The Dream Before the Dark ✓

26 | When the Sun Goes Down

So she climbed into the back seat, something she hadn't done in several years. She wasn't even sure when the last time the three of them had ridden in the car together was. Something about riding in the back row made her feel like she was in high school again, which wasn't a particularly pleasant feeling, but it reminded her of how far she'd come since then despite rarely feeling like she was making the progress she wanted to.

Having Mom there made small talk in the car go much more smoothly than it would have were it just Jen and Dad present. She did most of the talking, so all Jen really had to do was smile and nod at the right moments. She was actually somewhat excited to be coming back to the fair. Up until the accident, the three of them had gone together every year, but they'd been inconsistent at it ever since then due to both the new strain on their relationships and Jen's decision to remain in Chicago after college.

As her eyes kept drifting back to her parents' interlocked hands on the middle console, a tightening sensation formed in her stomach. Swaths of trees outside her window passed in a continuous blur of browns and greens until they eventually rumbled into the gravel parking lot at the fair, which was packed with cars and almost completely full.

The pebbles crunched beneath her shoes as they walked up to the ticket stand, and Jen suspected that her soles would be coated with a fine sheen of ashy powder by the end of the night as a result. But her heart expanded at the sight of the festivities, a wave of nostalgia rolling over her like a wave when they stepped through the front gates. Kids were running around and tugging on their parents' hands, their little fingers stained with powdered sugar from whatever deep-fried delicacies they'd been munching on. Groups of teenagers happily chattered amongst themselves while they waited in line for the rides and carnival games. The bright, flashing lights, loud music, and shrieks of delight made the air feel like it was pulsing with excited energy, creating the kind of invigorating atmosphere that you didn't find anywhere else.

"Where should we start?" Jen asked.

Mom gave her a sideways look, one edge of her mouth tugging into a knowing smile. "Wanna ride the ferris wheel?"

Jen broke into an unabashed grin—the ferris wheel was their favorite ride to go on together when she was little. She'd already grabbed her mother's hand and started to pull her off before she thought to turn around and check if Dad was coming with them.

He lightly shook his head. "The benches only fit two, anyway, so I'll wait for you guys at the exit."

Both girls nodded and rushed off towards the line, hand in hand. The queue was one of the longer ones, winding back and forth like the body of a snake, but she was willing to wait. They wouldn't get this chance again for at least another year. When they finally got to the front of the line, she scampered on with all the unfettered, eager delight of a child.

Jen was never afraid of heights. Being so far up in the air made her feel lighter, made breathing a little easier. Existence up there felt untainted, like they got to spend a few minutes in a new small universe that was untainted by all of their mistakes. The stars above seemed almost close enough to touch, while the neon galore below seemed like it was a whole world away. From here, she could simply look down on it and admire its beauty without being sucked into all of its chaos. So as they rose higher into the air, her spirits lifted, also.

"So, how has my little girl been?" Mom asked her once they were nearly to the very top.

"I'm happy," Jen murmured a little dreamily, still gazing at the wonderland beneath them.

Mom's eyes, reflecting the warm flood of light from below, gleamed like fire. Mischievous amusement was dancing through them as she questioned, "Are you still seeing that boy?"