I Want to Scream 'I Love You'

“Good morning. I see you finallywoke up.”

I rolled my eyes at Patrick, taking a seat at the kitchen table next to where he was sitting. Stealing the cup of coffee out of his hand for a sip, I sighed.

“Well, it would help if you didn’t turn my alarm off.”

He grabbed the cup back. “That’s my coffee –thank you– and it’s Saturday, you don’t wake up at seven on Saturdays.”

“Danielle does and technically it’s my coffee. You stole it from my cupboard.”

“We made you pancakes.”

“You – what?”

He smiled and gently placed the coffee back into my hands before walking back into the kitchen and punching a few numbers into the microwave. What must’ve been a minute or so later he pulled out, sure enough, a small stack of two, maybe three, pancakes from the microwave and placed them down in front of me.

“She said you love pancakes but always burn them, so we made you pancakes.”

At that point, I laughed, probably a little too hard and a little too loud. Danielle had always thought it was just hilarious, the fact I couldn’t cook a pancake to save my life. Of course she would get Patrick to make some.

“Oh whatever, laugh all you want. I make fucking amazing pancakes. Here,” he reached over, grabbing a fork off the counter, “try them.”

I was still stifling giggles as I took it out of his hand, and even as I tried a bite. They tasted… pretty good. Heh, no work of some professional chef, but they were still good, especially with the shit-worth generic pancake mix we had in the cupboard.

Just to see his reaction, though, I chewed long and hard, acting as if were some big deal whether I liked them or not.

“…So?” he asked, getting impatient, one eyebrow cocked.

“They’re…” I bit back a smile and set my fork down, “…awful.”

“Ha, you so like them,” he retorted back in an instant, rolling his eyes, “and we made those special for you. Lots of love and rainbows and happiness. Eat.”

I did as he said, picking my fork back up and taking a few bites. The little smile on his lips grew and he sighed, taking a seat back down again.

“By the way, what did you do with my little sister?”

“Oh, yeah, the little girl across the hallway… Kendra… Kacey… Katie… Kaylie-“

“-Kellie-“

“…Kellie wanted her to come over. I talked to her mom and she said that Danielle goes over all the time.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine.” He glanced over at me and gave me a weak smile, and I suddenly remembered just about all of last night. “So,” I pulled my knees up to my chest, and rested my feet on the edge of the seat of his chair, “how’s the hangover?”

“Oh lord,” he muttered, pulling his glasses off and tossing them onto the table before rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I took some of your Tylenol, hope you don’t mind, but it’s just not doing much.”

“Yeah, it’s hell to pay for not being able to remember much of the night before, isn’t it?”

He laughed grimly and laid his head down on the table over crossed arms. “I remember it, sadly, and I’d rather not.”

I handed him his coffee back and he took a slow drink of it before resting his hand back in his hands. There was a moment of silence before I prodded him some more.

“So are you going to tell me, sober-ly, what happened last night? You know, instead of slurry, giggly Patrick who can’t compose a full sentence to save his life.”

“I hope you know,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me, “you’re just as bad after one beer.”

“Hey. No. We’re talking about you here. Not me.”

“It’s still true.”

“Anyway, last night, you were saying something about Claire and-“

Before I could even finish, he groaned, rather loudly, and buried his face back into his arms.

“I’ll take that as you don’t want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, which didn’t answer much, and took another hard swallow of coffee. “Claire and I, we got in a fight. In front of everyone. And she is loud when she’s drunk.” He stopped and looked back up at me as I motioned for him to continue. “I don’t know. She was just… I don’t know… pissing me off. There’s nothing much past that.”

“Are you sure?” I instantly asked and he nodded, not paying me much attention. “Well, last night, you said that you told Claire you loved her.”

The knuckles of his hand went white. “I – shit, I told you that?”

“That and that you were lying when you said it.” I walked off for a moment to pour him more coffee and resumed my spot. He took it carefully, holding it as he was going to take a drink, but set it back down instead.

“She said it first,” he said prominently, as if it was the answer to everything. “I, just, what do you say to that? I could pull an Eric-Foreman and tell her that I love cake, but that would just be awkward.”

I bit down on my lip, hiding back a small laugh that escaped anyway.

“I don’t know anymore.” He sighed. “We just, this whole thing is stupid. I mean, we barely like each other, I don’t know why I’m still dating her.”

I furrowed my eyebrows and leaned closer to him. “And yet you tell her you love her?”

He groaned and his head hit the table so fast, I seriously wondered if he was okay. Instead, I reached behind me to grab the Tylenol still sitting on the counter and set it next to Patrick.

“I messed up, okay? Big time.”

“Hey, hey now. I’m sorry,” I pulled my chair closer to him, gently resting a hand on his back and laying my head next to his, “I’m just shocked is all.”

He snorted, “Me too.”

Things went suddenly still for awhile, neither one of us saying anything, other than him thanking me for the Tylenol before taking two.

After cleaning up the plate and fork off the table, I took my spot back next to Patrick as he just stared into space, as if he were in some deep thought. I tapped my fingers gently on the table in attempt to catch his attention, but it was no use.

“You okay?” I asked and he whipped his head around, putting on a smile.

“Yeah, I’m just… yeah, I’m good.” He turned in his chair so he was facing me, copying my actions and hugging his knees to his chest. “My mom thinks I’m staying the night at Pete’s.”

“You’re telling me this…why?”

“She also thinks Claire and I are 'just friends'; my step-dad too. Pete thinks that Claire drove me home last night, but she left twenty minutes before me. My dad, oh lord, my dad thinks I’m planning on going to college after high school.”

He looked up at me from under his long eyelashes, sighing when I said nothing because, hell, what do you say?

“People… people believe what I say, no matter what, even the flat out lies. I don’t know if I am just incredibly liable or if it’s just that I can lie like no one else; but it scares me.”

When the silence fell between us again, it was a little more uncomfortable, because we both knew who the responsibility of speaking next laid and that person was still at a loss of words.

And, god, I didn’t know what to say at all. There were endless possibilities, for sure, but none of them seemed right.

He laid his head on my shoulder as I slid my arms carefully around him. I wasn’t even sure what had sparked his random confessional but it wasn’t like him.

“I’m sorry, I just-“

“Shh, it’s fine,” I ordered him, and he let out a low chuckle, humming against the crook of my neck. And, lord, if he knew what he was doing.

For once, he was leaning on me, instead of the other way around, which, when you think about it, is kind of shocking. I couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times I’d flipped out and he was there, but I didn’t even need a hand to count the times it was this way.

“So, how the hell didyou get here last night?”

Another laugh and a sigh. “I, yeah, I drove.”

I pulled my head back immediately, my eyes trying to find Patrick’s. “You, how, I mean, you were wasted.”

“I know, I know, I’m scared to go outside,” he closed his eyes again, resting his head gently back down, “and see my car. I’ll be surprised if there aren’t dents covering the sides of it.”

“I’ll be surprised if you still have all your windows in tact.”

“That too.” He glanced past me for a moment shoving his fists into his hoodie pockets. “My mom’s going to kill me.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. “She wanted me home early. Apparently she wants to clean out the basement,” he rolled his eyes, shaking his head and the small smile across his lips barely showed. “Thanks for, well, everything; place to stay, listening to my rambling…”

“You made me pancakes, we’re even.”

“Thanks though.”

I smiled and nodded, reaching over for another hug. “Dude, it’s no problem.”

***

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

SpongeBob SquarePants!

Absorbent and yellow and porous is he!

“SpongeBob SquarePants!” Danielle chanted along with the TV. I rubbed my temple, silently cursing the creator of that show.

If nautical nonsense is something you wish…

“SpongeBob SquarePants!”

And there was no point in fighting with her, because by the time I started talking, the song would be over and it would be a lost cause.

Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish!

“SpongeBob SquarePants!”

God must’ve been having some kind of grace today and sent an angel when the phone started ringing. I flipped the TV on mute quickly, much to Danielle’s dismay and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Hayley, right?” Damn.

Angel, demon, same thing.

“Yeah, hey Claire,” I answered, almost reluctantly. Danielle reached for the remote in my hand but I held it just out of her reach.

“Is Patrick there?”

I jumped up off the couch when Danielle started to climb across me. She huffed, crossing her arms and pushing out her bottom lip in an overdramatic pout.

“He just left about, oh, thirty minutes ago,” I said into the receiver and shoved the remote on top of the refrigerator, rewarded by a death glare from Danielle.

“Haven’t you talked to him today?” I asked, now curious as why she would be calling me of all people. I’d even gotten Patrick to admit she didn’t like me, now.

“Oh, just wondering, I left early last night, wasn’t feeling good, so I was just making sure he was okay.”

Danielle was now sitting at the kitchen table, legs crossed, arms too, still staring at me, hoping I would, maybe, light up and catch fire or something.

“Oh, alright. Yeah, he stayed the night here.” I did my damndest to sound casual, but I could just imagine her twitching at the thought and smiled to myself, not paying any thought to Danielle anymore.

Across the line, she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I tried calling him but he didn’t answer.”

“Last night?”

“And this morning.”

“Oh, yeah, I think he’s upset about something.” And, like that, the let’s-annoy-Claire game turned into trying to prod any information out of her that’s Patrick’s not telling me.

There was a shuffling on the other end and then a bit of silence, and I was almost sure she hung up on me until she started talking again. “Maybe, he wasn’t too happy at Pete’s party.”

“How come?”

Danielle’s standing in front of me now, her bright blue eyes wide as can be and as pathetic looking as ever. I let out a sigh before grabbing the remote and flipping the sound back on, making sure it’s turned way down.

“I’m not sure, I figured you would know,” Claire said, a bit of venom twined in her voice, as if I had done something intentionally wrong here.

“Not exactly,” I sighed and let out a small laugh as Danielle mouthed the words to SpongeBob.

“Alright, well, thanks.”

And, before I could even respond, she was hung up. I sighed, and tossed the phone over onto the counter, laying my head in my hands.

I wumbo, you wumbo, he, she, we wumbo, wumboing, wumbology, the study of wumbo...come on Spongebob, this is first grade.