Unbelievably, it does feel like we’ve just met. This person who is laughing and trying fried Oreos and holding on to a fuchsia stuffed monkey? She is new to me.
“You’re staring at me,” Avery says.
I look away from her as our cage reaches the top position on the ride, and pauses to allow on new riders. “It’s hard to believe I’m here, with you. After…everything.”
“What do you mean?” Avery pretends not to understand. “We met today.” She says it likecome on, get your head in the game.
“Right,” I nod.
The ride is still stopped. I look down, which is really never a good idea when you’re this high up in the air. Below us, the teenager grimaces at the switchboard and scratches his head. He grabs a phone attached to the switchboard, says something, then looks up.
I look at Avery. “I think we might be stuck.”
“Very funny,” she replies.
I point down. “I’m serious.”
She peers over. I watch her take in the scene below. She straightens up, her body tense. “You weren’t kidding.”
I shake my head. “I wish I were.”
“What do we do now?” Panic edges her tone. “Gabriel?”
I like how she says my name and asks me this question, even though I have about as much control and influence over this situation as she does. The fact she’s looking to me to solve aproblem ignites some biological instinct in me to protect her, to make everything better.
“Folks,” a voice blasts through the air. Avery and I look down at a man standing below, holding a bullhorn to his mouth. The teenager stands beside him. “Nothing to worry about, but we’re going to stay put for a few minutes while we work out a technical difficulty.”
“Nothing to worry about?” Avery scowls. “Easy for him to say. He’s not the one dangling in the air in a metal container.” She pats her hands on her thighs in rapid succession, her feet bouncing.
I withdraw my phone from my pocket, choose my music app, and pull up a list of my favorites. I hit play, and the first notes drift out into the air. Avery looks over, her hands and feet ceasing their movement. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“Gabriel and his music,” she murmurs. The affection in her tone is clear.
I didn’t choose this song on purpose.Better Manby Leon Bridges. It’s the first in a long list of favorites.
Avery listens, watching me. Her chest moves faster with her breath, and she suddenly says, “Why didn’t you come for me five months ago? Why wasn’t I your first stop?”
How can I explain it to her? There are a million words I can choose from, but they all fall flat. Instead, I choose a story. “You have a yellow dress with blue flowers printed on it. It has sleeves like a T-shirt, but it’s low-cut.” Using the pointer fingers on both hands, I demonstrate a deep ‘v’ going down the front of my chest. “It reaches half-way down your thighs, and you look like an angel when you wear it.”
Her eyes widen. “I bought that dress last summer.”
My heart beats double time. “You were my first stop.”
Her breath comes in short, panicked gasps. She covers her face with her hands, her head shaking back and forth. “You’re not supposed to be here, saying all the right things. I’m not supposed to want you to say all the right things. I’ve moved on.”
Gently, I pull her hands from her face.
Tears drip down her cheeks, tumble off her jaw, soak into the fabric of her dress.
I cannot watch her agony and not attempt to soothe it. I was made to love this woman. Closing down the space, I fold her into my body and cradle the back of her head in my palm. My cheek presses to the side of her head, my fingers curling and stretching, slipping through her hair.
Her shoulders hunch forward, as if she could curl in on herself, and I continue to hold her. Her sobs subside, her quaking chest evens out, but still something rocks us.
It’s my body, jerking with silent sobs.
My wife. My Avery. My everything.
“Gabriel.” My name on her lips is a mangled whisper.
