Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Everybody Wants Somebody

Chapter 2: My Heart is the Worst Kind of Weapon

by scarsandstories93 0 reviews

Settling in.

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Published: 2013-08-12 - 3329 words

“Landing on a runway in Chicago, and I’m grounding all my dreams of ever really seeing California, ‘cause I know what’s in between. It’s something sensual in such non-conventional ways. Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can’t say. Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say; tonight I'm writing you a million miles away.

Tonight is all about ‘we miss you, miss you.’ Tonight is all about ‘we miss you,’ and I can't forget your style or your cynicism. Somehow we always thought you were the first to listen to everything we said. My smile's an open wound without you, and my hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back.”

Within a month of being in Chicago, Sarah was on her feet. Her decent two bedroom, one bath apartment laid right in the middle of the city, five floors up. The entire first week was all about apartment hunting, meanwhile staying in a local hotel, but getting the landlord to sign over a five-year rental agreement, including all utilities, was easy once he recognized Sarah’s last name; buying her silver 2011 Honda Civic Coupe without a loan was just as easy. She spent the initial day inside the apartment unpacking what she had, hanging the scant amount of clothes in her closet and placing all of her musical essentials in her spare room. She carefully put away all of her personal products in the bathroom cabinets under the sink. After her stereo was put up, she started looking around and realized that, well, she had no furniture. The kitchen and “breakfast” nook were bare, her bedroom wasn’t suitable to spend the night in, and the living area had nothing in it. The sun was starting to go down; too late to go out shopping. Instead, she made a quick run to Target to buy a sleeping bag and pillow and wrote a reminder on her phone to take off the following day to look for furniture.

The next few days after her sleek, modern furniture set was delivered and moved into their proper places, she went to accessorize the apartment. Her colors: light blues, all greens, light gray, and black. Where her mother’s designer adored florals and smooth edges, Sarah went with vertical stripes and defined lines. She took pride in how everything was so precise and one hundred percent her vision and just the way she wanted things to be. A black bookcase held her CD and vinyl collection with glass doors. A 32’ flat-screen with a swivel wall mounting defined the only omnipresent part in the main area. As for art, Sarah scoured every second-hand store and street seller in the city for unique, only-in-Chicago pieces. A day later, she made calls to install cable and internet, to switch her cell phone plan to her name, and she set up a new savings and checking account; her inherited funds were transferred immediately.
The next week Sarah spent clothes shopping; like her new abode, the edgy wardrobe finally fit her personality and lifestyle. In place of the preppy tops, skirts, dresses, high heels, and straight-leg jeans came skinny-to-the-point-of-jeggings jeans, high-waist-and-high-rise shorts, plenty of colored tights and leggings, curve-hugging shirts, Steve Madden boots, Converse, and Vans. All of her underwear and pajamas now came from sultry Victoria’s Secret instead of conservative high-end department stores. She got her ears pierced twice and filled with silver studs: one right on top of the other on her earlobe. She made an appointment at a quality salon to have her hair evaluated and cut; an hour later, she walked out with side bangs with layered and angled locks.

Once her home and image were secured, Sarah set out to find a music-related job. While her goal was, of course, to land consistent live music gigs and maybe a record deal, she needed to occupy her time when she ended up bored. Chicago astounded her and never let up on excitement, but she knew eventually she would need something to do besides experience the city and write and perform music. After half a week of hunting, she found a position at Reckless Records as a cashier and stock clerk; she would start the following Monday.
As Sarah licked at an ice cream cone while walking back to her apartment, she realized she still had yet to make contact with her godmother Patricia, and since she had the next few days to kill, Sarah called her up.

“This is Patricia.”

“Hey Patricia, it’s Sarah.”

“Oh, hello sweetie. How are you?”

“Surprisingly well, actually. I moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Really? You moved to Chicago?”

“Yep! I’m all settled in, and I started thinking about that talk we had last month about me coming to visit. I was wondering if I could come by this weekend sometime?”

“Well, my son is in town. Do you mind him being there? I can ask him to go out or something.”

“Not a problem.”

“Okay. I’m free today and tomorrow all day, and I shouldn’t have to leave for anything, so you can stop by whenever.”

“Great. See you soon, then.” They hung up, and immediately afterwards Sarah started getting anxious. Patricia seemed like a lovely woman, someone completely different from her mother, but if she was so pleasant and wonderful to be around, why was she kept a secret for all of Sarah’s life? I guess I’ll find out today, Sarah thought. As she finished her ice cream, she was back in front of her building; she went into her car, typed out Patricia’s address in a navigation app for her iPhone, and drove off towards Glenview.

About a half-hour later, Sarah pulled up to Patricia’s. She didn’t really know what to expect of a standard suburb-of-Chicago home, considering how sheltered she’d been in her old life. The house in front of her was a two-story, one-car garage brick building with not much of a front lawn, though Sarah could tell a much larger backyard was behind the home. The lawn itself was slightly overgrown and a bit patchy, and blades of grass and weeds grew between cracks in the driveway and sidewalk. She took a deep breath and exited the vehicle.

All of her eighteen years of public speaking training did nothing for her as she approached the woman’s front door. Sure, Sarah had spoken for her parents’ company and had been a model for more designers and fashion lines than she could count, but speaking one-on-one with her own godmother caused her to shake inside; she was so flustered she forgot how to knock. Eventually, she tapped lightly on the door with her knuckles three times, and it definitely wasn’t a woman who answered.

“Can I help you?” A pale, slim man, probably in his mid-twenties, with clearly-dyed platinum blonde hair cocked his eyebrow at Sarah. Just about her height, he wore a white button-down with sleeves pulled up to his elbows, slim-cut dark blue jeans, and a skinny black tie; on his feet were a kind of mock-loafer. No socks. He’s kinda cute…

“Uhm, is Patricia here?” He widened the door to allow her inside; a dog barked in the background.

“Mom! Someone’s here for you!” Sarah stepped inside as the man closed the door and turned to her, sticking his hand out. “I’m Patrick, by the way.”

“Sarah.” As they shook hands, she couldn’t help but stare into his green eyes and wonder if she’d seen them before. There was something eerily familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Well I see you’ve met Patrick!” Sarah whipped around to the sound of Patricia’s voice coming down the stairs, and the woman’s appearance certainly matched what Sarah had experienced of her so far. Slightly taller than Patrick, she held a somewhat-larger frame; her fiery red but graying hair fell in thick curls well past her shoulders and was pulled together in a haphazard clip. By the time she reached where Sarah and Patrick stood, she’d wrapped Sarah in a warm hug that the girl couldn’t help but return. “It’s so wonderful to see you, dear.” They broke apart and looked each other over while Patrick stood there awkwardly shuffling his feet.

“Well, while you two do…whatever it is you’re going to do, I’m gonna go walk Penny.” He whistled, and a second later, a golden Pomeranian tore through the house and jumped onto Patrick’s leg; he ruffled her ears, grabbed a leash off of a nearby table, hooked it onto the dog’s collar, waved goodbye, and walked out the door.

“Would you like some pumpkin squares? They’re baked fresh.”

“I’d love one.” Patricia showed her into the kitchen and pulled out a plate of the dessert.

“These are Patrick’s favorites. He’s never home, so whenever he stops by I whip some up.” She placed one on a plate for Sarah and another for herself, grabbing a couple napkins before moving back into the family room.

“What does he do so that he’s never home?” Sarah asked, taking a bite. “Oh my God these are delicious.” Patricia laughed.

“Thank you,” she replied, eating some herself. “He’s a musician. Travels a lot.”

“I’m kind of a budding musician myself. Would I know any of his work?” Sarah continued to consume more of the pumpkin square.

“Probably. Ever hear of Fall Out Boy?”

“Mhmm,” she mumbled, swallowing what she had in her mouth. “They’re actually my favorite band. There’s just something about their songs that grab me, you know?” She took her last fairly large bite, shoving the rest of the square in her mouth.

“He’s their lead singer, rhythm guitarist, and composer.” Sarah nearly choked as she finished off the dessert, composing herself and attempting to control her flushed face.

“That explains why he seemed so familiar. I mean, I’m not obsessive with them or anything, just knew faces, never names.” At Sarah’s nervousness, Patricia chuckled.

“Nothing to get yourself worked up about, Sarah.” While Patricia completed her own pumpkin square, Sarah took in the room around her. It was fairly modest and definitely furnished for comfort, though everything flowed together. Based on the home’s appearance, there was no way this woman and her mother could have been very close at all.

They looked at each other for awhile, no sound in the room at all except for the ticking of Patricia’s grandfather clock until Sarah opened her mouth.

“How did you know my parents?” Patricia smiled once again and sighed.

“Your mom and I grew up in Evanston together,” she began. “We were best friends through high school and mostly in college.”

“What made you two so close?”

“Everything, but especially our drive. We both loved sewing and fashion. Then again, it was also the eighties.” They laughed. “We wanted to open a boutique together in Chicago, actually.

“She met your dad in our second year of college. He was a business major, and while usually the artsy kids and ‘straight-edge’ ones don’t mix well, those two were peas in a pod. Then I met Patrick’s father David, who was a musician, and by some grace of God we all clicked together. We couldn’t be separated for an instant.

“As that year went on, something changed inside of your mom. She was less interested in just a small boutique and more about owning a national company that set the bar for fashion. I don’t mean to talk bad about your father, dear, but I had a feeling he was behind that shift and I was right. Not only was he changing her goals, but he changed her mood. A girl I’d seen only bubbly her whole life suddenly became shy and introverted. When I waited for her to talk to me, she never did.” A tear had come to Patricia’s eye as she stood to go into the kitchen. “Maybe that’s enough for one day.” Sarah followed her, careful not to push or pry.

“Please keep going.” Patricia sighed once more and poured herself a glass of iced tea, offering some to Sarah; she refused. They sat at the kitchen table.

“While we didn’t talk as much as we did, I think we had a mutual understanding that we were still just as good of friends as we’d been before. So when I wound up finding that I was pregnant on my twentieth birthday, I figured my best friend would be able to help me sort out what to do.”

“You were pregnant with Patrick, weren’t you?” Patricia nodded.

“Before I continue, Sarah, you should know that the only difference from your mom and me was that I wanted a family. Not just at some point in my life. A family was all I wanted out of life. Your mom, and I know she loved you so don’t take offense to this, viewed it as just another stage that she had to go through.” Sarah only nodded, refusing to lose herself in her thoughts. “So I pulled her aside at my party and told her I was pregnant, and she asked me what my plan was. I was going to tell David, drop out of college, and find a job. And you know what she told me?” Tears now freely fell from Patricia’s eyes. “She told me to have an abortion, because it would be ‘ridiculous’ for me to mess up my life over a child.

“Needless to say, we stopped talking. Over the next decade, we married our college sweethearts. She and your father became incredibly wealthy fashion moguls, and I contented myself with being a mother. While we never spoke once in all those years, I looked her up every now and then. I saw how her eyes changed from being only shy to completely depressed. I watched them get sadder with each step into power. The only light I saw in them was when she became pregnant with you, but even then that light didn’t last. As much as I know she loved you, she couldn’t handle the push of work and the pull of motherhood.

“About a month after she gave birth, I received a letter in the mail from her, explaining how sorry she was after all these years, wondering how I and my child were, asking me to be your godmother. I’ll admit, I was surprised at hearing from her, but I didn’t hesitate sending a reply. Unfortunately, she wanted our relationship kept quiet, because I clearly wouldn’t fit in with her new life. I didn’t hear from her again for another few years when she sent a check for about ten thousand dollars, telling me it was for ‘the son I’m sorry I told you not to have.’ She explained how much she loved being a mom and that she regretted telling me to abort Patrick. She sent me pictures of you, and may I say you were an adorable little girl.” Sarah blushed.

“What did he end up using the money for?” Patricia laughed, wiping the tears away.

“Honey, how do you think Fall Out Boy was able to survive the first few years? I know Pete’s family---”


“Their bassist and lyricist, dear. I know his family had money, but without the account I made for Patrick with your parents’ money Fall Out Boy wouldn’t be where it is today. They couldn’t have afforded the van, instruments, touring. Anything in the beginning.”


“Anyway, we talked for a long time after that. It was like we’d never stopped being friends, and I loved it. I missed having a best friend. I missed her. We stayed that way, communicating in only letters or phone calls, for about five years. Then one day she showed up on my doorstep.

“She was a wreck. There aren’t any other words to describe it. Of course, I took her in, and she stayed about a week, but not without spilling her guts. In a nutshell, she was miserable. Utterly depressed. Suicidal. She’d told your father about how she felt and basically said that if she went, so would he. She had a paper with her for me to sign that said if they both died, you’d come here, since she’d made me your godmother. I signed without hesitation, but I managed that week to talk her out of immediately taking her life. I begged her to wait it out, if not for me or your father then for you, until she felt you didn’t need her in the slightest anymore.

“When she left, I knew in my heart it’d be the last time I saw her. Every day after, I anxiously awaited the phone call from California saying my best friend was dead and that you’d be coming to live with me. I didn’t hear from her again until she sent me a letter. It arrived a few days before your eighteenth birthday.” Patricia dabbed at the tears in her eyes and went to her bedroom, coming back a minute later with fresh make-up and the letter in hand; she laid it in front of Sarah to read.

Dearest Patricia,
I’m sorry for the last almost thirty years. You’ve always been my closest friend, even when it seemed like I’d moved on from you. I love you. These women here are catty and artificial and nothing like you. I find myself most times wishing for those carefree days in Evanston with you, craving the easy times when we wanted a tiny boutique in Chicago. Do you remember that, Trish? Do you?
[* Sarah will be eighteen soon and I can’t hold on any longer. She will be more than taken care of when we die. She applied to Julliard, but I know it isn’t what she wants. She’s a people-pleaser, especially where her parents are concerned, and as much as that is a positive thing when you’re thrust in the spotlight, it’s so negative when it comes to her well-being. I know she wants to go out and make music, I know she could care less about school. Hopefully by my passing she’ll find it within herself to make herself happy for a change instead of trying to impress us.

[* Patrick has grown into a fine young man with more accomplishments than can fit a million lifetimes, but I see his heart of gold. While he has his father’s talent, he has your personality. I thank God, if there is one, every day for not letting my words influence you as far as Patrick is concerned. You’ve done a fine job with him, Trish. You really have.

[* I’m sorry that I can’t say more. Remember you’ve always been in my heart and my thoughts. If Sarah comes by, which I’m sure she will, tell her I love her and that I hope she’s doing the right thing for her and no one else. Goodbye.

[* Your “BFF”

When she finished reading the letter three times over, Sarah, in a flood of hysterics, excused herself, apologized to Patricia for the inconvenience, ran out of the house, blew past Patrick as he came back with Penny, locked herself in her car, and drove off.

“Take your taste back; peel back your skin, and try to forget how it feels inside. You should try saying no once in a while, oh once in a while…”
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