Chapter Providence
I wake abruptly from sleep. The HVAC system has gone out again.
The heat presses on me like a block, thick and unyielding.
The air is gamy, saturated with the breath and sweat of too many bodies in too little space.
A strained muscle in my neck sings. I dig fingers into it, press and release.
I shift to my side. The bunk creaks. Rough snores rattle beneath me.
I have no sense of the hour, if it is the middle of night or almost morning. Time here does not pass, it accumulates. I cannot shed it. Artificial light, acid white, cuts through the murky black of the cell.
I try to recall a dream but nothing comes.
I have stopped dreaming in this place. All I do is wait—for the trial, for my fate.
I let my mind wander; at least that’s allowed.
The day before, someone at lunch told a story about a carnival and it makes me think of that night with Cassie, at the fair.
And I realize—my mother was right. It wasn’t Cassie who had taken me on that roller coaster as I insisted.
It was some friend. Of course it was. I don’t know how I got the memory so scrambled, Cassie wouldn’t do that to me.
I cannot see the friend’s face, it’s blanked out, a blur.
But now I am with Cassie. She’s yelling at the friend.
Cassie holds me to her, soothes her hand across the top of my head.
She sends the rest of her friends on. We’ll find you later, she tells them.
She leads me to a concession stand. My face is tight with dried tears.
Cassie passes me a giant soda. Never have I seen a soda this big, the unexpected heft of it in my hands.
The soda fizzes in my mouth, burns pleasantly in my throat as I suck down long, deep gulps.
The icy coldness hurts my teeth, but I like it.
Cassie scans, looking for something. Come on, Marky, she says.
Another stand. The bright sweet smell of oil and sugar.
A sign announces ELEPHANT EARS. What is this?
I ask, apprehensive. I’ve had enough surprises tonight.
Just wait, she says. Cassie passes some cash to the guy.
He says something I can’t hear, but it makes Cassie smile.
He hands her a paper plate piled with an enormous disk of fried dough doused in powdered sugar.
It’s too big for the plate and flops over the edges—and I get it.
Elephant ears. The plate blooms spots of oil.
We stand right there and eat. Cassie balances the plate in her palm.
She tears a piece and offers it to me. I need both hands for the soda, I’m nervous I’ll drop it, the waxed cardboard growing slick with condensation.
I open my mouth and she places it in and pulls another bite for herself.
We cannot believe how delicious it is, the dough hot and chewy against our tongues.
I ask if we should find her friends and Cassie says, Let’s just walk a while.
She has a hand on me, where my neck and shoulder meet, her fingers soft against my skin.
Powdered sugar dusts the front of my T-shirt.
The crowds stream by, currents of people effusive and loud.
The lights of the rides and games sizzle, an explosion of blossoms or flames.
The noise of everything mixes together, delirious shrieks from overhead, the tinny pop of music, the loud, playful calls of teenage boys rousing up customers at the arcade.
The air is warm and sticks to us although it’s late.
The evening has held its warmth, saved it for us.
We don’t speak. We are together and that is enough.
The world, lit up, swirls around us. We wander with no direction in mind. We are in no rush. We have all night.
THE END