Authors: Aida Brassington
Sara followed shortly after her sister, smiling at Patrick when she saw him waiting by the stairs. That tiny grin spoke of secrets, and it took everything he had not to throw himself across the room and hug the crap out of her. She was his, and she took every opportunity to let him know how she felt. Her smallest gestures – a smile, a touch –were full of her feelings.
“Welcome home,” he said, settling himself onto the bottom step too keep himself still. No need to get in the way. Sara couldn’t step through him anymore but Jules could, and the discomfort of the sensation that went along with it never really went away.
“I don’t know,” Jules said, pushing her hair back. It didn’t make a difference – it still spastically fl ew around her head. “He’s just lucky I didn’t hit him with my bag . You just don’t stand close to someone like that. If he wanted to know what time it was, he could have asked me from a respectable distance. There’s no reason to invade my personal space like that.”
“Give the guy a break. He obviously wasn’t from the area.” Sara crossed the room, making sure to move close enough to Patrick to touch his hair , rolling her eyes in Jules’ direction, and then casually walked away.
“Why do you say?”
Sara grinned and sank onto the couch as her sister tossed her purse down on the rocking chair. “Because Philadelphians know better. People carry guns around here.”
“Good reminder. They’re probably a bunch of heathens too. No offense,” she said, sniffing loudly and glancing at the painting behind the couch with disdain.
“Had a problem at the airport?” Patrick asked, narrowing his eyes at Jules. He hated the way she talked to Sara and the way judgment oozed from every pore .
A glance out the window surprised him; it was getting dark so much earlier now. The sky had already faded to a soft purple, but t he clock on the mantle said it was only seven o’clock. Even though it was still warm, signs of the change of seasons still came. Soon the leaves would start to turn colors, crimson and yellow blowing around the yard.
“Yes, because we’re going to be spending so much time at the airport while you’re here.” Sara giggled and waggled her fingers in Patrick’s direction.
Jules stared hard at Sara, then shook her head. “Uh huh. Well, I’m hungry. Are you going to feed me?”
“Yeah, alright. What do you want? I can make you a salad or a grilled cheese.”
“Wow, pulling out all the stops!” Jules snorted. Patrick wished he could tell her to shove it.
“Well, it’s not like you’re an invalid. If you want something else, feel free to invade my kitchen.” Sara cocked an eyebrow at Jules and grinned, crossing her arms over her chest.
Jules smiled and sprinted into the kitchen. “If you insist!” The sound of drawers and cabinets being opened and shut followed a few moments later.
“She’s going to dirty every dish imaginable,” Sara muttered, “and probably break a few, too, just out of spite.”
“Better get out there,” Patrick teased, walking across the room to crouch next to her. Her hand was in his hair in an instant , combing her fingers through. “Besides, you should eat something. You didn’t eat much for lunch.”
She stuck her tongue out, and Patrick laughed. She’d regained some the weight she’d lost before, but he was still serious –she was too thin , and s he knew it as well as he did . He pulled her to her feet and kissed her mouth, brushing his lips over hers.
“Yeah, alright,” she whispered.
“Quit talking to yourself and get in here!” Jules called.
Sara rolled her eyes again and dragged her feet as she went, blowing Patrick a kiss. He smiled, watching her disappear into the kitchen, and shook his head. He had en couraged Sara to consider allowing her sister to invade her space , despite his dislike of the woman – it seemed as though Sara was never overly excited to hear from her sister, although she really tried to get along with her. He just didn’t like to see her suffer in silence as Jules talked crap about her. It was worse than the first time she’d been here –now all he wanted was for her to be gone so he didn’t have to share his girl .
On any other night they’d be curled up together on the floor of the living room, watching a movie or talking; she had to be uncomfortable on the hard , wood en boards, but she insisted –if Patrick couldn’t sit on the couch with her, she would endure it. He loved sprawling across the ground with his head on her stomach, her hands absently stroking his hair. He’d never realized before just how good that felt. It was comforting yet sexy at the same time, which confused him on a few levels.
It was just how he felt most of the time now – reassured but turned on. It was strange . He felt more like a nineteen -year-old guy now than he had even back in 1970. There was none of the promise of what his life might have to offer, though… Sara was the only thing. He would never have the choices he had back then , before he’d bitten the dust . Even though he’d felt trapped by working with his dad and penned into that whole Army thing, he’d really had options, alternatives he could have taken. Instead of going to his stupid physical exam and shipping over to Vietnam, he could have taken off. It wouldn’t have had to be Canada, although maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad scene. There were a million things he could have done back then to change what he’d assumed would have been a dull life stuck in Media.
Still, despite his wasted choices and the loneliness, the pain of losing his parents not once, but twice… the confusion over why he was stuck in this house… he was relieved it had worked out that way. His mother’s voice filtered through his head, and he could just see her, sitting on the couch and doing needlepoint.
“Everything happens for a reason, Patty,” she’d been fond of saying, a smug and knowing smile on her face. She’d obviously been right, of course . More than anything, he felt as though this –meeting Sara, making her happy –was what he was meant for. It was his destiny. Maybe this was all part of something bigger for him, or maybe it had more to do with what Sara was fated for. Ginny had talked once about the wheel of fortune and how everyone had a part to play. He didn’t really care so much anymore about whether it was him or Sara who was spinning the ring; he was content. It wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn good.
Sara’s laughter floated out of the kitchen, and he smiled, wandering to the door and leaning against the frame. They cracked up, Sara crumpling a napkin and tossing it at Jules’ chin . He shook his head, grinning wider simply because they seemed to be getting along better – a good thing – before he turned to head upstairs.
“You just seem, I don’t know, happier or something,” he heard Jules say.
“I am. I’m very happy,” Sara answered. Those five words stayed with him, banging around in his chest, as he took each step and walked into the office. The light shined over her desk, illuminating a bunch of laid out pages. While talking about The Turn of the Screw with Sara one day, he ’d mentioned how much he missed being able to read new books and told her about checking out a few pages of whatever book she ’d left open on her desk. She’d gone out one day and come back with a stack of white paper , telling him she’d photocopied half of a book called The Shadow of the Wind . He’d had no idea what “photocopied” meant, but she taped the pages to the wall of her office and spread a bunch on her desk when she wasn’t using it , so he’d be able to read it.
“You’ll like it,” she’d told him, so full of hope. “It’s one of my favorites.”
He had, too. He was about halfway through the pages she’d made for him, and he felt so connected to the idea of a Cemetery of Forgotten Books. He felt that way himself so many times over the years –like no one remembered him. He knew Ginny and Mrs. Stout and probably other people, too, had memories of him, but when Sara had asked her question about everything he’d known over the last forty years being nothing more than a post-death, pre-brain death fantasy, he’d considered new options. For instance, if he ended up trapped in this house forever, if Sara died and the rest of his old friends passed on, and there was no one alive who’d ever known him, would he cease to exist? He wasn’t so sure he existed even now. Did he need someone to think of him in order to keep going or move on?
If this was Sara’s taste in novels, he had a feeling he’d never want for decent reading material or new theories about why he was alive… well, undead or a ghost or whatever.
Patrick wondered aloud to Sara earlier in the day if they should take the pages off the walls, at least for the next few days –if Jules saw them, she’d wonder what the Hell was going on, but Sara had laughed it off.
“Jules already thinks I’m more than a little strange… and possibly borderline evil ,” she’d said, the two of them standing in the window, Patrick’s arms around her and her cheek against his chin. “This,” she gestured toward the wall to her side, “isn’t going to hurt her opinion.”
It went unsaid, but Patrick knew at least some of the reason Jules thought she was “a little strange,” and it had everything to do with him. Not him, per se, but the way he’d made Sara feel as though she was losing it. Sara still wasn’t convinced she wasn’t completely nuts –not entirely –but she had accepted him in a way that didn’t matter whether she was sane or not. She mentioned it every now and then in a joking way but said she didn’t care because life was good. He agreed –everything was damn near perfect.
He leaned over the desk and lost himself in the pages of the book, startled when Sara poked her head into the room later.
“Hey,” she said, voice hushed as she flipped on the overhead light. “You’re probably ready to start the pages on the wall, huh?”
He flashed a grateful smile. “Thanks, angel. How’s everything going down there?”
“Good. We’re going to watch a movie. Wanna join us?”
“Maybe later.” It felt good to say that, to be able to give her time alone. For so many months, he’d just followed her around. He still didn’t want to miss even a moment with her, but having something new to focus on, something he could do by himself, was nice. It made him feel kind of normal , even more than being able to make out with Sara . Kissing her was more fun, but that was another story.
Sara laughed and shook her head. “I’d tell you not to strain your eyes, but I guess that’s not a problem.”
He grinned as her head disappeared into the hallway. He immediately lost himself in the words, but at the same time he missed the feel of a new book in his hands, the spine cracking as he opened the cover and turned the first page. There were just some things he wouldn’t be able to ever experience again.
The dim lights of Sara’s bedside lamp cast shadows over her face, covers pulled up to her waist. Patrick tried not to stare at her nipples poking at the thin material of the tank top she wore. He’d heard her say goodnight to Jules from the hallway, and he forced himself to give her some time to change her clothes and brush her teeth before he went to her.
“I’m beat,” she said before yawning so wide Patrick swore he could see her tonsils, although he didn’t really care about them so much... not with her boobs on display.
“You should go to bed then. We don’t have to talk now.”
“I want to, though. I missed you tonight.” She pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the side. His eyes went to the pale length of thigh showing below her shorts.
“I missed you, too.”
“You did not,” she said, giggling and crooking her finger at him. “You were lost in that book. So you’re liking it?”
He stepped toward her, kneeling next to her bed and crawling in between her legs to slip his arms around her waist.
“Yeah, you’ve got good taste.” He’d talk to her another time about it. Right now he just wanted to focus on the feel of her skin before he said good night.
“Well, obviously,” she joked, running her hands across his shoulders. “I had a feeling you’d like it.” She turned her face to the side, trying to stifle another yawn with her hand.
“I should go.”
“I want you to stay.” She tightened her hold on him, sliding forward until she was wrapped around him, her face buried in his neck.
“Okay. I can sleep on the floor.” He would have loved to crawl into bed with her, snuggle with her on the soft mattress, but the only thing that would happen, if he tried, was he’d sink through the mattress and land on the floor. But being near her was enough, and he was thrilled she’d asked for him, wanted him close by.
“No, I want to drag my comforter and pillow down.”
“Oh, we’ve graduated to sleepovers, have we?” he teased, his voice light, although his heart pounded in his chest. Well, not literally, but it felt like that. “Are you going to braid my hair?”
“I… want you with me,” she answered. Her gaze was so earnest, and he smiled, overwhelmed by his feelings. He loved everything about her, but her honesty, the way she never seemed to hold back her thoughts... he felt loved, trusted. “I’m sick of waking up without you, knowing you’re down the hall.”
“I can’t let you do that. You shouldn’t have to get a backache because I’m,” he gestured to himself and made a face, “me.”
Please don’t mind, please don’t mind , he chanted in his head.
“You think I care?” Her voice was soft, the tone pleading, although he didn’t understand why she thought she had to beg . He would give her whatever she asked if he could. “As long as you’re with me, I’d sleep on a bed of nails.”
“Are you sure? Not about the nails – no need for that.” He grinned and ran his fingertip down her cheekbone. He tried so hard to be cool and casual with her, not to come off like a clingy dork. It wasn’t about playing games . She had to know how much he adored her. He just didn’t want to turn her off and make her run from him.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I want to wake up with you.” She shrugged and bumped Patrick back, picking up her pillow and standing. “We should have plenty of room next to the closet.”
He led her to the spot and knelt down, feeling useless as he watched her position her comforter and blankets on the floor next to him. He couldn’t help the frown on his face. Some things bummed him out , and this was one –as much as that Kevin guy she’d gone out with that one time had been a jerk, he had the ability to help her arrange her bedding, and it wouldn’t have been necessary to crash there in the first place.