Life's Movie

Author’s Note: Thank you all for your positive feedback! This story is currently the favourite of all I’m writing so I’m taking extra care to make it as dazzling as I can. Let’s hope the work pays off. :)

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Chapter Three: A Countdown Begins

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Patrick stared.

He stared ahead of him, through the downpour of suddenly vicious rain, at Carson’s Superstore. It was a worn down building with rusty door hinges and an uneven scattering of red-brown bricks. The mud splattered on the front doors from passing cars did nothing to flatter the already tired image.

The water soaked him. Occasionally, from the sidewalk across the store, he looked up to stare at the swirling grey mass that the sky had become. The fists in his pockets would clench harder as he willed himself to move across the street and enter Rutherford’s only all-purpose shop.

For a brief second, Patrick almost wished he had accepted his mother’s offer. She had worriedly held his gaze as he left the front door... ‘Let me go for you, Patrick. I’ll grab it on the way back from picking up dinner.’

But Patrick was no hermit. If he didn’t face the townspeople today, he’d be decaying in his bedroom for every tomorrow.

He actually hadn’t realised he was walking, eyes still focused steadfastly on the thundering sky, until a car honked at him while spraying mud all over his jeans. His neck snapped as he dropped his gaze to stare at the unapologetic driver as the car sped away.

Shaking the mud as best he could off his sneakers, Patrick shoved his hood off his head and walked through the door.

Cameras caught his nervous look, and later on when his expression would turn to one of defiance and resolve, that look would forever be forgotten.

He hadn’t often been in the market, opting instead to let his mother scan the grotesquely lit aisles and rows of labeled cans, and so immediately felt anxious. If he couldn’t find what he was looking for himself, which was a huge possibility, he would have to ask an employee. That was something he wasn’t sure he was willing to do.

After standing in the middle of the entrance for what was clearly too long, as a shoulder had bumped against his stationary form, he walked tentatively to the produce section. He might have been stalling, or he might have been looking for what it was he needed – Patrick wasn’t sure.

A voice broke through the silent echoing of the room and Patrick glanced up at the speakers on the ceiling asking for a price check on Dwerty’s All Purpose Flour. It was surreal being in there, clouded by product and unaware customers. What would they do if they knew Patrick Darcy, the most infamous boy in town, was standing next to the green beans?

He shook that though process away and hurriedly made his way to the end of the aisles, scanning hanging signs marking what items lay on those particular shelves avidly looking for what it was he needed. Stationary... stationary... stationa—

He knocked right into a figure he could have sworn had just walked straight into him. Glancing up with perplexed green eyes, Patrick steadied himself and took in Lance Brown’s towering form. Next to him stood a blond figure that Patrick regarded with a cloak of familiarity.

“Lance...” He trailed off, eyes leaving one youthful handsome face to land on another. “Dennis.”

Dennis looked away almost with an air of boredom but Lance smiled grimly. “Look who it is, our very own criminal!”

What should be known about Lance is that he was a bastard. He’d kick a guy around for no reason – but give him a reason and that’s where the real trouble started. Patrick looked briefly around him. No one was there to intervene if things got rough.

“Look.” Patrick sighed, taking a step backwards and walking into a rack of dog food. The heavy bags shook the teetering furniture before steadying at a sort of equilibrium. “I just need to grab something and then I’ll get out of your way.”

Lance smirked as if he hadn’t heard, nudging Dennis in a taunting way. “Remember that day we egged that dick’s car? Could hear him roaring like a lunatic all across town.”

Dennis’ blue eyes rose to watch Patrick’s tightly wound form. He let himself smile a bit. “Smug bastard deserved it.”

Patrick remembered the day clearly. He had been holed up in his room, pillow over his head, as his father marched throughout the house cursing everyone to Hell. Or maybe it wasn’t everyone – maybe it was just Patrick.

“Turned his car to shit, must’ve needed one hell of a new paint job.” Lance had cornered Patrick like a predator would his prey. Bags of kibble gnawed against the smaller boy’s back and he grit his teeth. “Wonder what he’d do if we messed up his son just as badly.”

Patrick clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose much like a raging bull, and finally tried to move away. Lance caught the strings of his hoodie and pulled them back to him, making Patrick gag at the force.

Dennis looked apprehensive but made no movement to stop the abuse. Patrick narrowed his eyes at the blond and turned away with a hard expression back to Lance.

“Not so fast.” Lance laughed, his fingers curling into the fabric of the already thin fabric of his sweater. “That shit-for-brains judge might’ve let you go, but you won’t be so lucky when it comes to me, Darcy.”

Patrick opened his mouth to reply but it snapped shut when a fist connected with his right cheekbone. His mouth was set. He wasn’t going to cry or even moan in the obviously heart-stopping pain.

[Remember back when I was almost Lance Brown’s friend? Back when Dennis spent an entire night flirting with me over a can of beer? God, look at them. I think you saved me from something, Edwin.]

The pale flesh just under his eye was beginning to swell and flush red.

[But can I honestly say I didn’t deserve it? Maybe not from Lance... maybe not from Dennis. My left cheek is unmarred, waiting for you to wake up and realise what I’d done to your blossoming life, then hit me with a few painful blows of your own.]

Patrick’s eyes closed – it hurt too much to keep them open. As the laughing voice of Lance steered toward him again, he didn’t even flinch.

[Except you wouldn’t. There’s a good chance you’d want to – an even better chance that you’ll hate me more than anyone you’ve ever hated anyone before – but you wouldn’t. That’s the difference between you and Lance, Edwin. You, with your love for dogs and all things living, would never dare to abuse anyone.]

Maybe he didn’t flinch because he wanted this rough penalty for his actions. But as soon as another swing made contact, Patrick opened his sore eyes and pushed the body away with as much vigor he could muster. He just wanted to finish his mission at the store and leave. Leave.

Surprisingly, Lance’s huge figure lurched backwards. Patrick would have liked to believe it was because of him, but he knew he didn’t have that kind of strength. He watched as one of the grocer boys pulled Lance away, following the instructions of a teenage girl wearing an apron with Carson’s logo stitched to its breast.

“Get out or I’ll call the police!” She screeched, curly blond hair winding around her flushed and angered face.

Patrick blinked dumbly, vaguely hearing Lance swear at the girl whose nametag said Emily.

The grocer boy escorted them out, shaking his head at his accomplice once before disappearing behind the soda aisle.

Emily chose that moment to turn around and face Patrick squarely. He recognized her, he realised. Maybe not on a personal level, but she was the brainy one who everyone knew about. The one who skipped tenth grade, effectively joining Patrick’s.

“They got you pretty bad.” She said stiffly, walking over with her shoes clicking loudly in the otherwise silent room.

Unable to keep his right eye open, Patrick nodded slightly.

“Come on, we have a first aid kit in the back.” Emily led him by the arm to the back staffroom where contents not yet shelved lay sprawled all over.

The first time he winced was when a gel-like liquid coldly settled itself on his cheek. She noticed and her expression softened. “Careful next time.” She admonished gently. “A boy like you can’t walk around alone just anywhere in this town – not anymore.”

Patrick didn’t respond but just let her relieve him of a bit of the pain. It was a small relief, but he appreciated it nonetheless. “I would’ve been gone quicker,” he finally said after moment. “Would’ve been out that door in seconds if I just knew where you kept your damn calendars.”

Emily stood up to retrieve some ice from a cooler and handed it to him. Her brow was raised questioningly. “Calendars?”

With another nod, Patrick raised the ice to his face. It felt good.

The girl blinked her doe-brown eyes twice before nodding head to the exit. “I’ll show you.”

When they arrived to the stationary section, Patrick’s eyes immediately looked for any calendars depicting dogs. Emily waited with her arms crossed, frowning at him curiously.

“Why is this so important?”

Patrick answered without thinking. “It’s for Edwin.”

He found one about golden retrievers and as he grabbed it between his fingers he finally processed what he said. With blank eyes, he turned to Emily’s suddenly timid and surprised stature.

“Edwin?” She walked closer, inspecting the calendar in his hands. “Why a calendar?”

Patrick thought about his answer this time.

* * *

Jamie had left an hour ago. Patrick wasn’t allowed to for another twenty-six minutes.

He sat cross-legged on the chair next to Edwin’s bed, eyes raking over the thin form underneath a pile of sheets. He had vowed to never eat beef jerky in the boy’s vicinity again – to respect the vegetarianism of him. He figured if he kept giving Patrick small things, they would somehow add up to become something huge. Instead, he chewed methodically on a granola bar.

For the past few days, ever since Patrick had ventured inside the sterile hospital room, he spent his visits curled up on the chair beside Edwin’s sleeping form. At least, whenever he wasn’t doing random chores for Anderson, that is.

Sometimes he would talk. Usually though, he’d save his voice for his time in front of the camera.

In the middle of a particularly intense stare at Edwin’s face, Dr. Anderson slid the doors open and startled Patrick by stepping inside. Usually when the doctor needed something, he used Patrick’s borrowed hospital pager to fetch him. The personal visit caused the boy to worry slightly.

“Mr. Darcy,” Anderson said politely with a small smile.

“Evening.” He replied bashfully, still unsure of how the doctor felt towards him. He was often distant but no longer cold.

“I have some news.” His eyes behind sinewy glasses found Edwin’s relaxed and unconscious form.

Patrick unraveled his form from the chair and stood up, for some reason becoming somewhat fidgety. “Yeah?”

Perhaps Patrick can’t remember the exact words that came next because his relief was so enormous that it swallowed all of him, including his memory.

But the message was clear. Edwin was expected to wake up in two weeks.

* * *

“To count down the days until he wakes up,” Patrick said, lips turning up, straining his sore cheek, in a brilliant smile.

Emily had wandered closer during his long-winded thought process. He noticed her eyes had grown curiously bright. Maybe Edwin’s story touched more people than he thought.

“Don’t get that one.” She said quietly, forcing the calendar out of his hand. “He’ll really wake up?” She added as almost an after thought.

“Two weeks at the most was the doctor’s estimate.” Patrick grinned, his bruises completely forgotten.

His companion had already snatched another calendar and after a long look at the cover, she handed it to him.

“He likes Black Labradors better than Retrievers.” She said in explanation, her voice suddenly hoarse.

Patrick was floored. This girl clearly knew Edwin and his list of acquaintances was growing astonishingly long. “You... you knew him?”

Her eyes grew dazed. “Edwin Carter,” Emily smiled. “Was my first kiss.”

[I’m going to have to grudgingly forgive Lance for his distortion of my face. If not for his excessively abusive personality, I’d never have met Emily. And without Emily, this movie would have been incomplete.] A pause. [Will you ever end up forgiving me, Edwin? I wonder all the time.]

- TBC –


Authors End Note: And finally, thank you so very much for the reviews! I try replying to them sometimes, but for some reason I always have something to write down but nothing to say. So infinite thank-yous, I hope, are somewhere close to enough. :)