Chapter 18 #2
Arthur felt more than a little guilty about taking things out of the jar without telling her, but not just because of the disappointment on her face.
He was beginning to feel like he’d robbed himself of a chance to really grow and challenge who he thought he was.
But it was too late to go back now, to admit to rigging the game, to fly to Hawaii and book a little swim with hammerheads. It was time for this to be over.
But Wren, for her part, looked like she was about to cry. This was not the triumphant moment he had imagined when they’d started on this journey. No bugles and confetti and drop-down banners. Anticlimactic was the word.
“It can’t end like that,” she said defiantly.
“Why not? Don’t you feel ready? I think I feel ready.”
“I do. But I wanted to finish something. For once. Any chance you’d reconsider going skydiving? Like right now, today?”
He laughed. “You know I can’t do that.”
Arthur had come a long way, faced his fears (of both clowns and failure), and grown immensely as a person.
But he was still him, and he was not the kind of person who jumped out of perfectly good planes.
He would have done almost anything else in the entire world.
It didn’t seem fair that Wren’s biggest dream just so happened to be his biggest fear.
“Not even for me? I think it would be sexy and heroic. Plus, the symbolism would be amazing. Just think, diving headfirst into the great unknown adventure that is the rest of our lives together. Whadya say?” He was unmoved. “Please?”
Her watery eyes looked up at him like some kind of cartoon puppy, impossibly large and quivering.
Somehow, Ferdie had gotten the memo that it was time to do the eyes, because he was sitting on the floor staring at Arthur, giving his best attempt behind his furry eyebrows, even placing a pathetic little paw on Arthur’s foot for good measure.
“You know what?” Arthur said, eager to get all these doe eyes off of him. “I have a better idea.”
They walked into the Mad Cow Creamery, and the chilly, vanilla-scented air welcomed them with a blisteringly cold hug.
“Do they have to keep it so goddamn cold in here?” Arthur said, immediately regretting his choice of T-shirt instead of long sleeves.
“It’s an ice cream shop.”
“Exactly! The ice cream has to stay frozen, not the customers.”
“You seem tense. Are you sure you’re up for this?”
He was tense because he’d called Linda again and had to leave yet another voicemail. The uncertainty of what was happening, or not happening, was killing him. And he still didn’t know quite what to do.
“It’s not me who has to be up for it,” he said, regaining his composure. “It’s you.”
“What do you mean?”
He stood tall and signaled to the young clerk working behind the counter, a redhead in a Mad Cow visor. “We’ll take one Heifer, please.”
Wren audibly gasped. Customers at other tables turned and gawked.
“You have to order, sir. I’ll take you over here,” the worker said, motioning to a register.
“Right.” Arthur went red. He’d gotten a little carried away, imagined the moment to be much more cinematic. Instead, he dutifully whipped out his credit card, rewards card, and a coupon for two dollars off.
“I thought you said this was a waste of money,” Wren whispered excitedly as they approached the counter.
“It is.”
“I thought you said the only thing you get is a Polaroid and diarrhea.”
“Hey, it’s your butthole. Do what you want with it.”
“I wish you’d have told me. I could have prepared.”
“What would you have done?”
“I don’t know, I’m just nervous!”
The employee rang him up but stopped short when Arthur tried to hand over the coupon.
“Oh, we don’t accept those anymore.”
“Why not? It’s still valid; the expiration date’s right here.”
“I don’t know. My manager said there was too much coupon fraud and we had to stop taking them.”
Arthur went red again, he, the perpetrator of said coupon fraud. But it was never intentional. It wasn’t his fault they kept showing up in the mail! He wanted to explain, but it would only complicate things. And that wasn’t why they were here, anyway.
“I get it. Just make sure I get my double Moo Points on this one, OK? I’m almost at a free milkshake.”
He handed over his credit and loyalty rewards cards. It hurt a little to watch the card go through the swiper with that outrageous amount on the screen. But it had to be done.
“And you’re paying full price,” Wren purred in his ear. “Who are you?”
“You can call me Daddy.”
“Gross. I will not.”
“Sounded cool in my head. Now, are you ready?”
“The rules are simple,” the redhead recited in a monotone, as if reading from a script with very little zest or enthusiasm.
“The Heifer consists of thirteen scoops of vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, sprinkles, whipped cream, and one cherry. To win the challenge, you need to finish the entire bowl in under thirty minutes. Good luck, and Godspeed to your digestive system.”
The girl hurled a large spoon down on the table, sending it clattering around, and hit the start button on a very loud plastic timer—the kind a kid would use for chores or homework.
It sat on the edge of the table and ticked and tocked.
Wren stared at the behemoth bowl that had been placed in front of her.
The size of a watermelon, at least, overflowing with chocolate and the very beginnings of melted vanilla.
It loomed there like a bowling ball, daring her to try.
Never before had rainbow sprinkles looked so menacing.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Wren said. “It’s almost twice as much as a quart from the store. This is insane.”
“You talked a big game before.”
“That was hypothetical; this is real life! What if I embarrass myself in front of these legends?”
She glanced up at the wall, at the Polaroids of the conquerors who’d come before. They were all the same. Rotund, mustachioed men who were built for this kind of thing. And then there was Wren, whose eyes were almost certainly too big for her stomach.
“Did it say on the menu how many calories are in it?” she asked.
“You really don’t want to know.”
“Oh boy. Yeah, I don’t know about this. I know I said I wanted to do it, but now that we’re here, I think I’m changing my mind. This is not going to feel good.” She was getting legitimately panicky, sweaty even, though she hadn’t had a single bite.
Arthur grabbed her hand. “You can absolutely do this.”
“But I’m scared.”
“It all starts with just one bite. Anyone can take one bite. Look, I’ll be right here the whole way to talk you through it. How’s that?”
She took a deep breath and nodded, then picked up the spoon and dug in. Just one bite. But soon a grimace spread over her face.
“Ah, brain freeze.”
“It’s OK,” he said. “That’s normal.”
“It hurts, Arthur!”
“Shh,” he said. “You’re doing great.”
“I need something for the pain,” she cried, massaging her temple with her free hand.
“It’s too late for that. Stick with it; the pain will pass. It’s almost over.”
“OK,” she breathed. “I think it’s passing.”
“Can you try taking one more bite?”
“I think I can try.”
She dug the spoon back into the gooey mound, chocolate and sprinkles all running together, nearly spilling over the side of the bowl.
She forced a few bites down, making the same faces she used to make when Arthur planned salad for dinner.
She was hitting her stride, though. Had to have eaten four or five scoops by now.
“I’m so proud of you—you’re doing it,” he said.
“I am doing it,” she said, mouth full of at least half a scoop. “I’m the man.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
A sprinkle flew out and landed on Arthur’s cheek. He hoped she wouldn’t be disqualified for that. Chocolate coated Wren’s face. Drips and drizzles of melted ice cream collected on her shirt. The whole thing was pretty disgusting to watch, but in a way, she’d never looked more beautiful to him.