By the time they reached the Summerfest gates, all the colors in the sky had dissolved into a deep black, sparkling with a thousand points of light. To the south, the vague glow of Indianapolis silhouetted trees on the horizon, but every other direction was sufficiently dark enough to give one the feeling – quite accurately – that the earth itself was a spaceship, hurling through the Milky Way. The ability to see the Milky Way in the night sky was a benefit of living in a small town that does not show up charts of home prices, school rankings, or unemployment rates. To be reminded of one’s infinitesimal size in this universe can have deep, lasting effects on one’s mental health. When viewing the infinite universe, possibilities abound.
Cedar Lake Summerfest was a small-town Indiana carnival consisting of three basic attractions: a live music stage at the north end by the lake, a maze of food trucks, and street vendors hawking everything from authentic Indiana craft art to glow in the dark plastic necklaces at the south end. And between them, a midway filled with games and rides, including a small roller coaster. It was the type of place that would have smelled of cigarettes in the 1970s, but now smokers were confined to two corrals, thirty feet from the festivities. Instead, it smelled of caramel apples, cinnamon buns, grilled hamburgers, and spicy lamb from the Gyro Shoppe’s food truck.
Winnie loved carnivals. She had many childhood memories of travelling to the Jackson City Fair every July. Just an hour’s drive south of Yazoo, and half-price after 6 pm. The Jackson City Fair provided more dazzling lights, sights, and sounds than a twelve-year-old girl from Yazoo could absorb in one night. Her brain couldn’t possibly contain it all, and when she lay in bed after a night of riding and games, she’d close her eyes to sleep and the afterimage of lights and fireworks would dance on her retinas.
Much to her delight, upon arrival, Rowe immediately bought her three glow-in-the-dark necklaces. She donned one around her neck, another as a halo, and the third wrapped twice around her wrist. “How do I look,” she said with a smile, putting her hand on her hip and kicking it out with confidence. Rowe smiled, pleased, feeling a twinge of nostalgia in his mind and memories of cute girls in glow necklaces prancing around just out of reach at Six Flags after dark.
Winnie’s eyes lit up upon seeing the midway. It was a feast of blinking, brightly colored lights, and bouncy electronic pipe organ music. She turned to Rowe, her face lit yellow on one side and rimmed in blue moonlight on the other, and while she did not take his hand, the magnetic pull of her eyes implored him to follow.
The center island of games was attended by carnival barkers – mostly locals who had just graduated high school – tempting walkerbys to join the fun. There were opportunities to throw small rings around bottles, large rings around floating rubber ducks, pop balloons, shoot basketballs, and toss softballs into baskets.
The games were surrounded by a dozen rides. Winnie was overjoyed to find many of the same rides from her childhood at the Jackson City Fair: the black eight-armed “Monster” in Jackson was called the “Octopus” in Anderson but it appeared to be the same eight arms spinning, raising, and lowering in the hypnotic pattern of joy. She also recognized the Tilt-a-Whirl and the Scrambler. The roller coaster was unique, although it appeared to be hastily renamed the Hoosier Hurricane by way of a hand-painted sign which was doubtless changed depending on which city they called home that week. There was a small fun house that looked more like a facade nailed on to a semi-trailer standing next to a “Haunted House” that looked to be several trailers hooked together with accordion-like tunnels.
Winnie felt that her years at the Jackson City Fair made her an expert in carnivals, so she proceeded to lead Rowe to each of her favorites. She was especially fond of “The Zipper” due to its random nature of turning ride-goers upside down and she wanted to see how Rowe would react. He did not let her down, perhaps exaggerating his surprise, sending her into giggling fits.
Next, she led him to the haunted mansion which people rode through two at a time in cramped metal cars on a track. A mannequin holding its head in its arms “spoke” to them before entry – its mouth not quite synced with the recording. “Welcome to my haunted abode! Be strong and you may survive the tomb of doom!” It was a nice sentiment, however, not entirely appropriate since the ride had a mansion motif and not that of a tomb, but Rowe and Winnie were not a particularly discerning audience at the time.
The cart lurched forward and sent them into a spinning tunnel followed by various blacklight illuminated skeletons, a creepy clown robot, and a loud witch that managed to give them both a mild jump scare. Spooky organ music maniacal laughter piped in various speakers set the proper mood. It was dark and fairly intimate in a high school romance sort of way. Indeed, Winnie found her unruly mind – or was it her heart – imagining Rowe putting his arm around her as she sat. This elicited in her, as most thoughts of Rowe did, a cacophony of conflicting emotions. In truth, she had warmed to him throughout this day. And the cart they were in lent itself to incidental touching – the kind that builds the sort of necessary familiarity required before intentional touching, such as holding hands, occurs. The close quarters gave her ample opportunity to press her leg up against his while enjoying the protective charade that it was merely a circumstance of proximity.
It was altogether too much for her to think about. She remembered her promise not to fall for this man beside her, so she focused the whole of her energy to the going-ons outside the cart, leaning against her side, enthusiastically pointing to various skeletons, ghouls, and witches that she recognized from her own haunted mansion in Jackson which appeared to be designed by the same company.
As they exited the ride, her eyes grew wide and she pointed to the ring toss game.
“Oh my God! Tiny Tim! And Busters!”
Tiny Tim and Busters were the names she gave to teddy bears of varying sizes that she won as a child at the Jackson City Fair. The larger one, Busters, currently sat at her parents’ house in her bedroom, but Tiny Tim was, in fact, in her room here in Anderson. Both were well worn and showed their age, so it was a great delight to see them fresh from the factory, hanging on the prize walls of various gaming booths, tempting would-be players.
After careful examination of each game, Winnie led him to what she imagined to be the game that gave him the best odds of victory: the strongman game. It was called “High-Striker” and consisted of a puck on a lever to be hit with a sledgehammer in an attempt to ring the bell at the top of a tower. She reasoned that if Rowe couldn’t win this, then no one could
They approached the game and heard the common carnival barking: “Step right up! Test your strength! Who are the men and who are the boys?”
“I’ve got your man right here” Winnie proclaimed in a manner that was quite out of character for her.
Rowe completed the role reversal by becoming uncharacteristically quiet. He sheepishly took the sledgehammer, sized up the target, and prepared to swing. He had, unbeknownst to Winnie, a considerable amount of experience pounding fence posts, so he knew the secret did not require great power, but rather precise technique. To maximize the velocity of the hammer, one only need reduce its swinging radius at the last second, producing that characteristic “jerk” just before impact. Sure enough, with a swing as pure and true as a railroad worker, he sent the puck directly into the bell.
Winnie threw her arms into the air, bounced forward as though she was going to throw them around his neck but ended up chickening out and settling for a high five. She selected her brand-new Busters and poured whatever desire she had to hug Rowe into hugging it, nearly squeezing the life out of the stuffed bear.
They then both attempted the basketball game, but it was Rowe who sank three to win her Tiny Tim.
They walked the midway – Busters sitting on Rowe’s shoulders while Winnie carried Tiny Tim like a baby in her arms. They shared a caramel apple, Winnie letting him know it was the first she had eaten since Jackson.
They rode the “Hoosier Hurricane” with the stuffed animals in their laps. Likewise, for the scrambler and bumper cars.
When they arrived at the top of the giant slide, they were one of three other couples and were handed a double sack to share. This quickly abolished Winnie’s no touching rule and they made something of a train, Tiny Tim in Busters’ arms, Busters in Winnie’s arms, and Winnie in Rowe’s arms.
She felt small. She was not only in his arms but between legs – utterly enveloped in manliness. The slide consisted of three hills; each one pressed her back into his hard chest. It felt simultaneously safe and exciting, although she could not tell if her heart was jumping due to the sudden drops or due to their sudden close proximity. Either way, she knew that night she’d not see fireworks when she closed her eyes, she would remember this feeling.
Upon reaching the bottom, he helped her up and gave her the softest eyes he had given her yet. Something had clearly just happened.
He picked up Busters, she grabbed Tiny Tim, and they made their way into the main plaza in front of the Tunnel of the Love. It was nearing closing time and the pipe organ music was replaced by 80s hits over the speakers, starting with a Journey medley.
“So, I uh, I got suckered into signing up for season tickets at Artco,” he said.
“The theater group?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s cool.”
“There’s a show next Friday night… I thought maybe you’d like to come… with me.”
She grew mum.
“That wasn’t a good way to ask,” he said, “I can do better.”
“No, it was fine. don’t kneel!”
He stood up straight. “I, Rowan Collins, would enjoy the pleasure of your company for an evening of dining and entertainment.”
She managed a half-smile, but it faded into something more serious. It was obvious what was on the line here. This wasn’t about another date. It was about their future.
Rowe could sense it and encouraged her, “You have to admit, today hasn’t been that bad.”
She gave him the softest eyes she could but then sighed, “Neither one of us is ever going to change our mind.”
“Maybe that’s okay.”
She studied him. She wanted it to happen, she knew it couldn’t.
“Okay for a really hot affair… yes… a future? A life?” she said.
“Both?” he shrugged.
“But why do it if it can’t lead anywhere? It’s fun now but what about in five years? We couldn’t get married and have a family, how would we raise our kids?” she asked.
“We’d tell them the truth.”
“Whose truth?”
He didn’t know how to answer.
“Yes,” she said. “We get along. Yes. I think you’re adorable… and yes, we’d be a huge mistake.”
“Mistakes are what life is made of. You could stand to make a few more mistakes.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You’re very measured… A perfectionist.”
She was listening now; this rang true in her heart.
“Prim?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows, nodded and sighed as if looking at Sandra Dee, and added, “You’re an idealist.”
“Yes,” she said.
“I’ll put money on the fact that you were either your high school valedictorian or the homecoming queen.”
She covered her face with her hands in dismay.
“I’m right aren’t I?” he said.
“I was not the homecoming queen.”
“You were valedictorian.”
“We had a very small school.”
“You probably went the first eighteen years of your life without making a mistake…. Now you’ve got three more years until you graduate and have to face the real world, so you better start getting your mistakes outta the way.”
“You’re encouraging me to make more?”
“Absolutely. You have to learn to love the mistakes,” he said.
“Love the mistakes?”
“My whole life has been a series of mistakes… My conception was a mistake.”
“Your parents told you?”
“They didn’t use the word mistake.” He shrugged.
“That’s awful”
He shrugged. “I like that feeling… I figure anything I do in life is better than not existing at all… I can’t lose.”
She was skeptical.
“All I’m sayin’ is. You gotta loosen up and try things. You don’t know the boundaries of what you can do until you realize what you can’t do. You gotta risk lookin’ dumb… Here. I’ve got an exercise for you that’s gonna solve every problem you’ve ever had.”
“Every problem huh?”
“Once a day, you should try to do the absolute dumbest thing you can think of.”
“The dumbest thing?”
“That’s right… I’ll start.”
Rowe stood up and thought for a moment. Then hiked his pants up as high as possible, kicked a leg out in front of him, as if trying to maximize every stride in his gait. All the while, his arms failed about like an inflatable tube man air dancer powered by a fan at its base, creating the most discombobulated out-of-sync walk she had ever seen. Adding to the madness, he began reciting the Gettysburg address in a spot-on Bullwinkle moose voice.
“Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth…” much to Winnie’s delight, in the span of three mere seconds, every ounce of cool that he possessed had evaporated – eclipsed by a persona too insane to be called a clown, it was, in nearly every respect, “the dumbest thing” she had ever seen.
The very fact that he could do this at a moment’s notice, seemingly without any preparation filled her with mirth. She could not contain her laughter. Whether it was due to his comedic skill or a laughter of pure embarrassment was undetermined. She quickly begged him to stop.
He did not torture her, he stopped quickly enough that onlooker’s confusion turned to smiles.
“Your turn,” he said.
Winnie’s eyes widened. “No,” she stated emphatically.
“Come on.”
“I never agreed to do that.”
“You can’t do that; you have to do something even dumber. ”
“That would be impossible because that truly is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“And yet, the world didn’t end. We’re both fine,” he said. He persuaded her. “If you can’t do it in front of me… a total nerd who you have no need to impress, then when can you do it?”
“I don’t want to,” she said, her voice growing quiet. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
Rowe saw this was going nowhere. He didn’t press it but sat down next to her.
“Sometimes I think I’m…” Winnie said, her voice distant and quiet. “Sometimes I feel like there’s something wrong with me…”
“There’s nothing wrong with you… you may be wiser than I. Maybe we are a mistake.”
She managed to turn to him, studying his eyes. “You know you’re a dreamboat…. The most amazing catch in the world…. For someone else,” she said.
“You can be someone else.”
“No, I can’t. Not an option. I’m looking for a soul mate and you don’t even believe in souls.”
He glanced down to the ground… He had no comeback for that.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He nodded… “It’s okay,” he was giving up. She could feel it.
She leaned back on the bench, depressed.
“Oh God… I don’t want to be one of those people in a church singles group,” she said.
Rowe took a deep breath and shrugged it off.
“Let’s find you a man.”
She studied him, skeptical.
“Maybe we make lousy lovers, but we’re already friends. You’re stuck with me in that regard. And as your friend, I’m telling you that you’re a gorgeous, kindhearted woman. You deserve a good man.”
She managed a smile. “I’m clueless around men… can’t you tell? I was so sheltered growing up, my parents let me go on one real date in high school, it was like a group date to senior prom and I had to be home by eleven… the prom wasn’t even over by eleven, we had to leave early.”
Rowe smiled. “You’re very good-looking, I’m sure a lot of guys are intimidated around you.”
“Ha! Look who’s talking”
“You are,” he said in a way that let her know he meant it.
“Don’t make fun.”
“You have a cuteness about you that just… punches me my chest.”
“Stop!” she put her hands over her ears and drew her knees to her chest.
“See, here’s your problem, it’s your body language… You’re not real accessible.”
“Accessible? What’s that mean?”
“Your body language is… guarded… It’s hard to make a move on you… I’ve known you for almost a year now and I don’t think we touched until today.”
“That’s not true” She stated. “You caught me on the steps of Martin Hall”
“I mean conscious decisions to touch… you’ve only done it three times today. You let me put sunscreen on your shoulders, you high-fived me after I rang the bell, and just now on the slide.”
“You put your hand on the small of my back when we left the Book Loft.”
He smiled. “Well, if we’re gonna get technical about it, your bare leg brushed against mine in the haunted house, and I took your hand when we stood up at the graveyard.”
She eyed him, her mouth curling at the corners with mirth.
“But these were just either accidental or utilitarian touches.” he said.
“Not the hand on the small of the back.”
“I snuck that in from behind… it’s hard to navigate you from the front.”
“What do you mean?”
“Stand up.”
They both stood. She was nervous – arms folded.
“See. Your arms are already folded. I don’t know how to get in there.”
Winnie played supercilious.
“Get in where,” she said, squinting her eyes skeptically.
“Just to hold your hand or something,” he half gestured to grab her hand and she instinctively backed away.
“See, you just backed away.”
“I do it instinctively… I don’t want to be like this,” she clenched her fist in frustration. “I’m just not good at things like this… like just talking about it makes me feel my heartbeat in my chest.”
“You just gotta take it one step at a time… if you ever want to kiss this mystery man of your dreams, you’re gonna have to touch, and if you ever want to touch, you’re gonna have to break your personal space.”
“Personal space is like…my thing. It’s like my sanctuary.”
“I didn’t say it was gonna be easy, doing it is like telling someone you like them. It sets you up for failure. Now I’ll be the first to admit, I like you.”
“Oh yeah?” she said with a grin.
“Yeah.”
“That’s ironic,” she put on airs. “Because I don’t like you at all,” she gave him her sly grin.
He smirked. “Then I’m the perfect candidate to practice on… you can’t fail. Say you’re with a guy. What’s a comfortable distance to have a conversation?”
“I don’t know… three feet?”
“Okay, you’re with an upstanding Christian gentleman. You’re three feet apart, I’m not gonna move, you step a half step closer, cross the neutral zone… just to get a feel for it.”
Winnie’s arms were folded tight. This wasn’t easy for her.”
“This is ridiculous,” she said with a gasp.
“Life is short… If you can’t get within three feet of another human, marriage is gonna be a long way off.”
She rolled her eyes but decided to play along. She stepped a half step closer, chin down, demurely glancing at him out of the tops of her eyes.
“That’s good,” his voice was softer now. “How’s it feel?”
“Okay,” her voice softened as well.
“Now, I’m not gonna move,” he reassured her. “You’re the one in control. Just one more half step.”
She smirked.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said.
“I’m not sure about this.”
“I don’t bite. I can’t reject you, cause you don’t even like me.”
She grew nervous under the weight of his stare.
“You have to close your eyes.”
He obliged her, closing his eyes.
“Okay. Just don’t…. take my wallet or anything.”
She studied him with an amused smile.
“And you cannot open them until I say so.”
Finally, she stepped closer – just inches apart by now. Her heart was beating. The smirk dissolved from her face as she glanced to his lips, back to his closed eyes, and back to his lips. She quickly licked her own lips.
“How’s your heart?”
“Okay.”
“You feelin’ faint?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Your arms are still folded, aren’t they?”
“Maybe.”
“You have to unfold them.”
“What do I do with them?”
“Put your hands some place innocent.”
“Innocent?”
“Yeah… on my shoulders or grab my hands or something.”
She gingerly placed her hands on his shoulders.
“This is feeling less innocent.”
She dropped her head out of nervousness, her forehead colliding with his nose.
“Oh,” she reached for his nose. “I’m so sorry.”
Rowe opened his eyes, his own hands reaching to his nose.
Their hands met at his face.
Her fingers touched him, caressing his face for a moment.
His hands took hers – wrapping around them and bringing them down to chest level.
“See we’re holding hands… Once you break the personal space, all kinds of things happen… You don’t even have to think about it.”
She looked into his eyes – heart pounding.
He was quite relaxed.
“People are watching.”
“Is holdin’ hands against the law?” he asked.
Her eyes flit from his lips to his eyes.
“No.”
“It’s Summerfest… they’ve seen stuff like this before… first dates… young lovers… old flames… Public displays of affection don’t bother them… do they bother you?”
Her lips parted, breath quickening. “No…”
“Then we should be fine.”
This is it. He let go with one hand, running it through her hair, then both hands moved to her cheeks, he gently lifted her chin, pulling her in for a kiss.
It was all too much for her though – she flinched, breaking away and pulling back.
“I can’t,” she gasped.
He froze, easing off.
She looked up at him – her heart torn.
“I made a promise before we left today that I wouldn’t do this.”
He nodded – resigning. He pushed it too far already. He stepped back.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”
He ran his hand through his hair, snapping back to reality.
“You probably could have told me ’bout that promise…”
“I’m sorry,” Winnie overlapped his words.
“Before I made an ass of myself,” he laughed it off.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Hey, it’s alright.”
“Where would it lead?” she pleaded.
“No really. You’re right. You’re right it’s… it’d be a mistake,” he said.
Rowe took a deep breath – a new beginning – releasing his want – letting it go – as if he flipped a switch inside.
“I should probably get you back anyhow.”
Winnie looked injured. She didn’t want it to go down like this… she missed his affection already.
He gave her a little smile – but it was only patronizing.
“It’s okay, seriously… Seriously it’s no big deal,” he said.
Winnie could feel him pulling away – his defenses rising and the intimacy dissolving. Somehow, she wanted it back. She retreated inside, folding her arms.
Rowe put on the air of confidence – his vulnerability evaporating.
“I want to explain,” she pleaded.
“You don’t have to. I get it. You’re a Christian, I’m not. You made a promise to the big man upstairs… I don’t even believe in the big man upstairs… It’d be horribly awkward at the Rapture when Jesus comes and gets you and leaves me to fight all the demons.”
She didn’t laugh. It stung and he knew it.
“That’s a low blow. I’m sorry… Unless you believe in that, then it’s… it’s… judicious foresight.”
“You’re angry.” she said.
“Yeah? Maybe.”
Something in him was simmering and it was about to boil over.
“Not at you. I’m angry at the world. It’s just not easy being an atheist… I mean… Christians act like victims in this country, but atheists can’t get elected to office. I’m angry that this world looks down on me for using my brain. I’m angry that fifty percent of this country thinks Adam and Eve were real people, and I know you don’t, but you let them think that. I’m angry tele-evenglists and politicians exploit people because half our nation learned their thinking skills in Sunday school. I’m angry that the first girl in my life as an adult, I really like won’t give me a chance because of her imaginary friend.”
Winnie’s eyes were watering now.
Rowe immediately knew he went too far. He drew in a breath and extended a hand, trying to soften but unsure what to say. But then Winnie snapped.
“This whole thing was your idea. You’re the one that wanted to change me. It’s like a game to you.”
“It’s not a game.”
“You just said it’s imaginary!”
“It’s an imaginary thing getting in the way of what’s real – we are real – this – between us,” he gestured his hand between their chests. “It doesn’t happen every day.”
“Oh, come on, every girl at school is in love with you.”
“They’re not you.”
“What do you want me to say? That I don’t believe in God?” she pleaded.
“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging, defeated, embarrassed.
“I can’t… because I do….” she said.
Rowe nodded… agreed… softened… sharing a glance with her – wistful, sad, thinking of what could have been, then sighed heavily, gathering himself.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I do respect you,” he told her. A look of incredible pain and affection came across his face and he nearly reached out to her, but then he closed his eyes as if shutting that emotion down – ran his hands through his hair in desperation and gathered himself once more. “I guess now you know what it takes for me to become an ass, you only need to reject my clumsy advances.”
She looked at him, unsure of what to say. She wanted to give him a sly look and say, “They weren’t that clumsy,” but she still felt injured and she wanted him to know it. She wanted him to take her in his arms, kiss her lips, and promise he’d dedicate his life to making it up to her. She wanted to slap him across the face for not believing in God and trying to change her, but that seemed too rude. She wanted to take him in her arms – the man she just rejected–and tell him she loved him – that she always had, and she was kidding herself to say otherwise, but that seemed absurd. All of these thoughts and emotions lived inside her at once, inside her 19-year brain in full bloom, the age at which the world was nothing but possibility.
The northern sky lit up with lightning and a few seconds later deep thunder rolled over the cornfields. A gentle breeze brought the smell of rain.
“We should go if we’re gonna beat rain,” he said – his words simple and without ornamentation, but they felt different to Winnie’s ears, some switch had flipped inside him. They were not delivered with the same care and attention he had afforded her the entire day, but rather a matter-of-fact quality that he might use with his buddies, or worse, a boss might use with a subordinate.
She had to remind herself that she had just rejected him.
She missed him already.