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We decided to go to a carnival one county over, about fifty miles from the city, in Westbridge. It was large town with a small town feel to it. It was a way that we could actually do something together without people we worked with catching on to the fact that we were together. And it somehow made me feel like some sort of an outlaw. I thought it was hilarious and fun.
I wasn’t so sure that Gary necessarily felt the same way though. I mean, I could tell he was enjoying himself, but I also could tell that he felt ridiculous that we were going so far out of our way to be together. I knew he understood, but he just didn’t agree. I appreciated him being there for me though and doing things to make me feel comfortable. It was important to me.
I was aware of how large and sprawling Chicago was, but there was always a chance that someone we knew could somehow see us and put two and two together. And besides, the carnival was awesome and I had actually enjoyed the little drive out there.
“You know, I was eight the first time that my dad took me to a carnival,” I said. “It was amazing. We rode all the rides, ate cotton candy until I thought I was going to puke, and we had that special father/daughter bonding time. My mom was never much for rides, and she knew it was important for dad and me to have that time together.”
“What was your favorite ride? Did he make you go on all the kiddie rides? Or did he let you ride really cool shit?”
I smiled. I loved reliving these memories. “He let me ride all of the crazy cool shit. Our favorite was called The Hurricane. It was the best ride. I loved it. There was just this intense feeling that came over me when I was flying up in the air and the ride was thrashing about and moving at a crazy speed. It’s the illusion of danger that really makes it exciting.”
“That’s cool,” Gary said. “My parents didn’t really take me to things that much. My dad was always working. He never really seemed to have time or didn’t want to make time to do anything fun or interesting with me. He was not a very happy man and he seemed to want everyone around him to be miserable, too.”
“What made him so unhappy?”
“I’m not sure. We never really talked that much about it,” Gary said. “I used to think it was me, but I eventually got past it. I think my dad’s life just never turned out quite the way that he had planned. I discovered when I was a teenager that he had an old guitar in the attic. I would see him disappear up there for hours at a time on Saturdays. He’d come back down late at night and go to bed, usually drunk. Then he’d be mean and hungover on Sundays, so I just left early on Sundays and came home late.”
“Was he abusive?” I asked cautiously. I wondered how deeply Gary wanted to get with this conversation.
Gary shook his head. “No. He was never like abusive or anything. He really just was a very unhappy guy, so he mostly ignored me and my mom to some extent. You learned not to push his buttons or you would get yelled at or grounded for practically nothing. I just discovered that if I wanted the type of relationship that a lot of boys had with their dad where we would play catch and go to ball games, it was just not going to happen.
I sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s fine,” Gary said. “My dad and I have an alright relationship now. We still don’t talk much, but when we do it is a lot more amicable. I just don’t think he ever wanted to be a father. I believe that he had a dream of making it in music when he was young. It didn’t pan out and some label executive told him he was no good and would never make it. And my dad crumpled up and took this man at his word. He stopped caring and stopped trying. At least, that’s what my mom eventually told me. But I could tell it pained her to say those things to me.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because, it meant that my dad had settled. He settled for a life he didn’t want, which included me and it included her. That’s a tough pill to swallow for anyone.”
“Then why did your mother fall in love with him?”
“Because this happened when my dad still had the dream. He was still working hard on his vision and playing with his band several times a week. But shortly after they were married, that crushing blow came. After that he hung it up and went to work in real estate. He was a good salesman, but he hated the boring humdrum nature of a nine to five gig. That’s something not everyone is cut out for.”
“I can get that,” I said. “If I didn’t do what I loved with my life, then I would feel that I didn’t have a life. Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely. Life is too short to spend it doing what you don’t want to do.”
“So, what should we look at next?” I asked. “Want to go on the Ferris wheel? It’s very romantic.”
Gary laughed. “I don’t think it’s romantic at all, but if you want to go I can swallow my pride long enough to tough through it.”
“Oh, I see. Well, thank you so much for your sacrifices.”
“But it will cost you a fee,” Gary said with a smile.
“Oh, strings? That’s rich.”
Gary leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips. “That’s better.”
“Ok, then. I can get used to that,” I said.
We stood in line for the Ferris wheel and when we finally got into the seat it felt like something new had clicked for us. As the attendant clicked our security bar into place and we w
aited for the ride to begin, I began to feel that this was somehow a metaphor for our relationship and for everything that we would have to go through, what we’d have to endure to make this work. And I was prepared to go through it all. I was fully prepared to do whatever it took to achieve the happiness I sought with this man. Gary made me happy. I liked to think I made him happy as well.
“Here we go,” Gary said cheerfully as the ride started. We rode high into the sky in a soft, circular motion before being brought back down towards the earth. This was one of the more relaxing rides that you could enjoy at a fair. It had been a while since I’d actually gone to a carnival. So far, I was having a blast.
It was wonderful. We didn’t say anything to each other the first few loops around, but by the third loop we were snuggling close. Gary had his arm around me and was holding me softly against him. It felt nice. It felt safe, and safe wasn’t something that I’d felt for a good while. It was easy to get caught up in being strong all the time when you were on your own. Vulnerability did not agree with loneliness. It would only make it worse and then feelings of despair would start to creep in there. That was a nasty recipe.
