Dear Patrick
Letter Thirty-Four
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Dear Patrick,
I'm sitting in front of you. This is the closest we've been in what feels like a year. If it weren't for all these wires and needles and tubes, I swear I'd be laying right up on that bed with you. This is all my fault. I was going out to my car- I was actually going to Secretary of State to get my license plate changed and all I hear is a huge crash. I look over and it's a taxi. You guys went crashing into a pole- you and the cab driver. The pole split the car into two all the way to the beginning of the backseats. I ran like hell because I saw you, Pat. Curly, blonde mullet? Who the hell else would dare? It must have been an adrenaline rush, Kane. I yanked the hell out of the door and that thing just came off. I got in to take your seatbelt off so that the Derek could pull you out. You weren't wearing it- figures. But inside the cab, I noticed all the letters all over the backseat. I looked over to the front seat Patrick and the whole front of the cab was in flames. I saw the driver burn in front of my own eyes. The old guy was dead but I tried to take his seatbelt off so he could at least get a proper burial but it was jammed.
Derek started yelling at me to get out- something about a radiator and engine and blah blah. I grabbed every letter, Pat and I ran out. The ambulance would've taken too long to get to us so Derek drove you here himself. You were bleeding so much, Pat, I thought you were dead. He wouldn't let me get in the car with you and him. He thought I wouldn't be able to handle seeing you like that. I think he was right. So I followed him in my car. He got a $80 parking ticket and his car towed for the way he left it right in the middle of the street. I tried to get down to see you but they took you so fast and they wouldn't let anyone in. I sat with Derek, Pat, and I cried so hard. And then when I finally caught my breath, I looked up and he was still holding my hand and his arm draped around my shoulders. You should have seen him. His arm was bleeding so much. He cut it badly when he pulled you out on a piece of the door frame but he wouldn't say anything so I could let it out.
His whole left side was burnt and he had only half a shirt on- the flames got halfway through his clothes before he put it out. He burned for you, Patrick and he didn't even know who you were. He just knew you as the guy that I once knew that I didn't want to talk about.
I stood up and told him to go get himself fixed. I'm such a jackass that I didn't even wait for him. He nodded at me and went to the doctor to see what they could do about his arm. I got in my car, Pat and I drove. I didn't know where I was going but I ended up at your house- the one you wanted me to move into with you. I reached inside my glove compartment and got the key you gave me. You wouldn't take it back, remember? So I kept it in my car. I went inside and I read all of your letters. Every one. You replied to every single letter I wrote you, Patrick. I'm sorry for not sending them, Patty.
After I read them, I remembered that I left Derek. So I got back in my car and I drove to the hospital. I brought him food with me and we ate together. I would cry and he'd put his fork down and put his hand on mine. Then I would take a deep breath, stop crying, and take a bit of my sandwich. He'd pick his fork back up and start eating his spaghetti again. He slurps so loud. Then I would remember how you looked and that you were in the emergency room and I would cry and he would put his fork down and rest his hand on mine. Then when I regained composure, he would go back to slurping obnoxiously. This happened like eight times until I just burst out laughing. And then I remembered how much blood there was and in mid-laugh, I started crying. I swear to God, Patrick, I looked psychotic. But when I burst into tears again, Derek burst out laughing.
His laugh makes me laugh. So I started laughing as tears rained down from my eyes. That made him laugh even harder. He was trying to stop laughing so bad. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he kept saying and then he'd burst out laughing again. It was so cute. And I knew it was. But I felt so dirty thinking it was cute with you being in the condition you were in. But I did this to you, so I deserved to feel like that. When he finally stopped laughing, he looked at me. He just gazed at me. I flushed.
"I know I look stupid," I started to explain but I stopped because the way he was looking at me was... I don't know but it was different. So I shrugged my shoulders and he tilted his head a bit and he told me, "I have never seen anything as pretty as you."
And then I burst crying- again. Talk about embarrassing.
And here I am, writing a letter I can't send- again. I need you to get better. I need you to wake up. The Blackhawks are flipping out. You should see Chicago. You've gotten well over four hundred flower vases and at least two thousand get-well-soon cards. Why didn't I appreciate you like everybody else did?
Patrick, wake up please. Wake up so we can try to fix the friendship we broke.
I love you so much. I don't think I'll ever be able to hate you.
Love
Lana
Dear Patrick,
I'm sitting in front of you. This is the closest we've been in what feels like a year. If it weren't for all these wires and needles and tubes, I swear I'd be laying right up on that bed with you. This is all my fault. I was going out to my car- I was actually going to Secretary of State to get my license plate changed and all I hear is a huge crash. I look over and it's a taxi. You guys went crashing into a pole- you and the cab driver. The pole split the car into two all the way to the beginning of the backseats. I ran like hell because I saw you, Pat. Curly, blonde mullet? Who the hell else would dare? It must have been an adrenaline rush, Kane. I yanked the hell out of the door and that thing just came off. I got in to take your seatbelt off so that the Derek could pull you out. You weren't wearing it- figures. But inside the cab, I noticed all the letters all over the backseat. I looked over to the front seat Patrick and the whole front of the cab was in flames. I saw the driver burn in front of my own eyes. The old guy was dead but I tried to take his seatbelt off so he could at least get a proper burial but it was jammed.
Derek started yelling at me to get out- something about a radiator and engine and blah blah. I grabbed every letter, Pat and I ran out. The ambulance would've taken too long to get to us so Derek drove you here himself. You were bleeding so much, Pat, I thought you were dead. He wouldn't let me get in the car with you and him. He thought I wouldn't be able to handle seeing you like that. I think he was right. So I followed him in my car. He got a $80 parking ticket and his car towed for the way he left it right in the middle of the street. I tried to get down to see you but they took you so fast and they wouldn't let anyone in. I sat with Derek, Pat, and I cried so hard. And then when I finally caught my breath, I looked up and he was still holding my hand and his arm draped around my shoulders. You should have seen him. His arm was bleeding so much. He cut it badly when he pulled you out on a piece of the door frame but he wouldn't say anything so I could let it out.
His whole left side was burnt and he had only half a shirt on- the flames got halfway through his clothes before he put it out. He burned for you, Patrick and he didn't even know who you were. He just knew you as the guy that I once knew that I didn't want to talk about.
I stood up and told him to go get himself fixed. I'm such a jackass that I didn't even wait for him. He nodded at me and went to the doctor to see what they could do about his arm. I got in my car, Pat and I drove. I didn't know where I was going but I ended up at your house- the one you wanted me to move into with you. I reached inside my glove compartment and got the key you gave me. You wouldn't take it back, remember? So I kept it in my car. I went inside and I read all of your letters. Every one. You replied to every single letter I wrote you, Patrick. I'm sorry for not sending them, Patty.
After I read them, I remembered that I left Derek. So I got back in my car and I drove to the hospital. I brought him food with me and we ate together. I would cry and he'd put his fork down and put his hand on mine. Then I would take a deep breath, stop crying, and take a bit of my sandwich. He'd pick his fork back up and start eating his spaghetti again. He slurps so loud. Then I would remember how you looked and that you were in the emergency room and I would cry and he would put his fork down and rest his hand on mine. Then when I regained composure, he would go back to slurping obnoxiously. This happened like eight times until I just burst out laughing. And then I remembered how much blood there was and in mid-laugh, I started crying. I swear to God, Patrick, I looked psychotic. But when I burst into tears again, Derek burst out laughing.
His laugh makes me laugh. So I started laughing as tears rained down from my eyes. That made him laugh even harder. He was trying to stop laughing so bad. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he kept saying and then he'd burst out laughing again. It was so cute. And I knew it was. But I felt so dirty thinking it was cute with you being in the condition you were in. But I did this to you, so I deserved to feel like that. When he finally stopped laughing, he looked at me. He just gazed at me. I flushed.
"I know I look stupid," I started to explain but I stopped because the way he was looking at me was... I don't know but it was different. So I shrugged my shoulders and he tilted his head a bit and he told me, "I have never seen anything as pretty as you."
And then I burst crying- again. Talk about embarrassing.
And here I am, writing a letter I can't send- again. I need you to get better. I need you to wake up. The Blackhawks are flipping out. You should see Chicago. You've gotten well over four hundred flower vases and at least two thousand get-well-soon cards. Why didn't I appreciate you like everybody else did?
Patrick, wake up please. Wake up so we can try to fix the friendship we broke.
I love you so much. I don't think I'll ever be able to hate you.
Love
Lana
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2/12/15