Worried I'll get the giggles and suggest we can gaffer tape Barry in place, I move away. To the casual observer, I'm checking through items in the trailer, however Zac isn't fooled for a second, giving me a dirty look for abandoning him to his fate.
ZAC
While frustrated to be stuck with the old lady going through everything for what feels like the millionth time, I'm also relieved at the interruption.
I've never let myself go with a woman like that. I'm unsure if Kelly noticed my barricades crashing around my ankles like my jeans had been about to. A quick check in her direction doesn't have her giving much away.
That is until I see her biting her lip. However, I think this has more to do with not laughing at Mary's solutions to keeping Barry on the rocket when it moves.
This assumes we can even get him up there without a block and tackle. He's old and slow, so to expect him to clamber up there unaided has the potential to end in tears.
In the end, I convince Mary that we're on track, with her then tottering back to her car. It's when I'm waving her off to make sure she leaves I spot Barry sitting in the passenger seat. His visage is grim as he stares straight ahead, the epitome of miserable.
Hell's teeth, if we allow him on the float with a face like that, he'll have little kids bursting into tears when he passes by. Not until the ancient Buick has lumbered through the front gates of the industrial park, do I turn to face the lock-up.
After uncoupling the trailer, I inch my truck forward. Of Kelly there's no sign, although she's in there somewhere. After re-entering the unit, I turn and wrench the roller door down.
While I'm unsure what will happen between us, I don't want another interruption like the one we'd just had. The pressure in my balls says they've got to be the color of the sea on a winter's day.
I hear Kelly's laughter before I spot her in the back of the trailer. However, she's not busy getting everything straightened in readiness for assembly.
Rather, she's rolling around on a pile of silver insulation foam and bunting, holding her sides to keep her laughter in check.
"Your, your, your face when she suggested bolting one of their Queen Anne dining chairs to the back of the rocket…"
She's unable to articulate further, her laughter coming out in a series of gasps that make further talk impossible.
"Move over!" When she does so, I flop down next to her, the tail of the trailer tipping more than I'm comfortable with. "That won't be our biggest challenge." I take my time rolling onto my side so I can watch her while I talk. "Remember the other night at dinner, how Barry didn't look happy?"
Rather than return my gaze, she answers with a brief nod. So, that's how it's going to be? Looks like I'm not alone in having regrets. "He was ecstatic that night compared to just now."
"He was here? Why didn't he come in? He's a part of this, too."
I flop onto my back and join her, staring at the metal ceiling high above us. "Yeah, my gut tells me that while his spirit is willing, his body is yelling no."
"Hmmm. I guess it can't be easy being in pain like that."
We fall silent with me busy debating whether to discuss what had happened earlier. The longer the silence lasts, the more awkward it is. To the point I can't stand it any longer. "We'll need a mask."
This grabs her attention, with her turning her head to the side and staring at me as if I've lost my mind. "A mask?"
"Yeah, of Yoda or an alien, or something space-related. There isn't a chance we can have Barry's misery ruining the parade."
"It was that bad?"
I nod before answering her. "Yep. He was not a happy camper."
She again snorts out in laughter, the trailer bucking around to the point the end clanks on the concrete floor. This results in everything sliding down the ramp we've formed.
I don't think twice; I reach out and drag Kelly tight against me, the large tube that forms the hull of the rocket, sliding by right where she'd been. Damn, but that was close. And double damn, but she feels good in my arms.
Why did she have to accept that job?
Could it be because she didn't know how you felt about her?
Despite the undoubted truth of this, while my balls might be blue, they're not big enough to have me fessing up and telling her how I feel.
Could it be a fear of rejection that has me ending relationships before they've run their course, or keeping things so casual that commitment never comes up?
