The New Face of Failure

Charlie Stewart: My parents say my future is right on the horizon.
Connie Baker: Tell them the horizon is an imaginary line that recedes as you approach it. – Mona Lisa Smiles

November was a busy month, with Thanksgiving looming around the corner and a scheduled trip to LA for the guys to mix their CD and play some songs for the stockholders of the record company, and the guys kept having meetings with their manager about the upcoming US tour. However, Harper and Patrick were inseparable. Wherever one went, the other followed. It was as if the looming tour was hanging over their heads, threatening to disrupt the happiness that the two had found, and they were desperately trying to cram in as much time together as they could. Although they didn’t say it to each other, deep down they were both afraid of what would happen once Patrick was gone on tour and Harper was left behind at school.

“Hey, where’s your other half?” Pete asked Patrick one day as the guys congregated at Pete and Andy’s house to meet with their manager, Bob. They had ordered Chinese food to quell their appetites before the inevitably long meeting. Bob had said something about merchandise and scheduling TV appearances, so they knew that they were going to be stuck in the living room for a while.

Patrick set his stuff down on the floor and flopped onto the couch next to his best friend. “She has class right now,” he replied.

“Whoa, she still goes to class? I figured she’d be attached at your hip, to hell with any classes,” Andy remarked, playing out a beat with his chopsticks.

“What? We aren’t together all the time,” Patrick said defensively.

“Oh come on, Patrick, the girl keeps a toothbrush in our dorm room and I almost feel like I don’t need a girlfriend because I get enough of yours on a daily basis,” Joe said, stuffing some sweet and sour chicken into his mouth.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Whatever, why are you complaining? You get to see Cassidy that much more too.”

Joe grinned. “This is true and I am THIS close to stealing her away from her boyfriend.”

“Or to getting a restraining order on yourself,” Pete laughed, making Andy and Patrick laugh as well.

“Uh-huh, okay, laugh all you want, but you know it’s true. She’s been talking to me a lot more.”

“Well, if you two actually hook up, then I’ll get “Joe Is the Man” tattooed on my lower back,” Pete challenged.

“There is nothing wrong with putting the truth on your body permanently,” Joe replied, “but I will take your challenge sir.”

They shook hands, solidifying the deal.

“You two are crazy,” Patrick said shaking his head.

Suddenly Pete’s Macbook started ringing and a FaceTime box popped up. “Whoops, business time,” Pete said, and he hit “Answer”. “Afternoon Bob!”

“Hey boys!” Their manager, a tall portly man with a voice as slick as oil, but a heart as warm as comfy sweater. “You guys ready for LA next week?”

“We’ve been breaking out our summer clothes if that is what you meant,” Pete joked.

“Yeah, it definitely will be warm over there. It’s always a vacation for Northeasterners like us,” Bob replied. “So, I wanted to talk to you guys about some marketing stuff, the show for the stockholders…”

Business meetings were always a little boring for Patrick. Pete was the one who had more of a mind and willingness to deal with the business aspect of what they did. Although, Patrick was starting to worry that all of it was getting to him.

Ever since they returned from Chicago, the incident at the hospital had been clawing at Pete’s back. Although the other guys couldn’t notice it, Patrick could. He would catch Pete sometimes furtively texting, and when he was doing that, it usually meant that he was trying to text his ex-girlfriend. He was also taking a lot more of his Ativan than usual, although he sneaked the pills. Patrick didn’t say anything because he knew that Pete did suffer from depression and anxiety, but he always wondered how much was too much when it came to that stuff, and he always took more when he was talking to her. He wondered if they had hooked up again since getting back. He hoped that for Pete’s sake and for the band’s that he wasn’t.

Once the meeting was over, Andy and Joe decided to play some video games while Patrick and Pete shut themselves in the garage to play around with some songs they were thinking about using for their second album, if they ever got to that point.

As they were collaborating, Patrick heard his phone start going off. He grabbed it and saw a text message from a name he hadn’t seen in almost two years. “What the hell?”

Pete looked up from his notes. “What is it?”

Patrick turned his phone to Pete. “Look who just texted me.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Why is she texting you?”

Patrick shrugged. “No idea. I haven’t heard from her since she left for college.” He stared at the text message.

HEY PATRICK! ITS ANNIE. HEARD U GOT A RECORD DEAL. CONGRATS YOU DESERVE IT! WE SHOULD GET TOGETHER AND CATCH UP SOMETIME. ☺

“Patrick, you know that the only reason she’s texting you is because she heard about how awesome you are now with your record deal and tour and she’s finally realized what she could have had if she wasn’t such a fucking superficial tease.”

Patrick nodded absently. “Yeah, I know.” He didn’t know what he should do. He could feel his palms and armpits start to sweat, which had happened whenever he was either around her or thinking about her. It was a terrible habit that he thought was broken, especially now that he was with Harper.

“Patrick,” Pete said warningly. “You’re with Harper now, and she’s ten times better than Annie.”

“I know,” Patrick replied, looking up at Pete. “I know. I love Harper, Pete, don’t worry. I’m not about to dump her for the chance to be with Annie again. I mean, I know what she was and is, you know?”

Pete nodded. “Yeah, I hope so. Take it from a guy who fucked around on girls, it doesn’t end well for anyone, least of all you.”

What Pete said made Patrick pause. “Hey Pete, speaking of girls, have you been, you know… texting what’s her name?” he tried to be nonchalant about it so as to not let Pete think that he’s been noticing his behavior.

Pete cracked an amused grin. “Patrick, come on. Have we forgotten Chicago so quickly? She has clearly moved on from me.”

“And you have moved on from her,” Patrick said slowly, judging his reaction.

“Yeah totally.” Pete said brightly.

“Okay, because I noticed you were taking your Ativan again…”

“Well, my psych said that it was probably a good idea after what happened in Chicago. My relapse and all, trying to get myself killed by picking a fight with the biggest fucking dude ever.”

“Right… Okay, well,”

There was a knock on the garage door that interrupted him. Patrick realized that he still had the text message from Annie up and quickly deleted the message from his phone and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. The door opened slowly and Harper’s head peeked through.

“Hey!” she said excitedly.

“Harper!” Patrick exclaimed, feeling a his body warm up when he saw her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’m done with classes for the day and Cassidy offered to drive me over to surprise you.” She glanced at Pete and then back at Patrick nervously. “I hope that’s okay.”

Patrick stood up and walked over to her, wrapping her into a hug. “Yeah, of course. Pete and I were just arguing over a song we’re working on.” He kissed her lips tenderly, trying to forget about the random text message. Although he didn’t do anything, he still felt guilty for having seen it at all.

“I should have known,” she giggled, kissing him back. She looked over Patrick’s shoulder. “Hey Pete.”

“Harper Lee,” he said affectionately. He had taken to calling Harper by the author’s name because he said it suited her. Patrick hoped Pete wouldn’t bring up the text message. He shot Pete a warning look and Pete threw him back one of disapproval. “Where’s Cassidy at?”

“Joe stole her away from me and is busy trying to win her over,” Harper replied, stepping into the garage and sitting down on one of the empty folding chairs. “I don’t know, I am a little scared that it might be working.”

“WHAT?!” Patrick and Pete exclaimed in unison.

“That was really weird,” she said, looking at them oddly. “Um, anyway, yeah I think it might. I mean, don’t tell Cassidy I told you this, but she and Derrick have been fighting a lot lately. He seems to be blowing her off a lot and, I don’t know, Cassidy has been acting nicer to Joe.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to get into my pants, Louis Stevens Dirty Older Brother!” Cassidy shouted as she walked into the garage.

“Um, maybe I spoke too soon…”

“Harper, there you are.” Cassidy leaned against the frame of the garage door. “Okay, I’m going to head out. Joe just tried to touch my boob.”

Pete and Patrick snickered.

“Oh, really? That’s strange,” Harper said awkwardly.

“Not really. He’s been after my body for awhile now,” Cassidy replied, as if no one else in the room knew that fact. “Anyway, Patrick, you can take my girl home right?”

Patrick nodded. He loved having car rides with Harper because she helped in outnumbering Joe on what music they had to listen to, and he loved holding her hand while they drove. He didn’t know why, but there was something about it that was comforting to him.

“Great. Harper, babe, I will see you later.” She walked over and gave Harper a kiss on the cheek.
“See you later Cass, and thanks for the ride.”

Once she was gone, Harper turned and looked back at Patrick and Pete. “So anything cool happen?”

Patrick exchanged a shifty glance with Pete. “No, just the normal stuff. The meeting went well, we talked some more about the tour and stuff. I’ll be able to give you an itinerary soon…” he trailed off, because they both knew what he was going to say next.

Harper kept a smile on her face, but it faltered a little bit. “Okay, that sounds good.” She looked down at her hands and didn’t really say anything else.

Patrick felt that familiar tug of pain when it came to talking to Harper about the tour. Although she acted like she was fine with it, he knew deep down she was worried because he was too. He didn’t have the highest self esteem in the world, and he was sure that at some point, Harper might find someone else who was better than he was while he was off playing rock star. There were times that he had had the thought of leaving the band behind. Let them find another singer, they will be okay without you. Pete is the one carrying the band anyway, his mind tried to convince him. However, there was the other part of him that wanted to do the band that wanted to write songs and play with his three best friends. Yet there was no part of him that told him he had to move on from Harper in order to do any of it.

As he and Pete settled back into writing, he kept glancing at Harper who had brought her laptop with her. He knew that she was trying to figure out what kind of story to start next. She had finally finished her futuristic saga about Ada and Cross and Patrick could see she was feeling down about it. To her, those characters were almost as real as she and him were and Patrick knew that it killed her that once they were written and finished, there was nothing else for her to do with them. He imagined that he would feel that way if that was what happened to the songs he wrote. Except his songs now got to live on in live shows and on records. Wait a minute. It was as if a mist cleared in his mind, leading him to an obvious answer that he didn’t have before. A way to help Harper and somehow make amends for putting his dreams ahead of their relationship.

The next day, Patrick told Harper that he had to see a teacher after their Spanish class and to meet him back at his room. Once she was gone, he raced toward Anderson Hall, where they kept all of the Liberal Arts departments. He went up the elevator to the floor for English and then searched the offices for a specific name. When he found it, he saw that there was an older lady sitting in a desk with books piled up all around her, her eyes focused on her Mac desktop. He took a deep breath and knocked on her door.

She looked up at him and lowered her spectacles. “Can I help you young man?”

Patrick took a step into her office. “Yes, Dr. Woodall?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s me, the door clearly says it, as does this placard here.” She pointed to the name plate on her desk.

Patrick felt himself blushing. “Yeah, sorry. Um, Hi,” he moved forward reaching out for a handshake. “My name is Patrick Stump. I am a student here.”

She took his hand and laughed lightly. “Ah, I see, a fan of the movies or the books?”

Patrick shook her head. “Um, sorry, neither actually.”

She looked disappointed. “Well, that’s a pity. Then what can I do for you Mr. Stump?”

He pulled a large stack of papers out of his backpack and set them on her desk. “I was wondering if you could read this.”

She looked at the papers and then back up at him. “Mr. Stump, I admire students who take the interest in writing, but I just don’t…”

“No, it’s not mine. It’s my girlfriend’s, Harper Williams. She is really talented Dr. Woodall and she admires you and your work. I mean she talks about you all of the time.” He pointed to the papers. “This is a novel she’s written. I’ve read it and I am more of a non-fiction guy myself, but I couldn’t put it
down. I was wondering if you could read it and maybe help me push it somewhere, to like a publisher or something.”

Dr. Woodall took the papers into her hands. “Harper Williams. That name sounds familiar. Why does it sound familiar?”

“Um, well, she was the only freshman who had her short story entered into the literary magazine,” Patrick replied.

Dr. Woodall smiled. “Ah, yes, I loved her story. There was so much honesty in it.” She shuffled through the pages. “However, Mr. Stump, I really don’t have the time…”

Patrick sat down at one of the chairs in front of her. “I’m, uh, sorry, Dr. Woodall, I guess I didn’t make my intentions clear. I’m going to do whatever it takes to help her make this story into a book. I believe in her ability and it looks like you do too.”

She raised her eyebrows in astonishment at his boldness.

“Look, just read the first chapter. If you hate it, then I will take it with me and you’ll never see me again. But I won’t leave this chair until you at least read the first chapter.” He crossed his arms defiantly, hoping that she wouldn’t take his threat seriously and try and have him kicked out of the building.

“My, my, aren’t you the chivalrous one. She’s a lucky girl to have you in her court.” She sighed. “All right, I will read the first chapter, only because this survey the University is asking me to do is just downright tedious and I could use a diversion. Plus, you are cute to look at, you remind me of my deceased husband,” Patrick’s eyes widened and she pointed a finger at him. “But I cannot guarantee that I will like it or that I can do anything.”

“Of course, I understand, thank you Dr. Woodall,” Patrick said graciously. He then settled back into chair and started fiddling with his thumbs while she started reading. He watched her face intently, hoping to read her feelings about the chapter, but her face was literally the most unreadable that he had ever seen. She made no facial expressions whatsoever, either of approval or disapproval. He had never seen someone able to maintain a blank face for as long as she was able to. It made him more nervous than he was before.

When she finished, she slowly closed the papers back together and looked up at Patrick. “Hmm, well then,” she said and Patrick gulped. Although it wasn’t his story, he knew that Harper’s future and somehow by extension his future depended on what Dr. Woodall was going to say next.

A few days later, he and the guys were on a plane heading out to LA to meet with the stockholders and do some mixing and remastering of the songs that they recorded in Chicago. The first thing that Patrick noticed when he stepped out into the sunny LA skies was that there were palm trees everywhere. Short palm trees, tall palm trees, palm trees that looked stout brandy glasses and palm trees that were so thin that they made Patrick feel insecure about the size of his arms.

A white van shuttle was waiting for them at the airport and some guy in a suit was waiting for them to drive them to the place that they were going to be staying.

“A driver and everything? Wow, they must be pulling out all the stops,” Pete remarked sarcastically as they climbed into the van, while the guy filled the back of it with their equipment and luggage. Patrick noticed that Pete had been acting a little bitter the whole day and he wondered if those secretive text messages had anything to do with it.

The driver took them to an apartment complex that looked put together on the outside, but the rooms looked as if they only housed pimps and drug dealers in them. The curtains were musty with the stale scent of the last smoker in the room and there were several mysterious stains on the floors that the guys would have rather not found out their origins. They were grateful that the label at least let them have their own rooms in this strange macabre complex.

Once they were settled in, a older woman, named Jenn (older to Patrick at least. He estimated that she might have had been around Andy and Pete’s age, or at least a year or two older), came around and introduced herself to them as their public relations representative. She gave them their itinerary and let them know a little bit about what to expect from their week in LA. Afterward, she took them to the studio where they met with the producers there and they discussed the direction of the album, the sound that the guys wanted to put out there and a little bit about how the schedule was going to work.

But, when they weren’t in the studio, Joe and Pete wandered down to the hot tub in the pool area of the complex and flirted with all of the aspiring actresses and models who would hang out there, still recovering from their night before of hard core partying and drinking. Andy preferred to wander around LA, trying out all of their vegan restaurants.

“Patrick, this place is my mecca man. Philly doesn’t have nearly as many choices for people of my lifestyle as LA does,” Andy had told him.

Patrick ventured out some nights with Andy, but most of the time, he stayed in his room, working on some of the homework that he still needed to do (his mother was adamant about him still getting good grades even if he was taking a break from school in the spring), and chatting over Skype with Harper.

Their time in the studio seemed to be more stressful for all of them than they had anticipated. Although Andy was easy going and trusted the thoughts of his fellow band mates and Joe just seemed to be more interested in getting the record completed, Patrick and Pete fought constantly over how the songs should sounds. If they weren’t arguing with each other, they were arguing with the producers.

“Patrick, that just sounds like shit, okay?” Pete exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, frustrated.

“Dude, just listen to it again. If we don’t change the chord there, it will really sound like shit and then I don’t want the damn song on the album,” Patrick retorted.

“God you two argue like an old married couple, you know that,” Joe sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Yeah, I have to agree with Joe on this one. You two need to relax. It’s our first album, we aren’t setting out to recreate Abbey Road or some shit,” Andy retorted.

“You don’t understand,” Pete started.

“Well, what you don’t understand is that time is money guys,” the producer cut in. They both looked at him dumbly. “Yeah I didn’t think so. Let’s go ahead and play it back and get a vote on it okay?”

And that was if Pete decided to show up on time. At night, he would venture out into the LA nightlife and roll into the studio late. None of them said anything, but Patrick could tell that Pete was off his usual game. He also noticed that he would slip out a lot to make calls, claiming that he was going to go to the bathroom, although his phone was readily in his hand.

Patrick didn’t know how serious it was until the fourth night that they were there, the night before they were going to play for the stockholders. Patrick locked himself away in his room, going over the songs that they had planned for the small show, hoping that the other guys were doing that too.

It was around one in the morning (Although Patrick was a night owl, there was definitely no way he could sleep that night) when he heard a frantic knock on his door.

“Patrick!” Andy shouted from outside.

Patrick shut his laptop and jumped up to answer the door. Andy and Joe were standing there with worried looks on his face.

“What’s up guys?” he asked them, glancing around the darkened exterior.

“Pete, he’s not answering his door and I had heard him shouting at someone earlier, I think it was her because he was talking about some dude and shit,” Andy said breathlessly. “Then I heard him like crying, fucking hard and I got worried, but he won’t open the door.”

Patrick swore to himself and pushed past his two friends. He walked down the hall to Pete’s room and knocked on the door. “Hey Pete? Pete, it’s Patrick!” he called out as gently as he could.

There was no answer. Patrick could feel his heart racing nervously. “Pete, man, please open the door. We want to know you’re okay!” Patrick said.

“Dude, should we call an ambulance or something?” Joe whispered. Patrick turned around. “Go grab the landlord of this place and tell him we need a key to his room okay?” Joe nodded and rushed off.

Patrick kept knocking on the door and calling out Pete’s name with a growing urgency.

The landlord, a bulging figure of a man, came wobbling up the stairs behind Joe. “Fucking kids, want to be rock stars,” he muttered as he fiddled with his keys. “Too many drugs and end up dead. Gotta fucking stop renting to these types.”

Patrick, Andy and Joe exchanged mutual glances of worry at his comment. He found the key and opened the door.

“Thanks!” Patrick said hurriedly, pushing his way inside.

“Hey Patrick, we’ll wait out here,” Andy said, and Patrick just nodded, continuing his way inside.

The room was dark except for the light to the bathroom. Patrick glanced over on Pete’s bed and noticed that several bottles of pills, some that Patrick couldn’t even pronounce the name of, were laying nearly empty on the itchy old comforter. “Pete!” Patrick shouted, racing into the bathroom.

There Pete sat, his eyes closed, his face ashen and sweaty. “Shit,” Patrick muttered to himself, crouching down in front of him.

“Pete, hey Pete, man, are you okay?” Patrick asked, grabbing one of the towels off the rack and wetting it in the sink. He placed it on Pete’s face.

Pete’s eyes fluttered open and he grinned, his face looking like he was in a stupor. “Patrick,” he mumbled. “Wha’s up?”

“Pete, how many pills did you take?” he asked him. Pete’s eyes widened as if he just remembered what he had done and he clutched his stomach and started sobbing, retching sobs that racked his whole body.
“I fucking fucked up Patrick,” he sobbed, “she told me that we could be together again. I fucking believed her.”

Patrick nodded and rested a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, man.” He rubbed his knee comfortingly.

“Why do I play the fucking game? It’s all a vicious cycle of pain.”

Patrick took a deep breath. “I know.”

Pete suddenly heaved and made a grab for the toilet, throwing up the contents of his stomach. Patrick thought he saw some blood and pulled his phone out and texted Andy.

SEND AMBULANCE.

Pete sat back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Pete, how many pills did you take?” Patrick repeated.

“I don’t know some of the Ativan, Wellbutrin, Lexapro, that fifth of vodka from my fridge…” He paused to vomit once more in the toilet.

“Jesus, Pete,” Patrick sighed, taking a seat next to him and pulling him close. “Why?” Pete didn’t answer, but Patrick knew what the answer was. He knew how deep Pete could love someone because he felt that love as his best friend. Pete cried gasping sobs into Patrick’s shirt, and he continued to hold him, waiting for the ambulance to come so that they could check him out.

“You’re so lucky, Patrick,” he murmured once his crying calmed down.

“I don’t know about that,” Patrick laughed self-deprecatingly.

“Because she really loves you,” he said.

Patrick grew silent for a minute, thinking about how unfair it was that Pete was going through all of this pain and suffering over a girl. Why couldn’t he have something like Patrick had found?

Once the ambulance arrived, the medics took Pete over to the bed and started asking him questions. He didn’t cooperate with them very well, and when they gave him the option of going to the hospital or staying there, he chose to stay at the complex. As they packed up, they told Patrick and the guys that someone should stay and watch him overnight.

“He seems fine, he’ll probably just end up throwing all of it up. However, the last thing you need is for him to be sleeping and throw up in sleep and choke on his vomit.”

Patrick nodded along with Andy and Joe.

“So, you’re staying with him, right?” Joe asked Patrick, once the medics left.

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” he said and he ushered the other guys out of the room and shut the door.

“So you’re my babysitter for the evening,” Pete joked, falling onto the bed.

Patrick walked over to him and sat down next to him on the bed. “Yeah, I am.” Pete didn’t make fun of him though. He just stretched out on the bed, crossing his legs over one another and propping up his head with his arms behind it.

“We’ve been screwing around, you know,” Pete said matter-of-factly.

Patrick nodded. “I know.”

“She was going to come out to LA. I was going to tell you guys…”

“I know,” Patrick said again.

“This guy… this fucking guy she’s seeing… she said it’s not that easy. How is it not that easy?”

Patrick just shrugged.

“She apologized for not believing in me.”

“Do you believe it?” Patrick asked him pointedly.

Pete paused. “No, I never believe anything coming out of her mouth.” They were silent for awhile and Pete grabbed the remote control to turn the TV on. “Hey Patrick?”

“Yeah, man.”

“I’m sorry about fighting with you in the studio. You’re right, that chord progression is a better choice.”

Patrick smirked. “Thanks. But you should know by now that when it comes to the music, I’m always right.”

Pete laughed heartily at that. “Dude, I am lovin’ this new confidence in you.”

“Okay, let’s not get all sentimental now,” Patrick joked.

“All right, but I love you man.”

“Love you too homeslice.” Patrick rested a hand on Pete’s leg, and they started to watch some reruns of Robot Chicken. Eventually Pete passed out and Patrick slept close enough to keep him on his side. Most guys probably would have made fun of the two of them, huddled up close in a bed together, but Patrick didn’t care. He loved Pete. He was his best friend and he would have done anything for that kid. Some people thought he was going to bring the band down, but Patrick knew that the future of that band depended on Pete.