Summertime//Patrick Stump

Chapter 2

I follow an angry Jen into the kitchen, taken aback from the sudden turn of events. A pale blonde streaked with gray-haired woman stands in front of the stove, cutting up onions.

"Hey, mom, April is here." Jen states in a stale voice.

Her mom turns and smiles at me, knife in hand. The expression on her face is warm, inviting. She gives off that "I've been through a lot and seen a little too much but I'll smile anyway" vibe. I take an instant liking to her.

"April! It's nice to meet you," she exclaims kindly. "I would shake your hand, but I doubt you want onion bits all over." She laughs lightly.

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Stump," I reply, trying to think of something witty to reply with, but failing.

"Call me Patricia." She smiles.

"When is the family supposed to be showing up?" Jen doesn't give me a chance to reply to her mom, and she still sounds slightly put off as she starts to walk down the hallway.

"Well, I told them around noon, but you know our family. I'm betting on around one. Except for Aunt Helen. She'll be here at nine in the morning, probably." Her mom replies. She doesn't sound like she's joking.

I give Patricia a smile before following Jen into her room, which is the first on the left in the hallway, across from the bathroom. She sits down at her desk and throws open a drawer, pulling out a journal, and starts writing angrily.

"What was that whole thing with you and Patrick out in the garage? When you asked him to play something?" I ask, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Nothing." Jen mumbles after a second, still jotting something down in the notebook.

"Seriously, is he okay?" I pause. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Jen exclaims, closing the notebook, throwing it in the drawer, and slamming the drawer shut.

"Sorry," I throw my hands up defensively, then awkwardly add, "You know you can tell me if anything's going on." I've never been one to know what to say.

"Yeah," Jen whispers, her head in her hands.

"So what's up?" I almost feel bad for prodding. Almost. But the curiosity outweighs the guilt.

"Well, April, since you're so intent on knowing...we think I'm depressed." Jen says bluntly after turning in her chair to face me.

"Oh...Jen, I'm sorry, if there's anything I can do-"

"There's nothing you can do." She interrupts. "I didn't want to tell anyone because I didn't want them feeling bad for me. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen." There's a poison, a rising anger behind her words.

I'm quiet. What could I say to make this better? Not "I'm sorry", not "you'll get through it", not "stay strong". I'm at a loss. Jen laughs coldly and speaks before I can even attempt any words, though.

"Pat wants me to go to a shrink. I told him it'll be a cold day in-"

"You should, Jen." I interject. "I've been depressed for four years and I'm only now getting help. If you start therapy now it would really help. I mean that."

Jen stares at me, mouth slightly open.

"You don't get it, do you? You're one of those depressed, anorexic Tumblr girls who does it because you think it's so aesthetic. Some of us actually deal with it."

The bedroom door opens, and Jen's mom stands there with a smile on her face as Jen and I stare at each other.

"Jen, I-" I whisper, having no clue what to say. Her words sting; her expression is not a foreign one to me. Plenty of times I've wondered if I truly am struggling or if I romanticize it a bit too much.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt you girls," her mom starts, "but can Jen help me for just one second?" I look to the woman after staring at Jen, and I cannot see how they could be mother and daughter.

Jen is so stern, a scowl so deeply etched onto her face, but her mother looks so kind, so loving, someone you could trust with your deepest secrets.

"Yeah." Jen says angrily, quietly, standing up and exiting the room. Neither of the women look back at me.

After a moment of holding back tears, I make up my mind to go see Patrick again, having nothing better to do. Walking as quietly as I possibly can through the kitchen and out the door, I ignore my "friend" and her mom, but I know I saw Jen shoot a backwards look in my direction.

When I open the door into the garage, I can hear an angel singing to greet me.

No, not an angel--Patrick. He has this soft, smooth voice, rich and sensual. I shiver.

"Tap on my window, knock on my door. I wanna make you feel beautiful," Patrick sings. He's sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, back to me.

I'm taken back. What are the odds? A friend's brother being cute. That brother being able to play guitar AND sing, singing my favorite Maroon 5 song? What a day.

I sit down on the floor and watch him from behind finish the song. After he sings the last line, I applaud softly. He turns around, his face blushing ruby red.

"April, I d-didn't see you," he stutters.

"It's okay." I reply, standing and walking to him. "It was really nice. You have a good voice."

Patrick stands to meet me, turning his guitar behind him upside down against his back.

"So..." I start. "Electric? I've never played one before."

"You want to?" He asks, starting to work the strap over his head.

Oh no. I'm gonna make an idiot of myself.

"Sure, I guess." Better judgement, some day you will get the better of me. But not today.

I take the guitar from him and put the strap around me, walking to the center of the room. I get the feel of the guitar quickly, running my hands over the neck, warm from where his hands were a moment before.

I know one song, and almost struggle to remember the tab, but I do. Playing it slowly, then speeding up as I get the feel of it. I screw up a few times, but it sounds relatively okay, not as bad as I thought it would. When I finish, Patrick smiles at me widely. A lot better than I expected for not having played in almost three weeks.

"That was good, April." He sounds genuinely impressed.

"You think?" I ask, feeling myself blush hard. I pull off the guitar and he takes it from me, nodding.

"Yeah, but...there was one thing I think you can improve on..." Patrick hands me the guitar back and I slip the strap over my head as he walks behind me.

"Okay, so instead of your hands being like this on the fretboard," he puts his hand over mine on the guitar, his other arm snaking around my right arm and holding my hand. I blush even harder, biting my lip.

"What the-" I hear and angry voice behind us and turn around quickly before Patrick has a chance to move, accidentally hitting him in the stomach with the guitar.

"Patrick!" I exclaim. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's all right." He says gently, eyes still on Jen.

"You just met, like really?" Jen says angrily, sounding purely ticked off.

"No, he was showing me something on the guitar-" I try to get in, but she interrupts me.

"Yeah. Okay. Sure." Her eyes bounce between me and her brother, obviously not believing my statement. "Well, dinner is ready." She turns sharply and as she walks back in, I can swear I hear her mutter something about spitting in our food.