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“No, no, David, I’m fine. I got it -- I got it.”
Patrick does not have it.
He sways to the right. David reaches up and places two strong hands on his waist.
“Mmkay, it’s just --” he steadies Patrick between his hands. “-- You’re a little bit tipsy... and I’m just afraid you might fall off your little coffee table here and split your head open.”
It’s midnight and Patrick is standing on his little coffee table, barefoot, the front of his navy blue T-shirt tucked messily into the waistband of a pair of gray utility shorts. He has a can of beer in one hand and a shiny, silver microphone in the other.
They had just finished hosting their first ("and last," David insisted) karaoke night at the apartment and David was ready to call it a night. Stevie had given Patrick a bluetooth karaoke machine a few weeks ago as a housewarming gift and he had been anxiously counting down the days until they could finally break it in.
“We don’t have to host an entire party for you to use that thing,” David had explained over dinner.
“David, I’m not going to just stand around in our living room and sing some songs by myself. No, we have to invite some people over. Stevie, Alexis, Ted… you know, make it a whole thing, like last time.”
That’s what David was afraid of.
That’s apparently what Alexis was afraid of as well, as Stevie ended up being the only one who showed up to this first and last official karaoke night.
“I’m fine, David,” Patrick insists again, shuffling his feet on the table, trying to shift out of David’s grip. “This thing is sturdy. It’ll last forever.” He jumps up and down three times to emphasize his point. The beer in his hand sloshes out of the can and spills onto the table. “Oopsie." He looks down and laughs.
“Okay the table may be sturdy but you’re definitely not.” David tries to carefully pull Patrick down. “And maybe we’ll just put this --” He grabs at the can of beer in Patrick’s hand. “-- Somewhere far away.”
“No.” He nudges David away and pulls the can back, liquid spilling out again over his arm and splashing onto his exposed legs. “It’s only my second beer,” he says with a straight face.
“Your second beer since Stevie left. I lost count of how many you had while she was still here.”
“Stevie’s here?!” Patrick’s eyes light up. He takes a long sip of his beer. “Okay, okay, okay…” He centers himself on the table. “This one is for Stevie. Stevie, this one's for you!” He shouts, raising the microphone in his hand. He looks around for the karaoke machine.
“I just -- she’s --” David sighs, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Stevie’s not here."
Patrick reaches for the machine at the far end of the coffee table and flips the switch. He picks up his phone, trying to nestle it between his thumb and the microphone with drunken determination. He scrolls through the song list intently, searching for the perfect one. His eyes land on something on the screen and his face grows suddenly serious.
“Wait,” he says soberly. He shakes his head at his phone and blinks twice to cut through the boozy blur. “Wait, no…” he pauses. “This one… this one is for David.” He bends down and sets his beer on the table with unnecessary force, wobbling a little when he straightens back up. “Where’s David?”
David stares back up at him, three feet away from the table. “Right here, honey.” His voice is flat but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.
Patrick points at him with the microphone. “Right there,” he repeats with a wink and a click of his tongue. He looks down and fumbles with his phone.
David laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t… you don’t have to sing to me, Patrick.”
“No, I do need to sing to you, David. I do.” He nods vigorously so he knows just how serious he is.
David’s eyes widen and he takes a couple nervous steps backward. Patrick finally manages to press play on his phone and a few seconds of white noise buzzes through the speaker. David braces himself for the worst.
The song starts softly. A familiar light guitar riff and then an even familiar doo-doo-doop-dum filters through the room and David bites back an anxious smile.
Patrick holds his phone up to his face, squinting at the lyrics on the screen.
“We were as one, babe, for a moment in time,” he starts singing. The sound is a little distorted, his mouth too close to the microphone, and the words come out slightly slurred, too heavy on his tongue, but he’s still surprisingly, somehow, perfectly in tune.
“And it seemed everlasting that you would always be mine…”
Then Patrick starts… moving. Swaying? Rocking.
Dancing, David concludes, is what he must be doing once he realizes his movements are intentional and not just the effects of all the alcohol on his equilibrium.
Only the upper half of Patrick’s body is currently moving, as his strong, sturdy legs are rooted firmly to the table.
“Now you want to be free...” Patrick hits the high note, closing his eyes and swaying his shoulders. “So I’ll let you fly…” He bends his knees, dipping down at the hips, his feet still planted solidly on the table.
Something between embarrassment and regret pinches David’s face. He tries to force his grimace into a weak smile as he watches Patrick start to bounce along to the beat as it picks up heading into the chorus. He notices Patrick’s feet beginning to move slightly, wiggling in place.
“You’ll always be a part of me…” he belts loudly. “... I’m part of you indefinitely.” He shimmies his shoulders and rocks his hips back and forth.
“Boy--” Suddenly, Patrick lifts his feet and lumbers gracelessly to the left, accidentally kicking the karaoke machine and knocking it clear off the table. The music immediately cuts out and dies in the middle of the chorus.
The room is silent.
David winces, shutting his eyes tightly and sinking down onto the sofa behind him.
The app disconnects and Patrick’s phone goes blank. He blinks and stares at it hard, confused, as if he doesn’t realize the music has stopped playing.
“Oh boy you know…” he resumes, loudly, a capella.
David laughs and hides his head in his hands.
Patrick stops. “What?”
David peeks up at him. “The music stopped, Patrick.”
“Pfft...” he scrunches up his face. “No it didn’t.” He holds up his phone. “My phone stopped, though. I think I need a new phone, David. Let’s get a new phone tomorrow.”
“Okay, let’s get a new phone tomorrow.” David reaches up for Patrick’s hand. “Now, let’s get down from there and get ready for bed.”
“No, I’m not done singing,” he nearly pouts. He brings the microphone up against his lips. “Oh boy you know--”
David shakes his head again.
“What?”
“It’s boy don’t you know. ”
“What is?”
“The lyrics. Boy don’t you know…”
Patrick nods and winks at David. “Boy don’t you know… you can’t… explain...” he tries.
“-- Escape me.”
“Escape me… ooh, darling, 'cause you'll always be my baby.” Patrick pauses and sways back and forth, humming the melody softly to himself. “And we’ll…” He looks up at the ceiling trying to remember the rest of the chorus.
“... Linger on.”
“Linger on…” He rocks in place, waiting.
“Time can’t…”
“Time can’t…”
“Erase a…”
“Erase a…”
“Feeling…”
“Indefinitely!” Patrick finishes, holding out that last erroneous note, grinning proudly.
David rolls his eyes and flops further back into the sofa cushions with an audible sigh. He sits there for a few seconds, his hands covering his face, then he slowly starts to laugh. He removes his hands, his smile wide and his eyes dancing now. He brings his hands up in front of him and starts clapping, loudly, then rises up to his feet.
“Great job, Patrick,” he says, clapping louder.
Patrick beams down at him. He bows slowly then stumbles forward. David quickly reaches out and grabs his hips, steadying him. He grips his hand as Patrick steps shakily off the table and slumps into his arms.
“I’ll get it one day, David.” He leans into his shoulder. “One day, I’ll get it. For you, David. I’ll get it. I promise.”
“Okay, okay, I believe you.” He presses one hand to Patrick’s chest and the other curls around his waist.
“This was fun,” Patrick says, feeling sluggish in David’s arms. The floor is moving now, or maybe he is, maybe he’s still dancing. He gasps. “You know what we should do? We should have a karaoke night. You know... invite some people over...”