Four For You
The air is thick with the smell of popcorn and the sound of children’s laughter. You are led by your father’s hand as he approaches a man and asks, "How much?" The man is clad in a red-and-white striped shirt and overalls. You are in awe at the hair that bunches itself around his chin. You remember him being a jolly-looking fellow. "3 dollars". Your father pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and puts the notes in his hand. It seems like a lot of money but you are still young. Your father ruffles your hair and picks you up. He puts you on one of the horses before stepping away. The machine hums solemnly. The music begins to play. The colours around you swirl and blend together and you are elevated; your spirits are lifted, up and up, higher and higher. The sounds of the theme park mix together like a mismatched symphony, and you close your eyes to listen. But there's a part missing, and it makes the whole thing sound discordant. Your eyelids flutter open. You look around for your father as your heartbeat quickens but catch no sight of him. For a moment, you are in a state of panic, your heart is in a flurry and you wonder who tied knots in your stomach. Then you catch a glimpse of him in the crowd, a little way off from where you are now. You lay your eyes on his familiar jet black curls, the build of his shoulders, his smile and his firm hand, now snaked around the waist of a woman. She is not your mother. You feel nauseous but the ride is not fast. You want to get off but you desperately cling on.
You are four.
It's dark now. Silence sets in and under the cover of night, you climb the fence into the theme park before waiting for the others. There's five of you. You search the park for the perfect spot and the answer comes to you before it even enters your vision. As all of you lounge about the various animal sculptures, you find yourself drawn to a horse, and you wonder if it's the same one from all those years ago. You fish in your pockets for a pack of cigarettes but realise you've smoked them all. You have 10 dollars, but it's not enough. Money hardly seems enough these days. You scratch the back of your head and turn to the boy next to you, asking for a smoke. He tells you to "piss off" and get your own. Something stirs within you and you stand, spitting at the ground at his feet. You know you have to do something and you need to do it now, before the stirring within you escalates. You kick the horse but it won't budge. You try to shake it free from the pole but you can't. So you let out a scream of frustration, because that's the only thing you can do. For a while, everything is silent. But then you hear footsteps and a light shines itself on your face. The next thing you hear is a shout and the pounding of feet. But the man seems to get closer and closer and you realise you haven't moved an inch. You turn to your friends but you are alone. The man grabs you by the shoulders and firmly shoves you to the ground. You smell on him the smell of whisky and you notice the mustard stains on his red-and-white striped shirt. He gruffly tells you that "You're in for it now." before dragging you away by your collar. The horse stays immobile- almost unmoved by the events that had just taken place.
You are in deep trouble. You are seventeen.
The little one is safely tucked in bed and won't be up for another 10 hours. You sigh. Peace at last. But when you turn, you see her standing there, leaning against the doorframe, hands crossed and you know- you just know, you're in trouble. She says to meet her in the hall, and that she wants to speak with you, but you know there won't be a conversation. She sighs and stays silent, looking at the ground and occasionally at you but it's a vacant stare, as if she's not really looking at you at all. She asks you where you've been all day. You feel yourself swallow but your mouth is dry. You manage to stammer that you brought him to the carousel, just like you promised him a week ago. She laughs, scoffs at your words and shakes her head. “No more lies. I know there's been someone else.” And at those words your world comes crashing down. Fabricated lies are unweaved and you are exposed. “It's true.” You see her lips quiver, and her face contort, unlike her usual pleasant facade. For the first time in years, she lets you in and something inside you stirs. But then her face hardens, along with her features. You are locked out and the stirring quells. She says she's going to file for a divorce and she's taking custody of him. Divorce. You echo in your head, but there's no tightening of the heart nor stinging in the eyes. You wonder how it had ended up like this.
The carousel stops. The riders get off. You know it can't go on forever. You are thirty-two.
You open your apartment door after a long day of work. You are clad in a red-and-white striped shirt and overalls. Rummaging through the fridge, you find a bottle of whisky and plonk yourself down on the sofa. It is a dirty apartment- the one that you live in, but you don't bother to clean up because you spend most of your time at the park anyway and you don't have anyone to impress. The news just came this morning that they're tearing it down to make way for new buildings. Your heart clenches at the thought and your eyes sting. You wonder how it has ended up like this and wonder how you're going to go on. You shuffle your way to the window and you see the fairy lights of the Ferris wheel casting their glow on happy faces. You hear the familiar music of the carousel from down below, the one that greeted you every morning without fail, but soon could no longer. You hear it beckon and call your name.
You listen. You are sixty-three.
I see a man climbing out of his window. His knees are shaking and I laugh at the funny sight. But then he leaps and I am in awe as I watch him glide through the air, six stories high. He lands at the pavement at my feet and paints the ground crimson. It is a very pretty colour. I squat down beside him and ask, “Mister, could you please teach me to fly like you?” But he is rude and does not reply or he is tired and in need of rest. So I leave him to find my parents. I am bursting with the desire to tell them about the strange flying man.