his upper back and rubbed gently.
“It’s okay, Patrick. You were having a dream.”
“He was such a twisted fuck, Hollis,” he blurted and lowered his head to hide on my shoulder.
Both his father and stepbrother were vile and twisted, so his comment could have been about either of them. I put my other hand on the back of his neck and patted against his clammy skin. Usually when I woke him up from a nightmare, he was quiet and never offered much up in regard to the content of the dream. Later I’d find him scribbling away in his notebook, so at least he was getting the thoughts out. But then there were rare times when he felt he wanted, or rather he needed, to tell me about it.
“I know.”
“He wrecked me for everything,” he mumbled. I gently squeezed the back of his neck.
“He didn’t. You’re not wrecked for anything—”
“I can’t even spend the night with a chick. If I had a nightmare like this, if she even hung around until morning, there’s no way she’d ever come back.”
“Hey, then you know what?” I paused and jostled his neck. “Look at me, Patrick.” He raised his weary head and looked at me with exhausted eyes. “Then that woman doesn’t fucking deserve you.”
He nodded, but I felt like he was still distracted by his dream. He lowered his head again, and I pulled him closer so he could lean against me if he wanted to. He put his head against my shoulder and moved his hand to curl around my side.
“Do you want to try to go back to sleep?”
“No.”
I spotted the deck of Uno cards on his nightstand. Ever since tenth grade, games of Uno or regular cards always calmed him down. We both had them in our rooms and some out in the great room.
“Want to play a few hands of cards?”
“Okay,” he mumbled.
I grabbed the deck and shuffled. I was always happy to play cards with him because it would keep his mind off the nightmares and his family. We sat on his bed and played round after round of Uno. Eventually, we propped ourselves up on our elbows and played. Soon we laid down on our sides and put pillows under our heads so we could still see the top of the deck to play. And just like many times before, Patrick would fall asleep as soon as he felt calmer.
I woke up around four in the morning with Patrick’s pillow closer to mine. His head was resting on the mattress between our pillows, though. My left arm was partway out from under the pillow my head was on, and Patrick’s arm was on top of the exposed part of my left arm. Since we were both lying the opposite direction on the bed, I grabbed the throw he had on the foot of the bed. Making as little movement as possible, I unfolded the throw and covered us.
“Patrick,” I whispered.
I felt bad waking him and only half-assed the attempt. He didn’t open his eyes but mumbled his reply.
“Hmm?”
“Lift your head.”
Without questioning me or opening his eyes, he simply did as I asked. As soon as his head was off the mattress, I pushed enough of the pillow to support his head under him. He lowered his head to the pillow and then felt around on the bed for me. He wrapped his hand around my forearm and whispered, “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t.”
I pulled my right arm under the throw, which barely covered us below our asses, and rested my head on the pillow. I rubbed up and down on his arm and then on his upper back before resting my hand on his side. I had just closed my eyes when he sleepily muttered something that was too hard for me understand.
“…for you.”
It was all I could pick up from him. I stayed awake for a few minutes as I tried to piece together what he said. Even though I wanted him to repeat himself, I didn’t have the heart to wake him back up.
