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It was a cool day in the beginning of September, almost unseasonably so. Emma thought that was why James had agreed to go with her to Coney Island; the coolness of the evening air had her in a sweatshirt and jeans and justified him wearing a light long-sleeve jacket and gloves. She understood his hesitance when it came to walking around with a metal arm; despite the fact that she wasn’t off-put by it, she imagined she was one of few that might not be. It was jarring, although less-so for her because of her field of study she imagined.
She noted with amusement the surprise on his face when she took his left hand, wrapped in the smooth leather of his glove, as they approached the entrance of the park. She smiled at him, leaning into his side a little. His metal arm had no give but it was a welcome, sturdy presence against her.
“Are you okay?” she asked, tilting her head back up at him. He nodded a little, eyes searching their surroundings without his head turning too much. His hair was pulled back, tied in a low ponytail with a baseball cap low on his forehead. She wore her requisite gray MIT sweatshirt, the letters a deep red denoting her alma mater, and soft jeans with sneakers. The park was lit up as the sun sunk below the horizon, their path clear save for the throng of bodies around them.
“You know, I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” Emma sighed softly, smiling as they started further in. Carnival games and rides surrounded them; memories of her childhood visits with her parents warmed her.
“It’s been a while,” he offered quietly, hand gripping hers gently. She hesitated and looked up at him with a small amount of shock.
“Are you making fun of me?”
He grinned, insomuch as she had ever seen him do so, and leaned forward to tap her forehead with the brim of his baseball cap. “Never,” was his response. His grin faded a little as he turned back to the scene in front of them. “I haven’t been here since I was a teenager,” he murmured, eyes never resting for long in one place.
“What’s your favorite ride?”
It took him a long moment to respond; he could see several of them and searched out the ferris wheel before lifting the hand she wasn’t holding to point at it over the distance. “That.”
“Me too,” she smiled, hand not holding his lifted to curve softly around his metal bicep. “Let’s ride it. Then we can find something to eat. Do you like elephant ears?”
He made a face, stopping in his trek towards the ferris wheel, as he looked over his shoulder at her. “Elephant ears?”
“You know…Big, flat fried doughy goodness loaded with cinnamon sugar?”
The memory of what she was talking about dawned on him and he laughed – a genuine sort of laugh, one she was quickly beginning to appreciate even in its rarity. “Oh, those. Yes. Who doesn’t?”
“Communists,” she snorted, responding to his question. He stiffened a little, which she noted as odd, but she didn’t question. “Come on,” she tugged gently at his arm, pulling him along to the ride of their choice.
He paid – which she hadn’t expected and they hadn’t discussed – before she settled into the seat on his right. Hesitantly, after a moment, James slid the glove off of his hand and curved his calloused fingers between hers. Emma turned and smiled at him, holding his hat with one hand as she leaned over to kiss him.
The car of the ferris wheel rocked a little and she laughed in surprise. James grunted in disapproval at the squeaking sound the car made as it swung back and forth by its seemingly precarious attachment. Emma laughed again, raising an eyebrow as she looked over to his metal hand clutching the edge of the seat.
“I thought you said you liked ferris wheels?” she grinned, teasing him before she set her elbow on her side of the car and her chin in her hand. The car climbed slowly as the wheel rotated them up towards the top.
“It’s so beautiful up here,” Emma murmured against the din of the crowd below them.
“It is,” came James’ response. She turned to look at him and smiled to see that he was looking at her too.
“You’re quite handsome, you know that?” she reached her hand up, touching the dimple in his chin that was sometimes harder to see with his perpetual scruff.
“Not half as good lookin’ as you, doll.” When he spoke, his voice sounded different – lighter a little, and with the remnants of an accent that sounded like it belonged. After the words left him, he looked just as surprised as she did. For her part, Emma blushed a little before she laughed.
She assumed, of course, that he was mocking their surroundings – not that an old part of him, the part Steve called ‘Bucky’, was trying to break through. When she responded her voice was laced in her Baltimore accent, sounding more like a Bostonian than a New Yorker. “You sure know how to sweet talk a lady, fella.” At this, he smiled. She continued, hand that was resting forgotten on his chest now moving to tuck an errant piece of hair behind his ear. “You keep looking at me like that and we’re going to make a right spectacle.”
At this, James let his head fall back and he laughed. He laughed deeply and honestly, as if this was the first funny thing he had heard in all of his life. When he finally looked at her again, they were both grinning broadly. His left hand finally leaving its grip on the side of the car, he shifted enough to reach over and cup her cheek.
“Looking at you like how, Em?”
He hadn’t called her Em before and she liked it. Her smile softened but was no less bright as she tilted her head into his touch. “Like I’m somethin’ special, wise guy.”
James chuckled softly and used the hand against her cheek, sliding it back into her hair a little, to tug her halfway over and meet him in the middle. “You don’t know the half of it, doll.”