Waiting for Superman

I woke up the next morning to find that Patrick wasn't beside me. I frantically opened the bedroom door, to find him passed out, face down on the couch. It irritated me to see Patrick that way. He was so young, with so much talent, and still almost every other night he had to go out and get drunk.

With the little patience I had left I got in the shower and started getting ready for work. I pulled on a simple pair of white capris, and a mint green peplum tank top. After strapping on a pair of sandals, and grabbing my story folder, and purse, I left the bedroom, and grabbed my bag off the counter.

I knew I wouldn't have the strength to just leave Patrick on the couch that way. I pulled a blanket over him, he was still dressed in his clothes from last night. I put two aspirin and a water bottle on the coffee table and left for work.

...

I walked around the few blocks to the Chicago Tribune office where I worked as a columnist and occasionally a reporter. I loved my job, but I could tell I wasn't myself today. After waiting up almost all night for Patrick I was exhausted and I knew I wasn't going to get too much done today. I made my way to my desk in the writers room, star bucks in hand. As a Boston girl, the switch from Dunkin Donuts to Star bucks was a tough one. However on days like today, I was just thankful for the caffeine. My desk-neighbor Julia noticed something was off right away.

"Rough night?" she asked. Julie was a few years older than me, she was married with short dark, blonde hair, and dark brown eyes. I had become close friends with her since I first moved to Chicago. Julia was originally from New York, and knew what it was like to move somewhere new with relatively no one.

"Just a little." I said sarcastically. "Tell me all about it." Julie said leaning her elbow on her desk and propping her head on her fist.

"Well," I began setting my coffee down on my desk, and sliding my purse underneath. "The Blackhawks won, and of course were going out after, I told Pat to go with his friends and have a good time. But I can't go out on a Monday night when I have work the next morning." "Right." Julie responded nodding her head. "So I waited up for him, like I always do, but it was getting late, and I called him twice, and he didn't answer of course, but..." I stalled for a moment zoning out.

"But what?" Julie said bringing me back to reality.

"It was almost 3am so I decided to just go to bed, I texted him and told him I would probably be asleep by the time he got home. And then this morning I woke up and found him passed out on the couch."

"Yikes," Julie said. "Thats not good."

"Exactly" I said. "I just don't know why he does this, I don't mind him going out with his friends, I just want him to call me every once in a while so I know hes not dead in the street somewhere." Julie nodded in agreement again.

A few minutes later our editor burst into the room full of clean, white desks, and began piling assignments onto them. I had the pleasure of writing a two page editorial on "the influence of alcohol in professional sports. Exactly what I want to write about right now.

Patrick's morning:
"Shit." I said rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I noticed a blanket had been pulled over me, and two aspirin and water had been set on the table. Wow, I am such an asshole. I thought myself. I leave her, alone in this apartment all night, and she takes care of drunk ass the morning after. I took the aspirin and jumped in the shower hoping it would make me feel better. It didn't.

Back to Kylie's POV:
The day dragged on, I started my editorial completely uninterested in the topic. By lunch, I was completely exhausted. My head ached from writing all morning, and I couldn't get Patrick off my mind. As angry as I was, I still loved Patrick whole-heartedly, and hoped he was feeling okay. Despite my frustration I decided to send him a text.

Are you okay?-Kylie

I hated how she was always the one to cave first during a fight. I was upset with Patrick for staying out so late without calling, but I still cared.

I'm fine, just a major dick and i'm sorry. I love you- Patrick

Love you too- Kylie

i knew Patrick would feel bad for staying out, he always did, but could I really live my life this way.

My day at work seemed to go on forever, by five o'clock I couldn't wait to get home. I shuffled my papers together and put them into my writers bag, I grabbed my purse and walked out the front doors with Julie. "Good luck tonight! Remember Patrick loves you!" Julie yelled as she walked down the opposite end of the street.

I knew Patrick loved me, but more than he loved Patrick I don't know.

Notes