“I both doubt that completely and believe it wholeheartedly.” I unbuckle my seat belt after he pulls into a parking spot not too far from the main entrance. “You, sir, are a walking contradiction. But as luck would have it, I’m super into it.”
“Says the person running for HOA president even though she claims to hate the neighborhood and is afraid of heights but loves roller coasters.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shrug, tucking my hand in his as we walk up to the front gate. “All of those things make perfect sense.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. He either sees the logic in my statement or—more likely—knows I will argue about this for the rest of my life and he’s better off dropping it.
I walk in the direction of the long line leading into the fair when Nate tightens his grip on mine and pulls me to the side.
“I bought tickets online.” He shows me the tickets on his phone. “We don’t have to wait in line.”
Holy crap.
Is this what it’s like to date an organized, responsible adult? Someone is always prepared and you’re not rushing around, trying to do things last minute?
The date has barely begun and it’s already my best date ever.
I look down my nose at all the couples waiting in line, judging the Joe Schmoes who didn’t think ahead like Nate did as we walk past them and the fair opens up in front of us. Who needs the pearly gates of heaven when this is accessible on earth?
We walk past the giant cardinal statue at the entrance and into the crowds milling around. Game booths and food trucks line each side of the pathway leading deeper into the fair. Picnic tables are scattered about and filled with adults and children eating giant corn dogs and trying to lick their ice cream cones before they melt all over them.
We make it to the end of the path and reach our first fork in the road. Rides sit to the left of us while more food trucks are straight ahead and the arenas are on the right.
“What do you want to do first?” Nate lets me take the lead. “If I remember correctly, you had some kind of schedule you used to make us stick to.”
It sounds a little unhinged when he says it like that, but it’s true. There’s an art to getting optimal enjoyment out of a fair. If you start with food, you end up with your head in the toilet when you move to rides. If you start with the arena shows, your legs get all tired, and then you need to inhale sugar, which will also disrupt the rides.
It’s science.
“Thank you for remembering. I do take my fair agenda very seriously,” I say with total sincerity. “We need to see what the show schedule is, but the general outline is rides first, then food, then a show, back to rides, and grab a final treat on the way out.”
If I had this level of focus and discipline in any other area of my life, I could run the world. But as it stands, I run the fair and that’s good enough for me.
* * *
? ? ?
After we settle on the lumberjack show and petting zoo, we head to the rides. Nate pulls me to the ticket booth and we each get a wristband so we can ride as many rides as we want to.
Peter took me to the Creative Arts Emmys one year. I bought a new fancy dress and had my hair and makeup professionally done. It was a fantastic date night.
It doesn’t hold a candle to this.
I don’t know what day of the fair it is, but the lines to the rides aren’t too long. Nate follows me from ride to ride as I zigzag my way through the most dangerous-looking ones first.
“Oh my god! Do you remember that ride?” I grab Nate’s hand and point to the Gravitron. “It’s the one where you stand in front of the board and as it spins around, you’re suctioned to the wall and it moves up and down.”
It was my favorite ride as a kid. It felt like magic as I climbed upside down while my cheeks were being pushed to my ears. I’m not sure my adult body will handle it as well, but I’m willing to give it a try.
“Is that the one we went on with your dad and he ended up sitting on a bench with a warm pop for the rest of the day?”
I laugh remembering the way my poor dad came off the ride looking so pale, he was almost the same shade as me. He couldn’t even speak; it was like he’d witnessed war and not just gone on a ride with his daughter and her friend.
“Yup, that’s the one.” After that day, the only ride he’d ever get on with me was the Ferris wheel and the very occasional go on the Tilt-A-Whirl. My mom, on the other hand, loves a ride as much as I do. I might have to come back again with her. “Do you think you can handle it or are you going to pull an Anderson Carter?”
“My goal is to live as closely as possible to Anderson Carter in just about every aspect of life,” he says, looking down at me with a knowing smirk. “But I think I’m going to stray a little on this one.”
Even though we’ve moved past most of our issues, when he says that, I can’t help the wave of annoyance that rushes over me. If he admires my dad so much, how was he so quick to issue the HOA fine that launched a thousand wars? I don’t want to be the one who causes this truly perfect date to go sideways, but as we stand in line and wait for our turn, I can’t stop thinking about it.
“Can I ask you something?”
Worry creases his forehead, but he still nods. “Of course. You can ask me anything.”
“The HOA fine.” I take a breath and think about how to ask my question. I don’t want him to become defensive. “If you love my dad so much, why did you issue the fine?”
Since Ashleigh tends to lean a little—a lot—more on the gentle side of things, Ruby has taken full control of debate prep. She’s a goddamn monster and has forced me to read the bylaws more times than anyone should ever have to read HOA bylaws in their entire life. It’s cruel and unusual punishment, but the masochist can’t get enough of it.
But in repeating the bylaws to Ruby word for word and answering mock questions, I know that there was nothing wrong with my dad’s landscaping. Since the tree that was already there was knocked down by an act of God, he didn’t need to submit plans for approval from the HOA to replace it.
“I forgot about that.” His shoulders relax and a mischievous smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. “There was never a fine.”
The screams coming from the surrounding rides fade away as my focus narrows on the man in front of me. “What do you mean there was never a fine?”
“I typed up the letter at home,” he says. “I was soaking wet and pissed because you sprayed me with the hose. I had things nice and organized and then you waltz back in, turning my life upside down all over again. As soon as I saw you outside of Cool Beans, I knew I wasn’t over you. It was like no time had passed and all of the growth I’d done since high school flew out the window. I tried to think of something I could do to you that would convince you to leave, but I knew you’d brush it off. But your parents? That you’d take seriously. The joke was on me though. I thought you’d leave. I never expected you to show up at that damn meeting. I almost threw up when you stood up and announced you were running.”
I try to glare.
I want to be pissed that I might end up being the president of the HOA because Nate printed a letter in his home office.