Extreme Vinyl Café (27 page)

Dave opened his eyes and stared at Sam.

“How do you know this stuff?’

Sam said, “I got it off the net.”

Dave said, “You researched this?”

Sam shrugged. “I figured you might need some help.”

Before Dave knew it, they were climbing into a little car. Sam turned and looked at his father earnestly, “Remember,” he said, “you only have to do this once.”

Dave said, “Is that from the net too?”

Sam nodded. “You can repeat it to yourself if it helps.”

A heavy, padded bar fell across Dave’s lap. He felt a rush of panic. He didn’t have a choice anymore.
I only have to do this once
. He looked at Sam and grinned. Sam gave him the thumbs-up. Suddenly there was a noise like rocket fuel burning, and Dave’s stomach tightened, and they exploded out of the station. Zero to eighty in two seconds. An abrupt left-hand turn, and Sam was leaning into him. Then a turn to the right. That wasn’t so bad. And they seemed to be slowing. Dave glanced at Sam. Was it over?

Sam shook his head and pointed. The track was rising in front of them. They were climbing a huge hill. Tilting backwards. Slower and slower. Way back. Dave nodded. Closed his eyes.
I only have to do this once
. Then they crested the top and were plunging to the ground, and Dave could feel himself coming right out of his seat. He was airborne. And
ohmigod
the cars ahead of him were flipping over. He was airborne. He was upside down. He was right side up. He was coming. He was going. Someone was screaming. Someone was screaming from the pit of their bowels. Something terrible had happened to someone nearby. Dave opened his eyes and turned to his right and checked Sam.
Sam’s hair was blowing in the wind. He looked like Arthur their dog when he stuck his head out the car window.

They were flying though the air. The screams sounded horrible. Someone was being dragged or something. He opened his mouth to ask Sam if he was okay—and realized his mouth was already open, realized that
he
was the guy screaming. It had begun as a scream of terror. But it was different now, it wasn’t a scream of terror anymore, it was a scream of unadulterated joy. Sam was screaming too. The two of them screaming like fools.

Sam lifted his hands and held them over his head. He motioned to Dave to do the same.

Dave was clutching the padded bar, his foot pushed into the floor.

“I can’t,” he screamed. “I’m driving.”

And then it was over.

Just like that.

Just like that—around a corner and they pulled in to the station.

And Sam held his hand up and Dave uncurled his fingers from the bar one by one and high-fived his son. He said, “I’ve never done that before.”

And Sam said, “How do you feel?”

And Dave said, “I feel like a kid.

Then he said, “Again?”

O
n their way out of the park, they walked by a merry-goround—a beautifully restored carousel of the old style. Painted wooden ponies with genuine leather reins.

Dave held up the last of their tickets. “Come on,” he said.

“No way,” said Sam.

So Dave went alone. It was late. He was the only person on the ride. He chose a big white horse, frozen on its brass pole, its wild mouth tossing backwards.

As the ride began, Dave looked at all the empty horses in front and beside him, all the horses going up and down, up and down, the calliope, and the horses going up and down, and the carousel spinning around. It was like the gallop of life—it was like his life—galloping all alone to a place that was out there somewhere, but kept fading into the distance the closer he got.

Around and around he went. Each time he passed Sam, he lifted his hand and waved. And that was when he realized he had been wrong at the hall of mirrors. Well, partly wrong. He
was
falling behind—he’d got that part right.

But Sam wasn’t going to leave him on the sidelines. His son was hurtling into the future, no doubt about it, but Dave wasn’t being left behind. He was being dragged along with him. This
was
the future, this moment and all the others. It was the same old thing. The way it had been ever since Sam was born. His son was opening him to life. His son had taught
him
more than
he
would ever teach his son.

Around and around. Sam was leaning on the fence watching. Dave waved like a kid. Sam shook his head, ruefully.

And then he disappeared from view again, as the carousel carried Dave out of sight, smiling as he rode his silly wooden horse. Waving. Above all happy.