NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR:
This is the 4
th
part to my "Patty" series. I thank you all for reading with me.
These two fictional characters are based on a real couple. I try to keep their decisions in line with the real live couple, even though I take creative liberties with the actual story. Of course, I'm not inside of their heads, but I have a fairly good idea of how they think based on my relationship with them and the time I've spent with them.
I hope you all enjoy.
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Patrick awakened to the sunlight greeting him through the open blinds. The sounds of a winter morning in full gear told him of an hour that was much too late. The voices of his neighbors as they shoveled snow. Cars driving over a slushy road. Even the wind seemed to be full of activity. Since he got sober, Patrick had become accustomed to beating the sun in a race to greet the world. It felt strangely reminiscent of his alcohol days to finally lose.
Another familiar sensation: the pounding head of a hangover. He definitely drank too much last night.
He groggily groaned as he tried to raise his head from the pillow, which he instantly regretted. The throbbing in his skull chastised him and reminded him that the softness of the pillow was his friend. He complied and sank even further into it.
"Just five more minutes."
he lied to himself as he closed his eyes.
He had almost slipped back off into sleep when he felt the bed move beside him. A rustling beneath the very comforter he was under disturbed him. He opened his eyes just in time to see a slender arm snake around his torso. Clearing the blankets away, Patrick was in for the shock of his life.
"Good morning, Patty." Kendra said with a yawn, her eyes fluttering open.
Oh shit.
His head finally had enough energy to lift. A quick survey around the room told him that he wasn't sleeping in his own bed. He wasn't in his own room. If he'd not been so hungover, he would've put together the clues a lot sooner.
This king-sized bed was much too soft to be his.
The extra fluffy pillow he was sleeping on felt too high a quality for anything he'd have bought. Plus, it smelled like lavender. His at home smelled like sweat.
The voices of neighbors shoveling? He lived in an apartment building. Neighbors didn't shovel snow. They complained about it to the complex managers.
Even still, this unfamiliar bedroom had a sense of familiarity to it. He'd spent years in this room. He remembered the day he purchased this bed. These pillows. Those blinds. That bedspread.
He was in his old bedroom; the one he used to share with his wife.
"Kendra?"
"Yeah?"
"What the hell is going on?"
She chuckled at that question as her hand gently rubbed his chest. "What do you mean
what the hell is going on?
What does it look like? We're waking up."
Patrick grabbed her hand and held it to get her to stop rubbing him. The soft motion was making his body react, whether he wanted it to or not.
"Why are we waking up in the same bed?" he asked, his tone serious.
"Oh, that's easy." She said with a devilish smirk. "Because we had sex, of course."
"Wait...WHAT???"
She giggled, as if his panicky questioning didn't bother her in the least. Her arms casually lifted over her head as she stretched her body. Her legs extended in the opposite direction.
Patrick couldn't help where his eyes wandered as she did this. Her braless breasts pushed against the thin material of her T shirt, highlighting her taut nipples which were practically erasers at this point. When she was done stretching, she sat up on her side, holding her head up with her hand while her elbow was perched on the mattress.
She looked like she was posing for a painting. Still beautiful, even after all these years. Even with her bed head of rumpled hair and her face naked of make-up, she was the most beautiful woman who'd ever let him remove her clothes.
An onrush of familiar feelings stirred inside of his loins. He mentally squashed them. He needed answers, and he had to not be horny to get them.
Once again implementing his serious tone, he asked, "So you're telling me that we had sex?"
"Yep."
"I don't believe it."
"Believe it." She said as she rolled away from him. That roll led her directly to the edge of the bed, in which she gracefully slid out from beneath the blanket. Patrick was now blessed with a full body view of his nearly naked wife. There she stood, wearing nothing but a thin T shirt and some panties.
To make matters worse, she had no shame about it. She didn't try to cover up. She didn't look embarrassed. In fact, she wore an amused grin, as if his confusion were entertaining.
"I warned you about drinking so much." She said as she perched her hands on her hips to playfully chastise him. "You really don't remember what we did last night? All the nasty shit I let your depraved ass do to me?"
"Huh?"
She giggled and shook her head before continuing with, "Now, I'm not complaining, but you were never that much of a freak when we were together."
"
Oh fuck!"
Patrick thought. "
She's not joking. I think I really fucked my wife last night."
As Kendra laughed at how much Patrick was panicking, his mind raced against time. He desperately rewound his memory to piece together an explanation. Images of a New Year's Eve party started off lucid and fun. He remembered meeting up with Dave and Charlotte. Having a few drinks. Seeing his estranged wife there, flirting with some douche bag. Having more drinks. Dancing with a pretty woman. Arguing with Kendra. Making up with Kendra. Having even more drinks. A kiss at midnight...
From then on, things got a bit hazy.
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Last night was a night of victory for Patrick. New Year's Eve 2020, Patrick was sitting on the floor in his living room, alone and drunk. The only thing on his mind was figuring out the best way to die. He had nothing to live for. Or so he thought.
He spent 2021 climbing out of that hole he'd been living in. The death of his brother. The death of his marriage. The death of a safe and secure middle American life. In 2020, he had to mourn those deaths. In 2021, he had to move on.
But 2022 had been a revelation. He not only saw just how much life he had in him, but he also saw how much life he brought to the world around him. From the depths of his despair, he climbed out of that hole he'd been living in and forced himself to live. Not just be alive, but to LIVE.
To find hobbies. To make new friends. To spend time with his daughter. To do more than just slave away at a job he barely tolerated.
For the first time in ages, Patrick didn't feel ambivalent about attending a gathering that his estranged wife would be at. He didn't feel that knot in his stomach when he thought about seeing her.
That is, until he saw her.
If God were real, Kendra would be an ugly hag that he could get over quickly. He'd be able to rest assured that she would never find love with another man, and that she'd spend the remainder of her days lonely and longing after him.
Why did she always have to light up the room with her smile? Why did her laugh force you to laugh? Why was she still the most beautiful woman Patrick had ever seen?
The real question was, why hadn't their separation affected her like it'd affected him?
When he caught her cheating, his world fell apart. And then, he did also. He started drinking more heavily. He stopped exercising. He barricaded himself away from the world, only leaving his miserable apartment to go to work.
But her? She flourished. As a single woman, she sprouted wings of a phoenix and soared. She went out on dates with her new beau to art museums, away on fun little vacays, had mind-blowing sex. She smiled more, cried less, and genuinely seemed like a happier woman.
And tonight was no different. Her tight, cocktail dress accentuated her curves. Her heels showed off her toned legs. They highlighted just how wonderfully put together she was, and they did it without seeming like she was advertising.
How she managed to still have that figure when she was pushing forty was a miracle that only fairy godmothers could grant. No wonder she was able to replace him with a man nearly a decade younger. The truth was, Kendra would only be single for as long as she wanted to be.
Even now, as she stood in a corner drinking champagne, there was a guy shooting his shot. Patrick could tell. He didn't have to actually hear what was being said to know they weren't talking about the weather. The way he looked at her, smiled at her, leaned in close as he spoke so that he could initiate contact. It was obvious.
She didn't even have to try. All she had to do was stand there, smile, and watch all the bees buzz over to her, hoping to pollinate her flower.
But you know what? He'd made peace with that. He had to. If he based his happiness on whether she suffered consequences for breaking his heart in the cruelest of ways, he'd forever be bound to her. Because honestly, there is no fate she could suffer that would be equivalent to what he'd been forced to endure.
From off to his left, a voice cut through Patrick's thoughts.
"Ho-ly shit! Do my eyes deceive me?" he heard his buddy Dave say. Dave and his wife Charlotte were the couple hosting the party. Patrick turned just in time to see Dave walking up to him in a slow, dramatic fashion. He looked like he was approaching a rare animal he didn't want to scare off.
"Dave." Patrick said with a nod of his head.
"Saint Patrick? Are you actually here, at my party, in the flesh? Did you finally decide to grace us mere mortals with your presence?"