Ch. 2: Readers, Meet Patrick

Spencer never ceased to be amazed at the will of the human spirit. How, when it settled on a course of action and the want or need was strong enough, the lengths it would go to in order to achieve its goal were endless. She made sure she differentiated between this and stubbornness. To be stubborn was most often a result of an unwillingness to change your stance due to pride. To have an unwavering will, fueled by a genuine desire for a result, that was something she could admire.

This admiration was the only reason she gave into Patrick after weeks of his pleading for them to “get away” and “finally have some us time!” Sometimes she did feel bad for him, grasping onto every little scrap of their relationship, listening and retaining every little thing she said as if it were winning lotto numbers, giving all of his heart for just the chance that she would throw him even a piece of hers, but then she would remember that he was Patrick. And she was Spencer. And that’s just how it was.

Patrick was scurrying around the condo like a kid going to Disneyland for the first time, except this kid was six foot two with a six pack and a five o’clock shadow, and his excitement wasn’t so much endearing as it was annoying to Spencer. She was in their room, staring at an empty suitcase attempting to figure out what type of weather to pack for a trip she didn’t want to go on to a cabin she didn’t want to live in to do activities she didn’t want to do. Yeah. She was annoyed.

She was startled out of her daze by an echoing voice carrying from the walk in closet that Spencer didn’t think they needed, but Patrick insisted on.

“Babe, do you think we’ll need hiking stuff? Oh hell, I’ll bring it anyways. What about flashlights? Did you pack your cell phone charger? Wait. They have electricity there right? Just because it’s a cabin doesn’t mean we’re gonna have to go all Swiss Family Robinson, right? Babe? Spencer? Did you hear what-”

“Yes, I heard,” Spencer replied, the strain from trying to hide her irritation bluntly apparent in her voice, “and I have no clue about any of it. This is your friend’s place. This is your idea. If you’re that worried about it, why don’t you call the guy?”