When I opened my eyes the bleached wood of the boardwalk seared white against my pupils. I press my hands against my chest. I'm trying to keep every last tiny detail so that I have them later when I'm not here, when I need them but I'm not good at this.
Ben glides past me on a penny farthing made of my dreams, sealed in copper, tarnished with abandoned ideas. I'm surprised it runs.
This is great, Bridge. Why didn't you follow through?
I wouldn't have met you, I remind him.
But this, he implores.
This is a fleeting fever dream, I teach him, not a life. I catch Lochlan's eye as he ignites his fingers, tracing the wheel further down the beach, tracing that dream he wanted so badly. His expression falls through a hole into the boardwalk and I run forward and look down. It's bottomless. I call his name.
He can't hear you, Lochlan tells me as he stands beside me, he's run away to join the circus.
The Midway was a gateway, wasn't it?
It's all about the rush, baby. You can't throw fire on the Midway.
Sure you can. Just not in front of-
The guests. We say it at the same time. We stand back up straight, stepping away from the hole and look at each other.
It wasn't a dream, Bridget. I would have stayed here forever with you. We would have starved to death but we would have been happy. It wasn't imaginary. It wasn't foolish. It wasn't fleeting. It was the life I chose for us but it wasn't the one that worked out.
I'm sorry.
Don't be. We have Ben. We have the kids. And the boys. And we can come here any time we want. His smile is generous and kind, and it didn't have to be either but it is and it's brighter than the boardwalk and stronger than my heartbeat and it will be the most vivid memory of today, by far.
