Page 18 of The Significance of Moving On

“Why do I feel like you all are talking about me?” Casey asks while reentering the living room wearing only red Hawaii around his nether regions, I might add.

“We’re going to the fair. Tally thinks I should ask you if you’ve got other plans, as it’s the weekend.” Demetrius, the jerkface, snickers at his brother’s expense. What’s there to laugh at? It’s a legitimate question.

“Be honest, Casey, are you not going out because of me?” I ask.

There has to be an inside joke, something that I’m missing here since Demetrius rolls to tuck his head against Kelsey’s neck, laughing even harder. She punches him in the shoulder to get him to move off of her, laughing too through her angry face.

Casey shakes his head. “The fair sounds great.”

•••

We separate from Kelsey and Demetrius who have decided to try out the funhouse. It’s hot enough outside still that I’m a little iffy about heading inside a stuffy room jam packed with other sweaty patrons.

Plus, I don’t know… there have been enough shocks in my eighteen years to last me a lifetime. Instead of standing in line for an attraction, we meander around the carnival grounds, just taking our time. All the while, Casey’s hand rests supportively at the small of my back. And I know it’s wrong to think about it because, well, we’re just friends. Although knowing his hand is there makes me feel safe and protected, like as long as he keeps it there, no more bad things will happen to me. It’s a lot of unfair pressure to put on a hand, but I can’t help how I feel. That’s his spot. Not even the occasional guy I dated back at school claimed that spot.

Funny, I went to an all-girl prep school. The opportunity for meeting guys didn’t come along very often, yet here I am living with one, walking together as we weave through the crowds of people, taking in the twinkling lights hung above the games or lighting up the rides, all the chatter—the laughs, the yells and squeals of enjoyment, and smells, too many smells—caramel corn, cotton candy, urine—the fair transforms into this living, breathing entity all around us. As an entity, it comes alive purely for our enjoyment.

He steers us over to the Ferris wheel. “How T’bout it?” He asks with a cute little chin gesture.

“My favorite ride,” I respond. The wind picks up. I watch the cars swing back and forth.

Casey smiles big and grabs my hand to pull me as he speed walks while I speed-stumble into line.

The Ferris wheel is brilliantly lit up by thousands of round, white bulbs illuminating each individually painted car. We move forward as couples exit the ride until finally reaching the front of the line and we board the blue car, same color as Casey’s beautiful, pained eyes.

We’re weightless as the car begins the ascent, rising and rocking for us the same way I watched from the ground. This time I close my eyes while the wind teases my hair around my face.

Casey squeezes my hand. “Beautiful,” he whispers. And I open them again.

“Yes. It is,very.”

The giant wheel slowly spins us around three turns with the streetlamps lighting a path halfway across the county each time the car rounds the top. As we descend on the third pass, the ride stops to let each car empty of passengers. When ours stops at the bottom, he helps me down, this time taking my hand while letting me rest my other against his shoulder for balance.

We roam the grounds some more, stopping to the duck game, the strength game—Casey rang the bell, I came really close—and he’s really good at the one where he has to toss a small ball into a cutoff PVC pipe for points.

As Casey tosses the red ball overhand like he’s throwing a basketball, he glances over to me. “She’s good for him, you know.”

Good for him? Oh—it takes a second to process. “Do you mean Kelsey?”

He nods. “Yeah. He’s been… I don’t know…serioussince he met her. I mean, he’s always been serious about school and work, but not in relationships.”

That makes me smile. “She’s the best woman I know.”

Smiling back at me while he lines up another shot, he totally knocks the wind from my sails. “What are your plans now? Senior year or GED?”

“Don’t know.” I wring the hem of my Tee between my hands, wrinkling the fabric, and staring at my flipflops. Then I suck in a long breath. “I’ve gone to Edgewood since sixth grade. Tom sent me there after dad died. You know, he traveled for work and all. Said I needed stability. What do I do now that I can’t go back?”

“I wish I could send you.”

“To have your place back?” I tease.

“No. For you to have yours.” He can’t keep saying stuff like that. I started crushing on him from the beginning, before I even realized it was a crush. He keeps being wonderful, I’m going to fall for him and it won’t be my fault.

I spin, draping my arms around his neck and just hug him like it’s the last hug I’ll ever give. Does it give my feelings away to hug him this much? Because I feel like I’m always hugging him, although to be honest, he doesn’t appear to mind, usually hugging me right back.

“I think you should finish school though.” His arms stay wrapped around my waist with his chin resting on top of my head. “It’s your choice, but I think you might regret not finishing.”

“You’re probably right.”

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