Chapter 26 – Wesley
“I’m not saying I was scared to ride The Beast,” I quickly tell Chelsea, not being able to stand her piercing blue eyes boring into my own.
“Okay, so what, then?” she asks, laying her head on my shoulder.
I’m beginning to regret bringing it up. But I was so touched by how she’d told me about her own inner demons— and mortified that I’d accidentally brought her around my crazy parents— that it felt like the perfect time to share.
“I just… this one thing happened when I was younger that made it so that I wasn’t a huge fan of stuff like roller coasters.”
I begin giving her another back massage, just to have something to focus on besides my embarrassment. And because touching her feels so damn good no matter the situation.
“Oh?”
She’s looking down at her hands, obviously trying not to seem overly interested and I appreciate it. I guess it’s time I told this story to someone, since I never have.
“My parents have been married for ions, but they should have gotten divorced a long time ago if you ask me,” I say, kneading her shoulders with my hands.
“That feels great,” she moans, and then she returns her head to my own shoulder. “Sorry. Go on.”
“As you can tell, they just fight all the damn time. It’s always like this. It’s so annoying. And as a kid, it was confusing, because they act like a big happy family, but everything is always so chaotic. All the time. I began to realize they never paid any attention to me, because they were so busy hating each other.”
“That sucks,” she says, sounding righteously indigent on my behalf.
“I’d often go over to my grandpa’s house,” I continue, “because he would focus just on me, whereas when I was with them I often felt like I didn’t even exist.”
“Makes sense.”
She nods, into my shoulder, as I continue massaging her neck.
“It’s good that you had a close bond with your grandfather.”
“Definitely,” I agree. “Sadly, he’s gone now. So I can…”
I pause.
Fuck.
I always say the wrong thing. This is why I hate talking about anything like this to anyone.
“Relate to the fact that my mom’s gone?” Chelsea guesses.
“Yeah. I was going to say that. But I know it’s not the same thing. And I don’t want to act like it is.”
“I’m sure it’s very similar,” she says. “You were really close with your grandfather from what it sounds like.”
“I was. He was like a second father to me and sometimes a better one, as awful as that sounds.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But anyway,” I shake my head, trying to focus on the good memories I have with my grandfather instead of how much it sucks that he’s no longer here. And then I continue. “At the park near our house there was a big structure kids could climb up on. This was before the days of everything having to be so safe to avoid litigation.”
Chelsea chuckles.
“It was one of those things built out of metal, that had stairs to climb, a flat circular place to rest on, and more stairs to climb, and then once you get up high there’s another smaller, flat circular place where you can see all around, all across the playground and everything.”
“Oh yeah,” Chelsea nods again. “I think I know what you mean. I vaguely remember those. They were much more fun than the litigation- safe playground equipment that kids have to settle for today.”
“Exactly,” I say, and laugh again. I love how she thinks. “Well, I loved to climb on it and once I was all the way at the top, I’d cry out, ‘Superman!’ and I’d say, ‘Are you ready to catch me, Grandpa?’ He’d nod his head— he was always the strong but silent type— and I’d jump down from the highest part. He’d catch me and swing me around, making it seem like I was flying, like Superman.”
“Awesome,” she says, smiling. “Those were the days.”
“They sure were.”
I pause here, remembering my days at the park with Grandpa.
“Well, once I was at the playground with my mom and dad,” I continue, reluctantly. “It was one of those days where it seemed like they were actually getting along for once, and I thought it was going to be a nice time. I climbed up to the top of the structure, and somehow, in the meantime, they’d started fighting.”
“No way!” Chelsea exclaims, sounding truly mad for me.
“Yeah. I have no idea what it was about, but as usual something set them off in the short amount of time that it took for me to climb up there. Sure, I’d had two matchbox cars in my hand and I’d played with them a bit on the top. I guess they thought I’d be up there for a while. But I was used to the game I played with Grandpa, you know?”
“Oh my god,” Chelsea says. “I think I can see where this might be going…”
“Yep. When I got bored of being up there I stood up and said, ‘Superman! Mommy, Daddy, are you ready to catch me?’ And my dad nodded. Actually, they both nodded at me, but I was focused on my dad, assuming he’d be the one to catch me.”
“Naturally.”
“So I jumped off. Only no one caught me.”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible.”
“Yeah. They had been lost in their stupid argument, and had only nodded at me because they heard me talking— not because they’d heard what I’d said, or known what it meant. Then they’d turned back to each other and had gone on fighting, leaving me to nearly face plant on the ground below. And this was before the days of the nice, padded mulch landings. I was about to get a face full of concrete.”
“Wow. That really sucks, Wesley.”
“I tried to break my fall, and for that I earned myself a broken wrist and a trip to the hospital for a re-setting and a cast. And also, a lifelong fear of heights.”
I sigh, still not completely able to believe that I’m actually admitting it.
“Well no wonder!” She exclaims.
Her face is full only of understanding, and solidarity. I’m relieved.
“I would be afraid of heights too, if that happened to me!” she says.
Suddenly I have an overwhelming feeling, as if the fear is being lifted from me. I’d been too afraid to ever tell anyone else this story, and I’d just made sure to avoid places that made me fearful of heights.
But maybe what I truly needed was someone else to truly understand and sympathize with my experience.
Maybe what I truly need is Chelsea.