Feature: We Always Want to Ride the Tilt-a-Whirl

Eric Langberg

They are standing quietly in the Classic Fiction section of Goldman and Brown’s Used Books when she laughs. The sound disturbs the air and she realizes at once that she was heard throughout the store. She puts a hand over her mouth and meets his surprised gaze, her own eyes wide. She is amused by the look on his face, a mixture of lust and scorn, and this sets her to giggling again.
“What’s so funny?” he whispers, a leatherbound copy of of A Tale of Two Cities tucked under his right arm, a worn volume of Kidnapped! sitting spine-to-palm in his left hand. His hair is wild, dipping low enough to block some of the view out his square glasses. She likes that.
“It’s nothing,” she whispers, stepping closer to him without realizing it. She doesn’t have anything in her hand, although she has spent the past twenty minutes reading the embossed spines, lined up like schoolchildren on the shelf. She likes to read the titles, to be close to the books. She likes smelling the dust. But she never buys anything here. The canvas messenger bag slung over her shoulder is empty, and it stays that way.
He looks around and sees that they are alone in this aisle. “You were laughing at something,” he says.
“Yeah, it’s just... well, I was reading the titles, over there. That’s the Dickens shelf. But you knew that.” She gestures at the novel tucked under his arm. He looks down at it, surprised to see it there. She smiles.
“Anyway. I was just reading the titles, and I saw Our Mutual Friend right next to Martin Chuzzlewit, and I read them as one title. Which made me laugh.” She looks at him expectantly, and when he doesn’t say anything, she continues to speak.
“And, well I’m not sure if you’ve read it, but there’s a character named Seth Pecksniff in that book. Martin Chuzzlewit that is. And my ex-boyfriend’s name is Seth. Was Seth. Is Seth. He’s still alive. I think.” She pauses. Frowns.
“And anyway, his name was Seth. Seth Groberstein. And I was just thinking about the last time we were together. We were at this carnival, and he took me on the Tilt-a-Whirl even though I told him I didn’t want to go. And he insisted on spinning us as fast as he possibly could, and we just whirled and spun and tilted and went around and around while that corny carnival music played all around us... And I hated it. Isn’t that ridiculous? I hated it. I was so mad at him, because I had convinced myself I didn’t want to ride, but of course I did. I was just too afraid to say so.
“So I broke up with him. We stumbled off of that ride and I told him right then and there that I didn’t want to see him anymore, and that he should stop calling me. And I left him there, still swaying on his feet, and I walked right out of the carnival. I haven’t seen Seth since.” She didn’t look amused anymore. He stared.
“I’m such an idiot,” she said. She was no longer speaking to him. “We always want to ride the Tilt-a-Whirl.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cotton candy-pink cell phone. She pushed a few buttons, and then closed the phone with a snap and slid it back into her pocket as tears started to roll down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He slid Kidnapped! back into the bookshelf and reached out for her. He put his hand on her shoulder. A Tale of Two Cities fell to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust.
“I don’t have his number anymore,” she said, and they held each other in the Classic Fiction aisle of Goldman and Brown’s, held each other while the dust swirled around their feet, swirled and spun and went around and around and around, unnoticed.