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“Come on, baby. I promise it’ll be fast,” I say, holding her arm and keeping her in place.
“But it’s so big!” she yells.
We get a few looks from passersby, and I realize how this conversation must be sounding. I facepalm.
“Chrissy, we’re getting on the fucking ride. Come on, Noah really wants to. Right, little man?” I ask my son, who bounces as he nods repeatedly.
Noah managed to convince us to take him to an amusement park. An idea that seemed pretty great at first, but it turns out that Christine isn’t a fan of the rides. She wouldn’t even let us get on the small unicorn ride.
Noah gets distracted by a ring toss game, leaving me to talk to his mother. I keep my eye on him while doing so.
“What if something goes wrong? The wheel detaches from the ride and we plummet to our death,” Christine asks, looking at me.
I shrug. “Then we plummet to our death.”
She gapes at me and I realize my response was less than ideal. “Christine, the rides are safe. No one has ever plummeted to their deaths. We’ll be fine.”
“You say that now, but with our luck, we’ll be the first ones to experience it. ‘Heir to the Crane family fortune, Michael Crane, and his girlfriend fall to their deaths at an amusement park in New York City. The only survivor is their six-year-old son.’”
I like that even in her fucked-up imagination, nothing happens to our son. But still.
“That’s morbid, Christine. And that ride is like fifteen feet tall. They wouldn’t let a child ride it if it wasn’t safe.”
She glares and I swear she’s about to wrap her hands around my neck and squeeze when Noah walks back towards us.
“Did you convince Mama yet, Daddy?” he questions, brushing his brown hair out of his face.
He needs a haircut. I’ll make sure to get that done as soon as we’re back in Arcola. I had an emergency meeting here in New York and I thought it would be a good idea to fly both of them here with me so we could have some fun family time.
“Nope, your mom’s stubborn.”
“I am not,” Christine asserts.
“Come on, Mama. It’s a little ride. Don’t be a chicken,” Noah prompts.
Christine narrows her eyes at him and he laughs, stepping closer to my side. She throws her hands up in the air.
“You two always gang up on me and it’s not fair. Is it wrong of me to consider it unsafe to trust a machine that’s carrying us several feet in the air?” she asks.
“It’s fifteen feet, Christine. It’s not that bad,” I interject.
She sighs. “Fine, let’s go. If I die, this is your fault, Crane. I will find a way to haunt you even if you die with me.”
“You’re not going to die, Mama,” Noah says.
His mom looks down at him and holds his hand. “Of course not, monkey. I’m just kidding around, that’s all.”
We finally get on the ride, and after having a fun time and getting off it safely, I shoot my girlfriend a smug look.
“Oh, shut up,” she says, throwing a piece of cotton candy at me.
“That was fun, Daddy! Let’s go on another ride,” Noah yells.
He points to the most dangerous ride here.
“No,” Christine and I say simultaneously.
Our son blinks. “But it looks fun.”
