Patrick Twenty-Four: Secrets Destroy

"NO! Mom! Why are you always like this? Jeez!"

"Ugh, Armand, you are so infuriating! Why do you insist on making my life difficult?!"

I walked in the door after work, removing my necktie, and unbuttoning the top button of the shirt I was wearing when I heard the screams of Armand and Katya emanating through the house, the sounds vibrating through the walls and the glass on the doors. I had no idea what they were fighting about, especially since it was Armand's fourteenth birthday today. I pondered whether I should leave them to it, and not get in the middle of their crap, but I was curious as to what they were fighting about so heatedly. I pulled the door open to the kitchen and walked in, standing by the door, observing them.

"But Mom, it's my birthday! I don't understand, it's not like I am asking for something impossible! I just want a red velvet cake instead of yellow cake!"

"You are so spoiled! Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean I have to bend over backwards for you! You know I can't bake, so why are you asking me to make something this complicated for you?!"

"It's not hard! It comes in a box!"

"Well! We don't have any. Why can't you just be happy with this yellow cake? It's just cake! It's going to disappear after you eat it, so who cares?!"

Armand glared at Katya, as if he had no more words. Seriously? Katya was putting up a fight with Armand because he requested a certain kind of cake? Then she tells him who cares? On his birthday? I mean, I'm not saying Armand should get everything he wants just because it's his birthday, but he should at least have the kind of cake he wants, right? Was that so wrong? They stood there, glaring at each other, just like Katya and I had done so many times in this kitchen. I sighed, feeling the beginning of a migraine coming on. I really didn't want to take sides, especially since this reminded me of the day at the amusement park, when Katya ran off to pout while Armand and I were on the same side. Shouldn't my family be a unit? Why were we always divided amongst each other, and why was Katya always somehow putting herself in her own corner? Katya stormed off through the sliding doors, undoubtedly to go pout.

Listen to what she says. Part of the advice my father gave me that day I went over to his house after the French kissing incident with Katya resonated in my head. I didn't really feel like Armand should have to apologize, but maybe that was the best thing to do in this case? It was his birthday, so I felt like it should be his day. Ugh, my family was so complicated, all the time. I never felt like I could stand up for either one of them, so I always ended up standing up for neither of them. I felt so shitty. I almost regretted coming into the kitchen, but the end result would have been the same, I would have not stood up for either one of them. I took a deep breath, like I did before a performance, to calm myself down and hopefully clear my head, then went outside to the pool, to go and talk to Katya. I found her scrunched up on one of the lounge chairs with her hand in her hair, staring off into the distance.

"What happened in there, Katya?"

"Well, your son wants a red velvet cake for his birthday, but he knows very well I cannot bake a cake from scratch, and he insists that he doesn't want the yellow cake, which we have in a cake mix box, and even that is iffy. I might burn it while it's in the oven."

"What about picking up a red velvet cake from the bakery? That way you don't have to cook and Armand gets the flavor he wants?"

Katya's demeanor softened as if she genuinely hadn't thought about that as a possibility, and she finally looked up in my direction. It seemed like common sense to me, and then I wondered if Katya actually wanted to fight with Armand, as if she was trying to find a reason to justify her distance from him. I felt bad thinking about her that way, but with the way she kept refusing to fix things between us, what else was I supposed to think? Katya shifted around on the lounge chair and nodded. I went and sat with her, because I felt like for the first time in a long time, I wanted to sit with her. I know that sounds terrible, but her constant disapproval of me had really beat into my self-esteem a lot, and I hadn't wanted to spend much time with her if she was just going to make me feel like shit.

"Okay. That sounds like a good idea. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Katya, are you okay?"

"Yes, why?"

"I just wondered if you were mad about more than the cake?"

"I don't understand why everything has to be so difficult all the time. It's like I'm constantly at war with you and Armand."

"It doesn't have to be that way. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the bar, but I felt like with the way everything was, you would have vetoed it. I guess I just felt like keeping it a secret was the only way I was going to be able to do it."

"Well, you're right, I would have said no."

"Why? A lot of times I feel like you're trying to change me, and take away parts of me until I'm how you want me to be. What is it that you hate about that so much? Don't give me the you're afraid of losing me speech again, it's obvious that is not the case anymore."

I kept my voice calm and collected, even though I was asking Katya a very pointed question. I really wanted to get down to the bottom of why magic was such a sore subject for her. I rubbed her shoulder softly, trying to make her feel better about everything.

"What do you want me to say? That speech is the reason why."

"No one is coming after me anymore, they would have done it a long time ago if they were serious about trying that again. You won't lose me. What's the real reason?"

Katya sat there in silence, and I felt like she was shutting me out again, just like she had at the airport on our honeymoon. The only thing I could think of was that she didn't support me, and it hurt. She always told me she wanted me to be happy, but her conditions always stipulated that I had to be happy on her terms alone. Suddenly, Katya shoved me off her, and I figured I must have hit a nerve.

"Damn your perceptive trait, Patrick!"

"So there is a real reason that you're not telling me."

"DROP IT. I'm going to get the cake, I can't deal with you right now."

"I don't understand why you're so mad right now, Katya. What's the problem? Why can't you just accept that part of me? You did before! Would you just talk to me?!"

"Stop playing twenty questions with me! Just give me some space! God!"

With that, Katya walked past me, heading towards the front door with heavy footsteps. I cringed as she slammed the patio door roughly, causing it to bounce open again from the force.

---

As I pulled into the parking lot of the bakery, I felt a massive headache coming on, leftover from my most recent fight with Patrick, as well as the one with Armand. I enjoyed that Patrick came and sat with me on the chair, and I realized I missed having his arms around me. I wished he would do that more, but in the back of my mind, I knew he no longer did because I pushed him away with my demands. I thought we were fine, ever since I had picked up a drinking habit the morning after I tried to drag him out of the bar, which was about a year ago. Now that I knew he was performing, I just decided to let it go, and use drinking to cope. Never in a million years did I think I would have picked up the same nasty habit I had often chastised my mother for, but I guess that old saying rings true in my case, that children do turn into their parents eventually. I got upset just before this because I was trying to accept his performing, but he had to go and try to pry into my real reason I didn't like it, plus it was another little thing added onto my annoyance about Armand and the stupid cake. I dreaded telling Patrick that I thought his magic was childish, so I thought it best not to tell him, and just let him enjoy it. I felt like if I just let him believe I was okay with it, it would make him happy.

I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat of the car and opened the driver side door, getting out and shutting it, locking the doors behind me. The car made a satisfying beeping sound as I headed towards the bakery. Today I had drank all morning and stopped about two hours before Armand was due home from school. I was planning to make him a yellow cake for his birthday, but then he came home and had to whine about the choice of cake I had picked. I realized as I walked towards the bakery that it really wasn't about the cake. It was about so much more than that. I was so sick of feeling like everything I tried to do for Armand always fell short. He'd always love Patrick more than me, pick things Patrick did over me, and I was starting to resent Patrick for it, even though I knew it was my fault. I didn't make a large enough effort to repair things with Armand, choosing instead to drink my problems away. I bet if Patrick had said he wanted to make a yellow cake Armand would have been fine with it. He just wanted to fight with me because I'm the stupid mom who he doesn't like. I was bitter today, and I hated it.

The smell of fresh donuts and pastries infiltrated my nostrils, almost overwhelming to me because of the state I was in. I made my way over to the counter and put in my request that I was here to pick up a red velvet cake. I waited at one of the tables while the bakery employee went to go get my order, and massaged my head. I was starting to get a headache. I didn't really want to be at a birthday party, even though it was for Armand. The combination of my head hurting plus the fact that our relationship would probably get even worse when Armand became a teenager served to make my head hurt even more. I was secretly dreading this particular birthday of Armand's because of that fact. He'd never listen to me if I tried to tell him life lessons, and he'd probably end up knocking up the first girl he lost his virginity to at the ripe young age of fourteen. Then he would be tied down to her forever and never amount to anything.

I heard the bakery employee call for me, and as I got up, I noticed a shelf with some alcohol on it and decided to pick up one of the bottles. It was a bottle of rum, which I guessed the bakery sold in case people wanted to make rum cake for themselves or something. Whatever the reason, I was glad that it was there because I needed it. I paid for it and the cake with cash, declining a copy of the receipt when the employee asked if I wanted one. After leaving the bakery, I put the cake on the front passenger seat, and opened the rum, taking a couple of large swigs from it. As I swallowed the liquid, I felt my headache and terrible thoughts retreat into the dark corners of my mind, causing me to relax and smile to myself, after which I closed the bottle and put it in the trunk.

I got back in the driver's seat and started the car, backing it out of the parking spot and leaving the bakery. I was grateful that the bakery was far away from my house as it gave me more time to myself before I had to go to Armand's party and fake my happiness. Ever since I had decided to bury my feelings about Patrick's performing, I had lost track of why I continued to be upset about it in the first place. I knew that I still thought it was childish of him to play with magic wands and decks of cards, but like he said, there was no more fear of him getting murdered because of it. I knew Patrick was right in saying that if someone really wanted him dead, they would have tried harder, or done it already. It all seemed so juvenile of me to continue to punish Patrick for my insecurities. I wondered how strange it was that this much clarity came to me while I was under the influence of alcohol.

My family is so infuriating. Who am I kidding, though? I'm the problem. I'm in a four year long argument with Patrick, which I started, and now I'm starting to resent him because I can't get along with Armand as well as he does. Was I being too stubborn about everything? The common denominator for all of my problems was me. Maybe I need to be okay with Patrick's magic, and be okay that my relationship with Armand is rocky. Maybe I owed Patrick and Armand a massive apology. After all, it was Armand's birthday, so maybe this was the perfect time to mend things, to start over. Suddenly, someone honked at me loudly, causing me to look out the window, realizing I was halfway in the other person's lane. I swerved a little to the right to get back into my lane, and then had to correct myself so that I didn't ride up on the curb on the right hand side.

While I was busy correcting my car, I heard the squeal of some tires near me, and then I felt an impact on my left side. Suddenly I saw the world spinning in front of me. At first I thought I was just getting dizzy again, but then I realized my car was no longer going forward. I stepped on the brakes, and tried to correct myself, but another impact from the passenger side threw me around in my seat. Gripping the steering wheel was doing me no good, and everything was going in so many different directions that I didn't know how to fix it.

I noticed the cake was tumbling around inside the car and everything was now lopsided. I heard breaking glass, and some metal scraping. I realized that the reason my steering wasn't working was because my tires were no longer on the ground. I could see the large oak tree that my car was now sliding towards, and then I felt the force of the car hit the oak tree, as well as the airbag exploding in my face, making me hit my head violently on the head rest behind me, along with the extreme pressure of something crushing my chest. The last thing I heard was my car alarm going off, as everything went black, and I could feel myself slumping forward onto the steering wheel.