She takes his hand as they cross the parking lot toward the big top. They seem to be the only adults in sight not anchored to any eager tykes.
He looks for an excuse to pull his hand away -- maybe someone's dropped a ticket or a wallet, or maybe someone needs CPR. Not that he knows CPR, but he could stand over the person and call for help and at least then he wouldn't have to hold her hand.
Why didn't he just take his hand away? Was he that much of a coward? Well, yes. But taking his hand away would be a lot easier than what was yet to come. Under the bigtop.
He hands over their tickets and they find their seats while random clowns do random tricks down below.
From the moment they enter the tent, her eyes light up and she smiles like an awestruck 10 year old. He tries not to glance over at her. Why's she so damn happy? A voice in the deep recesses of his brain says something to him about the circus, but he's too overwhelmed to listen.
She eats popcorn and cotton candy; he never knew she liked either of those. See? he tells himself. You don't really know her at all. You two are practically strangers. You're doing the right thing.
**To be continued at:
http://sportpastime.blogspot.com
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2 comments:
I love the way your guy is so dumb about himself, nervous but also brilliant in some compelling way. Like he knows himself, but maybe as a distant cousin, always a surprise.
Hilarious. The guys on stilts coming over. And the clowns stopping their antics. There are a certain class of men who have no sense of timing. Zero. Unfortunately I am one of them.
But I never broke up at the circus.
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