wind

‘Corn grew ten feet tall this year.’ The farmer spread his hands over an ear and yanked back its husk, dropping tassels onto the table. Lights flashed on the Whirl-a-Wheel, the Hammer; kids screamed on a rickety mini-coaster. Gordon looked past the farmer for June, who’d gone off to find a palm reader. Gordon was thirty and couldn’t tell how old June was, but he worried she might not take their date seriously. The only couples he saw were kids.

‘You suppose taller corn tastes better?’ he asked.

The farmer shoved two fingers into a husk. ‘I guess.’

Gordon coughed and imagined chatting with June while she cooked. Since he’d never been in June’s home, he uncomfortably visualized the scene at his mother’s.

Air swarmed with an aroma of honey and fat. This corn and a nearby funnel cake stand made him hungry; he’d find June and buy them something to share.

The farmer zipped Gordon’s money into a pouch and bagged a dozen ears of corn. Gordon thanked him and wove through a sea of kids holding cotton candy, nearly knocking one girl’s cloud off its paper cone.

He saw her strawberry purse, then recognized June in the Ferris wheel line, waving. Gordon was afraid of heights but joined her. She was chewing funnel cake. She offered him a bite but he declined, deflated to have missed his chance to pay.

‘You’ve been in the cleaner’s all day working hard, breathing chemicals,’ she said. ‘It’s good to get fresh air.’

Gordon didn’t smell anything bad at work.

Last week June brought in a fur stole she needed cleaned and Gordon thought she was something. He up-sold her on a repair and felt triumphant because she’d have to come back a third time. When she did, his coworker Lina was smoking out front where she couldn’t laugh, so after ringing June up, Gordon asked her out.

‘You really ought to spend more time outside. It’s good for your lungs.’ June shook her head.
Before he could say anything about that or the chemicals, he remembered his mother had instructed him not to correct a lady unless somebody’s safety was involved. He smiled widely as a man in a gorilla suit ushered them into a gondola and clanged the safety bar over their laps. Gordon felt queasy already.

It was windy. The gondola creaked. He braved looking down at the fields and rides. (Kids in plaid and denim slapped down money for tickets as farmers talked about corn under a slow, churning wind.

‘Why do you suppose that man’s wearing a gorilla suit?’ he asked.

June shrugged. ‘Do you like my purse? I designed it.’

‘Yeah, I like it.’

Looking at June’s breast, he blacked out. The clanking machinery fuzzed to a faint hum, and he could no longer locate her nipple through her shirt. His arm flapped out to steady himself, hit June’s shoulder. She took his wrist and then let it go. ‘You okay?’

He nodded absently at the rust above them.

‘Dizzy?’ June handed him funnel cake as they swung.

Gordon’s eyes blurred as he chewed. ‘The farmer told me the corn grew ten feet tall this year. Think that’s true?’

‘My brother’s crop probably got that, I’d say. If not, almost.’

He told her this was impressive, though he was secretly disappointed to hear that her family farmed.

She beamed. ‘Takes hard work to get anywhere.’

They reached the top, where he had an upsetting thought: what if this was as high as he ever got? A hundred-foot Ferris wheel in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t improbable. He’d never flown or seen a skyscraper; if things continued the way they’d been, he might not make it out of the state.

‘Gordon, girls like to talk accessories,’ his mother had said. ‘They’ll appreciate a man who asks. And when you do,’ she’d paused for emphasis, ‘lower your voice.’ He’d been surprised to receive a lecture on the disposition and dating of girls from her, but she’d said, ‘Well, someone’s got to teach you.’

He looked at June. ‘Tell me about your purse.’

‘I made it in Introduction to Fashion Design at the community college,’ she said.

His mother had said, ‘You don’t have to listen completely if you’re not interested. Just make sure you pick up ends of sentences so you can ask another question and keep the ball rolling. That’s the trick.’

Gordon picked up: ‘ends of the earth … gold buttons like strawberry seeds … red vinyl … wept over silk and satin lining.’

This was the final loop of the night.

At bottom again, the gorilla man had removed his gorilla head to reveal a sweaty face. He offered them another go for free. June gasped, ‘Oh, can we?’ Just like a fifties movie star, Gordon thought. A starlet with a strawberry purse.

‘You’re okay with this, right?’ she asked. ‘Are you afraid of heights?’

‘No,’ he lied. ‘I just forgot to eat.’

Again she pushed funnel cake at him.

Carousel lights illuminated the shape of her breasts through her shirt. Girls’ breasts were repellent and fascinating; he was attracted because they frightened him. Whenever he touched breasts—so far, two swift times—he deeply enjoyed their supple feel under his hands. He’d like to touch June’s, but didn’t know whether she’d be receptive. Maybe if he asked another accessory question. Maybe at the top of the wheel.

Instead, she asked him, ‘What’s it like, being a man?’

‘Huh?’

Up there, air smelled like hay, not funnel cake. He wanted to breathe, but she was set on talking.

‘There are so many things… you’re supposed to be strong, and smart, and confident, and take care of things. Is it hard living up to those expectations?’

He took her hand to reassure her. Her hand was almost as big as his. Gordon thought he was making progress. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked, squeezing her finger.

‘No.’

No one had asked him about being a man, so it was hard to know what to say. Plus, around June, it was tough to concentrate, period. Even before their date, he’d fantasized about this moment of taking her hand. Embarrassing.

‘Gordon, I want you to answer my question. Is it hard being a man?’ The Ferris wheel creaked to a halt to let them enjoy the view, the gondola swung abruptly. Gordon glanced down at the other rides and cars on the highway driving toward the pinkish lights of Lincoln. Maybe the gorilla man was trying to give him a chance.

‘I never really thought about it,’ he said. ‘It’s fine being a man. Wouldn’t want to be a woman, no offense. I like being a man.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I get to ride in the Ferris wheel with someone pretty.’

Her hand tensed. ‘I’m not just pretty.’

‘I know. You’re really smart. I’m one lucky man…’

‘I’m lots of things besides pretty.’

‘I know.’ Gordon worried he’d ruined his chances, and didn’t know what to say. He stroked her fingers, startled by their warmth. ‘You want to find a palm reader? They jerked into their second descent and Gordon was pleased with himself for remembering her earlier search. Women noticed details. He’d figured that out. June and her strawberry seeds.

‘Everything’s closing,’ June said.

Dizziness blew through him like a field. He heard the farmer use the line about corn with another customer.

‘Did you hear that?’ he asked June, straightening. ‘He said it again. About the corn.’

She leaned closer. One of her breasts pressed his forearm so slightly that at first he thought it was her purse. She picked up his hand. He’d have to take her home soon. Maybe he could prolong their date with a drive. That was how Lina did it with boys.

‘Isn’t it a nice night?’ she asked.

They were on their way down.