#Wattys2015 The Ghost of James Fitzpatrick

Chapter 27

The darkness of Sarah's room was pleasant. There were no sounds but that of her breathing. Her mother had turned off the television downstairs, clinked around in the kitchen for a few minutes, then James had heard her make her way to her own bedroom and close the door.

James was stretched out on the floor next to Sarah's bed, with his arms folded beneath his head for a pillow. Sarah had glued little, plastic glow-in-the-dark stars to her ceiling that James had found himself enjoying more than once. James noticed she had included The Big Dipper, The Little Dipper and Orion's Belt. Those were the only patterns James had ever learned as a boy, though knowing Sarah, she had probably included others he was not able to recognize.

He found her room comfortable. He found Sarah comfortable. He enjoyed being three feet from her as she slept, and although he suspected she would rather be with him now, awake on this rug, he also knew she needed to sleep. She was behind in her school projects and had brought home a 'C' on her calculus test. Her mother wasn't happy; she sensed the problem stemmed from Sarah's lack of focus and dedication lately, and James felt certain she was correct in her assumption.

He was never without tightness in his chest when he would admit to himself that his time with Sarah was limited. It simply had to be. She was a beautiful, living, breathing girl, and well....he was the opposite. His purpose here was to bring peace to his family, yet he had done nothing but disrupt the peace in Sarah's life.

She had spent the past few days searching for his mother on her computer and James had watched her work much of the time. Privately, he felt ashamed of his suddenly misplaced loyalty; the unlikely companionship of excitement and dread as he anticipated that each 'Mary Fitzpatrick' on the other end of the phone was going to be his mother. For Sarah's sake, she would at last be able to put all this to rest, whatever that would mean, but he knew that meant continuing on without her.

And there it would come again, the tightening in his chest, the fluttering in his stomach. He took a deep breath to fill his lungs and calm himself. He couldn't bear the thought of saying goodbye to her. He was certain he had never felt this way about anyone in his life, and here he was, captivated by a girl in death. The irony was ridiculous.

Sarah rolled on to her stomach and her left arm dangled from the side of the bed near James. He rolled on to his side and touched her sleeping fingers to the palm of his hand.

He felt a peace begin to fill his chest slowly like rising waters of the Mississippi in the spring. It filled his body and his restless thoughts with what seemed to him like sleep.

*************

"What're you doing on my rug?" James heard Sarah ask from above, "and why didn't you wake me?"

She purposefully rolled off the edge of her bed onto the floor with a loud thump onto James and the rug. She laughed and then she heard her mother yell:

"What's going on up there?"

Sarah snickered and James shook his head and smiled at her.

"It's fine mom!" Sarah yelled back, and then said quietly to James, "I don't mind if you are in the bed, James," she said.

"My mother told me to stay out of the beds of strange girls," he replied.

"But I'm not strange," she said smiling.

"That's your opinion," he said.

Sarah sat up with her back against the bed and James rested his head on her lap.

"I would much rather be with you than to sleep," she said.

"You're so...quiet...when you're asleep," he whispered.

Sarah laughed and absentmindedly fiddled with James' hair.

"All joking aside, I know you've been going a little crazy here, about your school work and trying to study for your SATs, I know you have a lot on your plate. I don't want to contribute to..."

Sarah placed her hand gently over his mouth to quiet him. James stopped talking and enjoyed being close to her and it felt good to have her fingers in his hair. The serenity was broken with one question:

"What color was your neighbor's box, the one Mr. Zwicki threw down the well that night?" asked Sarah.

James shook his head quickly as if her were shaking pebbles from his ears. He looked flabbergasted as he sat up and looked at her.

"Uh...red? And why would you be asking me that question?"

Sarah felt overwhelmed with the excitement of knowing she was that much closer to maybe finding the old box, but she also knew she had said the wrong thing again.

"James, I think I saw it. I think I honestly saw it down the well. I think that box might still be there."

"First of all, that's just not possible. It was too long ago, and how the world did you find a well?"

James stood up and assumed his pacing mode again. His frustration with her was evident.

"Good God, you are the most stubborn little thing I have ever met. I told you, not three days ago, what JJ Zwicki was... is capable of Sarah," said James, "and it's like you didn't hear a word I said."

Sarah thought this might not be the best time to tell him that John Zwicki now actually lived on the aforementioned property.

James stopped, faced Sarah, and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Zwicki ultimately had everything to do with my life Sarah, but he has nothing to do with us, or you. Why is this so important to you?" James asked.

"Because it was important to you that night, and you're important to me, and Mr. Zwicki took everything from you James, and I truly hate him for it. I didn't even know I could feel so much hate toward someone." Sarah felt herself losing her composure, but continued anyway. "I hate that he gets to walk around enjoying his life and you don't. I hate that he gets to eat sandwiches and have sex with the new dingbat American Lit teacher and buy his ugly suits and his stupid ties, and polish his eyeglasses on his stupid 'JZ' monogrammed snot rags he keeps in his pocket."

A look of bewilderment has made its way to James' face. He hugged Sarah and found it easier to talk to her while he looked at the wall over her shoulder.

"Sarah, you're important to me too." That sounded stupid thought James. He really wanted to tell her he felt like he was falling in love with her, but how could that even be possible? He knew he would do anything for her if he could. If he were a boy, and she were his girl, in 1978 or 2015, he would love her. He would listen to her and be there for her and bring her home to have dinner with his mom and brother, and drive her to Burger Depot, and dance with her at Arden High, and walk with her after school, and watch movies with her and fight with her and kiss her.

"Go to school," was all he said.

"I don't want to leave you today," replied Sarah. She had found his mother living in Little Rock, Arkansas, and she had chosen not to tell him.

He released Sarah from their hug and once again brushed all the stray hair from around her face to behind her ears. He reached her glasses on the end table with and put them on her face.

"Just go to school, will ya?"

Sarah kissed his cheek and walked toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Sarah looked at herself in the mirror. The anger or pain inside her or whatever you wanted to call it, was evident on her face. Lucy would say she looked like Oscar the Grouch.

Mr. Zwicki had become her obsession, second only to James, and one way or another, she would make him answer to God. His debt was coming due and Sarah wanted to personally collect. She just wasn't sure how to go about it just yet.

On the other side of the door, James touched the little spot on his cheek where her lips had been and it made him smile.

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