The car is pulled over onto the gravel shoulder of the road. Trudy is behind the wheel, fuming. Jules is staring out the passenger side, his left eye blackened and slowly swelling shut. His hair stands up in a plume at the back of his head. His clothes are covered in dirt. Mercy is crying. And Claire, poor Claire, is bent over, throwing up into the ditch beside the road. Mercy scrambles out of the car and starts patting Claire’s back.
“I’m sorry, Grandma. I didn’t know it would be like that.” This is true. Mercy thought the Tilt-a-Whirl would be fun. Gentle. A slightly more exciting version of the Merry-Go-Round.
But no.
The minute it had started, she had been terrified. The ride lurched into motion and Mercy smacked her head against the back of the car. It swung this way and then that, it went up and down. She couldn’t tell which way it would go next. It threw them around, Mercy’s jeans sliding across the slippery seat. One minute she was on top of Grandma Claire; the next, Grandma Claire was crushing her against the side. Mercy had been sure they would be thrown right off the ride. She started to yell at the operator every time she could see him, Stop the ride! STOP THE RIDE!
Mercy’s yelling had started within the first full rotation of the ride, around ten seconds in; but it just went on. And on. It swung and it lurched. It tilted and whirled. Both Mercy and Claire had found themselves praying for death.
Claire coughs. Another volley of hot pink vomit splatters onto the grass in front of her feet. Mercy takes a step back.
“Grandma Claire, I didn’t know.”
“I knew.”
“What?”
“I knew what it would be like! That’s why I didn’t want to go on it! But you wouldn’t stop, Mercy. Tilt-a-Whirl this! Tilt-a-Whirl that! Well, you got your Tilt-a-Whirl, didn’t you?” Claire digs in her purse for a tissue, wipes her mouth, and heads back to the car. Mercy follows.
“I didn’t like it either.” Mercy is squinting up at the sky. “I thought I would. But I didn’t.”
Claire grunts. Rolls her eyes. They settle into the back seat.
“Are you mad at me, Grandma Claire?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry I even had that idea. It was a bad idea.” She shakes her head and looks out the window. This day at the fair hadn’t turned out the way she thought it would.
Sometimes it’s like that.