The carnival lights fluttered under the moon and the smell of dead grass and fried food fills the air as I ran down the clear pathway towards the merry go round. I loved carnivals. They were a place of magic and wonder, a place that my Dad usually said my head would look like if they took my brain out. The simple attractions and impossible games made me feel a rush of happiness, most people didn't understand why I enjoyed it so much. Everyone tells me carnivals are lame that they are just a place with cheap rides and overpriced food but I could see beyond that, because at least here one could strut around completely lost in the music and lights, as if you could disappear into the intoxicating aura of the place.
We were ten and filled with an unrelenting amount of energy that caused my parents to give up chasing Santana and I and just let us go wherever we pleased as long as we stayed within the perimeter of the lot filled with game stands and sparkling lights. San and I rushed to the merry go round, it was our favorite ride, well it was Santana's favorite ride which meant it immediately became mine as well.
"I want to go on the unicorn!" I remember screaming with an elated smile spreading across my face as if my teeth needed to see for themselves how the unicorn jumped up and down when the merry go round spun. Santana wore a small smile on her face, even now I can still remember the contours of her lips as she stared off into the crowd waiting in line. She was happy.
I don't think she cared which animal she would sit on or whether or not we would even make it to the front of the line. I think she enjoyed the carnival for the same reasons I did, she just wanted to escape.
When we finally got on the merry go round and it spun we were engulfed with laughter and joy as the wind brushed through our hair leaving us without a care in the world. Santana took her hands off the safety of the pole and let her arms stretch out to balance herself, "Watch me." she said as I tried to mimic her but almost fell off. "Watch me." She said as she demonstrated for me again. Her word's probably shouldn't have meant so much to me but I over analyzed them and began to watch her. From that day I watched her, the way she handled things, the way she carried herself, the pain she had successfully buried deep inside.
When the clock struck eleven we were already on our way to my house, Santana asleep against my shoulder as my Dad drove glancing at the rear view mirror every now and again to check up on us. I could hear my Mom on the phone with Mr. Lopez agreeing that it was best for Santana to just sleep over. I sat there eyes wide awake staring at her as she slept quietly. I was exhausted but it was very rare finding Santana in moments of genuine ease and I wasn't going to sleep my way through it. She stirred every time we stopped at a red light and squeezed my hand every now and then as if to make sure I was still there.
My Dad carried her up the stairs to my room as I followed behind them not sure if I was jealous that I wasn't being carried up the stairs too or that my Dad got to hold Santana while she slept instead of me. She snuggled underneath the blankets as if it were some sort of safe haven clutching desperately at the hems and tucking it under her chin. I slowly got under the covers next to her trying to imitate her actions by holding the blanket under my nose as I became mesmerized by her every movement.
She tossed and turned a few times never letting her limbs out of the safety of the blankets as if it was some sort of forcefield that propelled danger. Her eyes began to open, at first they stared into the darkness only the light from my window giving off the glimmer of her brown eyes. And as if already knowing I was awake she spoke, "We're never gonna to go to another carnival again, okay Britt." Her voice was raspy as if she was in a daze and before I could even say anything her hand slid from under the security of the blanket to hold mine which rested on top of my stomach. I nodded even though I knew she couldn't see me through the darkness but somehow she instinctively knew I had conceded, my silence reassured her. She squeezed my hand lightly before curling up closer to me her face deep within the crook of my neck and after a few minutes she was asleep again.
She never said anything about that night, almost as if it never happened. I sometimes think it was part of my imagination but every time Santana touches my hand it brings me back to that night and I know it was real. I know that in that moment Santana was telling me something that I was just incapable of understanding at the time. She wanted to keep that memory the way I have learned to keep it, never forgetting that it was one of the only days she found bliss. She was afraid of losing that, or replacing it with another memory and so she canceled out the possibility of the very memory being dissolved by having neither one of us ever attempt to find comfort at another carnival again.
