death's seen a double bed » joetrick

[4] How About a Ride, Son

[October 2000]

Never thought I would ever say this, but that son of a bitch was right. Timothy finally convinced me to listen to Jimmy Eat World, one of his and my dad's favorite bands. And damn, they were good.

Actually, he didn't convince me, even though he annoyed me everyday about it. I was just bored of my own records and decided to steal a random one from dad's collection, which happened to be Clarity.

The first single released on the album was slowly growing on me. It was conflicting, but I promised to myself that I'll never tell Tim nor my dad that I liked their music. I would get so much shit for it that it would probably get on the level of throwing the vinyl out on the window.

One thing people seemed to over-stereotypicalize about me was my music taste. Everyone thought I only listened to poppish bands, just because I never listened to music in public. People figured I did that because I was trying to be cool (or because I was gay). In reality, I was just more into harder bands like Anthrax, Megadeth or Slayer. I even got the obsession for Metallica from Pete. Thrash was my defining genre.

But I never thought punk was this good. I was lost in it. Too lost for my standards. The cringe alarm was on and buzzing in my head. I gotta learn when to turn it off.

Right when I wasn't expecting anyone to disturb me, I heard the click of the doorknob over the music and someone turning on the light in my room.

"So you like being in the dark, huh? When it's just you and the music, alone. The feeling that only the songs know what you did in the dark."

I turned around, a short guy standing in the middle of the room. The single light installed on the ceiling was exposing only half of his face, clean and soft like a new born child.

"What are you looking at?" he asked when we both realised that I was staring at him.

"Patrick?"

It was the only thing that crossed through my mind. He looked so different, like he just aged backwards. His weird facial hair was almost gone, only leaving two little chunks of hair on the sides.

"You like it?" Patrick chuckled, pointing at his hair. "Gotta trim it down to mutton chops sometimes, right?"

The record reached the end when he smiled at me, then everything turned to a really awkward silence. I should've asked him how he managed to find my home or how he tricked my mom to let him in my room. But I just stood there, waiting for him to say anything.

"Nice turntable you have there." he stated. "Pro-Ject Debut?"

"Uh, yeah."

"What were you listening to?"

For a moment I found myself debating whether I should lie about it or tell the truth that I just disappointed myself by listening to punk music. But before I could answer, Patrick saw the record for himself.

"Hah, Andy likes this band too. Oh, and, I came by to ask you if you wanted to- uh- join us?"

"Join you where?"

"A ride. Through the suburbs. You going or spending Friday night alone, in your room, without friends, bein-"

"Okay! Okay! Damn, man, I get it."

Patrick blew air from his nose and smiled again. It was better to join rather than hating myself for breaking my own rule.

I went downstairs with him and put my jacket on, taking the board next to the front door. Patrick suddenly grabbed my arm and looked at me with confused eyes.