Silver
Ewen’s body was so tense the chair began to shake.
“You mean you don’t like it when I do thhhiiiiissssss.” Isolde rocked the chair even harder.
“It’s not funny! I feel sick!”
“Shut up Ewen.”
“I told you! I don’t like heights!”
Ewen stepped quickly off the seat and grunted past the carnie who’d taken his money. “I wanna go home,” he said. “If we leave now I can still catch that game.”
“But we just got here.”
“I’ve never been one for carnivals.”
“You’ve never been one for fun.”
“Waddaya mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“You never want to do anything aside from watch sports, drink beer and …”
“And what?”
“Have sex I guess.”
“Waddaya mean?”
Isolde brushed a lank of red hair from her eyes and felt the world pulse around her. A midget wearing a pin stripe suit and green clown hair scurried past, a momentous smile smeared across his baby face and beside him, holding his midget hand, was a woman who was as tall as he was short, hair sleek black and a body that looked like it could have been carved out of a larger piece of bone.
“Freaks,” Ewen said under his breath.
Your friends are the freaks, thought Isolde. Your beer swilling, nazi-jock, pig fucking, asshole friends. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll catch up.”
“’cause I wanna go home with you baby.”
“But I want to stay. Can’t you see that?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s what I want to do.”
