Brayden, Melissa - How Sweet It Is

In life, like a Ferris wheel, you start your journey just as others are completing theirs. There was something very poetic about that and the parallel eased her fears, if only a tad. And this week had been about tackling old fears.

Part three of her plan involved facing what she found most terrifying in life. She’d made a habit of backing down from all that scared her, and it was time she put an end to that tendency. Riding this Ferris wheel wasn’t necessarily something she wanted to do, but something she had to do.

So she’d made some calls and tracked down the closest Ferris wheel she could find and made the two-hour drive after closing time. From where she was now, it was only another hour to Chicago, her next stop. And if she could just convince herself to get on the stupid ride, she might get there before the cows came home.

It was a process.

“Last call for the big wheel,” the ride operator called out. “Last call!” The amusement park closed at seven on weekdays. She’d known that going in. She’d just been dragging her feet, the fear crippling her.

Her stomach flip-flopped and her mind raced, but she forced herself to her feet. If she wanted to live life without regrets, she had to learn to be courageous. To go after what she wanted. This was training ground in front of her and she was ready. She wouldn’t be held back by fear any longer.

“One ticket, please,” she told the operator with confidence. She counted out the dollar bills and exchanged them for a blue ticket stub that she gripped harder than was necessary as she settled herself into the swinging car.

That’s when it hit.

What the hell was she thinking? She couldn’t do this. It had been a nice thought. Really. A brave overture on her part, and who didn’t want to be brave? But yeah, no, this wasn’t going to happen. The panic attack was in full force, and she struggled to catch her breath. The air around her felt unusually warm and she tugged at the collar of her shirt. She had to get off this thing. Now. She opened her mouth to signal the ride attendant, but her voice simply wasn’t there. She gripped the bar in front of her in terror as her car rose higher and higher a little bit at a time as each new passenger boarded the ride.

This was bad. This was really bad.

She forced herself to breathe. Seven seconds in. Five seconds out. It wasn’t long before her car eased to the top of the wheel and paused there. As a coping mechanism, instead of focusing on how far she was from the ground, she raised her face skyward and watched the stars.

And whoa. There it was, right in front of her. Clear as day.

Her eyes trained on a grouping of stars that, if she wasn’t crazy, seemed to be concentrated in the shape of the number eight. She laughed out loud, tears and all. It was a sign if she had ever seen one. It meant she was doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing in this moment. She nodded her head and accepted the challenge in front of her just as the wheel began to circle.

On the first go-round, she clung to the bar for dear life, barely sneaking a look at the world as it passed. She would just wait this thing out and get out of there.

But on the second go-round, her hands loosened their grip and her breathing returned to semi-normal. That was something. The ride moved a bit too fast for her liking and it made her stomach drop in that way she couldn’t stand, but she was managing. Score one for her.

Then something miraculous happened. As the wheel continued to circle, she began to enjoy the sensation. The wind in her hair was refreshing and the panic shifted into some sort of welcome exhilaration. She let go of the bar and sat back in her seat, taking in the panoramic view, the ever-changing neon lights of the park, and the night all around her. Music played from the speaker in her car and her spirits soared in victory.

It was over faster than she thought it would be. Before she knew it, the attendant was pulling back the bar and releasing her from the ride. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. Surprised, he patted her back awkwardly. But she didn’t let go.

“You must have enjoyed yourself, huh?” he asked nervously. He probably thought she was a crazy person and maybe she was.

“It was the best ever. Very helpful. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“Do you mind if I ask your name? You’re kind of part of this whole memory now.”

He pointed to the letters sewn onto his shirt. “Leonard, ma’am.”

“Leonard. Len. That’s a great name. I have to go now, Leonard.” She squeezed his hand.

“Okay. Have a nice night.”

“That’s the plan,” she called over her shoulder.

*

“Hey, Mom. It’s me.” Jordan adjusted her rearview mirror to soften the obnoxious headlights from the car behind her. God, she hated driving at night and much preferred mass transportation.

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m on the road. Headed into Applewood, actually. A friend of mine is moving to town this weekend and I offered to help.”

“A friend of yours is moving to Applewood?”

“Yeah, you remember George. Long story. But listen, it’s kind of last minute, but I wanted to see if you and Dad were free for dinner. I know you all tend to eat kind of late, so I thought I’d risk it.” It was a bold move to call and arrange to spend time with them, but she wanted to try to work on their relationship. They were good people. And they were hers. Why wouldn’t she try to fix things?

Her mother’s voice lit up at the invitation. “Jordan, we would love that. Your father’s still at the office with a patient, but he shouldn’t be that much longer. I’ll give him a call. What time will you be here?”

She checked the clock. “Maybe eightish?”

“I’ll have some sort of dinner waiting, even if I have to order in. We can stay in and you can tell us all about the progress you’ve made with Journey. I know you must be working hard.”

She smiled. It seemed she wasn’t the only one ready to work on things. She was really looking forward to it. “I’ll call Mikey and see if he wants to stop by later.” Maybe this could be a regular thing, family get-togethers. She could make a point of visiting more often. It was a step in the right direction at least.

Then her mind drifted to where it always seemed to. She wondered if she’d see Molly over the course of the weekend. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to. The next day was Flour Child’s last. Molly would be a wreck. She wanted to find a way to be there for her, but it just wasn’t the best idea. It would be too difficult to be close to her and yet so far away at the same time.

Maybe Molly was right and over time it was something they could work up to. It was wishful thinking at its best.

*

Molly checked her GPS. She was only twenty-two miles outside of Chicago and just thirty minutes from Jordan’s apartment. When she’d explained her plans to the Tuscanas, they’d been helpful enough to provide her with the address. She could only hope now that Jordan would be home. It didn’t matter though. She could wait if she had to. She’d waited this long.

So she sang to Janis Joplin and drove with the windows down, praying to God she’d be heard when she arrived. The buzzing from her back pocket snagged her attention. She checked the readout on her phone, and in strange news found it was coming from the clinic. “Hello?”

“Abort. Abort the mission.”

“Joseph, is that you?”

“Yes. Turn around. The eagle is not in Chicago.”

“Eagle? What eagle?”

“The target. The eagle means the target. Haven’t you ever seen a spy movie?”

“I don’t speak spy. You’re telling me Jordan is not in Chicago?” She pulled her car off the road onto the shoulder. “What do you mean? Where is she?”