The Funfair

The drumbeat of the fair pulsed out—the jingle, jangle of the merry-go-round mixing with squeals of happy children. The humid air was heavy with heady aromas as it wafted in through the open car window. It all came back to her in a rush; fat burgers grilling, donuts sizzling, popcorn popping and almonds roasting. She remembered.  Summer leaned her head back against the headrest of the car seat, her white hair puffed like a cloud. She knew where she was; she was at the fair.

Sniffing, she waited. Then there it was: the sweet smell of cotton candy. She licked her lips, and let the aroma transport her to when she was young; back to the day when he’d kissed her for the first time.

  *

Sixty years earlier, at seven o’clock in the evening, it was still eighty-seven degrees outside. The air was gluey with moisture, making Summer’s dress stick to her skin. She wound down the window of Greg’s cherry-red pickup truck and flapped her arms about, hoping the wind would dry out the fabric as they drove along. 

When Greg suggested they pick up Ginny too, she assumed it was because he fancied her friend, just like everyone did. Summer had long since learned she was one of those girls whom no one noticed, and that no one would ever look at her the way they all eyed Ginny.

Greg revved the engine loudly outside Ginny’s house to signal they’d arrived, and when she didn’t appear, he honked the horn three times. But Ginny was late as usual, and the heat rising from the road seemed to turn the truck into an oven as they sat and waited. Summer fanned herself with her purse, embarrassed that her hair had probably puffed up like a poodle, but she didn’t want to look in the mirror in case it was true. Instead, she awkwardly shrank back in her seat, hoping that Greg wouldn’t notice. But Greg’s lips turned up at the corners as he slid her a little smile.

He was about to say something, when Ginny shot out of the front door with her usual exuberance.

 “It’s Summertime, summertime, sum, sum, summertime!” Ginny sang as she sashayed down the path to greet them. She flung open the passenger door with a flourish and got in, shoving Summer along the bench seat and closer to Greg. 

Summer groaned; as much as she hated being noticed, she hated her name even more. She wished her parents had given her a normal one like Joan or Jane, and not the lazy moniker they’d chosen simply because she’d been born in the summer. She’d always thought there nothing remotely summery about herself, with her pale wintery skin and curly hair that frizzed at the first sign of moisture.

 As she tried to scrunch herself into a small ball, she felt Greg’s hot thigh pressing against her’s. He looked down at her with another of his shy smiles, that quite inexplicably made her insides turn to jelly, and a rush of heat spread through her body. She edged closer to Ginny, hoping he hadn’t noticed her flushed face. She peeked at him sideways and was surprised that the look in his eyes told her that he liked her and didn’t find her in the least bit ugly at all.

As she sat there, holding her breath, Summer pondered why she’d never thought of Greg as anything but a friend before. But, now with the warmth of his leg burning into her’s, she started to look at him differently. For the very first time she let her eyes wander over the taut, tanned muscles of his forearms as he gripped the steering wheel. She suddenly realized that with that dark stubble bristling on his chin, he was so incredibly hunky— why had she never noticed?  She touched her frizzy hair, wondering again why he was looking at her with such interested eyes, and not at glamorous Ginny, who everyone lusted after. 

    Greg pulled his truck off the road into the field that a farmer rented out for parking when the fair came to town. It looked like everyone was out. Groups of kids were jostling and joking around, their eyes shining, anticipating a fun evening out. Ginny spotted some boys and grabbed Summer by the arm pulling her out of the truck. 

“Come on! Let’s go,” Ginny shrieked. “I can’t wait to go on the rollercoaster!”

Summer turned to look back at Greg who was smiling at her in that quiet way of his again. Normally she would have linked arms with Ginny, but something made her hang back to wait for him instead. It was as if they were attached by an invisible length of string; she didn’t want to be with Ginny, she wanted to be with him. So, she waited while Greg locked up his truck and watched as her boisterous friend, pursued by the usual gaggle of guys, melted away into the mayhem of the fair.

He held two sticks of fluffy cotton candy in his hands and gave her one. She took a bite, letting the sweet fluffiness dissolve on her tongue. As she shyly cast her eyes down at the ground, she noticed a small tattoo on his wrist. She peered at it, trying to decipher what it was. He moved his arm away, but she daringly grabbed his hand.

    “Show me,” she said.  

     He reluctantly held out his arm. She read the inscription. She gasped. She saw the letters of her name balanced on top of a tiny red heart. He stared at her, but this time she held his gaze and didn’t look down at her shoes. All around them the drumbeat of the fair boomed on and on.

  It was Summer who broke the trance; she didn’t know what made her do it, but she reached out and kissed his wrist. Her lips tingled with the saltiness of the sweat on his skin, mixing with the sweetness of the spun sugar in her mouth. Now all she could hear was the sound of his breathing and her heart beating. The surprise of it all was flabbergasting.

      “Why have you never told me before?” Summer whispered.

      “I was waiting for the right time,” Greg replied, “I wasn’t sure if you’d notice someone like me.”

      “I never thought anyone would look at me,” she said simply.

      “I see you all the time,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

       Summer ran her hands through her curly blonde hair and felt pretty for the first time ever. Then something fizzed between them, like an electric current. It was at that very moment she knew that Greg Stravinsky was the one.

       The sun slid down the horizon, and with the backdrop of a warm red sky, they took a ride on the Ferris wheel, sitting pressed up against each other, one hot thigh against the other. Greg kissed her then, leaving the sweet taste of spun sugar lingering on her lips.

       “I’ll always remember this moment,” she whispered.

            *

But these days memories were elusive, as Alzheimer’s had crept in and cruelly stolen Summer’s mind. Her son brought her to the fair in the hope that his mother might recollect something of her past to ease her troubled mind. The story of his parents’ love was legendary and now he knew her time was near, he wanted her to remember for one last time. 

Sitting next to her in the car, he watched as she ran her tongue over her lips and saw her face suddenly clearing of the confusion that had distressed her for so long. 

“Cotton candy. I can taste it,” Summer said. “That was the day your father kissed me for the first time.” 

A look of happiness came over her face as her breathing started to slow. She closed her eyes. 

“I’m coming, my love” she whispered. The smell of cotton candy filled the air. She smiled for one more time and then she was gone.