Authors: Aida Brassington
“What? When was this?” she asked, her voice loud with mock outrage.
There was no point in lying, so Patrick told the truth. “The night after you called me by name for the first time.”
“What does that have to do with anything? I say your name, and you think it gives you license to check me out in my birthday suit?” Sara openly chuckled now, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. She had kissed him –surely she had to think about him... that way. He’d done nothing but think of her… naked, touching him… since she’d moved in, even despite his efforts to rein it in.
“It was that one time.” Patrick grinned, embarrassed. The memory of that morning came back in a flash. Sara’s knee socks and her underwear, the way her pale skin glowed in the light from the window. It was something he would remember forever… however long that would be.
“Wait, what? I’ve lived here for months, and you’ve only seen me naked once?”
Patrick chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to stop the humiliation and confusion from showing on his face. Was she upset because he hadn’t been spying on her naked all the time or making fun of him for it? “Well, I just… I try to respect your privacy.”
Sara’s laugh started out as a tinkling giggle, progressing to wheezing guffaws in moments. He watched her quizzically as she held her stomach, rocking on the couch. Patrick’s own chuckle burst out of his mouth, spurred on by how hard she was cracking up. She was so pretty in that moment, with cheeks flushed pink, and her o pen-mouthed smile was so bright.
She released a shaky breath as she tried to stop, chest heaving with every exhale. “Are you kidding me? If our roles were reversed, I’d have been ogling your goods every chance I got! Besides,” she added, blowing out a slow breath, “you’ve got nice, broad shoulders –I bet you look great naked.” Her hand clamped over her mouth .
Patrick snorted out a sharp laugh. Even though he still didn’t know what to think of Sara’s sudden acceptance of him, he loved that she was unable to stop herself from saying what was on her mind. Not that Patrick had a ton of experience with girls, but Ginny hadn’t always been the most straight-forward person when it came to her feelings. It wasn’t that she’d been secretive or shy… she just had always been kind of stoic. He knew from hearing his friends bitch about their girlfriends that it wasn’t the most uncommon thing in the world for them to say the opposite of what they meant.
“Not that I, uh, think you should strip down for me,” she said quickly.
“Uh, so, our first date?” he reminded her, choosing to ignore her confession... at least outwardly. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, although his mind whirled, struggling with the idea that she was thinking about him that way after all… he wondered if she’d ever imagined them getting it on.
“Oh, um, yeah?” The corner of her mouth tugged up.
“We have limited options, obviously. Sorry about that.”
“Where would you have taken me if we had met before you died?” Sara’s fingers played with the material at the waist of her dress –she looked so delicate in it. The cream color of it made her skin velvety.
“Dressed like that? Out to dinner. You look really gorgeous, by the way.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed pinker under her bashful smile. “I, uh, wanted to look nice for you. Nicer than I have. I’ve been a slob lately.”
“If you’re referring to your tiny little shorts and shirts, you can keep wearing them. I don’t mind, really,” he teased. “We’d also go to the drive-in… after dinner.”
“Oh my God,” she said, slipping her fingers against his. “I’ve never been to one!”
“You’ve never been to a drive-in?” he asked. “How can that be?”
“Well, there aren’t a lot of them around anymore. I’ve not heard of one around here.”
“That’s kind of depressing. There used to be one on the outskirts of town.”
It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. It seemed as though the last forty years had brought lots of changes, although the most important things seem to have stayed the same –he and Sara were world s apart, but she didn’t seem so different than him.
“We could still have a movie night for our first date, though. I can go pick up a DVD or something.”
“DVD?”
“Oh, uh, it’s a movie that’s on a disk… a small, round, shiny, flat piece of plastic. You play it in… you’ve seen the thin black box on top of the television?” she asked. Patrick nodded. “You play it in that. We can watch a movie on the TV. I can get something you liked. Before you, you know…”
“Kicked the bucket,” Patrick finished with a grin.
“Yeah. That. What was that like, by the way?”
“Dying?”
“Uh huh.”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t like anything at all. I was flying down the stairs, and then I was dead. And then I was a ghost.” He shrugged.
Sara studied him for a second before smiling softly. “Okay.” The rumble of her throat clearly brought Patrick’s attention back to her face, pulling him out of remembering that day. “What was even out at that time? The only thing I know about the seventies is Saturday Night Fever , but you don’t strike me as a fan of disco.”
He was relieved not to have to relive the process of dying with her. It wasn’t that he minded talking about it – at least he didn’t think he would – it was just that he was trying so hard to be normal. To forget about what he was.
“What’s disco?”
“Oh, uh, really horrible dance music from that decade. Donna Summer… the Bee Gees.”
“Well, I know who the Bee Gees are – that stupid ‘I Started a Joke’ song, right?” he asked. Sara shrugged, smiling slightly. “If that’s what disco is, I’m glad I missed it.”
“Huh. Okay, so… wait, you died in 1970?”
“Uh huh. I think one of the last movies I saw was
Beneath the Planet of the Apes
. It was okay, but I don’t want to see it again. By the way, I think it’s really boss that you can get any movie you want whenever you want it.” He paused, squeezing her hand. “Why don’t we see your favorite movie? I mean, it’ll probably be new to me unless you’ve watched it here before.”
Sara laughed. “Okay, so
What’s Eating Gilbert Grape
it is. I don’t even need to go out to rent it - it’s in my stack of DVDs.”
Patrick shook his head. “It’s so neat that you have access to stuff like that. It was so different for me… sometimes they showed movies on TV, but it usually wasn’t anything I was dying to see.”
“Well, it’s probably made me a little bit impatient. I’m an instant gratification type of girl.”
“Geez, you’re going to be disappointed, then, if you’re going to be my girlfriend.”
Sara paused, scrunching up her face. “Is that what I am?”
Disappointment and fear spiked his chest, along with embarrassment. He should have never assumed that. Only an idiot would want to be with him that way. He had nothing to give. Nothing.
“Uh… well, to me that’s what you are. I’ve thought of you like that for a while now.”
A smile pushed onto her face. “Well, yeah… why not? I mean, I’m either completely delusional – you know, sitting in a padded room somewhere playing with my belly button, or the most unbelievable thing in the world is happening to me. Either way, there’s nothing wrong with going for it, right? So… yeah. I’m your girlfriend. Makes me kind of a cradle robber, huh?”
“What?”
“Well, I’m seven years older than you.”
“Yeah, you’re a regular Mrs. Robinson,” Patrick joked, brushing her bangs away from her forehead.
“Oooo, maybe I should run out and pick up
The Graduate
. We’ll have a double-feature –Dawn of the Dead . You know, to celebrate the undead aspect of this .”
“
Dawn of the Dead
?”
“Oh, not in your time frame? Well, zombies.” Sara grinned before groaning theatrically, rolling her eyes.
“Were you lying to me before about looking dead?” he teased. “Will there be popcorn … maybe something moldy in honor of me being older than dirt ?”
“I don’t have a microwave,” Sara said, trying to fight a laugh. “But I could stop and get some. Wait… you can’t eat anyway. You can’t, right?”
Patrick laughed and shook his head. “Even if I wanted to I couldn’t – unless there was a rotted apple or something lurking in my old room, I couldn’t pick anything up to try to get it in my mouth.”
He ignored her remark about the microwave or what that had to do with mold. He was tired of asking her what things were already .
While Sara was out getting a movie, Patrick turned on the record player in her office. He wished he could move some of the furniture to make a bigger area, but there was plenty of space in the room. After flipping through his records, he put on some Tom Jones. Andy had given it to him as a joke.
“It’s a hit with the ladies,” his friend had insisted, tossing it at him with a wink. “Gets ‘em in the mood.”
Not that he thought Sara would be swayed to mess around with him because of Tom Jones and his gyrating pelvis, but the idea made him laugh. He turned up the volume and sat against the windowsill with his legs crossed at the ankle, cracking up. He couldn’t get used to the idea that he’d kissed Sara, and he could hold her hand. Every inch of his skin felt alive, excited to see her again. As much as he didn’t like the fall because of how it reminded him of dying, as long as he had her with him in this house, everything would be okay.
“Let me love you, baby, let me love you, baby, love me tonight,” he belted out in a silly voice, singing along to the record. He heard the bang of the screen door downstairs and quickly put on something less idiotic. His 45 of “Slip Away” caught his eye. He fit it on the turntable and lowered the needle as the sound of Sara’s footsteps echoed into the room.
Clarence Carter’s guitar came through the speaker, and Sara walked in a moment later, a smile lighting her face as she caught sight of Patrick. He walked quickly to her, his feet shuffling against the wood floor, and slid his arms around her waist, walking her backward with him in time to the music.
“Dance with me,” he said, refusing to waste another moment second-guessing himself about why she wanted him, why she was just going with the flow .
Sara didn’t answer but raised her arms, resting her hands on his chest and the side of her head against his cheek. He took a small step to the side and then another, her feet following and their hips swaying together.
Patrick closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of her soak through his shirt, imagining they were somewhere else. Maybe a dark bar with the music playing. They’d be in some corner, away from the other dancers. He could almost hear the rustle of movement from nearby people and the din of a crowd trying to talk over the tune. Her hair was soft against his skin, and it was by instinct that he slid his face to kiss the side of her head just once before returning to his original position.
One of her hands coasted up his chest and around to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair… stroking, stroking. It was more than he could have ever imagined. Maybe instead of a bar, they were outside. It was August, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility they’d be in the fresh air, dancing on the beach under the stairs, the tinny speakers of a radio providing them with music. God, he wanted more than anything to take her down the shore, buy her some ice cream on the boardwalk and make out with her while the ocean waves crashed in the background.
This house was all he had, though, and even though he would have preferred to be somewhere else with her, this moment was amazing. His fingers grazed the top of her ass through the rough pattern of her dress, a smile on his lips just from the sheer novelty of being able to touch something new. His smile widened –it wasn’t just something; it was Sara and her ass. This was more than he’d ever hoped he could have when he was alive, let alone dead. The connection between them was intense. Patrick had never felt closer to someone in his entire life.
He opened his eyes, the room slowly rotating as he led them in lazy circles. Sara sighed, shifting her head up until they were nose to nose. This time she closed her eyes, and he leaned down, brushing their lips together. So warm; so, so warm and sweet.
“Don’t leave me,” he murmured. The universe owed him nothing, and it was fickle; everything could snap back at any moment – the world could shift back on its axis, tearing him back to his normal world, silencing him.
“Okay.”
August came to an end, the hazy, humid days never fading Sara’s ability to touch Patrick. At his request, she opened the windows wide and left the front door open whenever she could. The air was heavy but more fragrant than he remembered . While Sara worked, he sat at the door, breathing in the scents of tar, grass, and flowers. The sun shined through the door, lighting the leg of his corduroys. Lying around in his boxers would have been preferable, but he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. He held his hand up to the light, playing his fingers in the beam.
He was no more solid to the heat, though – his sudden appearance to Sara didn’t change a thing in that regard. His skin didn’t warm under the light… not like it used to. He didn’t miss it so much anymore, though. Especially not when Sara plopped down on the ground behind him, resting her chin gently on his shoulder. Her body heat was better than anything.
“I can feel that through your body.”
“Feel what?
“The sun.”
“Really?”
“Uh huh. Weird, right?”
“Yeah.” Patrick rested his palms on her knees, barely rubbing the skin. “Your knees are warm.”
Sara didn’t answer except to settle her body against his back more firmly, hands exploring just under the hem of his shirt. The sun shifted, creeping away from them, second by second. He stared out into the street, noticing the way the heat outside still shimmer ed on the blacktop. Indian Summer, his mom had called it.
“Hey, Patrick?”
Her voice rumbled through him, tickling his ribs. It felt almost the way he remembered soda fizzing –a cascade of bubbles sliding down his throat, the spike buzzing through his bloodstream. The distraction tore his eyes aw ay from the street outside, t he yellow flowers blooming at the edge of the porch passing into his vision . They’d always been his favorite flower. He longed to step outside and pick one to tuck behind Sara’s ear. It would look nice against her dark hair