IMAGINE: The Toughest Critic
“Hi, baby! Hiiiiii!” — the sound of a familiar female voice was heard from the other side of Patrick’s headphones.
Among the things in life that Patrick found most comforting: the smell of hot Chinese takeout, and the sound of his wife’s sweet voice, especially when she was announcing the food was here. Both things filled Patrick’s studio that afternoon, where he had spent the whole morning working on a track while multitasking to take care of Baby. He convinced Elisa to spend her lunch break at the studio with him. All things he loved colliding at once. He felt so happy.
And, of course, she says hi to the baby bumbling in the bouncer beside Patrick’s chair — and not to him. But whatever.
“How are you, sweet boy?” Elisa cooed as she picked up the baby. The infant smiled joyously at the sight of his mother, whom he hadn’t seen for most of the day. She continued fussing over him, pinching his chubby arms between her fingertips, nibbling his cheek with her lips.
Patrick cleared his throat.
And finally Elisa looked at him. “Oh hi, Sweetheart, can you open the food?”
Patrick rolled his eyes with a smirk. Fair enough.
He began unpacking boxes of extra spicy kung pao chicken and lo mein, the savory smell enticing his grumbling tummy. He was so hungry.
“Have you checked on Declan?” Elisa asked as she set the baby in a high chair.
“Yeah! His teacher said he’s been good today,” Patrick replied. “And how’s your…engineery stuff?”
“Good,” Elisa smiled as she nuzzled her little boy’s nose once more. She settled down on a nearby couch, forming pinches of white rice for the baby to pick up and eat. Patrick sat back at his computer chair with a pair of chopsticks and spicy chicken. On the screen in front of him, a set of chopped-up wavelengths.
“Mm!” Patrick exclaimed, mouth full of food, “I wanted to get your opinion on this.”
Elisa rolled her eyes. For whatever reason Patrick thought the three music courses she took in college made her some type of expert. But he also liked that Elisa was just as much a Fall Out Boy fan as anyone else. So he liked her opinions.
“What did you do?” Elisa asked, digging through her lo mein with her chopsticks.
“I created this beat here. Check this out.” Eagerly, Patrick moved the marker and hit the spacebar. It was drums only — bass, snare, bass-bass, bass, bass, snare. And again. The beat was slow. It was different. But also…simple. “Cool right?” Patrick smirked. “I made it myself.”
Elisa was quiet, eyes slightly squinted. Not getting immediate reaction, Patrick played the beat again, looping it so Elisa could hear a few times. Finally, Elisa said “hmm” and Patrick stopped.
“So?” Patrick asked, eyes wide like a puppy.
Elisa pursed her lips. Then, in the most honest tone, kindly, but with the slightest hint of sarcasm, she finally spoke.
“Can you imagine Andy Hurley playing that?”
Patrick blinked his eyes, taken aback by the remark. “Well…” he replied. “He’s…he’s going to have to…he’s going to play whatever I tell him…”
“Uhuh,” Elisa said, taking her last bite of noodle.
Patrick watched her as she stood to toss her box. “You don’t like it.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Elisa insisted.
“But I feel like you don’t like it,” Patrick said.
“Well…you’re the music expert in this family,” Elisa replied. “Whatever works for you, works for me.” She sighed as she picked up her purse and bent over to kiss the baby once more. “Okay, I gotta go back to work. I’ll pick up Dec at 3?”
Patrick, still uneasy over his wife’s comment, took a slight delay before he replied. “Oh! Yes, that’s great. Umm…kiss me too?”
Elisa smiled, walking back to her husband for a quick peck on the lips. He smiled back at her; as she walked toward the door, his steely blue eyes watched her wistfully, as if to ask her to stay.
And then she was gone. And it was just the boys again. Patrick stared at his baby, still finishing up the last bits of rice on his tray. The father sighed, pedaling his legs to roll his chair up to be closer to his son.
“Can you imagine Andy Hurley playing that,” Patrick repeated out loud to the boy. “What did she mean by that?”
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