Adam very carefully, very deliberately removed the bolt-cutters from his backpack and moved over to the chain link fence, leaving Laura and Mark behind to watch. He slowly opened the cutters, putting them in a lover’s grip around the chain and pulled the two blades together in a quick motion, sending the chain to the ground with a rattle. Laura’s hands shot up over her eyes.
“God, I hope no one heard that, Adam!”
He tossed a devil-may care smile behind him, before motioning for them to join him.
“You don’t need a ticket to get in this way,” he said, reaching up and putting a hand on her shoulder. Mark moved over to the gate, pushing it open, the metal bar moving through its well-worn groove in the ground until it was wide enough to squeeze through.
Behind the fence, almost thrown down with no regard for commercial positioning, was Astroland Park, a staple of Michigan. Throughout the years, many of the residents of the city had enjoyed the free admission to the park until money changed hands and new management took over. Now, it was a fair sum for a ticket, and you still had to pay to go on the rides. Mark figured the new Astroland Management had to spend a fortune on chains and locks.
Adam led the way, grabbing Laura by the hand. It seemed that he had gone through this way before, several times, his feet falling against the gravel behind the food-stands and arcades that littered the fairground until he reached the board-walk, an exclusive area for beach-patrolling and what Adam and Mark fondly called “The Babe Lookout,” although never in the presence of Laura.
Laura, who had been reluctant to leave her room that day, attached to her bed, a puddle of absolute sadness. At first, Mark and Adam had taken turns calling her cell-phone, but she didn’t answer; it was in her purse, in another room. They finally had given up, taking their bikes and almost literally pulling her out of bed.
And now, she was smiling, being led by Adam on the board-walk while Mark fiddled with his cell-phone, which was hopelessly dying.
“Last time you were here,” Adam called back, “You dropped your phone in the sand and you couldn’t get it to work!” This caught Mark’s attention. He lifted his head, and in that split second, the phone slipped between his fingers, between the boards on the beach and onto the fine sand beneath.
“Godammit.”
Laura stifled a giggle, moving ahead and looking back at the two. The sun was moving behind their heads, behind the changing tents, putting their silhouettes in perspective. Mark was down on his hands and knees, reaching between the boards, but it was a lost cause; he had the phone between his fingers, but couldn’t rotate the small hunk of plastic to fit back through the cracks.
“Let’s go shoot some targets,” Adam said, putting his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “We’ll get you a new phone.”
They moved down, in-between the smells of funnel cakes and undercooked hot-dogs, weaving in and out of a throng of people whose sole interest was the old wooden roller-coaster that sat in the back of the park, the one coaster Laura refused to ride on the principal that it was ungodly dangerous.
The left side of the mid-way was covered with indoor target rooms where you would pay $2, and get a gun with 20BB’s. Knock down all the targets, win a stuffed animal. Knock down half of them, win a smaller stuffed animal.
Adam was insistent that he was a marksman, although Mark thought he would easily outshoot Adam, having been hunting with his father once before. Laura stood in the back, watching the two.
Adam pulled a five-note from his wallet, sliding it over the counter to the over-weight Jamaican, who removed two sleeves of BB’s and loaded the guns.
“Loser buys the next game.”
Laura watched as Adam turned into a different man. The smile disappeared from his face as he closed one of his eyes, focused, and began squeezing the trigger. Within twenty seconds, 17 targets were down.
Mark was firing the BB’s to no avail; they bounced harmlessly above the targets. He was standing, the gun at his shoulder, paying no attention to his posture.
With his last BB, he knocked a target down, turning around and glowing.
“Good job, chief. Buy me another sleeve of BB’s.”
Mark smiled, pulling two singles out and standing back with Laura. Adam hunched over, one arm crooked and resting on the counter. They counted the seconds as he fired again and again, 20 for 20.
The Jamaican didn’t look particularly impressed. He handed a large stuffed tiger to Adam, who in turn held out his arm to Laura.
“I grew up around here, I know the guns. But you know, I won this for you and ****. Shut up.” Laura took the tiger and smiled.
It was Mark’s turn to pick an attraction. Laura was beaming, holding the tiger in one hand, dragging it along behind her. She looked at Adam, goofy, awkward in his fourteen-year-old skin. She laughed whenever his voice would crack, but he would take it in stride, smile and wink without skipping a beat.
Mark was leading them down to the old coaster, the Tornado, which rested on its wooden haunches. Laura pulled back, staring up at the old monstrosity, refusing to hand over any money for a ticket.
Adam pulled a twenty from his pocket. “Mom won’t miss it,” he said, sliding it over and forgetting to take the change. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you on here.” He put his arm around her and led her up the platform to the old seats. He sat next to her, and squeezed her hand.
Mark sat in front of them. Adam reached up and ruffled his hair as the safety bar clipped down. The cars pulled out of the station, Laura giggling nervously, the wind blowing through their hair. Mark pulled a camera from his pocket, a small digital piece, turning around and snapping a shot of the two as they climbed the hill, to the first drop.
It was in those instances, the too-bumpy bottoms and too-fast turns that they all felt timeless, sliding through the ins and outs of the coaster, on a track that they would never forget. There was a definitive roar as they pulled into the tunnels, temporarily deafening but not enough to drone out the sounds of laughter. For the three minutes the ride lasted, they were the only people that existed, framed against the blue sky, a memory for a rainy day.
When the ride was over, Laura spoke for the first time that day. “It was worth every penny.”
“But you didn’t pay for anything,” Mark smiled.
They laughed, moving back to the center of the mid-way, watching the other children play, run around the fountain in the ground, eating funnel cake. The fountain stopped, turning off, and the children disappeared slowly. The Tornado stopped running, the supports growing weak and weary with age. The target rooms boarded up as the three stood, remembering.
The heart monitor beeped.
Adam sat, holding her hand and looking at her. She couldn’t speak, but she could smile. His face, once baby-smooth, now covered with a beard, his once narrow shoulders covered with a tweed jacket. Her blue eyes sparkled under the fluorescents. His watch beeped.
“Visiting hours are over,” he said, offering a sad smile. She no longer giggled at his voice; it had found a groove, rough and comforting. He stood from his chair, reaching down and pulling it’s former occupant up, a dirty plush lion. He sat it in the chair, facing her, turning to the door.
The door shut quietly behind him as he walked down the hallway to the exit of the building. He stood, looking back at her room, wondering if Mark still visited. Adam hoped he did; sometimes, it was too much to bear.
“I’ll take you back again someday,” he said. “Someday soon. Count on it.”
“God, I hope no one heard that, Adam!”
He tossed a devil-may care smile behind him, before motioning for them to join him.
“You don’t need a ticket to get in this way,” he said, reaching up and putting a hand on her shoulder. Mark moved over to the gate, pushing it open, the metal bar moving through its well-worn groove in the ground until it was wide enough to squeeze through.
Behind the fence, almost thrown down with no regard for commercial positioning, was Astroland Park, a staple of Michigan. Throughout the years, many of the residents of the city had enjoyed the free admission to the park until money changed hands and new management took over. Now, it was a fair sum for a ticket, and you still had to pay to go on the rides. Mark figured the new Astroland Management had to spend a fortune on chains and locks.
Adam led the way, grabbing Laura by the hand. It seemed that he had gone through this way before, several times, his feet falling against the gravel behind the food-stands and arcades that littered the fairground until he reached the board-walk, an exclusive area for beach-patrolling and what Adam and Mark fondly called “The Babe Lookout,” although never in the presence of Laura.
Laura, who had been reluctant to leave her room that day, attached to her bed, a puddle of absolute sadness. At first, Mark and Adam had taken turns calling her cell-phone, but she didn’t answer; it was in her purse, in another room. They finally had given up, taking their bikes and almost literally pulling her out of bed.
And now, she was smiling, being led by Adam on the board-walk while Mark fiddled with his cell-phone, which was hopelessly dying.
“Last time you were here,” Adam called back, “You dropped your phone in the sand and you couldn’t get it to work!” This caught Mark’s attention. He lifted his head, and in that split second, the phone slipped between his fingers, between the boards on the beach and onto the fine sand beneath.
“Godammit.”
Laura stifled a giggle, moving ahead and looking back at the two. The sun was moving behind their heads, behind the changing tents, putting their silhouettes in perspective. Mark was down on his hands and knees, reaching between the boards, but it was a lost cause; he had the phone between his fingers, but couldn’t rotate the small hunk of plastic to fit back through the cracks.
“Let’s go shoot some targets,” Adam said, putting his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “We’ll get you a new phone.”
They moved down, in-between the smells of funnel cakes and undercooked hot-dogs, weaving in and out of a throng of people whose sole interest was the old wooden roller-coaster that sat in the back of the park, the one coaster Laura refused to ride on the principal that it was ungodly dangerous.
The left side of the mid-way was covered with indoor target rooms where you would pay $2, and get a gun with 20BB’s. Knock down all the targets, win a stuffed animal. Knock down half of them, win a smaller stuffed animal.
Adam was insistent that he was a marksman, although Mark thought he would easily outshoot Adam, having been hunting with his father once before. Laura stood in the back, watching the two.
Adam pulled a five-note from his wallet, sliding it over the counter to the over-weight Jamaican, who removed two sleeves of BB’s and loaded the guns.
“Loser buys the next game.”
Laura watched as Adam turned into a different man. The smile disappeared from his face as he closed one of his eyes, focused, and began squeezing the trigger. Within twenty seconds, 17 targets were down.
Mark was firing the BB’s to no avail; they bounced harmlessly above the targets. He was standing, the gun at his shoulder, paying no attention to his posture.
With his last BB, he knocked a target down, turning around and glowing.
“Good job, chief. Buy me another sleeve of BB’s.”
Mark smiled, pulling two singles out and standing back with Laura. Adam hunched over, one arm crooked and resting on the counter. They counted the seconds as he fired again and again, 20 for 20.
The Jamaican didn’t look particularly impressed. He handed a large stuffed tiger to Adam, who in turn held out his arm to Laura.
“I grew up around here, I know the guns. But you know, I won this for you and ****. Shut up.” Laura took the tiger and smiled.
It was Mark’s turn to pick an attraction. Laura was beaming, holding the tiger in one hand, dragging it along behind her. She looked at Adam, goofy, awkward in his fourteen-year-old skin. She laughed whenever his voice would crack, but he would take it in stride, smile and wink without skipping a beat.
Mark was leading them down to the old coaster, the Tornado, which rested on its wooden haunches. Laura pulled back, staring up at the old monstrosity, refusing to hand over any money for a ticket.
Adam pulled a twenty from his pocket. “Mom won’t miss it,” he said, sliding it over and forgetting to take the change. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you on here.” He put his arm around her and led her up the platform to the old seats. He sat next to her, and squeezed her hand.
Mark sat in front of them. Adam reached up and ruffled his hair as the safety bar clipped down. The cars pulled out of the station, Laura giggling nervously, the wind blowing through their hair. Mark pulled a camera from his pocket, a small digital piece, turning around and snapping a shot of the two as they climbed the hill, to the first drop.
It was in those instances, the too-bumpy bottoms and too-fast turns that they all felt timeless, sliding through the ins and outs of the coaster, on a track that they would never forget. There was a definitive roar as they pulled into the tunnels, temporarily deafening but not enough to drone out the sounds of laughter. For the three minutes the ride lasted, they were the only people that existed, framed against the blue sky, a memory for a rainy day.
When the ride was over, Laura spoke for the first time that day. “It was worth every penny.”
“But you didn’t pay for anything,” Mark smiled.
They laughed, moving back to the center of the mid-way, watching the other children play, run around the fountain in the ground, eating funnel cake. The fountain stopped, turning off, and the children disappeared slowly. The Tornado stopped running, the supports growing weak and weary with age. The target rooms boarded up as the three stood, remembering.
The heart monitor beeped.
Adam sat, holding her hand and looking at her. She couldn’t speak, but she could smile. His face, once baby-smooth, now covered with a beard, his once narrow shoulders covered with a tweed jacket. Her blue eyes sparkled under the fluorescents. His watch beeped.
“Visiting hours are over,” he said, offering a sad smile. She no longer giggled at his voice; it had found a groove, rough and comforting. He stood from his chair, reaching down and pulling it’s former occupant up, a dirty plush lion. He sat it in the chair, facing her, turning to the door.
The door shut quietly behind him as he walked down the hallway to the exit of the building. He stood, looking back at her room, wondering if Mark still visited. Adam hoped he did; sometimes, it was too much to bear.
“I’ll take you back again someday,” he said. “Someday soon. Count on it.”
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