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Amelie showered. Jack slept. Or at least pretended to, anyway. Sometime after dusk, Jack noticed her standing in front of the window toweling her hair. “Look at all the lights,” she whispered to no one in particular. Then she turned suddenly. “Jack, get up,” she ordered, her face changing when she saw he was already propped up on one elbow watching her. “There’s a carnival.” She pointed toward the beach. “Get dressed. We’re going.”
Jack climbed out of bed, showered, and dressed. This was a bad idea. He hated carnivals. As they rode the elevator down, Amelie didn’t take her eyes off him. “Humor me, Jack,” she said as she reached for his hand, and they stepped out into the night air.
At the carnival, Amelie insisted on purchasing corn dogs, cotton candy, and fried things Jack couldn’t even name. She dragged him from one end to the other. She forced him on every ride imaginable, and she made sure to capture Jack in all his glory on film. On the tilt-a-whirl, they couldn’t resist first base. In the fun house, he hit second. On the Ferris wheel, they worked toward perfection, learning how the other liked to be kissed—which Amelie practically turned into an Olympic sport—complete with scoring and all. On The Zipper, she urged him toward third. And Jack humored her.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was—the lights, the smells or the sounds, but Amelie was in her element there. She came alive, more alive than he’d ever seen her. That was Amelie: colorful, exciting, and a bit crazy. From then on Jack would always think of her like a carnival, minus the bad parts. She would sweep into town and bring with her all the excitement one could handle. You’d have the time of your life while she was there. Inevitably, though she would go, and with her a little piece of yourself, part of your joy, there would always be next year, you’d convince yourself. And that was that. Jack hated carnivals. They were too risky, he said. This one, however, wasn’t so bad. Unfortunately for Jack, there would be other carnivals in his future. But there would never be one that came even remotely close to comparing to the one that night. Little did he know then… he would spend the rest of his life chasing that feeling.
NINE
Amelie playfully pushed him backward on the bed. “Are we gonna do this or what?” she laughed.
“Amelie. This isn’t…”Jack started to say. She fell on top of him held her fingers to his lips. “Shh…” she whispered kissing him, pulling up to raise his shirt over his head. What the hell, Jack thought? Why not? He kissed her back. He stood and picked her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and then he laid her back on the bed. He carefully peeled off her tank top, and then slowly pulled her shorts down, watching her eyes the entire time. Any change in expression and he would’ve stopped. He leaned in, kissed her belly once, and tossed her shorts to the floor. He kissed her again softly, asked her if she were sure. When she nodded, he pulled back and reached for his wallet. “Why are you stopping?” she demanded, breathless.
Jack held up the condom. “For this.”
She grinned. “Oh. Right. Well, hurry up!”
Jack leaned down and kissed her forehead trying to buy time. Why, he wasn’t sure. “Are you sure that you’re sure about this, Amelie”?
She reached up, tugged on his chin, and pulled him down toward her. “Jack. I’m sure that I’m sure that I’m sure. Jesus. Now, stop talking so much. Unless, of course… you’re into that sort of thing.”
Jack smiled and took it slow, admiring every last inch of her. He wanted to get it right. He didn’t say another word.
He did well, he thought afterward, as they lay there wrapped up in each other, a sweaty, tangled mess, neither of them speaking for quite some time. “Wow,” she whispered when she’d finally caught her breath. “That was really… something.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jack asked grinning in the dark.
She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I could spend my whole life here in this bed with you and be happy just doing that.”
You could lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink, his father liked to say. That night Jack realized his father was wrong. You absolutely could. He kissed her softly and then pulled back. “I’ve got good news for you then. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
The next morning, Jack kissed Amelie’s face until she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” he said.
She looked confused. “What time is it?”
He checked his watch again. “A little before five.”
Amelie, yawned, stretched and then rolled over, facing him. “Again?”
“No.” He laughed. “I want you to come with me down to the beach.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You want to go to the beach. Now?”
“Yeah. There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his face draining of color.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, Jack… always so serious.” She got out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. “Let me pee and grab my camera, and we’ll head down.”
Once they reached the sand, Jack spread the blanket out and handed Amelie a bottle of orange juice he’d taken from his bag. She looked surprised. “How long have you been up?”
Jack watched her twist off the cap and chug the juice. “A while.”
She sat it down and picked up her camera. Adjusting the lens, she pointed toward the water. “I love it out here. The color of the sky, the quiet melancholy feeling, yet there’s still the sense of so much possibility. This has always been my favorite time of day. Just before the sun comes up.”
“Mine, too.” Jack remarked surprised at how she seemed to read his mind.
“Listen, there’s something I need to ask of you. A favor…”
She lowered the camera and looked at him, obviously intrigued. “Ok?”
