Like Gravity(84)

When I’d moved out of the house last year to come t0 Charlottesville, I hadn’t even gotten a phone call from him – not that I’d really been expecting one. Lexi had bought me a cupcake and a bottle of tequila, then taken me out and gotten me wasted enough to forget why I hated the day so much.

So I’d guess it would be repetitive to say that my expectations, when it came to this year?

Zero, zilch, nada.

I’d figured that twenty-one wouldn’t be much different from twenty; judging by the state of my kitchen this morning, though, I’d be pretty comfortable admitting that I was wrong.

“I love you,” I’d whispered, glancing around at the room in wonderment, before arching my head back to brush a kiss across Finn’s smiling lips.

I was broken from my reverie when a passenger car finally descended and it was my turn to climb onboard the Ferris wheel. A hand appeared from my peripheral and one of the carnival workers helped up into the compartment.

“Thank you,” I said, releasing his hand and turning to face him after I’d settled onto the bench.

“I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, you know.” At the sound of his voice, my eyes flew away from the safety bar I was preparing to secure my lap to examine his face. To my surprise, Finn was standing there, looking a little green as he stared up at the ride over our heads. It had been his hand I’d grabbed for support.

“You changed your mind?” I asked, trying to subdue my sudden excitement.

“It was the puppy dog eyes,” he shrugged, climbing into the cab and settling close next to me. “They get me every time.”

I laughed as he pulled the bar tight across our laps, shaking it several times to check that it was securely latched.

“…probably spent about ten minutes total putting this deathtrap together…completely unsafe…” Finn was muttering under his breath about the ride, looking in every direction as we lifted off the ground several feet so the couple in line behind us could board their own car.

“Hmmm? Did you say something, caveman?” I asked sweetly, cupping a hand around my ear.

“Just how much I love you for convincing me to ride this thing,” he replied sarcastically.

I smacked him on the arm.

He laughed, but it was strained with tension. His white-knuckled grip on the security bar betrayed his anxiety, only tightening the further we rose into the air.

“You really didn’t have to come,” I told him, feeling rather ashamed of myself. “I’m sorry for bugging you about it.”

“Don’t be,” he said, staring out over the fairground lights below.

The park really came alive at night. It was sunset now, and most of the little kids had gone home hours ago, replaced by too many couples to count. Country music blared from the speakers of almost every game stand, screams rang out as adventure-seeking fair-goers were spun upside down by the scarier rides on the far side of the park, and food vendors called out their wares to passerby. The myriad of voices blended together into one distinct medley: the nighttime soundtrack of every autumn carnival across the country.

Noisy, bustling, bright; just breathing the air made you feel more alive.

“The view is so beautiful from up here,” I sighed.

“It really is,” he agreed. When I glanced over at him, though, it was me he was staring at, rather than the carnival spread out below us.

“Corny,” I accused, elbowing him lightly in the stomach. Secretly, I was enjoying the rush of warmth his words sent spiraling through my chest. Finn wrapped one arm around my shoulders and tugged me closer, so I was snuggled up against his side.

“You love me anyway, though,” he whispered into my ear, his mouth moving lower to press a kiss to the sensitive spot behind my lobe. I shivered at the sensation, tilting my head to give him better access. With his face buried in my neck, he didn’t notice the kids in the passenger car above us, but I did.

There were two small children around eight or nine years old – siblings most likely – in the compartment. The boy was bigger, and he was finding great delight in his sister’s fear; he heaved his body backward and forward, until the car gained momentum of its own and was rocking wildly. His sister was clearly terrified, hanging on to the security bar and pleading with him to stop. He was laughing at her.

It happened so fast.

Sometimes you see change coming. You might not want it, might not be ready to embrace the new course your life is about to set out on, but at the very least you can prepare for it. Adjust your expectations. Formulate a new plan.

Other times, change is so sudden, so unexpected, that it knocks you right on your ass and leaves you wondering how you got to this place – blindsided, with your expectations and hopes and dreams as unsalvageable as an ice cream cone dropped to the ground at the carnival, melting slowly into the dirt road.

Had I known, in that moment, that getting on that goddamn amusement ride would irrevocably change things between Finn and me, I never would’ve climbed aboard. We were young and in love; we were invincible – or so I’d thought. If I’d known it was all about to be ripped from me, maybe I’d have held him tighter, told him I loved him one last time.

I didn’t get that chance.

One minute, I was looking up at the siblings in the car above us, and the next, I was somewhere deep inside my own head. It was disorienting, how quickly the memory took hold of my senses, dragging me back exactly fourteen years in a single instant.