Heidi wanted to go to Coney Island to see his past life there. He agreed, thinking it would take his mind off things. They sat in the subway car for a long time, riding through the bowels of the city before they emerged, and late-evening Brooklyn welcomed them, the beach. She studied him from the corner of her eye as he clenched and unclenched his fists, his boots pressed against the floor of the car. He had cried like a baby in the middle of New York, almost pulling her down to the sidewalk as he clung to her. He held onto to her so tightly she thought he would break her ribs. No one had ever touched her like that, needed her like that. Not even her own father, who preferred to drown in the past of his mind, mostly.
Finally, he sat up straight, rubbing his hands on his jeans, and looked at her.
“What did you get?” he asked. She pulled it out almost apologetically, a sky blue-colored shirt with a whale on it. Why she had been looking at the origins of humanity and gems and minerals and perusing the gift shop while he visited Kate, while his heart was ripped out, she didn’t know. She was stupid and vile, and he if had any sense, he would leave her in Coney Island to become homeless.
Instead, he ran his hand along the fabric, held it to his face and smelled its newness. “You’re going to look great in this. I can imagine you going to college wearing this shirt.”
She wanted to say that she wasn’t going to college, that she would follow him to the ends of the earth for the promise of his touch, his tears, his faith in her.
Instead, she said, “Thanks.”
It was chilly when they got off at the end of the line, and she pulled it over her other tee-shirt as they walked down Surf Avenue. In the distance, high-rise projects stood before the sea. The sidewalks were a decoupage of cigarette butts, dirty wrappers and napkins, an occasional syringe. The smell of hot dogs and beer wove through the air and stabbed at her stomach. The lights of the Cyclone and Wonder Wheel seemed to leer at them in the salty, windy night. Everything was intoxicating, slightly lurid, like she imagined a porn film. She had never been anywhere dangerous, anywhere alone. Without her asking, Johnson slid his arm over her shoulders.
“Did she take it, then?” She looked ahead, did not turn to him when he touched her, too afraid at what she would do. What he would do.
“No,” he answered.
“Is she…will she…”
“She will.”
“I’m so sorry, Calvin. I can’t imagine…what you are feeling.”
“You want to ride the Cyclone?” He grabbed her elbow.
“Now?” She stopped and laughed incredulously. “Are you sure?”
“Looks fun.” He felt in his pockets, pulling out the herb, a few dollars, a lighter. Heidi took the baggie with the herb from his hand and held it up.
“How much did my father give you of this?” She rolled the pieces through the plastic between her fingers.
“I don’t remember.” He flattened the bills against his jacket. “How much is a rollercoaster ride these days? Thirty dollars?”
They climbed in the car and pulled the bar down. She could smell the ocean salt, the taffy. Heidi wove her left hand into his right and squeezed.
“Are you okay?” she asked. She wanted big, important words to comfort him, important insights, but what tumbled out of her mouth was junior varsity, so high school.
“Not really.” He stared off in front of him. She wondered if he was out in the cosmos somewhere, waiting to catch Kate before she rocketed away from them. “I’d better get used to it, though, huh? I mean, watching you die, too, anyone else I meet.”
“I’m not going to let you.” She leaned forward and caught his eyes. “I love you, Calvin.”
The car jolted to a start and began climbing up the hill. There was nothing else left to do. With her other hand, Heidi tilted the plastic bag with the herb toward her lips. In disbelief, then horror, Johnson watched the dried, crumbled remains begin to tumble into her mouth.
“Jesus—no.” He grabbed the bag from her and shoved it into his opposite jeans pocket. “What are you, crazy?”
But it was too late. Heidi swallowed as the car slid over the top of the hill.