Sort of.
“That's not how you parkour, Roz!” He'd shout at me whenever I tried to do the tricky maneuver in the game.
“Like this! Like this!” And he'd make his avatar do an expertly accomplished run-and-jump.
It didn't matter how often he tried to show me. I was never going to get it.
Meanwhile, if I wasn't hanging out with Vincent, I was furiously putting together my project for the Spring Art Fling. I had spent one quiet afternoon soul-searching, going deep inside myself for inspiration, but in the end, I knew there was only one thing I wanted to paint.
A cemetery. Or, something to do with one.
Morbid, I know. But it came to me after long hours of thinking about not only Jimmy and my sister, but my dead mother, as well. I had only visited a cemetery once before, when I found out where Angelina had been buried, and my soul needed to experience that once again. As for my mother, I didn’t even know what the authorities had done with her after her death. She’d been cremated, that much I knew, but where had they put her ashes? Were they buried somewhere in Terre Haute? Or still in a mortuary somewhere, waiting for me to claim?
Honestly, I didn’t even care. It was hard to give a crap about the woman who’d never given one about me, even if she was dead.
The topic of death and gravesites somehow led me to think more about Jimmy and how he felt so tied to the long-dead actor, James Dean. I wanted to know more about the man, the legend, so I watched Rebel Without a Cause late one night after everyone else had gone to bed. Actually, it was more of a movie marathon, and it sparked a new obsession in me.
Mitch had a killer VHS collection, which he kept stored alphabetically on shelves in the garage. Although I didn't know another living soul who owned a VHS player, Mitch did, and he proudly set everything up for me in my bedroom. He even brought in an old television set, the kind that was small and fat and had dials on it.
But it worked, and he allowed me the use of it to watch any of his movies.
I picked three of the classics. Rebel Without a Cause; Rear Window; and Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.
Oh. My. Lord.
The films were pretty impressive, so full of emotion and angst and, in some cases, terror. Each one sucked me right in, in different ways. This was going to be a new obsession for myself- classic movies of the 1950s. I vowed to watch everything Mitch had from the decade, and made a mental note to include Odie in all of it.
The James Dean movie left me wanting more. It ripped open my soul and let everything pour out of it. He reminded me so much of Jimmy, from the way he spoke to the way he looked, even some of the actor’s mannerisms were familiar. It caused the hole in my heart to expand, as my body desperately wished for it to close.
I decided I needed to see the place where James Dean had been buried. I knew, of course, that he'd died in a car crash the same way Jimmy had, but something in me needed to see more. What I truly needed to do, was go to his grave, place my hand on his tombstone, and see if there was some sort of connection. I knew it was silly, but I couldn't let go of the idea once it'd taken hold.
I told Bonnie of my wish to see the actors gravesite, and she offered to drive me to the next town over, where he was buried. Although I wanted to do this alone, I didn't relish the thought of trying to navigate public transportation between the two towns, so I agreed.
“I've been to his grave before,” she said. “It’s quite a surreal experience for his fans. I’ll take you there, and then later we can stop and get some coffee. Just us girls.”
“Sounds great,” I said softly. “Are you a James Dean fan?”
She grinned. “You’ll see when we get there.”
And so, it was decided. We’d visit the cemetery in Fairmount, pay tribute to the late, great, James Dean, and stop for coffee on our way back.
Girl time with Bonnie. My heart smiled.
CHAPTER 33
We rode in Bonnie’s VW bus, singing happily to her hippie music all the way there. Fairmount wasn’t that far from Marion, and we made the drive in just under a half hour.
Bonnie drove directly to the cemetery and pulled in, turning off her stereo in respect for the dead. The area was large and a bit spread out, but not at all what I was expecting. I’d thought since this was where an icon was buried, it’d be a bit more… glamorous. But, no, there was nothing Hollywood about it. One narrow, dirt-and-graveled covered road led us inside. Tombstones dating back hundreds of years stood, withered and old with patina. A small sign that someone had obviously made by hand read, “James Dean, 2nd drive on right, top of hill.”
Bonnie drove slowly through the cemetery, which seemed to have several visitors this day. I silently hoped no one was at the James Dean grave, but realized that was foolish. It was likely his gravesite received hundreds, or even thousands of visitors a month.
We went down the second drive on the right, and slowly up the hill. There was no place to park or pull over, and I wondered briefly what we would do when we found it. Leave it to Bonnie, however, to have a plan.
At the top of the hill, she came to a stop and said, “This is it, gorgeous. Go ahead and get out, I’ll circle back around until you’re ready to go. That way, we won’t block other cars trying to get through.”
“Okay,” I agreed, and exited the bus. I looked around me, not knowing exactly what I was looking for. “Where’s the grave?” I asked before closing the door.
She smiled and pointed her finger. “Right behind you.”
I closed the door and turned around as she drove off. I was expecting to see something big and majestic.
I didn’t.
What I did see, however, was a simple, beige tombstone that stood just a couple feet tall, and read:
James B. Dean
1931 - 1955
What was majestic, however, was the amount of love surrounding his grave.
Visitors and fans had come and piled hundreds of flowers, plants, gifts, cards, letters, and knick-knacks around the entire tombstone. Three red lipstick imprints covered the top right corner. Clearly, this man had made an impact during his short life, and his fans came from far and wide to pay tribute to him for that.
I approached slowly, relieved that, at this particular moment, there were no other visitors hovering nearby. I paused before his grave and knelt down, reading his name out loud. I wanted Jimmy to be here, visible, right now, but since he wasn’t, the least I could do was speak to him.
I knew he’d hear me.
“Are you pleased with me, Jimmy?” I asked, whispering. “I came here because something in me needed to see this, needed to feel this connection with you.”
I looked down amongst all the little gifts and cards and flowers, noticing something that caught my eye.
A brightly-painted ceramic horse stood beside a small bunch of wilting daisies.
I smiled.
Bonnie.
Now I understood what she meant when she said I would know she was a fan when I got here. I had seen her painting this exact same horse just last week.
“Looks like you and Bonnie have something in common, Jimmy,” I said smiling.
I reached in my bag and removed a note I’d written the night before. It was something I had to write, something I had to say, and although it wasn’t addressed to James Dean, this seemed like the right place for it.
“Dear Jimmy,” I read softly. “From the moment you saved me back in February, my life has changed in so many ways. Things that I never knew existed before, are part of my everyday life now. Ghosts, witches, warlocks, magic, they’re all things that can’t logically be possible, and yet, now they are. The impossible is now a reality. My reality. Because of that, I’m not afraid of losing you. I’m not afraid of a future with you.”
I paused as I heard Bonnie approaching slowly. I waved at her as she rolled on by, looking out the window. I held up one hand, indicating five more minutes. She nodded and went to circle the cemetery one more time.
I continued rea
ding.
“Because of you, Jimmy, I’m now a believer. I believe in magic. I believe in happily ever after. I believe in love. But mostly, I believe that anything is possible.” I looked around me, hoping he was here, listening. I didn’t feel his trademark cold air, but I did feel some sort of thickness to the air that was more than the usual humidity. “I believe you’re here with me,” I said softly. I looked back down to my paper and kept reading.
“I know we face a lot of uncertainty with everything going on. I know I’m in danger. But I’m not afraid. I say, let’s make the impossible, possible. Let’s just love each other. We know the dark forces that are coming for us, and there’s no way of knowing how it will all turn out. But it’s going to be alright, no matter what. You know why? Because regardless of how it all ends, we can be at peace together, forever, we can look back on this time and have peace knowing our love was real… and possible.”
I folded the paper back up and shoved it beneath a potted plant by the tombstone. I reached forever and placed my palm against the spot where the name was engraved, offering a small token of my respect. Then, I stood and raised my face to the warm sun above me, closing my eyes.
“I love you, Jimmy,” I said. “And you love me. That’s all I’ll ever need.”
Bonnie pulled up just as I was finished. I walked to the bus, opened the door, and gave one last look to the grave of James Dean. Something shifted inside me once again as I felt myself letting go of the fear and turmoil and uncertainty of my life.
I hopped into the bus, and smiling at Bonnie, I said, “Yes, you are a fan.”
She grinned, nodding. Then asked, “Coffee?”
“Coffee.”
***
We stopped at Ben’s Beans back in Marion on our way home. I told her the barista there had made a special concoction just for me on the day Odie and I had ditched school, and Bonnie was excited to try it.
“I stop there all the time when I’m in town running errands,” she said. “There’s a few baristas who work there, and they’re all great at making coffee, but my favorite is Drew.”
“No kidding?” I asked, amazed. “He’s the one who came up with The Roz Special.”
Bonnie grinned. “That sounds like him,” she said.
When we entered the coffee shop, it was terribly crowded and busy, but the line moved swiftly and soon we were standing at the counter while two baristas waited on us. One of them was a short, pudgy guy with acne whose name tag read, “Jr.” The other was Drew.
“Ladies!” Drew exclaimed with a grin when he saw us. Then, he looked perplexed. “How come I didn’t know the two of you knew each other?”
“Because you haven’t been over to the house in forever,” Bonnie said, pointing a stern finger at the young man.
“Now hold up, Mama,” Drew said defensively, “You know I’ve been taking those classes and working two jobs!”
“No excuse!” Bonnie said.
Now it was my turn to look perplexed.
“Hey, how do the two of you know each other?” I asked.
Bonnie grinned. “Drew was one of my fosters.”
I looked at Drew, and then it hit me. Not only had he called Bonnie, mama, but one of the names painted on the mural at home was Andrew. It had to be the same guy.
“Andrew?” I asked.
“Ah, she hasn’t removed my name yet, I see,” Drew laughed.
“Oh you, where’s my hug?” Bonnie asked.
Drew came around the counter and embraced Bonnie lovingly.
“Next week,” she said firmly, “Dinner at the house. I won’t take no for an answer.”
He nodded into her shoulder, “I’ll text you.”
“Promise?” She asked.
“Promise, Mama,” he grinned. Then he pulled away from Bonnie and clapped his hands.
“Now then, what can I get for you ladies?”
***
It was interesting watching Bonnie and Drew interact with each other while we had our coffees. Although he was busy working, he’d come around our table frequently and tease Bonnie about this or that. She’d blush, or yell, or giggle, whichever was more appropriate for the given remark.
“So, Drew would be like, a big brother for me, then,” I said as we left.
Bonnie pondered my statement for a brief moment. “Hmm. I suppose you’re right,” she agreed. “It’s odd to think of it like that, since he doesn’t live with us anymore. And hasn’t for several years.”
“Why did he leave?” I asked, “If you don’t mind the question.”
We got in the bus and headed toward home.
“I don’t mind it at all,” she said, “He grew up. He graduated high school, found a job, and got his own apartment downtown. Since then, he’s done nothing but work and take classes at the community college. He’s going for a degree in business.”
“Very cool,” I said. “What happened with his family? Did his parents pass away, or something?”
“His dad was never in the picture, so I can’t answer that, but his mom is very much alive,” Bonnie said quietly, “She’s severely disabled. She was in a traffic accident Drew’s freshman year of high school. It was bad. Very, very bad. She swerved in the road to avoid hitting a dog, and crashed head-on with a tractor-trailer. It was a miracle she lived, but she had extensive brain damage.”
Bonnie grew quiet, contemplative. I said nothing and waited for her to finish.
“Drew was only a year younger than you when he came to stay with us, and angry. So very, very angry. It took me forever to reach him. He blamed himself for the accident. She was on her way to pick him up from football practice when it happened.”
“I can totally understand that,” I said.
“His mother is in a state-run hospital, where she receives care twenty-four, seven. She requires it. She has the mind of a very small child now. She thinks Drew is her big brother. It’s so sad, but he makes it as positive as he can. He visits her, takes her flowers, works two jobs so he can provide her with a few extras here and there.” She paused. “I went with Drew once, to visit her, right before you came to Marion. I took her a coloring book and a new pack of crayons, and her and Drew sat and colored together for almost two hours.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It moved my heart, Roz,” she said deeply, “It truly did.”
I gave her a sad smile, understanding. Drew seemed like such a good guy, and I was sorry he’d had it so rough. But, like me and Vincent and Amelia, he’d gotten the best of them all when he’d been placed with Bonnie and Mitch.
CHAPTER 34
I woke up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat, shivering, and panting.
Something had startled me awake. What was it?
I threw off the covers and ran to the light switch beside the door, flicking it up and looking hurriedly around my room.
Nothing was there.
I walked silently to my closet and opened the door.
Nothing but clothes.
I walked silently to my bathroom and pushed on the already-opened door.
The bathroom nightlight revealed it was empty.
What had woken me up?
I scanned the room once more and glanced at the clock. Only a few more hours until the sun would rise.
I entered the bathroom, deciding to get some of the sweat off of me before lying in bed once again. I ran cool water in the sink, bending down so I could splash it on my face. It felt great, refreshing and soothing, as it rinsed off the sweat.
Sighing from relief, I grabbed the hand towel hanging beside the sink, and dried my face off as I stood. Once I had wiped off the water, I opened my eyes, looked in the mirror, and screamed.
Derek stood directly behind me.
“Shh,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around my front, effectively trapping my arms. One of his hands covered my mouth and the other squeezed my waist.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his hideous reflection, and whimpered.
“Thought ol’ Derek was gone for g
ood, didn’t ya?” He asked angrily. “Thought you and that idiot boyfriend of yours could kill me off and that’d be the end of me. Didn’t you?”
I tried to shake my head, no, but I couldn’t move it. His grip on me grew tighter as he pressed himself into my backside, his head lowered to the side of my face so I could feel his hot breath on my skin.
I trembled in his arms and silently begged Jimmy to come save me again, and as I did so, I had a revolting realization.
This was not a dream.
This was real. It was happening. Derek was alive and in my bathroom.
And he looked like he was going to finish what he’d started all those months ago.
I drew in a deep breath of air through my nostrils and opened my eyes, looking to my right.
He grinned at me.
“Just now realizing it’s not a dream, aren’t you?” He asked gleefully. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had loads of fun haunting you in your sleep, although it loses its appeal when you wake up and don’t seem to remember any of it.” He shrugged. “Ah, yes, we’ve had some good times together, haven’t we Roz?”
He winked.
I suddenly remembered my promise to Jimmy, to fight against all the dark forces that would come for me. Derek most certainly fit in with that category.
I opened my mouth beneath my hand then and bit him, hard. I chomped on the fatty part of his hand until I drew blood and he cursed loudly at me.
But it worked.
He loosened his grip just enough for me to run out of the bathroom and head toward my bedroom door.
It wasn’t a good plan, it was purely instinct. I never thought to scream, I simply thought to run.
Yet it wasn’t enough.
The next thing I knew I was flat on my back, the wind knocked out of me. I laid there, still as can be, on my bedroom floor. I was stunned into silence and unable to draw a breath as I realized he was now looming over me.
And then the next moment, he was on top of me.
It was a repeat of the night Jimmy had killed him. His hands all over me, his mouth covering my own, his grip pulling on my hair. Except this time, there was no sorrow emanating from him. There was no sense of pre-remorse for the vile actions he’d not yet carried out, but planned to.
Rest in Peace Roz: The R.I.P. Series Book 1 Page 21