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“This isn’t…what I expected.”
“And what were you expecting, Sasha?”
“Disney,” Mal answers, slinging his own bag onto his shoulder. With his free hand, he claps Sasha’s back.
The gesture is not appreciated. Sasha grimaces worse, if anything.
Alina finishes cinching her fanny pack around her waist. “Disney is expensive,” she reasons, “Getting there is expensive. Staying there for the weekend it would take to see everything worth seeing will cost an arm, a leg, and a kidney. I don’t want to be homeless. So the closest amusement park will do.”
It’s a fantastic substitute park, too. If you were to ask Alina to pick between this and the next biggest tourist attraction, she would drive here every time. Of course Mal is of a likemind. They’ve come here for many an Oktoberfest and gotten themselves irresponsibly blasted.
There’s nothing better in this world than cheap soda and the cotton candy mess that stains your clothes for the rest of its laundry lifetime.
Aleksander doesn’t seem as convinced, at the ticket booth. The map is daunting, at first glance. Not the biggest amusement park by far, but it’s got everything: knockoff theme rides, goofy animatronics, nighttime fireworks, scary restaurants, and the classic ferris wheel.
“Come on, before the lines get long,” she shouts over the building crowd, putting on a colorful bunny-themed hat on Aleksander’s head. It flops sadly.
Mal snorts and starts coughing himself blue. He croaks, “I think I accidentally swallowed a fly.”
“Good,” Aleksander says, pressing on the bunny ears’ ends. They make the attached pointy headpiece jingle.
They head for the first stop on the park tour. Her trusty, icebreaker ride. The Rock-and-Roller Coaster. Patented as Rock-and-Roller Coaster, to distinguish it from the much more famous Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster from Disney.
Yes, it’s very much all knockoffs, and Alina loves it.
The unlucky part about most rides, as they walk arm in arm to be seated, is that seatings are arranged for two a row. One third of their little group needs to sit either one row back, or in front.
Mal volunteers. “I’ll take the back seat for this one.”
“You sure? I know how much you love being at the very front.”
“I don’t mind this time. Sasha, do you?”
Alina fixes her seatbelt with a pout. She’d wanted them to share in all the screaming and hand-holding today. That had been her plan, when she’d invited both Mal and Aleksander in the same text. Most days, she splits her time between eating with Mal, and partner-studying with Aleksander. All three of them rarely get to be together, at the same time, without interruptions.
And she knows Sasha. He’s not the type to reach out to Mal when he has an idea about something he’d like to do.
He just, texts it out.
passed by a greyhound dog park today. [picture attachment: close-up of a greyhound’s long snout face]
reminded me of you
hey! >:(
where that at?
[pings location]
Alina only finds out because Mal shows her his phone while he’s choking from laughing so hard. “Why does that dog actually look like me?”
So, she’s riding the front of Rock-and-Roller Coaster, untrademarked, hands clenched on the security bars and staring intensely at the railing before them. She forgot most people plan their rides for pairs.
But she won’t let this unexpected hurdle for all three to sit side by side for everything get her down.
It doesn’t occur to her, in that moment, to check on Sasha. Mal had dropped a question, but Aleksander had been focused on his security garter, too. Really focused.
The seats rumble to life. A red light buzzes off, and they roll.
She screams at the first fall.
Her face beams with childlike joy, though it sounds like someone is murdering her. That’s the fun with roller coasters. It rips a primal part of you into public display, and everyone gets to join in.
On the slowing descent loop, Alina laughs out the last bit of adrenaline. The little train clicks to a stop, and her hair falls in a mess.
She sweeps it back and looks to Aleksander, to help him out if he needs it—
He’s paler than a sheet and shaking.
“Sasha?”
As everyone is getting out to bring in the next batch of riders, he’s still clenching the security bars, knuckles white from effort.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought it’d been strange that Aleksander didn’t say a peep. Didn’t complain or give his usual snark. He’d just, sat down, fixed himself into place, and endured the ride.
Alina frees herself. Mal helps to pull Sasha out and keeps him walking upright until they leave the ride premises, so Aleksander can instead grip the large metal trash bin for dear life.
“I’m not going to vomit,” he says, as if willing himself not to.
Alina’s pulse hammers hot in her face. This was supposed to be a fun day. It’s rare that the three of them can all hang out together and forget how busy they keep. She jokes that it’s her day today, but now, not an hour into their park entry, they’re fretting about Sasha’s unspoken motion sickness.
“Why didn’t you say something? If you can’t handle fast roller coasters, we would have found one of the slower rides! I wouldn’t have made you jump on one for me…”
It noticeably pains Aleksander to straighten up. He takes off his bunny ears and abandons them into Mal’s bag. “Never been to one of these…didn’t know what to prepare for.”
“You’ve never been on a ‘coaster?”
“No, these,” a frustrated noise builds from Aleksander’s throat. “One of these places.”
Mal and Alina share a look. “You mean…an amusement park?”
Aleksander doesn’t confirm it. He prefers to grit his teeth, cough, and hunch his shoulders, loathed to say anything.
Alina’s heart sinks, when he refuses to meet eyes. His stare burns down the trash bin. The silence is answer enough.
He’s never been to an amusement park before, and she’d put him on the most violent ride, first time. A part of her wants to be mad at him, because how is she supposed to know otherwise if he doesn’t say it? He never gives word to what bothers him, or discomforts him, refusing to acknowledge it until he’s in the middle of holding back breakfast from returning back the way it came.
Another part of her, the part that takes up Mal’s hand and squeezes for encouragement, remembers herself in early days in school, being in a room full of children that all had parents and siblings and lovely holiday vacation pictures, while all she had to show for were foster portraits and food stamps. The shame that came with it.
She says, “We’re taking it slow,” a determined strength in her voice. It makes Sasha look up from the trash, miserable and confused. “This is your first time in an amusement park, and I won’t let it be ruined for you.”
“Alina, you don’t have to coddle me—”
“It’s not coddling. I invited you, so I’m in charge of the trip. You’re going to have a good time.”
“You make it sound like a threat,” Mal laughs. Then, with much kinder care, he swings one of his arms around Aleksander’s waist and pries him away from his support beam. “Come on, I’ll be your crutch.”
“My crutch? You hardly walk straight on your own two left feet. I see the pavement in my near future.”
“It’s about to get much closer if you keep trying to squirm away. Stop it, you weasel.”
“Careful, Malyen, your face within biting distance.”
“What kind of warning is that? What’s next, going to claw my favorite shirt off?”
“In public?” Aleksander faux-gasps. “Who do you think I am?”
Their bickering loosens a knot in Alina’s throat. She walks ahead, and her two boys follow, with more kicking and complaining than necessary. It almost makes her laugh.
Having memorized a map of the park long ago, Alina guides them confidently to a less crowded section, lit up by hanging lanterns and bright decorations.
A carousel twinkles before them. It slows its spin to a halt just as they approach the front. Most surrounding queuers are kids and families. The operator leads them past the rope one by one.
Mal has to coax Aleksander to climb the step to a mounted horse post.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?”
Mal slaps the horse’s shiny plastic behind. “Ride it, you know. Like a cowboy.”
“Excuse me?”
Now Alina snorts. She watches them argue and push each other around the horse, until the carousel operator blows his whistle and everyone else gets ready with their ride.
“Just get on!” Alina urges from behind the safety line. “I promise you won’t fall off. Mal is very good with horses.”
The ridiculous declaration tears Aleksander free of his frozen state. A second warning whistle later, the carousel’s lights turn on, and he climbs the plastic stirrups in record speed.
Alina adds, “Try to relax, I’ll have a gift ready when you come down!”
The carousel begins its slow spin. All of the horses begin bobbing gently up and down. A few very small children scream, but then, seeing nothing wrong, start to giggle to themselves with all the pretty colors.
Alina is sure that her Sasha feels embarrassed to count among the scared little ones. So, after the five minute mark and the third whistle signals a lazy stop, she welcomes Mal and Aleksander back with kosher chicken kebabs and one enormous cotton candy.
“That hardly counted as a ride,” Aleksander grumbles, the kebab halfway eaten already.
Mal interrupts, “Are you going to share any of that?” Pointedly staring at her blue cloud of sugar.
They board the carousel a second time, with Alina riding astride her plastic horse. She’s a delicate lady, one of the little girls in the back yells. This sparks a series of pretend games across other, calmer rides, where Mal punches the plastic horse, the toy cars, the train cushions, the seat of a spinning tea cup, after calling out, “Is this guy bothering you?” every, single, time.
She manages to keep a straight face through it all, as other park enthusiasts give them weird looks.
Aleksander softens and ends up enjoying most of the family-friendly rides. He’s not the center of awkward attention, with Mal taking up the spotlight, and Alina going along with it.
Leave it to Mal to think up something silly so they all get the best of the day. He’s always been good at that, good at reading people, when the only thing she’s been good at is getting into trouble. And surviving university. If it weren’t for Mal, she wouldn’t have tried to be good at anything, either.
It’s great that Aleksander has warmed up to him. That they’ve both warmed up to each other. Sitting one seat behind them on the Swash Mountain—totally not a rip-off of Splash Mountain -trademarked—Alina sees firsthand that they do enjoy their pity squabbling. Mal may gripe on and on about being stuck with Aleksander, but he keeps their hands together.
And Sasha doesn’t let him go.
They’re walking to their last spot of the day. Alina picks staying quiet, to listen to them talk.
“So, why didn’t you tell us you’ve never been to a park before?”
“It didn’t seem like an important detail.”
“Not an important detail? You looked terrible after the Rock-and-Roller. How’s that not important?”
Aleksander parts his lips to say something, but he stops himself too soon. His expression closes off.
An appalled impatience threatens to break Alina’s carefully held silence. Why didn’t you think that was important to tell me? Has she done something to make him feel unwanted? Like they would mock him?
Argue as they might on occasion, she loved him dearly, undeniably.
What did she need to do, so he would understand that?
The invisible barrier that Aleksander rears up between them is impenetrable. It stays firmly high, despite Mal’s lighthearted attempts at decompressing again. She mirrors the gloomy mood. With no response, Mal drops the talk. Alina can’t imagine he can salvage much.
And then they reach the riverside square.
The natural progression of the park’s crowding takes them by the ferris wheel. It’s an awesome sight to behold so close. Huge, and rainbow-colored. Its gondolas’ shaped like miniature gazebos. It lifts each gondola off the ground so gracefully, like magic for the people getting in.
“Oh.”
She turns at the sound, quietly uttered by Sasha, who stares up at the spinning artistry.
“I didn’t realize they were so...immense,” he says, at a loss for better words to describe it. Alina knows the feeling. The first time she saw the wheel, she’d stood at the square in stunned awe, with Mal’s hand in her. Just like Aleksander is now.
She smiles. “Do you want to go up?”
The thought bounces around his head, unnoticed at first. It’s when he realizes they can go up that he breaks into wild-eyed concern.
“We’ll go up with you, too,” Mal abates. It goes unsaid that Mal and Alina would be joining in. Whatever one agrees to, they tackle it together, and this is important they do. All three of them.
Aleksander looks between them, then up to the gentle rocking of gondolas. He doesn’t refuse. When Alina squeezes in to take both his and Mal’s hands, he follows.
The ferris wheel is very popular, so they have to wait a while for it in line. It gives them time to unwind again, for Sasha to point out how unaesthetic the amusement park merchandise is, hanging from every booth in the square. Soon enough, Mal pulls the flexing bunny ear-hat back out of his bag, and dresses Aleksander’s head in it. Speaking of merchandise.
This has the unexpected effect of shutting them both up, as they each take up one ear end and try to figure out what type of abominable fur it’s made of.
Once their turn comes up, they climb their assigned gondola. The initial unsteadiness of the floor gives Aleksander pause, but with Mal bringing back his ‘Is this guy bothering you?’ bit, and going to punch the seats, he gets on just to sit Mal’s ass down.
“You’re being ridiculous and embarrassing.”
“Oh, so this guy is bothering you, Sasha? Let me give ‘em a one-two—”
“I’m going to punch you if you keep it up—”
“Hey, look,” Alina calls, glancing out the window that faces the river, “the sun’s setting!”
The hexagonal gazebo-shape means they can all sit around a grip table, and stare in any direction they want to admire. Mal loves how small the park looks from up high, so he likes to sit opposite her. This being Aleksander’s first time, he chooses the middle, but with the river at his back.
At her excited tapping on the window, he turns.
The sky is orange with clouds peeking around the sun’s circle. Dusk is falling, and the river is lit up with party cruise ships and tour rides. It’s her favorite time of day, at her favorite park, shared with her favorite people.
The gondola swings very lightly when they cross the highest point at the first complete spin. It swings just a little more, when Mal and her flank Aleksander close to a hug.
She rests her chin on the cushion. “Isn’t it breathtaking from here?”
“It is...much more beautiful than I would have thought, yes.”
The almost dismissive tone makes her pout. She aims it at him, only to find that he’s not staring at the sky at all, but at her. Glimmers in his eyes.
Her hands clench in her lap. He’s always looking at her like she hung the moon and stars. She could drive him mad, and he’d let her. It makes her gut cold and her chest ache. What did she do to deserve that?
Mal says the same thing, sometimes. ‘What did I do to deserve you?’ as if Alina didn’t think the world of Mal, as if she didn’t need him like air. And yet, how did they end up here, hugging in a ferris wheel, with Aleksander daring to jump blind after a theme park, a place he’d never once been to, to do things that embarrass him to have never experienced?
Alina gathers her voice, with a bit of shakiness.
“You didn’t have to come along, you know. Just because I invited you, you don’t have to. I wouldn’t get upset, if you’d told me this wasn’t your thing and you wanted to leave. It would have been alright.”
Aleksander swallows, but stays solemnly silent. Again, she tries, “but I’m glad you did.”
Mal wraps his arm over Aleksander’s shoulder, so his fingers cling to Alina’s wrist on the other side. “I’m glad you did, too.”
“Just, promise you’ll tell us when you’re uncomfortable with something next time? Or, even just embarrassed?”
The wheel rocks on, as it completes another rotation. The sky purples with less light. They’re still wrapped around each other like chain links, her hands in theirs, Mal’s arms around them, Sasha’s legs each nudged into Mal’s and hers.
Up high, with no one else to see them, he nods, “I’ll promise.”
It feels like a stone gate has crumbled and opened up into a valley.
Her hands cradle his head, and she kisses him. A simple touch on his lips.
He shudders and kisses her back much more fervently. Then, without skipping a beat, gives Mal his own strong kiss.
“I think I’ve liked this ride the most,” Mal smiles as they separate. He scoops ever closer to thread his own hand in Alina’s hair, and brings her in for a kiss. They’re a tangled mess, starting to sweat in the enclosed crystalline box.
“Me too,” Sasha breathes. He’s smiling again.
After the ferris wheel starts to slow down to take in new people, they untangle to a more proper sit, hands still tightly fixed in a chain. The night festivities start with a round of drinks, and fireworks at every hour.
They save a quiet spot by the water, and under sparkling light, share an endless string of kisses.
She is going to savor this moment forever.