It was just after five when they arrived at the park. In the dimness of twilight the first of the neon lights were coming on and bright electric bulbs lit up the few rides that gave Birch Park its claim as a local tourist attraction. Kurt took a deep sniff of the cold air as he exited the truck, unable to prevent the small gasp of shock as the mingled scents swept over him. Greasy food, sugar, mud, oil - probably from the ever-moving gears of the carnival rides - and that weird mixed-up odor that came from too many humans packed into a single location. It was magnetic and at the same time repulsive. It was pure overwhelming memory; the feeling of once again being that tiny boy who had excitedly clutched Mommy's hand or wound chubby fingers into the loops of Daddy's belt as they came to this place for a day of fun and family togetherness. It was heartwarming nostalgia mixed with heartbreaking loss.
Kurt had not realized that his father had come around the truck to stand beside him until he felt a hand gently squeeze the back of his neck.
"I know, kid. Me, too," was all that Burt said, but suddenly Kurt could breathe again, the suffocating rush of memory receding to a warm feeling deep inside his chest.
He looped an arm around his father's waist and hugged him. Teenaged guys were supposed to be too old, and too cool, to do things like that in public but at the moment Kurt did not care. And his dad did not seem to object, just draping an arm around his shoulders and squeezing back.
They did not speak as they walked up to the ticket window, but when they got there the sentimental moment was abruptly broken as the ticket-taker, a plump grandmotherly looking woman, asked, "One adult and one child?"
Kurt glanced at the cards in the window, noting that a child admission was only for kids under 14. He shot his dad a look that could peel paint when Burt just smiled and paid for the tickets without bothering to correct the assumption.
"Dad!" he exploded the moment they were out of earshot.
"What? Did you see those prices? They're still charging a full day's admission and we're not gonna be here more than a few hours. Half-price on one ticket seemed fair."
"But you let her think that I was 13!" he pressed, his voice squeaking up in outrage on the last word. Abruptly, he sighed. Crap, now he sounded like his voice was still changing. Way to make your point, Kurt.
Unrepentant, Burt just chuckled. "Maybe younger."
"Dad," he said again, turning the word into a groan. He slid the neon-orange wristband that he had been given as proof of payment under the edge of his sleeve. There was no need to openly display the God-awful thing. "Just for that you are going on the Turbo Twist with me later, and I don't want to hear any argument."
Burt looked a little uncertain. "The roller coaster?"
His father hated roller coasters and Kurt knew it. "Yes."
Eyes scanning the bright lights in the center of the park, Burt searched out the ride in question, turning a little pale when he found it. It really wasn't all that impressive, in Kurt's opinion. Just a couple of steep dips and a large twisting loop in the center that gave the coaster its name, but it was clearly intimidating to a man who routinely avoided such rides. "Maybe I'll just go back and pay the lady her extra six bucks."
"Oh, no, no, no, no," Kurt countered, grinning as he urged his father toward the midway with a firm hand in the middle of his back. "What is it you always say to me? Do the crime, you do the time? You owe me this one."
Burt Hummel sighed deeply. "Fine, one ride, but we'd better do it before we have anything to eat, if you know what I mean."
"You are just determined to gross me out tonight, aren't you?"
"Hey, just offering fair warning here," he said, holding up his hands.
Kurt could not help smiling. "Why don't we check out the games first? I'll let you beat me at a couple just to calm your nerves."
Burt laughed. "Oh, you're going to let me win, are you?"
Smiling slyly, he said, "Well, I wouldn't want to brag but I am pretty good at these things."
"We'll just see about that!"
Over the next hour, they tried out a number of different games. Burt crushed his son at skee-ball, narrowly won at whack-a-mole after Kurt started laughing too hard at his father's "concentration face" to maintain his aim, and easily bested Kurt at the shooting gallery. Kurt, in turn, triumphed with the ring-toss, using a fast and efficient wrist-snap to send all three of his plastic rings sailing neatly over the necks of waiting bottles and earning a few suspicious questions about the "perfectly innocent" poker nights that Kurt occasionally hosted for his Glee friends. He had also, much to Burt's surprise, bested him at the race-track game, firing his high-powered squirt gun with such precision that his cardboard pony crossed the finish line well ahead of all the others.
"Horse-racing, high-speed card shuffling, I'm really starting to wonder about you, kid," Burt teased him. "Maybe when you turn 18, we ought to consider a trip to Vegas."
"I'm willing if you are," he replied at once, knowing that his father was kidding but not about to pass up a chance to plant a little seed in his subconscious. Las Vegas was the perfect melting pot of tacky and tempting and he was dying to see it for himself one day.
Burt just smiled. "We'll see. You want to take this stuff back to the car before we go do anything else?"
They had won several little prizes, including a couple of stuffed animals that neither one knew quite what to do with, and a poster of Zac Efron that Kurt was so openly enamored of that it had made Burt a bit squirmy.
"Sure," Kurt agreed, patting the rolled up poster affectionately. "I don't want anything to happen to Zac before I can get him back to my bedroom."
A weird choking noise caught in Burt's throat. "Please don't say that."
Kurt looked at the ground, his playful mood replaced by that little frisson of shame that he could not prevent whenever he realized that he had just made his father uncomfortable with a reference to his sexuality. "Sorry, Dad. I just meant . . . I don't want the poster to get crumpled up or lost on a ride somewhere."
"No, I'm sorry," Burt said, squeezing his shoulder. "I mean, I'd be lying if I said that I swiped my older brother's Farrah Fawcett poster back in the day because I liked her hair-do. You have the same right to drool over some pretty-boy if you want to. I just . . ."
"You'd rather not know it's happening, if you can help it."
Burt sighed. "Yeah. One of these days, I will get this, Kurt. I promise, I will. I guess I'm just not quite there yet."
"It's fine," Kurt told him, affecting a careless shrug. "To be honest, I'd really rather not think about you and Farrah either."
A burst of startled laughter gave away Burt's relief and Kurt laughed too. His dad wasn't perfect, but he was trying hard and that counted for a lot.
Suddenly, Kurt's phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he checked the display and smiled when he saw that it read: 'McQueen?'
Realizing that, in spite of the uncomfortable moment they had just shared, he and his father were doing fine, Kurt decided to share. Showing his dad the text, he said, "Mercedes, Artie and Tina are here. They want to know if they can join us for awhile."
Burt looked at the message in confusion. "You got all that from McQueen?"
Kurt quickly explained the code. "I wasn't sure if we'd be driving each other crazy or not," he admitted with a small shrug.
His father chuckled. "You make me feel like a bad blind-date. I'm good with 'A' but your friends are more than welcome to join us, if you want."
"Thanks, Dad," he said, beaming with the pleasure of knowing that his father was happy to keep tonight to just the two of them, but that he was also sincere in his offer. "How about just for dinner?"
"Dinner is good. Tell 'em to come have a corn-dog on me."
Kurt made a face at the suggested cuisine but texted back, "A-OK – but L if you want free food, per Dad. Where R U?"
With a laugh, he showed his dad the immediate return message: Pkg Lot. Strappin the napkin. "That means they'd love to. They'll be here in a minute."
The Hummels strolled back to the park entrance, waving when Artie's wheelchair came into view, closely followed by Tina and Mercedes.
"Hi, kids," Burt greeted, exchanging a quick, silent Q&A with Artie before taking control of his wheelchair, leaving the girls free to attack Kurt with hugs. Artie just grinned and rolled his eyes as if to say, 'girls, what can you expect?'
"Hey, Mr. H," Mercedes returned, smiling brightly. "Thanks for inviting us to join you!"
Tina, always more shy than her friends, just blushed and offered a quiet, "Thanks."
He nodded to them. "Well, I kind of owed you a meal," he told Mercedes. "Seeing's how you missed out on my special chicken casserole the other night. What's a couple more people?"
A sharp double-squeal of joy interrupted as Kurt handed over his game-winning stuffed animals to the two girls. "For you," he said, giving Mercedes the goofy-looking blue unicorn and Tina the even more absurd hot-pink hippo he had won. Fair-ground stuffed animals did not seem to come in average colors or non-embarrassing styles. He grinned at Artie. "Sorry, I don't have another one for you."
Artie laughed. "I'll live with the disappointment."
Burt smiled and shook his head as they approached the food pavilion. "Why don't you guys find us a good place to sit and figure out what you want for dinner? I'll run Kurt's poster back to the car."
"Sure you don't mind?" Kurt asked, surprised by the offer. "I can do it."
His dad waved him off. "Nah, I got it. You stay here. I'll make sure your poster boy is safely tucked into the back seat where he won't get hurt."
Knowing perfectly well that his father was overcompensating a little in an effort to make up for his instinctive reaction of a few minutes ago, Kurt smiled and said, "Don't think this is getting you out of the Turbo Twister, Dad."
Burt sighed. "Damn. In that case, go wait for me by the Coaster. I wasn't kidding about wanting to get this over with before we eat."
~#~#~#~#~#~
The roller coaster was old and, unfortunately, not equipped for wheelchairs. Some of the newer rides were but the coaster was the oldest attraction in the park and had not moved ahead with the times. Artie, however, did not seem to be disappointed in the least. "Sorry, guys, but being flipped and spun like a giant cat toy isn't my idea of a good time," he told the girls when they mournfully offered to sit out with him while Kurt and his dad took a ride. "I'll hold your stuff."
"I'm with you," Burt told him, grimly looking up at the intimidating thing. "You sure I can't talk you out of this, Kurt? I'll buy you one of those weird-looking furry sweaters you like so much."
For a moment, Kurt was strongly tempted. Two minutes and a few measly dollars, or hours of sheer envy from the students in his class by wearing a dazzling new Gucci sweater. It seemed like a no brainer, but . . . "This is a matter of pride, Dad," he said, sternly pointing a finger at the garishly painted structure.
Kurt paid for the ride himself. He was not that cruel, and he also paid for Tina and Mercedes. Artie was laughing at them from the nicely grounded safety of his chair as he was showered with coats, purses and stuffed animals.
At this time of night, the roller coaster was not crowded and the line moved along quickly. Within a couple of minutes, the two pairs were seated in the sled-seats, Mercedes and Tina in front with Kurt and Burt behind them.
"You okay, Dad?" Kurt asked, unable to stop grinning at the grimly determined expression on his father's face. "You know the whole ride probably only lasts about 90 seconds, right?"
"Probably?" he asked, lifting his attention away from his white-knuckled grip on the safety bar. "You've been on this before, right?"
Kurt could feel his face heating up. "Well, no. I haven't been out here since the last time I came with you and Mom, remember? I was seven, then, not tall enough to ride."
Surprise flickered in Burt's eyes. "I guess I forgot about that." He studied his son carefully for a moment. "You didn't really want me to do this with you for revenge, did you?"
Ducking his head to avoid that pointed gaze, Kurt said, "Not entirely." His father continued to stare, that silent patience that Kurt never could manage to hold out on for long. "Mom used to love roller coasters. She used to tease you about being afraid to ride them. I was afraid too, but I wanted to ride this roller coaster really, really bad, and Mom promised that when I was older and a little taller, we'd go on it together. And-and she used to tell you that you should be brave . . . like me. She was just kidding, I know that, but she'd say that being afraid of the unknown was silly and that if we could just face this one little fear together, then we'd be able to face anything."
"You remember all that?" Burt asked him, awe in his tone.
Kurt nodded. "I don't know why. I think, reading her letters kind of brought it back for me." Finally, he looked up, meeting his father's eyes. "Do you think maybe she was talking about more than just the ride?"
Draping an arm around his shoulders again, Burt squeezed him tightly. "That sounds like your mom, all over." The ride began to move forward, and Burt automatically clutched the rail harder, his arm around Kurt never loosening. "We can do this thing, Kurt. Let's just hang on and see where it takes us."
Kurt also gripped the railing, squeezing his father's hand with his. "Here we go!"
TBC