Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Mixed Tape
Cassandra wanted her mother. She missed her laugh. Her smell. The way everything would smell like coffee or pancakes in the morning. Essentially, Cassi just missed the comforts of Mom. Nothing in the world could ever make her feel as safe as having her mother around, and now that she wasn't Cassandra was an open wound. Now more than ever, though, Cassandra wished her mother was there. What would she say to do? Well, she knew that first of all, her mother wouldn't have approved of the not necessarily make-up sex that she and Peter had taken part in the night before. She wasn't even sure how she herself felt about it. Cassandra was quickly getting ready for work so she would have enough time to listen to the tape, when the phone rang.
"Hello?" She was frustrated. If this took any amount of time, she would have to save the tape for later. She was too curious to play that game.
"Hey. Cass. It's Patrick. You need to come over."
"Patrick, I can't. I have work today."
"Pete's a mess. We have an interview in an hour. He needs to calm down." Cassandra shook her head.
"I almost guarantee I'm the last person he wants to see right now."
"He's asking for you." She sighed. She probably should have known as much.
"Give me twenty minutes."
"Thanks. Please hurry. He just threw our moon man. I'm kind of upset with him. Get here before I get to him. Thanks." She hung up the phone. No sense in finishing the stupid process of getting ready. She was dying to listen to the tape. She went into the living room, grabbed the tape off of it's place on the coffee table, where it had been put by Peter. And put it in its happy home inside the tape deck. Play.
4. What she Said
Cass,
I'm sure you're getting tired of little afterthoughts, or pre-thoughts, depending on when you open these pieces of my mind, which really aren't worth a lot. No sense in pretending it's my two-cents. What a funny play on words. Even if they were worth something, it's not going to buy me your forgiveness. Trust me, I've resigned myself to the fact that I fucked up. I chose this song, by Lifetime, because I thought it fit me. I've spent so much time trying to pick my own brain apart for answers. I've come up empty handed each and every time. The worst part is the more I pick, the more I realize that I am even mystery to myself. It hurts like hell to learn that the one person I hurt, has no way of figuring out why I did it. I'm here to tell you, you never will. Brutal honesty is key, so there is mine for you. If I don't know why it happened, rest assured, you won't either. The only thing I have to offer to you is the most sincere of apologies.
I'm always wrong. I'll always try to be right.
-Peter
Do you know what it's like to not know a single thing about yourself
and it's all your fault?
It's all my fault.
Do you know what it's like to not know a single thing about yourself
and it's all your fault?
It's all my fault.
When she said... when she said...
I still hear when she told me "it's all wrong".
Listening to the tape prior to work was one of the worst decisions Cassandra decided she ever could have made, but she was about to face Peter. Somehow, her brain had reasoned that that would help. Why? She could figure herself out about as well as Peter could figure himself. Great.
She made the 14-minute drive (they'd timed it on more than one occasion.) to Patrick's apartment, and parked.
"Why am I bothering? Why do I keep putting myself through this?" She walked the steps to Patrick's apartment, and knocked. Loud bumps and jolts kept coming from the walls around her. Pete, she decided.
Eventually, Patrick opened the door.
"Finally."
"Sorry. I listened to a little of the tape. What's going on? Why didn't he go back to his house?"
"Excellent question. Caroline is not happy that she was woken up at 7 on her day off. I think he forgets sometimes that I'm engaged. Oh, well. Maybe it's best that he's not alone. He's more upset than I've seen him in a long time." Cassandra walked down the hall and looked around the corner into the room she guessed Pete had inhabited. She remembered that he had sort of claimed a room when C.J. had moved to Chicago, and she knew which room it was. Peter liked the left side of the hall way, the bed, everything. He was weird.
What she saw, was pitiful, to say the least. She found Peter lying on his back on his bedroom floor, in the same clothes he had worn to her house the day before. He hadn't been crying, but you could tell by his surroundings that every once and awhile he had been overwhelmed by the previous night, and had thrown something out of frustration. Cassandra could tell, at list, which had him feeling emotionally exposed, his least favorite feeling. His eyes never left the ceiling. He didn't have to look at her to know she was there.
"Yes?" He said, no expression on his face, which was growing stubble and bags beneath his eyes.
"Patrick said you were asking for me. I came because...Patrick said you were asking for me." Honestly, what had persuaded her to be where she was at that exact moment. She felt like running.
"That's a good reason. Or maybe it's just the best reason you could come up with point-blank. Surely it couldn't be traces of guilt. Not from Cassandra."
"Good grief. If you don't need me, I need to be at work. I didn't come here to be condemned. Just tell me what you need. If the answer is nothing, I have business to attend to."
"How eloquent. You're such a speaker. I guess that's the difference between you and me." He still hadn't looked away from the ceiling. She scoffed.
"I need to go."
"No. Have a seat." She rolled her eyes and took a seat on the floor next to him.
"Say you hate me." Cassandra laughed, the high false laugh that Pete despised.
"Why? So we can end up exactly like we did last night? I'd rather not, thanks." He finally looked at her.
"I believe that about as much as you do."
"Oh, fuck you, Peter. I have places to be. I listened to some of the tape. You're not getting anywhere with me. Don't count on getting much further than nowhere anytime soon. Have a nice day." She got up, and walked out. Patrick looked up at her from his place at the table, eating a bowl of cereal.
"How'd that go?" He asked, as he picked up the bowl to finish off the leftover milk.
"You're going to have a fun day with him. I can tell. That was an enormous waste of time. You may want to send him home. He smells."
"Uh, thanks, Cass. Have fun at work." She bid him goodbye, and walked out the front door. As she descended down the steps, a piece of paper landed on the step in front of her.
Cassi,
Please. You thought you'd get through the rest of the day without hearing from me. I'm your plague. Remember that. Unfortunately, I'm the kind of plague that comes, and never leaves. And what's worse, is the fact that you need me more than any plague you've ever known. I know you're almost out the door, so here's what this note is for. I'll be over at 7. I need you to forgive me.
-Peter.
P.S. I know I'm your plague. I see it in your eyes. I only recognize it because you're mine.
Shit. She needed off of work early.
She walked into the shop and was greeted by Anna.
"If I beat you, you're more than late. You're like, dead." Cassandra just shook her head and laughed.
"I'm not sure how you reasoned that, but I've accepted the fact that your head's one of the scariest places to be. I have business to attend to tonight. I'll pay you time and a half to close." Anna stopped what she was doing, put her hand on her hip, and looked straight at Cassandra.
"Pete. Your business is Pete. Don't tell me it isn't." Cassandra just rolled her eyes, and went to attend to a customer.
"Don't walk away from me. I was leaving Marc's house last night, and I saw his car there. It was almost 3. Don't deny anything. I've got wisdom enough to know why he was there." She was almost laughing, leaving Cassandra nearly blushing. She threw her hands in the air and grabbed at her hair.
"How the hell does he do this to me? I've spent so much time hating him. It was so easy. Now all of a sudden, I've never needed him more than I need him now."
"Uh, duh, dumb fuck. You love him."
"Nonono. I do not. He cheated-"
"And you've forgiven him."
"No. I haven't. I don't know what's going on." Anna rolled her eyes.
"I'm tired of you already. Go home. Adam and I have this shit under control. Go." Before Cassandra could protest, Anna threw her coat and her purse out the door, and pushed Cassandra in the same direction.
"Call me if you need anything."
"Hell, no. I'm not calling. Go listen to that stupid tape, make a game plan like I know you will, and talk to Peter."
Cassandra hugged Anna, and walked home. It was still early afternoon, so the sun was shining, making the air a little warmer. A game plan? Not happening. All sensible thought and strategy was thrown out the window the second he said her name that way, or if he lay a hand on her. It would always be that we. Her only game plan was to not make one at all. She just needed to keep him on one side of the room, and him on the other.
She unlocked the door to her apartment, threw her stuff in it's usual place by her door, and headed straight for the play button. What the hell could he have planned for her next?
"Hello?" She was frustrated. If this took any amount of time, she would have to save the tape for later. She was too curious to play that game.
"Hey. Cass. It's Patrick. You need to come over."
"Patrick, I can't. I have work today."
"Pete's a mess. We have an interview in an hour. He needs to calm down." Cassandra shook her head.
"I almost guarantee I'm the last person he wants to see right now."
"He's asking for you." She sighed. She probably should have known as much.
"Give me twenty minutes."
"Thanks. Please hurry. He just threw our moon man. I'm kind of upset with him. Get here before I get to him. Thanks." She hung up the phone. No sense in finishing the stupid process of getting ready. She was dying to listen to the tape. She went into the living room, grabbed the tape off of it's place on the coffee table, where it had been put by Peter. And put it in its happy home inside the tape deck. Play.
4. What she Said
Cass,
I'm sure you're getting tired of little afterthoughts, or pre-thoughts, depending on when you open these pieces of my mind, which really aren't worth a lot. No sense in pretending it's my two-cents. What a funny play on words. Even if they were worth something, it's not going to buy me your forgiveness. Trust me, I've resigned myself to the fact that I fucked up. I chose this song, by Lifetime, because I thought it fit me. I've spent so much time trying to pick my own brain apart for answers. I've come up empty handed each and every time. The worst part is the more I pick, the more I realize that I am even mystery to myself. It hurts like hell to learn that the one person I hurt, has no way of figuring out why I did it. I'm here to tell you, you never will. Brutal honesty is key, so there is mine for you. If I don't know why it happened, rest assured, you won't either. The only thing I have to offer to you is the most sincere of apologies.
I'm always wrong. I'll always try to be right.
-Peter
Do you know what it's like to not know a single thing about yourself
and it's all your fault?
It's all my fault.
Do you know what it's like to not know a single thing about yourself
and it's all your fault?
It's all my fault.
When she said... when she said...
I still hear when she told me "it's all wrong".
Listening to the tape prior to work was one of the worst decisions Cassandra decided she ever could have made, but she was about to face Peter. Somehow, her brain had reasoned that that would help. Why? She could figure herself out about as well as Peter could figure himself. Great.
She made the 14-minute drive (they'd timed it on more than one occasion.) to Patrick's apartment, and parked.
"Why am I bothering? Why do I keep putting myself through this?" She walked the steps to Patrick's apartment, and knocked. Loud bumps and jolts kept coming from the walls around her. Pete, she decided.
Eventually, Patrick opened the door.
"Finally."
"Sorry. I listened to a little of the tape. What's going on? Why didn't he go back to his house?"
"Excellent question. Caroline is not happy that she was woken up at 7 on her day off. I think he forgets sometimes that I'm engaged. Oh, well. Maybe it's best that he's not alone. He's more upset than I've seen him in a long time." Cassandra walked down the hall and looked around the corner into the room she guessed Pete had inhabited. She remembered that he had sort of claimed a room when C.J. had moved to Chicago, and she knew which room it was. Peter liked the left side of the hall way, the bed, everything. He was weird.
What she saw, was pitiful, to say the least. She found Peter lying on his back on his bedroom floor, in the same clothes he had worn to her house the day before. He hadn't been crying, but you could tell by his surroundings that every once and awhile he had been overwhelmed by the previous night, and had thrown something out of frustration. Cassandra could tell, at list, which had him feeling emotionally exposed, his least favorite feeling. His eyes never left the ceiling. He didn't have to look at her to know she was there.
"Yes?" He said, no expression on his face, which was growing stubble and bags beneath his eyes.
"Patrick said you were asking for me. I came because...Patrick said you were asking for me." Honestly, what had persuaded her to be where she was at that exact moment. She felt like running.
"That's a good reason. Or maybe it's just the best reason you could come up with point-blank. Surely it couldn't be traces of guilt. Not from Cassandra."
"Good grief. If you don't need me, I need to be at work. I didn't come here to be condemned. Just tell me what you need. If the answer is nothing, I have business to attend to."
"How eloquent. You're such a speaker. I guess that's the difference between you and me." He still hadn't looked away from the ceiling. She scoffed.
"I need to go."
"No. Have a seat." She rolled her eyes and took a seat on the floor next to him.
"Say you hate me." Cassandra laughed, the high false laugh that Pete despised.
"Why? So we can end up exactly like we did last night? I'd rather not, thanks." He finally looked at her.
"I believe that about as much as you do."
"Oh, fuck you, Peter. I have places to be. I listened to some of the tape. You're not getting anywhere with me. Don't count on getting much further than nowhere anytime soon. Have a nice day." She got up, and walked out. Patrick looked up at her from his place at the table, eating a bowl of cereal.
"How'd that go?" He asked, as he picked up the bowl to finish off the leftover milk.
"You're going to have a fun day with him. I can tell. That was an enormous waste of time. You may want to send him home. He smells."
"Uh, thanks, Cass. Have fun at work." She bid him goodbye, and walked out the front door. As she descended down the steps, a piece of paper landed on the step in front of her.
Cassi,
Please. You thought you'd get through the rest of the day without hearing from me. I'm your plague. Remember that. Unfortunately, I'm the kind of plague that comes, and never leaves. And what's worse, is the fact that you need me more than any plague you've ever known. I know you're almost out the door, so here's what this note is for. I'll be over at 7. I need you to forgive me.
-Peter.
P.S. I know I'm your plague. I see it in your eyes. I only recognize it because you're mine.
Shit. She needed off of work early.
She walked into the shop and was greeted by Anna.
"If I beat you, you're more than late. You're like, dead." Cassandra just shook her head and laughed.
"I'm not sure how you reasoned that, but I've accepted the fact that your head's one of the scariest places to be. I have business to attend to tonight. I'll pay you time and a half to close." Anna stopped what she was doing, put her hand on her hip, and looked straight at Cassandra.
"Pete. Your business is Pete. Don't tell me it isn't." Cassandra just rolled her eyes, and went to attend to a customer.
"Don't walk away from me. I was leaving Marc's house last night, and I saw his car there. It was almost 3. Don't deny anything. I've got wisdom enough to know why he was there." She was almost laughing, leaving Cassandra nearly blushing. She threw her hands in the air and grabbed at her hair.
"How the hell does he do this to me? I've spent so much time hating him. It was so easy. Now all of a sudden, I've never needed him more than I need him now."
"Uh, duh, dumb fuck. You love him."
"Nonono. I do not. He cheated-"
"And you've forgiven him."
"No. I haven't. I don't know what's going on." Anna rolled her eyes.
"I'm tired of you already. Go home. Adam and I have this shit under control. Go." Before Cassandra could protest, Anna threw her coat and her purse out the door, and pushed Cassandra in the same direction.
"Call me if you need anything."
"Hell, no. I'm not calling. Go listen to that stupid tape, make a game plan like I know you will, and talk to Peter."
Cassandra hugged Anna, and walked home. It was still early afternoon, so the sun was shining, making the air a little warmer. A game plan? Not happening. All sensible thought and strategy was thrown out the window the second he said her name that way, or if he lay a hand on her. It would always be that we. Her only game plan was to not make one at all. She just needed to keep him on one side of the room, and him on the other.
She unlocked the door to her apartment, threw her stuff in it's usual place by her door, and headed straight for the play button. What the hell could he have planned for her next?
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