One

(STEEL)

It’s the start of July, and we’re still in Mississippi. We’ve been weaving around, hitting all the little towns Papa Smurf arranged to get us a weekend in. It seems like we’re going to be in this sweat-box of a state all summer.

Emily doesn’t seem to mind though. Even after four months, she’s still fresh with the excitement of being in the carnival.

Cess says she’s a real natural at getting men to play their game. Can’t say I’m surprised one bit. She just has to flash that pretty smile and let her blue eyes twinkle, and they start digging into their pockets for a chance to impress her.

I’m lying in bed awake, coated in sweat even in the middle of the night. Emily’s beside me, sleeping on her back like a baby. Propping myself up on my elbows, I examine her.

All the curtains are wide open to let as much breeze through the open windows as possible. The light from outside outlines her face. I still can’t believe I wake up next to such a beautiful woman every day. More than that, I can’t believe I want to.

For the past nine months, I’ve had scantily dressed townies throwing themselves at me, begging me for a piece of action. The whole idea of touching someone else turns my stomach. I’m not interested. Not a single one has remotely tempted me.

No, this woman right here is the only one I want. The one who’s more than just a pretty face with crazy long legs I love feeling wrapped around me.

Unable to resist any longer, I brush my fingers down the side of her cheeks and along her neck. I bend down and kiss her forehead. Emily shifts her body, and half opens her eyes.

My intention wasn’t to wake her up, just touch her to make sure she’s real.

“What’re you doing?” She asks.

“Nothing. Just lying here and thinking about how lucky I am to have you next to me.”

Emily’s mouth turns up in a sleepy smile, her eyelids heavy.

“You just want sex.”

“I don’t. It’s too hot for that. It must be a hundred degrees in this tin can.”

“We should pay to get the air conditioning working.”

“Too expensive, we only do that if it goes up another twenty degrees.”

“Then go to sleep.”

I chew the inside of my lip, trying to find a way to tell what I can’t get out of my mind lately. I’m not good with this stuff, I’ve never had to deal with it, with feelings, before.

Lying flat, I wrap my arm over her and pull her tight to me. My heart’s hammering against my chest, but I’ve got to tell her. I have to.

“You’ve changed me, Goldie,” I say, forcing the words out my throat.

Emily’s eyes open, and she turns her head to look at me. In the dim light, our eyes lock together.

“How?” She says, her voice a whisper.

“In about every way possible,” I say and swallow.

“You’ve changed me, too,” she says. “I was such a little kid when you found me. Now I feel like a normal adult, one with an amazing man at my side.”

“I kind of feel like you did the same thing to me.” She has made me grow up. I’d never wanted to be an adult before. I only ever wanted to play at my job, my women, everything.

“It’s lots of fun living in this trailer with you. Even if it is an oven,” she says, all trace of sleepiness gone from her voice.

“Hope you don’t see this as slumming it.” Papa Smurf keeps warning me that rich girls like her go through a phase of playing poor with a man, out of curiosity and rebellion.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“I mean, you’re not playing a game here or nothing. Playing at being poor for the summer, then go back to your nice, rich life afterwards.”

“This isn’t a game to me. This is real. Lying here with you, that’s definitely not slumming it by any definition of the world.”

“Most people would consider living in a tiny trailer and traveling with the carnival to be the definition of slumming it.”

“That’s because people are stupid. You just have to look at the ones forking out for games they can’t win on the midway to know that.”

“You know I’ll never be able to buy all that fancy stuff your parents have and you’re used to.” It kills me to think I could never give her everything she wants.

“If I’ve learned anything this summer, it’s that material stuff doesn’t matter. It was all just a way to mask an empty life. It wasn’t real the way you are.”

I ignore her comment. I have to say what I need to say before I chicken out again.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Since I met you, these thoughts and feelings keep percolating around in me, and I didn’t know what they were at first. That happens when you’ve had my life. But now I think I know what it is.” I’m halting and rambling, but the warmth of her eyes gives me the courage to carry on. “Goldie, I ain’t never said this to anyone before, but I think I love you. I’m sure of it, I love you.”

A tear trickles from her eye and across the bridge of her nose. She doesn’t say anything. Please don’t reject me. Maybe I should’ve kept my big mouth shut. My heart stops, waiting.

After an eternity, she says, “Since I met you, I realize how unhappy I was before. My life was suffocating.” Her voice breaks, and tears stream steadily from her eyes and onto the sheet. “You’ve given me so much, and you’ve made me feel loved — loved for who I am and not what I’m supposed to be. I could never express how grateful and lucky I am for your love. And I love you too, Steel. I love you for who you are, Kayden.”

She said my real name. It felt good. Emily’s words hit me and squeeze around my ribs, forcing my heart to beat again. I’d even say it’s beating different now than it did before. Thumping like each beat is full instead of it rattling around empty.

The idea had crossed my mind before, but now I want it. I need it.

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” I start, my words unsure, “I can’t imagine going another day of my whole life without seeing you.”

She swallows and starts, “Me…”

I interrupt her and carry on, “We have this thing at the carnival, a tradition. And you know us carnies, it’s what matters. Our tradition. It means more than those government rules. I’m a carny, and tradition matters a lot to me.”

“What are you saying?”

I take a deep breath to try to stop my rambling. “What I’m saying is, I want to marry you. Here in the carnival. In our tradition.”

“Are you serious?” She says, sitting up, turning her head to keep our eye contact.

“Yes. Of course.”

“What does your tradition mean?”

“It means you’d be my wife. Mine forever. Real as any wedding there is. So how about it? Emily, will you marry me?” I’ve never called her by her real name before, I hadn’t intended to, it just came out.

“Yes,” she pauses, “on one condition.”

My heart sinks into my gut.

“What’s that?”

“I can’t marry someone when I don’t know where he’s from.”

“Is that the only condition? That’s easy. I’m from Niagara Falls. You happy now? Because I don’t want you thinking I’m keeping secrets from you. You know me better than anyone in the world, who I really am, stuff that matters, not trivial things like where I’m from originally.” I wish she’d stop bringing up my past.

“Thank you,” she says, and flings her arms around me.

We hold each other tight, and I know she’s all I need. And I’m sure I’m all she needs.

“We have to get Papa Smurf’s blessing,” I say.

“Why?” She mutters, her face pressed against me.

“It’s the tradition. He gives his blessing, and performs the ceremony on the Ferris wheel. Three times around, and you’re mine forever.”

“That sounds fun,” she says.

“Promise me this isn’t a game to you. This is as real to me as any church wedding.”

“I promise. This is no game. I want to be in your arms, just like I am now, when I’m a little old lady.”

A lump the size of a basketball forms in my throat, and I squeeze her tighter.