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The Beauty's Beast by Eddie Cleveland (81)

Mack

2014

“Mom! Did you see us? It was crazy!” Chris bounds up to Lauren excitedly.

“Way to go, little man! That roller coaster is crazy! I would’ve died if I went on that.” Chelsea holds up her hand to Chris and he high fives it.

“I did see you, was it fun?” Lauren looks down at him with a smile.

“It was amazing! Can I go again? I just need to go pee first, but you can hold my place in the line and then when I get back you can go on it with me this time,” he instructs Lauren. You gotta respect a man with a plan.

“No, hun. I’m with Chelsea on this, I would never go on a ride that fast. We’re not all like Captain America over there,” she winks at me. “The Ferris wheel is about as daring as I get.”

“That’s right, not everyone can be a hero,” I tease her.

“Yeah, yeah. I think you’ve played that card already,” she shoots back at me, busting my chops. God, I love her. “Besides,” she looks back down at Chris, “your aunt and I are getting hungry. Don’t you guys want to eat?”

“Yeah!” Chris jumps, instantly forgetting how much he wanted to get on the Brain Drain again.

“I’ll tell ya what, bud,” Chelsea looks down at him, “how about you go with your mom and find a bathroom. I’ll head out with Mack to get us some pizza slices. That way we’ll cut our time standing in line down. Ok?”

Lauren looks over at her sister with question marks in her eyes. “Doesn’t it make more sense for you and I to get the food and for Mack to take Chris?”

“Nah,” Chelsea waves her off casually. “It’s not like you’ve gotta take him in the bathroom or anything, he’s a big kid. Besides, it’ll be a good chance for me and the Captain here to have a chat.”

Lauren searches her sister’s face and then mine, “Okay,” she answers slowly. “I guess we’ll meet you guys over at the picnic tables,” she puts her hand on Chris’s shoulder lightly and guides him away, shooting her sister one last look of suspicion before walking away with our son.

“Let’s go get some pizza!” Chelsea smiles at me and gives my arm a tap to bring me back from watching Lauren’s perfect ass swing away.

“Sure,” we walk past long lines of exhausted parents and their endless pits of energy for kids and make our way over to the food trucks.

“Hey, this was a great idea, by the way. I think Lauren needed some down time and Chris is having a blast,” Chelsea seamlessly threads her way past the oncoming crowd. I’ve gotta admit, being surrounded by so many people has been tugging at my nerves all day. Now that it’s noon, the park is packed and I can feel my blood pressure going up as the free space shrinks closer around me.

I’ve never loved huge crowds, but Afghanistan solidified my contempt. Over there, being surrounded by groups of people meant that extra diligence was needed. Constant surveying of the markets or busy streets for signs of danger or hostility. Over there, heavy crowds meant watching your men get attacked in a cowardly ambush. Over there, too many people swarming around meant death.

“I’m happy that they’re happy,” it’s not a lie. It’s the reason I’ve been fighting my instinct to get the fuck outta here every time another gaggle of strange faces has put me on edge.

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s good that you’re trying to make her happy, Mack. I mean, Lauren has had it rough for a long time now. I’m sure you’re aware.” She shoots me a pointed look that instantly pulls me from my battle with claustrophobia and makes me feel like I’m not towering over her. Damn, that dirty look must run in the family. She and her sister have it down pat. “I mean, because when you took off on her ten years ago, it didn’t seem like you were really thinking about her happiness then,” she continues. Twist the knife, why don’t ya?

“I wanted to stay with her back then too, she wasn’t having it,” I shoot back, but somehow with Chelsea giving me the side eye, I don’t have as much conviction in my voice.

“Yeah, you were both a dumb couple of kids,” she agrees. “And I can see you’ve changed. You grew up into a great man. A man that would be a powerful influence on Chris’s life,” she continues.

“Thanks,” I follow her as she weaves past an elderly couple walking about a quarter mile an hour. The smell of food tells me that we’re near the trucks before my eyes do. A mixture of scents perfume the air; the concoction is similar to the clash of spices at the market in Afghanistan. My vision blurs and suddenly sand grits under my feet where asphalt was only a second ago. The heat of the Afghani sun is searing my skin and beads of sweat break out on my forehead. I blink hard and take a deep breath. Focus. When I open my eyes, Chelsea is watching me closely. I must have stopped walking because we’re both standing still.

“You ok?” she peers at me like a child looking at a bug they’re seeing for the first time.

“Yeah, for sure. Just, uh, got dizzy for a sec. I’m good.”

“Ok,” she looks at me with one eyebrow cocked. “Well, let’s get some slices. Maybe you need some food.” She nods over at the pizza truck and we get in the line for food.

“Anyway, I’m not trying to give you a hard time or anything,” Chelsea picks up where she left off.

“You sure about that?” I look her straight in the eyes, not because of our conversation, but because it helps me stay focused on the present.

“I am. I’m actually trying to give you your props. I can see you’ve got a good heart and good intentions for my sister. I believe that people can change for the better and you’ve clearly done that.”

“Thanks, I actually have a plan for later,” I reach into my pocket.

“Hey, I don’t need to know what you plan to do with her later. We’re not that close!” she laughs and crinkles her nose the same way Lauren does.

“No, not that. Well …” I shrug, “that too.”

“Ewww.” She sticks out her pink tongue. “Can I get four slices of pepperoni and four cans of coke?” She diverts her attention to the man waiting to take our order.

He nods and I drop the velvet box in my fingers and take out my wallet instead. I hand the guy some bills and Chelsea thrusts the cans of coke at me as she balances the giant slices of pizza in her hands.

“Anyway, my plan is to propose. So you don’t need to worry about my intentions or me walking away anymore. I know you’re just doing your job as a big sister, and I appreciate that Chelsea.”

The truth is, Chelsea has always looked after Lauren in one way or another, even since we were all kids. I remember when I was seven and I pulled all the heads off Lauren’s Barbie dolls and tossed them in the mud. Lauren cried like I had killed actual people and Chelsea chased me out of the yard with a skipping rope. And I don’t mean she gently skipped over to me and asked me to leave. I mean she looped that rope over her hand and swung it at me like a whip. She was never one to mess with, even when she was nine.

She stops in her tracks and her brown eyes go wide. “You’re proposing? Seriously? Oh my God, that’s awesome!” She haphazardly tries to throw her pizza filled hands around me in an awkward hug.

“Thanks,” I smile and pat her back with the cold coke cans in my hand.

“Ok, we’re good now for sure,” she beams at me. “Let’s find some seats and keep an eye out for them,” she scans the picnic tables in front of us, littered with bodies and fast food. “Oh, wait! Have you ever seen this guy?” Chelsea points toward one of the food trucks with her elbow. “You’ve got to see this, it’s amazing!” She takes off in the direction of the truck with a sign that says “Fruit Ninja” on the side.

I guess the table is going to have to wait. I wade my way through the crowd toward the display and fight the anxiety climbing up my throat.

Chelsea and I come to a standstill in a group of onlookers at the side of the truck. The man behind the counter is a middle aged white dude with a martial arts belt tied around his head, Karate kid style.

Um, ok. What the fuck?

On the butcher block in front of him is a grapefruit, watermelon, pineapple and other fruit.

“What’s the deal?” I ask Chelsea.

“He makes frozen yogurt with that stuff, but just watch, this is cool. I saw him on that food truck show on Food Network.”

My eyes settle back on the fruit ninja as he takes in a deep breath and leans down under the counter to grab something. Suddenly he pops back up with a Japanese Katana sword in his hands. The blade glints in the sun as he lifts it up over his head. “Hi-eee-ah!” he shouts, swinging it down, splitting the pineapple in two.

The crowd around me erupts into clapping and cheers. Someone bumps into my elbow and I drop the cans of coke on the ground.

Oh shit.

I can’t tear my eyes away even as I watch the blade thicken and transform before my eyes. The sleek sword grows short and crude as it turns into an ax in his hands.

Fuck.

“Hi-eee-ah!” he screams, the ax chops down into the grapefruit and I stare in disbelief as the belt around the man’s head twists up into a turban. His white skin tans darker before my eyes and his little chin sprouts a salt and pepper beard.

I freeze. My throat burns dry and I can’t speak. The food truck disappears and the sand returns. I’m back at the Shura again.

He lifts the ax back up again and yells loudly, “No!” I manage, but it’s too late. I watch as the blade sinks into Thompson’s head, the blood dripping down over his lips as the pink of his brain is exposed to the air.

I force my feet to move, the asphalt reappears under my shoes as I instinctively hurdle myself to the side of a garbage can. The bile rises in my throat and I puke into the can, grasping onto the sides for support. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I look back over my shoulder at the scene. The fruit ninja truck reappears and on the block is a watermelon cut in two. Not my corporal’s head.

People I’ve never met stare at me and judge, but I don’t care. Fuck people.

“Shit, are you ok? What happened?” Chelsea swoops up beside me.

“Yeah,” I lie. “I’m good, I uh, I guess that roller coaster did more of a number on me than I thought.” I try to sound convincing.

“Really? We should probably get Chris and Lauren and get you back to the hotel then.”

“No!” She steps back and peers up at me. “Sorry, I just don’t want to ruin such a nice day. I’m fine, I really am. I’m just not as young as I used to be, can’t take those crazy rides anymore I guess.” My voice has more conviction now. I almost believe myself. “Plus, I still want to take Lauren on the Ferris wheel. That’s where I want to propose. I swear, I’m fine, ok? Don’t tell her about this, it’ll just get her all worried again.” I plead.

Chelsea bites her lip and searches my face for the truth. “Ok,” she agrees finally. “Let’s go find them. But no more roller coasters!” she chides.

“Cross my heart,” I follow her toward the picnic tables.

I can promise that I won’t go on anymore roller coasters, but how can I promise that this will never happen again?

I can’t.