DAY 3
"Fuck off Patrick. I hope you rot in hell along with that slut bag whore."
I ran down his stairs and he tried to chase me. What the hell was he thinking?
Let's recap.
I woke up this morning and my heart yearned for Patrick. I got into my car and intended to drive to his house. On the way I bought him a band T-shirt, Bikini Kill. I knew he'd find it funny. He'd given me a spare key to his house ages ago and I was going to surprise him. I took the stairs in what I deemed to be silence and I burst open his door to find him on his bed with a blond bimbo kissing him. When I gasped he turned to look at me and pushed her off him so that she fell to the floor.
"Kat let me explain"
"Leave me alone Patrick."
"No, Kat please."
"Fuck off Patrick. I hope you rot in hell along with that slut bag whore."
I barely reached my car but once in I burst out crying. I clasped my chest as it was hurting; from Patrick's inflicted pain and also the tumour, both hurting me simultaneously. He was supposed to be the love of my life and to find some other girl on top of him contradicted that fact.
The pain reminded me of the time when I found out from Joey that he was paid to take me out. I was finally ready to dedicate myself to someone only to be let down. It seemed this was going to a recurring theme; failure. It's times like this I wish I was back at Sarah Lawrence. As much as I missed Patrick the studies always kept me busy and distracted from life back home. I wish I was busy right now.
A sudden thought appeared in my head, confused as it was; I clumsily stuck my key in the ignition and pushed the pedals as fast as my feet could reach them.
I just needed to get away from there.
I arrived at the secluded cottage in less than ten minutes. I had a feeling a speed ticket was coming my way real soon.
I stumbled up the stony passage and let myself in to this serenity. I couldn't help but feel a stab of pain knowing that Patrick had given me this place but he did say I could use this place if I ever wanted to get away.
I ran to the refrigerator and found the junkiest food possible. Times like these are when comfort food is a blessing. I sat down on the worn out couch and crossed my legs whilst my lap was filled with chocolate, ice-cream, cookies, sodas and e-numbers.
I picked up the remote and began channel flicking whilst stuffing my face with calories. The reception was terrible and made me wonder why this place even needed a TV if the idea was to get away from everything.
I finally settled on a 1950s black and white film, so typical and trivial. The basic plot of the story was a young woman who happened to be working class fell for a man who was middle class and he didn't know of her status. They become acquainted but he eventually finds out of her status and leaves her. In the end he realises that his life is lost without her and wins her back. The end.
Films like these always made me want to gag. Happily ever afters were for people who had serious problems in grasping the idea of 'the real world'. In a dismissive flash I turned the TV off and tried to occupy myself, but couldn't think of anything productive to do.
I could call Bianca but she had gone on holiday to France with Cameron. I wouldn't want to ruin it for her.
Mandella had gone to Stratford-Upon-Avon in England in order to visit the birth place of Shakespeare. Trust her to travel across the world to do such a thing.
I was lonely. I'd never felt this way in a long time because I had always maintained a status of independence. I had a sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach and so ran to the toilet in order to heave. My throat burned at each up-chuck. Note to self; never binge on food again.
When I felt that the worst of it was over, I washed my mouth out from the tap and faced myself in the mirror. A blurry reflection of me stared back. Who was I?
I was no longer Kat the freak. I was no longer Kat the lover, or so it seemed. I was just Kat. In all honesty, I hated the reflection I saw of myself. I hated my image in that moment. The thought that someone I had truly loved had also hated what they saw made the pain shoddier.
My head was spinning as tears streamed down my face as a desperate attempt to pity myself. I slowly walked from the bathroom back into the bedroom and lay down on the dusty sheets. I tucked my kneed up to my chest and cried. Nothing to do but cry.
My eyes fluttered open and stung and my eyelashes bounced against my lower lid. I guess I fell asleep. I looked at my watch and it read 10:47. I groaned at the thought of a day wasted. I stretched and shook myself as if to forget even though the memory was firmly implanted on my brain.
As I turned to get off the bed I heard a crunching noise beneath my hand. I lifted it up to see a small folded piece of paper. On the top it read "Dear Kat"
It was Patrick's handwriting. He must have known I was here. The whole point of this place was to retreat. At least he didn't wake me up. I must admit, that was the best sleep I had had in ages.
I leant against the headboard and decided to read the note. My pulse started to race as my hands quivered at the ideas of what was written. It read
"Dear Kat,
I am writing this as you are sleeping. It's pretty dark but I didn't want to wake you. It's been a tough day for you and I know that's all down to me.
I know what I did can't be taken back and was inexplicable regardless of all the excuses I could give you. You have every right to want nothing to do with me, but just to let you know I still love you.
What you saw today was an act of weakness and portrayed a side of me that was caged and was tempted to be set free. The girl you saw was an ex-partner of mine. She had moved in next door to me and had wanted to see the neighbours, even though it was around five in the morning. When she recognised me we began to talk and the talking lead to touching and the touching lead to my bedroom.
When I was with her it felt good at first but as I was on the bed I looked up to my ceiling and saw our drawings and pictures of us together and it was like I had just woken out of coma. I never loved her, only you. At this precise thought you walked through the door.
This may not mean much to you now as you have probably made up your mind, but I'm hoping I am not too late. You are the only one I ever wanted to be with. Rain, sun, cold, hot; I didn't care. It was like you were the rainbow I had always waited for after a storm.
But then my passionless act was like me bringing back the storm again and with that, I lost my precious rainbow.
It's a little hard to describe how much all of me wants to be with you and how much it hurts to know that I've let you down.
I shall bring this to a close as you are beginning to stir and I think it's best if I am not here when you wake up.
I have kissed you on your for head and I'm about to leave you.
If I could ever fix this I would, but time is fixed and cannot be changed. I know that if the image of me is erased from your memory the memory of you will forever remain an image in my head and heart.
"In every cloud, in every tree-filling the air at night and caught by glimpses in every object by day-I am surrounded with her image! The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her!" –Heathcliff. Wuthering Heights
Forever a love labours lost,
Patrick Verona.
I didn't know what to say. Speechless again; he kept having this affect on me. What could I do? Take him into my arms again and pretend like it never happened or move on and try to find that special enkindled flame with someone else.
I was so unsure, so I collapsed back on the bed and decided to stay the night here. I had a lot of thinking to do and only a small matter of time to do so.