26
More than two hundred feet hung between Vivian and the ground. As the ascent continued, she shut her eyes tight. She had made a mistake. She wanted to get off. Yet with the ferocity of her grip, removing her from the ride could prove impossible without pliers.
“This was a horrible, awful idea,” she said to Gene, who was harnessed beside her on the canvas seat. She only vaguely recalled that the idea had been hers.
Created for the World’s Fair, the Parachute Jump had always appeared a thrilling ride with a partner. The open-air steel structure possessed all the sturdiness of the Eiffel Tower. This had been her claim whenever trying to sway Luanne, whose aversion to heights had prevented the adventure.
Vivian now recognized her roommate’s sensibility. Confidence came in greater supply when at the bottom gazing up.
“Focus right here,” Gene told Vivian. “Not down below, just on me.”
At first, she suspected pliers might be needed to lift her eyelids too, but the warmth in his tone lured them partially open. Her vision moved over his khaki tie, his collar, his face.
“That’s my girl.” He issued a casual smile, as if sharing a booth at a diner, not dangling in midair. “We’re almost at the top.”
She appreciated his efforts, and most of all the withholding of mockery, but a flimsy, overused chute couldn’t possibly slow their fall. A few faulty metal rings could send them splat into Steeplechase Park, flat as a strip of gum. It didn’t help that the scruffy men operating the cables were less interested in their jobs than the shapely females on Coney Island.
“Will it help if I hold on to you?” Gene asked.
She replied with a tiny nod, though internally the motion was vigorous.
He navigated his hand around the straps behind her. Over her pedal pushers, he wrapped the side of her waist. “I’ve got you, see?”
She did, and a small part of her relaxed.
Gene glanced up toward the release mechanism. “Remember, now, don’t look down.”
Vivian nodded again, a split second before they dropped toward the earth. She sucked in a breath, the air thin from altitude and fear, and buried her face in Gene’s shoulder. His firm hold braced her for a jerk of the straps. A sudden weightlessness followed, breezy and soothing-hopefully not from a trip to heaven.
“Wow,” he said. “Would you get a load of that.”
The sheer awe in his voice gradually lifted her head. Their parachute had mushroomed, enabling a dramatic, bird’s-eye view. Afternoon sunrays had formed the fingers of a wizard, turning canals into gold, softening buildings made of brick. All the bustling stilled and noises ceased, as if the world took a moment to rest.
“Sure is somethin’ else,” he said. “Feel like you’re seeing all of New York from here, don’t ya?”
“No,” she said in amazement. “More like the whole country.”
It was hard to fathom that at this very minute, on Pacific shores and European borders, young men were engaged in battle. Although Vivian lacked the naivety to believe so, way up here-above bridges connecting islands, the grand statue affirming liberty-even perpetual peace seemed possible. In fact, with Gene at her side, a sense of safety enfolding her, anything seemed possible.
They rode the Parachute Jump three more times in a row. Each went off without a hitch, thanks to Gene tipping the operators. Passengers otherwise risked getting stuck halfway-much too long for the “mishap” to be romantic, just an amusing pastime for the workers.
Powered by adrenaline, Vivian continued the charge for adventure. Together, they laughed and hollered while conquering every ride in the vicinity. They dipped on the Tornado, wound through the Cyclone, and zipped down the Thunderbolt, seizing each other’s hands or arms when needed. By the time they broke for a meal-a couple of Nathan’s Famous hot dogs-their physical interaction felt like an old hat.
It wasn’t until they were out on the pier, the sun retiring over the sea, that his touch caused her to tense. Gene’s thumb brushed her cheek and followed the slant of her jaw. The salt-scented air mingled with soap and pine from his skin.
Could a kiss come so soon?
They had known each other for years, but not like this. Always she had considered him handsome, but in a different way: as the brother of a friend, with a manner more reserved than her usual taste. In two short days, her perspective had pleasantly broadened.
At his second stroke to her face, she held her breath, anticipating the next step.
“You missed some,” he said.
She stared, confounded, as he dropped his hand.
“There was paint on your cheek. From yesterday.”
“Oh. Yes.” Blindly she rubbed at the spot. “Thank you.”
He nodded and angled toward the water.
Inside, she flamed with embarrassment. She had sorely mistaken his intentions. After her episode at the dance, maybe his care was only the protective, brotherly kind.
But that couldn’t be right. His side-glances all day had affirmed his attraction. True, he hadn’t poured with conversation, yet she had found the trait refreshing. There was no pressure for idle chatter. Already they were so familiar, as if his arm were a shawl she was always meant to wear.
Until now.
With only waves lapping the quiet, she sensed that comfort receding. For a reason she could not pinpoint he had begun to pull away.
“So,” he said. “You ready?”
Ready to leave, ready to part ways?
She smiled and replied, “Absolutely.”
Awkwardness solidified with every stop of the streetcar. Vivian willed its pace to quicken. Any eye contact from Gene amounted to a flicker. He appeared deliberate in allowing strangers to divide them, though he had insisted on escorting her home.
After disembarking, they wound through the moonlit streets, trading only the sounds of their footsteps. At the sight of her brownstone she imagined his relief.
“Here we are,” she said at the base of the stoop.
He looked up at the building, as if surprised by the destination.
“Well,” she said. “Thank you for the day.”
“Yeah. It was fun.” He extended his hand for a formal shake, which she accepted while gritting her teeth.
“It was certainly memorable.”
Not bothering with a good-bye, she wheeled around and headed up the steps.
“Vivian.”
She grasped the banister. Against her irritation, she forced herself to face him. “Yes?”
“On Tuesday,” he said, his hands in his jacket pockets, “Ringling Brothers will be in town. I was wondering if you’d like to go. To see the circus.”
For years, uncertainties of the heart had left her emotions in a frenzy. As if riding the Cyclone, they had been twisted and turned, raised and dropped. She had no desire to revisit the turbulent ride.
“Before I answer,” she said, “I have to know why.”
“Why ... ?”
“Why you’re asking.”
The corners of his eyes creased. “I’m not sure I follow.”
She was aware of how brash she sounded, possibly neurotic, but the need for self-preservation trumped all else.
“Gene, the truth of the matter is, I like you. Very much. But from one minute to the next, I can’t tell what you’re looking for. If it’s only friendship, that’s perfectly fine. I’d just prefer to be clear from the start.”
He said nothing as he stood there, as one would do while strategizing an escape. But then he slowly climbed the stairs and stopped when their eyes became level. As he leaned in, her breath hitched in her throat. He hovered an inch away for a torturous, wondrous second before placing his mouth on hers. He tasted of butterscotch, or taffy, from penny candies at the pier. It was a perfect match to their kiss. Rich, smooth, and sweet.
“Does that answer your question?” she barely heard him say.
She dragged her eyes open, and nodded.
“Good.” He smiled at her. With the side of his broad hand, he caressed her cheek. “I’ve had eyes for you for a long time, Vivian. Just didn’t think you were ready for anything-with what Lu mentioned, about some old steady. And what you said after the USO. I sure wasn’t going to push if-”
Her finger gently touched his mouth. No reason to hear more. She slid her hands onto his shoulders and brought him in for a kiss. Though more intimate than the first, it had all the warmth and patience of lazing in the sun. All the comfort of a heated bath.
When they finally drew apart, his hands light on her hips, she reflected on the day, such an unexpected path. She could not keep from grinning.
“Pick you up on Tuesday?” he said.
Vivian agreed, reluctant to let him go. But he kissed her hand before descending the stairs and fading into the darkness.
Once he had disappeared, she turned for the door. Her hand was on the knob when a chill skimmed her spine. Not from the air, not from Gene. She surveyed her shadowed surroundings.
Somebody, she swore, was watching.