The Bond of Brothers

Patrick sat rigidly up in the hospital bed he would no longer have to endure. He stared at the bag that Elisa had brought to him earlier. It was filled with things that supposedly belonged to him. It was real leather. He could tell just by looking. Expensive and most likely purchased in some overpriced store. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. Another gift. This one a Rolex. He shook his head. None of it meant a thing to him. They were just objects that could have belonged to anyone. His frown deepened as he noticed another card sitting on the table closest to him. They seemed to come every damn day. Didn’t these people have a life of their own to worry about? They were all just a little too fucking concerned about his.

“You look like a man about to face the electric chair.” Kevin grinned from the open doorway. “Not like someone about to be sprung from this dump.”

Patrick didn’t return his older brother’s grin, but that had become normal for him. He shifted his gaze from the lifeless card to the animated face before him. He couldn’t find the words to describe exactly how he was feeling at this moment. Perhaps it was very much as Kevin had described. But he was a man about to face a great unknown. Like someone about to be marched off a cliff. To everyone else, he was just going home. To Patrick, he was about to plunge into a black abyss. “I’m about to leave the one place I feel safe. Go to a home I do not remember with people I have no clue are. I’m expected to be a husband, a father and God knows what else. I don’t know how to do that.”

He could remember how a man became a father and a husband. He could tell someone step-by-step. He understood the human reproduction system. He could recall the laws surrounding marriage and divorce. He could even recount what a wedding ceremony would traditionally look like. But he couldn’t recall a single thing about Matt’s birth or his own wedding. When did it happen? How long had they been married? Was he there when Matt was born? He had started to ask Elisa these questions, but the upset look on her troubled face always brought him to pause. She hated to be asked such things. She wanted him to remember on his own, not rely on someone else to reconstruct the visual images of their life together. The pain in her eyes screamed at him when he looked at her with the cool disconnectedness of a stranger. So much hurt was there. But it still didn’t compare to what he felt.

“You know, Patrick.” The jolly grin slipped from Kevin’s features, and he adopted a more somber mug. With as little noise as possible, he crossed the narrow room and took a seat next to Patrick’s bed. “It’s okay to be afraid. This is not easy for you, and people seem to always forget that fact.”

“You’re the only one who seems to grasp that.” Patrick mumbled. He had grown to appreciate the presence of this man. He was one of the few that offered his support. But his brother didn’t seem to have the constant need for recognition or approval. He didn’t push himself on him relentlessly. He simply accepted what Patrick was able to give and was thankful for that. “They all expect so much. And I constantly feel like a failure. I’m always disappointing someone.”

“They just want you back. So bad, Patrick.” He pulled his chair closer scrapping it across the linoleum floor and laid a hand on Patrick’s, who reluctantly allowed the physical contact. The discomfort registered across his face like a bright beacon, but Kevin did not release his hold. “You are so important to many people.”

“Oh, I’ve gotten that message.” Patrick grumbled, turning his face away from Kevin. “Loud and fucking clear.”

Kevin gave a startled laugh.

“What?” Patrick asked with genuine confusion. “I say something funny?”

“No, it’s just....” Kevin couldn’t hide his amusement and the serious stare melted away. “You used to rarely just randomly curse”

“You see?” Patrick pulled his hand away and tossed them in the air with exaggerated irritation. “This is the kind of shit I’ve been talking about. I have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to act. You tell me I rarely cuss. Fine, okay. But now, when something pisses me off, that’s the first thing that pops in my mind. Fuck.”

Kevin knew if Patrick kept this tirade up much further he was going to piss in his pants. Patrick stopped and gave him a puzzled look. Anyone else would have taken offense by his outburst. Or looked at him with extreme disapproval. Not Kevin. He just laughed until his face turned a bright crimson red and his eyes shimmered with tears. “I think the same thing, bro.”

“And you know what? According to Elisa, I love cereal.” His narrowed as he brought up the subject of his wife. “I could eat that everyday. Kevin. I hate fucking cereal. They are the nastiest things I have ever tasted.”

“I think its okay to change your mind about cereal.”

“I have a kid. A little tiny life that looks to me for care. Do I even like kids?”

“Patrick, you need to relax.”

“What kind of music do I like?” He interrupted. “Do I like peanut butter and jelly? Have I ever been to England? What’s my favorite color? Who was my first grade teacher? Hell, who was my twelfth grade teacher?”

“This is stuff you shouldn’t be worrying yourself about right now.” Kevin forced his younger brother to stop with a louder voice. Finally, Patrick fell into silence and stared at him. Neither one spoke as each tried to figure out what the right words to say were. “None of that matters. You have plenty of time to figure out all your likes and dislikes. And so what if they are not the same. Inside, you’re still Patrick.”

Patrick’s gaze fell and he suddenly felt the urge to crawl under his bed. But, if he did then Kevin would most likely follow him. He glanced at the few remaining flowers and a box filled to the top with cards. “They all want Patrick Stump back.”

Kevin sighed as he too noticed the ample supply of unopened fan mail. “Yes they do.”

Patrick’s frown returned, but a sense of extreme sadness accompanied it. “I don’t know who he is.”

******************************

The ride was very quiet. Patrick watched out the passenger-side window but paid little attention to the passing scenery. Elisa chatted about the house they shared and the garden he had planted all by himself two springs ago. She went on about the fans who poured out so much love for them both. Patrick only grunted during her pauses to give the illusion that he was actually listening with some interest. He was going to a house of strangers. Just how excited was he supposed to be about that?

There was nothing familiar about the drive down Brighton Street and then left on Clemont. The beautiful homes that adorned the neighborhood did not spark any hint of familiarity. It looked like so many other neighborhoods. Yet, this place had been his home for nearly three years.

The car slowed to a stop at a set of massive iron gates. It easily stretched is massive frame a good ten feet in the air and wicked spikes dared any would-be criminal to try a climb. He could see through the iron bars that the driveway was a winding stretch of black pavement that disappeared into a line of trees. There was no doubt in his mind now that they were wealthy. Seemed like this music business was a good one to be in.

“Not bad.”

With a touch of a few buttons on a keypad, they entered the grounds. The lawn was immaculate with rose bushes that were perfect in shape. Patrick found himself admiring an old Victorian style home. Elisa pulled into a four car garage that looked cleaner than most people’s living quarters. A sleek silver Lexus and a red Jaguar convertible were in their spots, leaving one conspicuously empty. It didn’t take Patrick long to figure out that there was where he would have normally parked his Jeep. Not now, of course, since it was little more than a pile of twisted medal.

It wasn’t a memory coming back to him. He didn’t suddenly have a flash of insight but simply used deductive reasoning. He had already been told about what type of vehicle he was driving the night of the accident. He couldn’t recall any specific details about the Jeep he had owned. It was probably like the thousands of others that were on America’s highways. He opened his mouth to confirm his theory, but decided to keep mum. Elisa would think he was having a break through. Then she would convince herself that it was going to all come back in a matter of minutes and life would be back to normal. It wasn’t sympathy or compassion that kept him silent. He just didn’t want to deal with her right then.

Patrick followed Elisa through the door that connected the garage to the laundry room. This in turn led them to a large kitchen that could have served several cooks at once. It was immaculate in every detail from the pale yellow walls to the gleaming appliances. If he loved to cook, he would want to do that in this kitchen. That is, if he could. He had yet to discover what skills he still possessed. Patrick crossed the tile scanning the room with his eyes until they reached what was called the breakfast nook. It was actually large enough to be considered a formal dinning room, but more open and bright. A large bay window looked out on a spacious backyard. He couldn’t deny that the lady had great taste.

As they drew closer to the archway that led to the living area, a knot took form and began to grow in his stomach. He knew what to expect and, sure enough, his instincts were dead on. He cringed visibly as a sea of somewhat familiar faces and strange ones filled his vision.

“Surprise!”

It was anything but.

They all shouted their greeting in unison. Big smiles greeted him engulfing him filling him with dread, rather than elation. Hands reached out to him as Elisa led him into the mass.

“Glad to see you looking so well, Patrick.”

“Welcome home.”

“You’re looking good.”

Looking good compared to what?

“Come sit with us, Patrick.”

No names came up in his mind and only some of the faces were vaguely familiar. Hands reached out to ensnare him causing his heart to begin to race while beads of sweat broke out across his brow. It took everything in him to keep his cool and firmly on his feet. Who the hell were these people? He twisted his head to find where Elisa had gotten away to but came nose to nose with a rather large woman. Before he could mouth a complaint she had him in a tight embrace that nearly cut off his entire oxygen supply. If this continued, he was going to pass out. “It hasn’t been the same around here without you, Patrick.”

“Thanks.” He wheezed as he struggled out of her grip. She could have been one of the many relatives he discovered he had around here. Or it could be another one of those weird music groupies. It was hard to tell sometimes.

“Come talk with me, Patrick.” A balding man took his shoulder, but he shook him off easily.

“Patrick!!”

I swear if I hear my name one more time, I’m running out of here and taking as many of these assholes down as I can. Fuck manners/

“Come on, Patrick. Speech! Speech from the man of honor!”

“God will you just leave me the fuck alone!” He pulled away from another concerned grip and glared at an older woman. “Stop touching me!” The hurt look that crossed her face took him back, and it was then that he realized who she was. This was the woman who claimed to be his mother. He could have kicked himself, but he needed to get out of there first.

He turned away from his mother’s hurt stare until he found a relatively free path. He would charge his way through until he reached a door. He didn’t really care where it led to, as long as he could close himself off from this madness. Hell, even if it was a closet! He’s gladly hide in there. Get away, he chanted to himself.

Come on, Patrick. You know you like it.

A cold chill ran the course from one end of his spine to the nape of his neck. The deep voice that whispered seemed to vanished in the air. Patrick jerked his head around trying to spot the source of it, but the closest people to him were women. There was no way he could have slipped through that mass of flowing bodies. “You’re imagination.” He told himself. That was all it could have been. He was over-stressed and in a state of panic.

“Patrick?” Kevin stood just two feet from him with a concerned look on his rugged face. With ease, he parted the small group of people that stood between them and pulled Patrick towards the back door. “You okay? You look a little pale?”

“I...I heard...” Patrick stammered, not sure if telling anyone what he had heard was the wisest of plans. He had just gotten out of one hospital. Didn’t want to be taken to another one already. He shouted over the noisy chatter. “I want to get out of here. Get me out of here!” He nearly shrieked as crushing waves of panic and disorientation overwhelmed him. Kevin took him firmly by the arm and opened the back door that led to the garden before Patrick could have a total meltdown in front of everyone. That was the last thing the guy needed.

“We’ll be safe out here, bro.” Kevin said gently and closed the door behind them. “Guess that was a little intense.”

“You think?” Patrick sucked in a much needed breath. He could still feel the hands of those people all over him. And that voice. It had chilled him to the core. His eyes widened and he paled even further.

“Patrick? You okay?”

“No.” He moaned before turning quickly from Kevin. The older man grimaced as Patrick gagged violently. He was far from okay.