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Jeannie and Sylvia were going to an amusement park. Sylvie had brought this up a couple of weeks ago, and Jeannie couldn’t wait, though she was still pissed. About everything. About Sylvia telling Jeannie not to write about their relationship in the newspaper even if her journalism manager suggested it – “bigger journalists will cover this” and “isn’t writing about yourself hard?” – were the only reasons provided over burnt eggs at breakfast a couple weeks after they’d officially become a ‘thing’. About Jeannie’s previous partner, a person whose name tasted worse than the eggs that Sylvie had burnt back then. Someone who Jeannie was always comparing to Sylvia. Someone who Jeannie was always worrying about, to the point where those worries were so associated with Sylvie and Jeannie’s ex that it strung into an entire person composed of the doubts, cradling Jeanine in their arms and never letting go.
But they loved each other. And they were perfect for each other. A girl to talk up the rising star of an actress – Sylvia Harpstring, a starlet making it big – and they loved each other. And they loved each other. An̸͙̾ḏ̷̦̓͘ ̷͔̠͆̈́t̶̤͘h̶̪̃́e̴͇̕í̴̻̆ŕ̵̘̋ ̶͈̍͌l̶̛̻̇o̵̲̜͑͝v̵̤̯̏e̶̬͝ ̵͖̈́i̵̛̠͉s̶̛͔̻̑ṋ̷̢̈́̾'̶͔̄͗t̴̟̋ ̵̻̎̊r̷̥̟̎͘ë̶͍̈a̸̞̯̍̒l̴͈̬̎,̴̨̯̓̚ ̷̜͕̓̓ï̸̙̞ţ̵̙̾ ̴̦̗͌ĉ̴̦̚a̴͈̓n̵̖͝'̴͛͜ť̴̲ ̵͓̬̈́̊b̷̆̊͜ȩ̶̙̔͋ ̴̭̖͂̀. And they’re going to the amusement park together, alone. Without the press to interrupt (besides Jeannie, of course) – Sylvie had stated that she canceled all her business calls for her dear, beautiful dusk star Jeannie – only those two. Holding onto each other for dear life in the calmest of settings – that was their domestic life so far. But it’d get better. Every relationship started like this. Every love had d̵͎̉o̴͕̍u̶̇̆b̷̪͂͋t̵͙̬͌̽s̴͛͗.
Sitting in the car on the way there, the girl with freshly-dyed green curly hair was at the wheel, talking. “I’m so glad we’re able to do this,” she said with her flighty bright-shining way of talking that Jeannie wasn’t sure she deserved. Jeannie, in the shotgun seat, responded as they cruised along.
“Me too. What are you most excited to do there?”
“Um, well, I don’t know. I’m just excited to have nothing to do for once.”
So Jeanine was nothing to her. She was just using her as a cause for the fame and a break from the fame all in one. Using her, just like ẗ̸̝́̄h̴̩̔e̷͚̒y̷̜̽ did.
“Well,” the girl with long, straight red-brown hair said, suppressing all of these thoughts, because she was talking to the woman she loved for goodness sake, “I think we should get to the ferris wheel. I think we should kiss at the top of the ferris wheel. I love you so much.” She tried to say it like it was the easiest thing ever, because it should be. She tried to say it with no excess betrayal from laying in bed all day while Sylvie was at work, missing her and hoping she’d get to tag along someday like Sylvia always promised. She tried to say it with love not too intense and difficult and ‘I would do anything for you’ like she was feeling.
“Alright!” Sylvia said enthusiastically. No “I love you too”. Then the conversation quieted down, and Jeannie began to talk to the massive entity of doubt who may have been actually driving the car. Scattered through were sparse minutes of reality, talking about their favorite roller coasters or how apparently Sylvie hadn’t been here since she was fourteen with her big sister.
Then they were there. The hustle and bustle of the kids and parents wanting the lines to not move at a snail’s pace, the smell of water ice not exactly perfect for the seventy-degree day but that would chill Jeanine’s nerves, and the teens who were super into the arcade, and the screams of everyone riding the rides; all this calmed Jeannie’s nerves. She moved her own hand into Sylvia’s and grasped onto it. Sylvie was her person, and she was there for her.
First, they decided to go on a jarring roller coaster called ‘Glass Beach’, with a nearly vertical drop and a bunch of loop-de-loops, which had the celebrity screaming the whole time, while Jeannie just squeezed her girlfriend’s hand. Hard. Hard enough that her superstar pulled away – expected, honestly. But it didn’t mean anything,̶̮̅̅ ̵̼̌̇d̸̻͓̑͛i̶̫͗̽ͅd̸͎̫̓ ̴̖̺̈i̸͔̋̒͜ṱ̷̐̔?̸̩̻̌ They continued through the park, Sylvia not bringing up the ferris wheel even as the sun got lower in the sky. It made Jeanine’s stomach lurch despite being basically nothing. And she pulled out her phone, too. First, just to take a cute group photo, Sylvie kissing Jeannie on the cheek but then the green-haired celebrity’s eyes were trained on it as soon as they got out of the slower ride that they took the picture on. Jeannie vacantly asked why as they went to ride the tilt-a-whirl, only prompted with the reply that she was “posting it on Instagram,” which wasn’t fair for two reasons. One, this was supposed to be a day out of the public eye. An unavailable day. No posts. Two, Sylvia never ever posted pics of the two of them – Jeanine would know, since she basically stalked her socials to see if she’d finally be public about the two of them and if she had any online statements about current events that could be useful for her entertainment journalism. But Jeanine shoved it all down as they got lunch at a super-expensive pizza place, as she brought up the ferris wheel again, trying to make it not seem important. “Sure!” Sylvia said in that empty, peppy tone with no real meaning to it. She wasn’t a words-of-affirmation person after all, or an act of service person – she loved gifts and quality time though she barely got to share them with all her charity balls that Jeannie wasn’t invited to.
The girlfriends walked to the ferris wheel which was at the far end of the park, and immediately Sylvie started trotting ahead like it was her idea in the first place, like she was the foundation for her own fame, the two were like a radiant stone and her half-life. Sylvia gave Jeanine money to purchase some cotton candy as they walked and talked, and when Jeanine returned, Sylvie was on her phone “getting some business done”. Jeannie barely ate her cotton candy.
Then they were there, at the ferris wheel. “I love you so much,” Jeannie said, kissing Sylvia as they waited in the probably-forty-minute line. “Love you too,” she said with a smile that made Jeannie want to burn the entire world down, just to see it for every minute of her life. The ‘Shooting Star’, the ride was called by the park and literally nobody else because it was just a ferris wheel. When they were at the front of the line, Sylvie paused the idle conversation about sci-fi movies, feeling the silenced phone buzzing in her fancy pocketed long skirt. “Sorry, I’m getting a call,” she said. Within two minutes she’d hung up. But Jeannie was pissed. This was supposed to be her day with her person, or at least it would be if Jeannie had any leverage, any power. Jeannie buried this deep behind her dam of emotions as they boarded a car with a flame pattern – red colored, with all of the car colors and patterns making a rainbow trail for the star imagery in the center – and her eyes landed on the green-haired celebrity. Beautiful, composed, open about her emotions, loved to complain and loved obscure Wii games, h̷̭̎ò̸̟̟̚ṙ̴̮̋r̵̪̃̋ȉ̸͓b̶̲̌̓l̸̢̮̿e̶͓̤͒,̴̯̎͆ ̶̫͎̈́l̸̜̦͂y̵̅ͅi̴̛͉̲n̷̗̗̎͒g̴̫̦̀,̸̳͌ ̴̗̄̒ṡ̴̮͋o̶͇͙̍̚,̵̧̿͑ ̷̞̗́s̸̹̔o̸̧̓̓ ̶͙̟̈́͝b̵̨͔̒̍a̴̮̥͋͛d̵͓̤͝ ̷̭͛͘f̶̭̑͗o̵̺̟͋r̶̮̰̆̚ ̴̳̔͌J̶͔̅e̷͎̾a̷͕͝͝n̷̨̽̄ņ̸̺̿i̷̭̭͛̈́e̷̺̍͠ ̵̗̏̕t̷̡͑͜ó̸̀ͅ ̸͎̒b̴̢̳́e̵̙̋̏ ̴̖̰̐̔ń̴͉́e̵̬̦̾̾a̸̺̝̒̍r̵͔̔̄.̶̟̎ She needed t̴o̶ ̶b̴e̶ ̷a̴s̶ ̴f̷a̵r̸ ̷a̴w̵a̸y̵ ̷a̸s̷ ̸p̸o̷s̴s̵i̵b̷l̶e̴ ̸f̸r̸o̷m̶ her. The ferris wheel ticked up. It felt like it was going a million miles per hour, but that was just the jarring obsession-ridden doubts still not letting go of Jeannie, practically puppeteering her like a marionette.
And as the car got one-or-two positions behind the top, the dam broke. Shattered. “What the hell was that?” Jeannie shouted at her love with a glare. “This was supposed to be our day. Our time together. What was that call even about?” Sylvia was speechless. She’d never seen this before. Jeannie was the placid, grounded girl to come back to at the end of stressful days. Shit. Jeannie was just as bad as them. Her ex. Her heart was beating so fast. “I’m…busy. All the fucking time.” Sylvia said with the smile Jeannie needed to wake up every day. “It’s so hard for me to find time for you and I’m sorry.” Jeannie was counting. It took Sylvie eight seconds to say ‘sorry’. And that was at the very least, seven seconds too long. So the strands of doubt bundled Jeannie’s arm in defenseless violence as she hit Sylvie, shoving her to the side, so there was as much space as possible between the two in the cramped ferris wheel car. Jeannie’s mind was static and she was in tears as Sylvia leaned into the top-of-the-ferris-wheel kiss, trying to ignore it all. They kissed, and Jeannie hugged Sylvie, and Jeannie’s doubts hugged Jeannie. When they got off, Sylvie said “I’m sorry.” and Jeannie blurted “actions speak louder than words. No matter how much you say you love someone, you need to let them be present in your life.”
“Like you’re barely present yourself.”
Sylvie took the car. Jeannie didn’t get in. She took an Uber back to her apartment and got a call from her journalism manager within three hours.
“Did you hear about what happened in that amusement park in New Jersey?”
“No, which one?” Jeanine said in her customer service voice, knowing what was about to go down.
“I’m not sure, but that actress I’ve had you do a few pieces on, Sylvia Harpstring, posted about it. How she had a fight with her friend and would miss work for a little.”
Wow. She’d miss work to mourn their love but not to live it. And ‘friend?’ The only thing worse would be ‘deranged fan’.
“So you’re proposing I…I do a story on this? It’s barely even interesting.”
How did she ever leave the girl she needed? How did she ever need the girl she left? How was Jeannie so controlled by her doubts?
“Yes, I am.”
“I’ll consider it,” she choked, moments away from a fresh flood of tears.
Jeannie hung up. She could see the headline now. Jeanine Jacobia-Wilson, “friend” of Sylvia Harpstring, has falling-out, attacks her on ferris wheel.
Her doubts gave her a big, suffocating hug – maybe more like a chokehold. Jeannie wanted her girlfriend back. Why couldn’t she love normally?