Chapter 23 – Chelsea
As soon as we’re out of the gate, I head over to the ice cream truck that’s always parked out front, so that people waiting in line to get into the amusement park can buy snacks. Luckily for us, though, at this time of day there’s no wait.
“One super sized ice cream sandwich, please,” I tell the bored looking kid manning the cash register.
“Did watching me flex my muscles and beat up those assholes make you ravenous?” Wesley asks me. “Because it’s a strange time to decide to get a snack.”
I laugh and hand him the cold package of ice cream.
“No, this is just the closest thing to an ice pack that I could think of,” I explain. “You sure got punched pretty badly.”
“Oh, come on,” he says, with a shrug. “This is nothing compared to what I did to those other guys. You saw them! The one who started it can’t even get up off the ground.”
“Yeah,” I say, allowing a small smile to spread across my lips. “You really did teach him a lesson.”
I sit down on a nearby bench and take the ice cream sandwich back, since Wesley hasn’t yet applied it to his face. I hold it up to his eye, but he only tolerates it for a minute, before shaking his head and taking it off.
“What a caveman,” Wesley says. “Thinking he can go around grabbing random girls’ asses. I hate guys like that.”
“Well, thank you for defending my honor,” I tell him. “I appreciate it.”
He removes the packaging from the ice cream sandwich and begins eating it.
“So much for letting me take care of you in return,” I laugh.
“No, no, no,” he says. “You got it wrong. You have to let me take care of you. First by punching out some asshole ass-grabbers, and then by letting me feed you some ice cream.”
I look at him, still laughing.
“Come on. You have to try this. Have a bite.”
He puts a small piece of the ice cream sandwich in his mouth and then moves in closer to me. I take a bite and our lips meet, ice cream and chocolate covering mixing with our tongues and lips.
I know this move is so cheesy. Straight out of a Disney cartoon. And yet a chill runs down my spine that mixes with the cold taste on my tongue and all my sensations are heightened.
I also feel my heart warming back up, at the same time my body gets cold. I had sensed so much hesitation in Wesley that I was starting to think we might be over before we’d even really started. But now he seems back to being his relaxed, easy-going self, which is strange, since he just got into a big fight and got kicked out of the park.
He kisses me deeper, and murmurs, “We should go somewhere more private…”
“I know just the place,” I tell him, taking his hand and leading him around to the back of the fence that closes off the entrance to the amusement park.
“I hope it’s still here,” I say, mostly to myself.
I’ll feel like an idiot if I’ve made him walk all this way for nothing.
“You hope what’s still here?” he asks.
I run my hand along the fence, tracing it with my fingers.
“The back entrance used to be the front entrance to the park,” I explain. “And then they sealed it up so that there was only one entrance. But they forgot that resourceful kids know how to slit open a fence covering in just the right spot…”
My hand makes contact with the opening. It’s such a small gap that no one would know it was here, unless they had helped make it, like I had, many years ago.
“Ah-ha. Here it is.”
I pull open the covering to reveal a hole in the fence, which used to be just large enough for a kid to fit through. I’m no kid, but luckily over time the fence has ripped even more and the hole has become larger. I hold my breath and squeeze myself though until I’m on the other side.
I’m proud to know that my handiwork has withstood the test of time. I wonder if any of my childhood friends besides Taylor still remember— and even use— our little trick. And if anyone else has ever found it.
I like to think I’ve made the world a happier place by providing free, secret admission to an amusement park that has passed its prime.
“Ta Da!” I say. “We’re back in. They can’t keep us out.”
“Woah,” Wesley says, but he sounds more intimidated than impressed. “Look at that. How’d you even know about this?”
“I told you. I’ve been coming here for ages. I know everything there is to know about this place.”
He peeks his head through the opening.
“Where are we even at?” he asks.
“Yeah, we’re not exactly back where we started,” I admit. “This is the old part of the park, and now it’s abandoned.”
Looking relieved, he shimmies through the fence but gets stuck half way through. Together we push the metal rungs of the fence further apart, until he can just barely slide himself the rest of the way through.
“It does lead to the new part of the park,” I tell him. “So don’t worry. We can still ride the Beast.”
“The Beast?”
“The roller coaster we were heading towards, until you told me you were going to win me a stuffed animal first,” I remind him. “Which you never did.”
“There’s still time,” he says, puffing up his chest like he’s sure he can win me the prize. “I just have to come up with some disguise so the rent a cops don’t recognize me and kick me back out.”
He laughs, as do I.
But there’s something hesitant, almost fearful, in his voice.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I mean… I just don’t want to get caught. I’m on thin ice as it is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just… you know, as a player on the football team. We can’t get into any trouble.”
“Yeah, I know.”
It’s similar with cheerleading. All my life I’ve had to be nearly perfect, lest I mess up my cheerleading career and the stellar reputation my dad wants me to have. And now, being at the same college where he coaches— and partly on his dime— I’ve had to be even more careful.
But I’m willing to risk all of that for Wesley. In fact, it excites me. I want to be like one of the bad girls from high school, and do naughty, dirty, filthy things under the old abandoned roller coaster. I’m sick of being a good little girl, but I only want to change for Wesley.
“Come here,” I tell him, and I take him to my favorite former secret spot, under the neglected, rickety wooden roller coaster.
I lean close for a kiss but he pulls away, distracted.
“What?” I ask him, peering up into his dark brown eyes, which look moody if not distraught.
“I just can’t help thinking… of who else you’ve brought here…”
I roll my eyes, nearly disgusted at his jealousy.
“No one!” I tell him. “Other than Taylor.”
He looks at me as if he doesn’t believe me. And that hurts.
I’m mad that he’s spoiling the good time that I’d planned for us.
“Look, Wesley, I guess I haven’t made it clear, but I was never allowed to be with boys. And I didn’t even want to be. This was my spot. Just for me. And Taylor sometimes too. We’d come here to talk and I’d come here to be alone and think. After…”
“What?”
He puts a finger on my chin and lifts my face back up towards him.
“After what?” He repeats.
“After my mom died.”
I look back down, surprised that I’d said anything.
“It’s not something I usually talk about,” I tell him. “I never know how to talk about it. When you asked me about the book I was reading…”
“Yes?”
He looks genuinely interested, and so caring that I want to cry.
I’ve never had a guy look at me this way, listen to me this way.
I’ve never even given any other guy the opportunity.
“My mom left it for me. She was reading it right before she passed away. It’s a book of poems by Pablo Neruda. I especially like the ones that talk about grief.”
There are a lot of love poems, too, but I could never relate to those. Until recently. I don’t tell him this part though.
He takes my hand and traces my palm as I speak.
“She owned his whole collection. Well, except for one book that was only in Spanish and never translated into English like the rest of them. She didn’t know Spanish so she didn’t see the point in owning it. And it’s pretty rare, too. But sometimes I wish I had that book so that I could complete her collection. I even took some Spanish classes with the hope of maybe translating them.”
I pause.
“I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense. But I guess I think that if I could translate them then maybe wherever she’s at, she can see that I did that for her. Maybe she can actually even read what I translate. I know it sounds dumb…”
Then Wesley leans in and kisses me. It’s passionate, but it’s also tender.
“It doesn’t sound dumb at all,” he says. “It sounds very smart. And very loving.”
I feel torn, my mind returning to thoughts of what I’d wanted to do with Wesley here and now, while also lingering on thoughts of my mom in the past.
“It’s so weird now, about Taylor’s…”
I pause, realizing I’ve said more than I may have wanted to.
“Taylor’s what?” Wesley asks.
I sigh.
“It’s rather embarrassing. Taylor’s mom and my dad are dating. So crazy, right?”
“No way!” Wesley exclaims. “Good ole Coach Thompson getting some action. Nice.”
My heart speeds up, worried that I shouldn’t have told him.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I say quickly. “It’s obviously not something that’s out in the open.”
“I won’t,” he says, and then chuckles. “So your dad’s got a secret relationship going, just like us.”
Relationship?
Do we have a relationship? Does my dad have a relationship?
I think about the little blue box.
Suddenly I feel like I’m going to suffocate unless I tell someone. Unless I tell him.
“Yeah, and I think it’s more serious than I initially assumed.”
I want to cry, but instead I lay my head on Wesley’s neck.
“I think he might actually be really into her. As in, this isn’t just some fling like he normally has.”
“Well, that could be good, right?” Wesley lays his head on mine. “I mean, if your dad’s happy? And I’m assuming you like Taylor’s mom?”
“I love her,” I say. “She’s been kind of like a… second… mom to me ever since my own mom…”
It’s so hard to talk about that I just give up.
“I understand.” Wesley nods.
“But I just didn’t think my dad would…”
I trail off again.
“Move on?” he asks.
“Yes. I guess. I mean, he always says that my mom was the only love of his life. And what if he just…”
“Replaces her?”
“Yes. It sounds awful, right? But you read my mind.”
“No one could ever replace your mom, Chels.”
Chels.
I’ve never had a nickname. I like the way it sounds. It cheers me up, which I know is what I need right now.
“I know.”
“Coach Thompson can be a real pain in the ass,” he tells me, and I laugh.
“Yeah. Tell me about it.”
“But he’s a good guy. He’s really done a lot for me. Given me a chance when no one else would.”
He stiffens up a bit and although I’m curious, I know better than to ask what exactly he means.
“I want him to be happy,” he continues. “I know you do too.”
“Yes,” I agree. “I just have to learn how to deal with it somehow.”
“I’m sure I can help.”
We both laugh.
“I’m sorry I got jealous,” he says, rubbing my back and then kissing my neck. “It was stupid of me.”
Now his eyes look eager to let me in and I think that maybe, just maybe, he and I could work. I’ve never opened up like this to anyone before, and apparently he’s not used to it either.
But this was only supposed to be a fling. Why can’t I just have a rebellious time with the star quarterback… the guy I’m supposed to avoid the most?
Why do I have to let my heart get involved? And what if I hand him my heart, only for him to break it?