America's Suitehearts

2002

Nora was wild—at least, that’s how Patrick liked to remember her. She was exciting and beautiful and smart and she was Pete’s girl… For a little while at least.

He remembered when Pete introduced them at band practice one night. He’s sure he mumbled something stupid. He was certainly wishing that he had found her first, but then he felt guilty. Pete was cool and they got along really well.

Despite that friendship, however, he was worried because Pete was notorious for fucking up relationships and breaking girls hearts. Selfishly, Patrick didn’t want to see Nora get hurt. She was vibrant and strong, not one to take anyone’s shit. At least, that’s how Patrick saw her.

That was Patrick, though. At 18, he knew little of girls and a lot about putting them on pedestals. He thought he was just trying to see the best in everyone, but as his very few ex-girlfriends liked to remind him: “No one’s perfect, Patrick.”

Patrick was sure this time that Nora was perfect—but alas, out of his reach. He welcomed her friendship though.

He tried hard to learn as much about her as he could. He tried constantly to make her laugh, the sound of which was (almost) better than any music. Patrick really couldn’t help it when he would constantly tell Pete that he was lucky to have found her.

Pete would just laugh, and remind Patrick that if he just put himself out there more he could find someone just as great or even better than Nora. But Patrick wasn’t so sure cause you know—pedestal.

It wasn’t long until Nora began confiding in him about the depths of her and Pete’s relationship to him. Patrick would listen as she told stories of the sweet things Pete would do for her, which eventually turned to worry that Pete didn’t love her like she loved him.

He wished he could do something for her, but there was nothing. Patrick knew what was coming, and knew there was no way to stop it. Once Pete had his fill, and he always had his fill, it wasn’t long until he moved on to the next thing.

So he wasn’t surprised when he found Nora at a party hosted by one of Pete’s friends, sitting on the steps out back of the house, an open and almost empty bottle of vodka sitting next to her.

“Nora?” When she turned her head, he wasn’t shocked to see she had been crying. He let out a sigh and sat next to her.

“Pete’s fucking some whore upstairs.” He heard the bottle sliding against the cement of the stairs and the liquid sloshing around inside. She swallowed loudly before clunking the bottle back down. And then she was crying again.

Patrick placed a hand on her back, rubbing in soothing circles. He hated to see her like this. He knew Nora deserved better than this, but really what could he do? He wasn’t making excuses for Pete, but he was one of his best friends.

Nora turned so she could hug Patrick, burying her face in his neck while she continued to cry. She pulled away a while later, sniffling and wiping at her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Patrick,” she said, trying to smooth out his t-shirt where she had been gripping it. “I know you and Pete are friends, but he’s a fucking asshole.”

“I’m sorry too,” he said quietly. She gave him the smallest of smiles—it was sad though.

“It’s not your fault.”

She studied him for a moment, before leaning in and kissing him. It was wet and didn’t last long, but he could feel how warm she was and smell the liquor. She pulled away and stood up unsteadily.

“Thank you, Patrick,” she said. “You’re a great friend.”

And then she was gone.

After, Pete dove headfirst into the band, expecting the rest of them to follow, and as usual they did. It wasn’t long after that that things started to take off—they were actually going to make it.

Things were looking up and they were never looking back.