Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Dead On Arrival
we're falling apart to half time ..
1 reviewupdate time .. horray. fatherly love and the cold mid-western air.
0Unrated
Less than 24 hours had elapsed from the time Pete had dropped Patrick off at the airport to the time that Pete was now picking Patrick up once again and it wasn’t easy to say that Pete was more disappointed than he thought he would be when no shows were to be cancelled on account of Patrick’s absence. It wasn’t that Pete wanted to let down the fans, but if they weren’t the ones to be let down gently, that meant Patrick had endured a long and hard fall from grace.
Over the next month, Pete would have to act like nothing had changed while he watched his best friend fall apart at the seams. It would be hard to ignore the change in Patrick’s eyes everyday when he put on the façade he had learned to perfect so graciously in front of a crowd or camera and it would be even harder for Pete to ignore the mood swings and pretend that he hadn’t walked in on Patrick that night the tears were streaming from his eyes, every physical item that reminded him of her scattered violently across the floor of the bus. Soon it would become a game to help him get by; walking on eggshells to avoid a breakdown.
Gabe sighed heavily into the phone as he shifted it from one shoulder to the next, “I just wish you could see what it’s doing to him; he isn’t just going to give up and get over it that easily.”
Ana sighed just as heavily, mirroring his actions half-way across the country as she shifted on the picnic table bench in her grandparents backyard; in the middle of the yard, outside of the home that she was once again calling home.
“I know, but honestly, do you really think that I’m the happiest camper in this scout troop?”
Gabe had spent the last three days visiting the tour, playing along with the game the rest of the band had come to master. It was hard for Gabe, knowing that his very presence was likely a constant remind of the love and loss that Patrick was suffering from. Ana could hear Janelle muttering in the background and she scribbled a few stray doodles on the corner of her notebook, before a now more concerned and less frustrated sigh echoed through the phone.
“Listen Moto, you know that I love you” Janelle was mumbling in the background and she smiled at the thought of her best friends arguing over who loves her more.
“You know that Nelle and I both love you.” Gabe corrected with a huff, “You know we’re just looking out; hoping for the best.”
Ana’s heartbreaking sigh was all Gabe needed to hear. 11 months, 3 weeks and 4 days ago they had met at a party that Pete had hosted downtown Chicago; 3 tequila shots and 47 minutes later, they had developed the friendship that still thrived to this day. With the bond the had created over drinks and booming music is a far too crowded club, the sigh was all Gabe or Janelle would need to hear to know exactly what Ana couldn’t say.
“Are you sure you don’t to come out and stay with us?” Ana knew the couple well enough; Gabe was asking the questions Janelle didn’t want to voice, but she had to graciously decline.
“No, I’m more than okay being here.” Ana smiled to herself as her eyes studied the house that she had moved back into a little over a month ago, “It’s sort of nice to be back home for a while; plus with my grandmother just getting out of the hospital it’ll be nice to be able to spend so much more time with her.”
Gabe nodded to himself, even though Ana couldn’t see, “Alright well, we love you and we’ll see you soon.”
Before Gabe had caused her phone to vibrate violently on the table, Ana’s thoughts were flowing from her mind, through her fingers and on to the paper but now as she hung up, switched the phone to silent and placed it back on the table; her mind went blank. Luckily, her fathers voice pulled her from her creative traffic jam before the anxiety could set in.
“I brought you some tea” Arthur smiled happily at his youngest child as he placed the steaming mug of liquid before her, taking a seat on the opposite side of the picnic table. “I thought maybe you would want to talk about it.”
Arthur Stumotrolazera was never an openly emotional man, so to say the least; it was immediately shocking that he would take such initiative towards an in-depth conversation. Regarding the hidden meaning of such an initiative, Ana raised a curious eyebrow as she replaced the pen in her hand with the blue coffee cup her father had brought her.
Arthur smiled warmly at his daughter, “Anabella, I’ve been your father long enough to know the meaning to your art. You take pictures when you’re happy, paint when you want to be left alone, and write when you’re sad.”
Ana couldn’t help but smile at her father’s attention to detail as he gestured to the pen and pad of paper lying on the table before her; but that smile was quickly flipped upside down as her father continued.
“And judging by your now ring-less finger, I could only assume you have a lot to write about.”
Ana nearly spit out the warm liquid that was passing over her lips, pulling her left hand down under the table out of reflex.
“So” Arthur smirked, “When you did you plan on breaking the news?”
With a forced, innocent smile and a shrug of her shoulders, “Thanksgiving dinner?” was her first response.
“Are we going to make it a new family tradition to break all earth shattering news over holiday dinner?”
Ana sighed heavily as her eyes traveled from her fathers confused and slightly disappointed face to the bank of the river, off into the far distance of the yard.
“So this move back home, is it for good?”
“No, I don’t hope for it to be. Just for now, so I can spend more time with the three of you while I look for a place.”
Arthur nodded in understanding as his eyes wandered aimlessly around the yard around them before he asked the question she knew that she was secretly dreading, “So what did the moron do now?”
“He’s not a moron” Ana furrowed her eyebrows together, defending the name of the man who still held on so tightly to her heart strings.
“Anyone who can find a way to lose such a beautiful, loving girl is a moron in my book.”
“It isn’t him” Ana defended, “It’s time and place, mostly. He has his dreams, I have my job; it just isn’t the right time for us.”
A moment, or possibly two had passed in a thick wave of silence as Ana breathed in the heavy November air, her father doing the same, staring out into the distance, noting the presence of the mid-west winter moving in around them, the sound of the water crashing against the shores of the lake filtered around them as leaves fell lightly from the trees.
“When your mother got sick, I couldn’t have even imagined ever making it through the days where I would be left alone to raise you two rascals without her.”
Ana’s full attention was back to her father as he fondly mentioned the memory of her mother, his fingers fiddling involuntarily with the ring still adorning his fingers as his eyes stayed fixated on the distance.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have married a woman who was going to die and leave me alone to raise our children, obviously for us; it just wasn’t the right time.”
Ana sighed as her fathers eyes landed back on her face as he stood from the table. Inhaling deeply, she could see the change in his eyes as he studied her so carefully, before adding, “But unfortunately for us all, love doesn’t run on a convenient schedule.”
And with that, Ana was alone, with her thoughts, her tea, the cold mid-western November air to remind her of all that was once right in her world and a lingering anxiety as she eyed the voicemail alert that had taken up home on the screen of her cellular phone.
Over the next month, Pete would have to act like nothing had changed while he watched his best friend fall apart at the seams. It would be hard to ignore the change in Patrick’s eyes everyday when he put on the façade he had learned to perfect so graciously in front of a crowd or camera and it would be even harder for Pete to ignore the mood swings and pretend that he hadn’t walked in on Patrick that night the tears were streaming from his eyes, every physical item that reminded him of her scattered violently across the floor of the bus. Soon it would become a game to help him get by; walking on eggshells to avoid a breakdown.
Gabe sighed heavily into the phone as he shifted it from one shoulder to the next, “I just wish you could see what it’s doing to him; he isn’t just going to give up and get over it that easily.”
Ana sighed just as heavily, mirroring his actions half-way across the country as she shifted on the picnic table bench in her grandparents backyard; in the middle of the yard, outside of the home that she was once again calling home.
“I know, but honestly, do you really think that I’m the happiest camper in this scout troop?”
Gabe had spent the last three days visiting the tour, playing along with the game the rest of the band had come to master. It was hard for Gabe, knowing that his very presence was likely a constant remind of the love and loss that Patrick was suffering from. Ana could hear Janelle muttering in the background and she scribbled a few stray doodles on the corner of her notebook, before a now more concerned and less frustrated sigh echoed through the phone.
“Listen Moto, you know that I love you” Janelle was mumbling in the background and she smiled at the thought of her best friends arguing over who loves her more.
“You know that Nelle and I both love you.” Gabe corrected with a huff, “You know we’re just looking out; hoping for the best.”
Ana’s heartbreaking sigh was all Gabe needed to hear. 11 months, 3 weeks and 4 days ago they had met at a party that Pete had hosted downtown Chicago; 3 tequila shots and 47 minutes later, they had developed the friendship that still thrived to this day. With the bond the had created over drinks and booming music is a far too crowded club, the sigh was all Gabe or Janelle would need to hear to know exactly what Ana couldn’t say.
“Are you sure you don’t to come out and stay with us?” Ana knew the couple well enough; Gabe was asking the questions Janelle didn’t want to voice, but she had to graciously decline.
“No, I’m more than okay being here.” Ana smiled to herself as her eyes studied the house that she had moved back into a little over a month ago, “It’s sort of nice to be back home for a while; plus with my grandmother just getting out of the hospital it’ll be nice to be able to spend so much more time with her.”
Gabe nodded to himself, even though Ana couldn’t see, “Alright well, we love you and we’ll see you soon.”
Before Gabe had caused her phone to vibrate violently on the table, Ana’s thoughts were flowing from her mind, through her fingers and on to the paper but now as she hung up, switched the phone to silent and placed it back on the table; her mind went blank. Luckily, her fathers voice pulled her from her creative traffic jam before the anxiety could set in.
“I brought you some tea” Arthur smiled happily at his youngest child as he placed the steaming mug of liquid before her, taking a seat on the opposite side of the picnic table. “I thought maybe you would want to talk about it.”
Arthur Stumotrolazera was never an openly emotional man, so to say the least; it was immediately shocking that he would take such initiative towards an in-depth conversation. Regarding the hidden meaning of such an initiative, Ana raised a curious eyebrow as she replaced the pen in her hand with the blue coffee cup her father had brought her.
Arthur smiled warmly at his daughter, “Anabella, I’ve been your father long enough to know the meaning to your art. You take pictures when you’re happy, paint when you want to be left alone, and write when you’re sad.”
Ana couldn’t help but smile at her father’s attention to detail as he gestured to the pen and pad of paper lying on the table before her; but that smile was quickly flipped upside down as her father continued.
“And judging by your now ring-less finger, I could only assume you have a lot to write about.”
Ana nearly spit out the warm liquid that was passing over her lips, pulling her left hand down under the table out of reflex.
“So” Arthur smirked, “When you did you plan on breaking the news?”
With a forced, innocent smile and a shrug of her shoulders, “Thanksgiving dinner?” was her first response.
“Are we going to make it a new family tradition to break all earth shattering news over holiday dinner?”
Ana sighed heavily as her eyes traveled from her fathers confused and slightly disappointed face to the bank of the river, off into the far distance of the yard.
“So this move back home, is it for good?”
“No, I don’t hope for it to be. Just for now, so I can spend more time with the three of you while I look for a place.”
Arthur nodded in understanding as his eyes wandered aimlessly around the yard around them before he asked the question she knew that she was secretly dreading, “So what did the moron do now?”
“He’s not a moron” Ana furrowed her eyebrows together, defending the name of the man who still held on so tightly to her heart strings.
“Anyone who can find a way to lose such a beautiful, loving girl is a moron in my book.”
“It isn’t him” Ana defended, “It’s time and place, mostly. He has his dreams, I have my job; it just isn’t the right time for us.”
A moment, or possibly two had passed in a thick wave of silence as Ana breathed in the heavy November air, her father doing the same, staring out into the distance, noting the presence of the mid-west winter moving in around them, the sound of the water crashing against the shores of the lake filtered around them as leaves fell lightly from the trees.
“When your mother got sick, I couldn’t have even imagined ever making it through the days where I would be left alone to raise you two rascals without her.”
Ana’s full attention was back to her father as he fondly mentioned the memory of her mother, his fingers fiddling involuntarily with the ring still adorning his fingers as his eyes stayed fixated on the distance.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have married a woman who was going to die and leave me alone to raise our children, obviously for us; it just wasn’t the right time.”
Ana sighed as her fathers eyes landed back on her face as he stood from the table. Inhaling deeply, she could see the change in his eyes as he studied her so carefully, before adding, “But unfortunately for us all, love doesn’t run on a convenient schedule.”
And with that, Ana was alone, with her thoughts, her tea, the cold mid-western November air to remind her of all that was once right in her world and a lingering anxiety as she eyed the voicemail alert that had taken up home on the screen of her cellular phone.
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