Fairground Attraction

It was our first date and, as if we weren't in our fifties but in our teens, we headed down the shore from different New Jersey towns to go on the rides, play Skee-Ball, and make out on the beach. Kids, dogs, jobs--a night at Seaside had not happpened in our lives for decades. Is there anything better than sliding across the vinyl seat of the Himalaya and being caught in a boy's arms while you're both laughing?

We had never met in person, but between FaceTime and texts we were not disappointed as we gazed at each other, delirious with a hopefulness that teenagers would never feel because it sat on top of disapointment and loss; lives already filled with surprises that had had to be dealt with. He took my hand and we began to walk to the rides, thrilled when we stood in front of the screaming kids holding onto the bars of their Himalaya cars. Aerosmith blared through the speaker as if it was 1977 and he said, "nothing's changed," and I said, "I feel like I'm 15," and he said, "you are so beautiful," and I smiled.

We got on the ride and I stayed on the other end of the bench because I couldn't wait to slide into him from the speed that would soon help us lose control. He knew. He smiled. Going down the shore and on the rides was all about the slide into the kiss and in order to kiss you needed the ride.

The music started up again and the cars began to move forward in a circle. Louder and faster, faster and louder, as I lost my grip on the pole in front of us and slid into him, I noticed a black notebook stuck in the corner the seat, just where I had been only a moment ago. Then I slid more, right into him, and I turned to face him, laughing, and somehow he kissed me, even though we were laughing and I was scrunched into him so hard I felt like I could be pushed through him by the force of the air. It was a kiss that erased decades of the past and turned us toward the future.

As we got off the ride, my hand in his, I grabbed the little black notebook, thinking I would return it to the teenager in the booth, but I could feel something in it, and so, taking my hand out of his, I opened it to see what I had found.

Cash. It was a lot of cash, and he looked down as I opened the notebook a little more, both of us staring at it. I looked up at him and he looked down at me, then I closed the little black notebook tightly and put it in the pocket of my jean jacket. I put my hand back in his as we walked off the ride together, quiet with our secret. I knew he wouldn't take me to Skee-ball or the beach now. Instead, we walked back toward our cars. Getting into his old black Volkswagen, I thought, is this the end of our day? Those few minutes had been magical and money had not even entered our joy, but now, suddenly, I knew we were going to count this cash, and then what?

It wasn't like we could ignore it. Or not count it. Still, neither of us seemed as happy as we had been on the ride, before the money. There was no laughter and no kissing.

Now, as we sat in his car, almost breathless again, because the counting went on and on, so much so that I had to take a pen out of my purse and rip paper out of the notebook to label the stacks, he continued to count until he got to $20,000. As he counted, I looked for clues in the book, but the writing was all in Russian. It must belong to one of the young men who came down the shore to work the boardwalk and we probably had all of his savings, all of the money a young man needed just to live.

Just then, scaring both of us, someone pounded on the glass of the driver's side of the truck. "My money! My money! You found my money!" and before either of us could breathe or respond, a man opened the car door and took the notebook and the cash out of our hands. "Thank you, thank you!" The man gathered it up while, both of us still in shock, he left us with a few bills and ran away.

Smiling, my new boyfriend handed me two hundreds without keeping anything for himself and said, "I'm glad that's over. I had more fun on the ride than I did counting that money. Let's go play Skee-ball."