#115: Fallen: Fire and Redemption - Ferris Wheel
.***Julian Kauer***
I just wanted her to turn off the damn stove.
Seriously. If Violet spent one more hour testing a recipe with a fancy French name and some foam of whatever the hell, I was going to throw all her notebooks out the window and drag her out of the house by force.
“We need to go out,” I said, leaning on the counter.
“Out where? There’s a fair today?”
“No. Amusement park.”
Violet looked up like I’d just said we were becoming Jehovah’s Witnesses.
“You’re joking.”
“Never been more serious.”
“Julian… I’m busy.”
“You’re turning into a pressure cooker. And before it explodes and throws boiling water at me, let’s go ride some bumper cars and eat cotton candy. Let’s be that insufferable vanilla couple just for one night.”
She stared at me like I had two heads. Then she huffed, grabbed a cloth, wiped her hands, and said,
“You’re ridiculously persuasive. You know that, right?”
“Ridiculously hot. Now go change that stained t-shirt, take a shower, and let’s go.”
When we got there, I immediately saw the look on her face with the ticket line. It looked bad, but I still hoped her mood would improve once we were inside.
Poor me. Little did I know it’d only get worse.
First stop: churro cart. I bought two — one with dulce de leche and one with dark chocolate. The way she used to like it, at least back when life was a bit less... heavy.
“Here,” I said, handing her one
She took it without really looking at me, took a distracted bite, and frowned.
“It’s hot.”
“It’s a churro, Violet. If it were cold, that would be the problem.”
She didn’t laugh or answer. Just kept walking like she was being forced to.
I tried to make small talk, comment on the rides, on the kids screaming with joy — or panic, depending on the height of the ride — but she only responded with “yeah” or “maybe.”
At the shooting booth, I won a stupid plushie. A pig in a biker vest that reminded me of Snake Club. I handed it to her, half-laughing at the ridiculousness, hoping she’d mock it and laugh.
“A symbolic gift to mark your evening.”
She looked at the pig, held it for two seconds, and left it on a metal railing nearby.
“Kind of ugly, huh?”
“Yeah… that was kind of the point. But okay.”
She shrugged. Not malicious, just... absent. Somewhere else.
“You okay?” I asked, softer this time.
“Mm-hm. Just tired.”
“Tired of the park or of me? Because listen…”
“Julian, just go on. Let’s walk around and enjoy. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Not what I expected. Or the tone.
But I took a deep breath, forced a crooked smile, and pointed to the Ferris wheel.
“All right then. Let’s ride that thing and see if it helps.”
She nodded but walked ahead like she was off to file taxes.
And that’s when I understood: it wasn’t the park.
I thought she’d perk up once she saw the rides, but no. Violet’s face still looked like she drank spoiled milk for breakfast, and it was seriously getting to me.
So we got in. And stayed quiet.
Her silence was worse than any argument. Because it was empty. And I was stuck with her in a booth fifty meters off the ground with no idea what to do with all that tension.
And then, she took a deep breath and let it out like it had been sitting on her chest for days.
“Today’s Ethan’s birthday.”
It took me a second to process it. Of course. Ethan. The guy before me. The guy she lost.
The name she never said out loud and always caught me off guard.
I felt kind of bad for not remembering, but how could I? She treated it like a forbidden subject.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Vi… why didn’t you tell me? That explains the even-worse-than-usual mood,” I said, trying to soften it.
She let out a dry chuckle but kept her eyes on the lights below.
“I just... I didn’t want you to think I love you less. That I keep remembering him like everything was better before. Because it wasn’t. It was different. I was a different person. But not comparable to now, you know?”
“I’m a grown man, Violet. I don’t have that kind of fragile ego. Not anymore. I know who you are with me. You dropped everything to come to this town. I see that. And that’s more than anything I’ve had before.”
She took a while but turned to face me. Her eyes were glassy but dry. Like she’d trained them not to cry anymore.
“I just spent so long trying to bury it... pretending I moved on. But every time this day comes, it’s like it all comes back. The guilt, the whole mess.”
“You ever think about going back to one of those support groups? Like you did before? We could look for something here. I can help.”
“Maybe…” she whispered. “Maybe that’s a good idea. I could do that... for you. For us. So I don’t turn into a bitch every time this hits.”
“Not for me. For you.”
“Same difference.”
“No. It’s not. I want you to do it for yourself. Because you deserve to be okay. Even when you don’t know how to get there.”
Silence again. But this time, it wasn’t heavy. The booth swayed gently in the wind, and I got up from my seat and crossed the small space between us.
She widened her eyes.
“Julian, sit down. This thing’s gonna fall.”
“I’m kneeling. Look how romantic this is. Appreciate it.”
“You’ll die and become one more name on my Dead Boyfriends list.”
“Then I die happy if I land on top of you.”
She huffed but didn’t push me. I stayed there, kneeling in front of her, holding her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I don’t make promises. But I know this much: what we’ve got here... it’s real. Even when we pretend it’s not. Even when it feels like it’s gonna break. And I’m gonna hold on tight because you’re the only thing that makes sense in this crazy, insane life.”
She gave me that you’re an idiot look, but her eyes were soft, shining. They bounced between my face and my mouth the same way I did when I couldn’t resist that sticky lip gloss on her mouth.
Then she pulled me down and kissed me, proving my point.
It was that kind of kiss that tasted like an apology and emotion you can’t quite name. The booth swayed, and I laughed against her lips when she gasped in fear.
“This thing really will fall if you hang on me like that.”
“It won’t. Ferris wheels are sturdy,” she murmured, still kissing me while I pulled her closer.
“Like you, babe.”
She pressed her forehead to mine, eyes closed.
“I still don’t know how to deal when you’re like this… all sweet and romantic.”
“Then enjoy it. Because in five minutes I’ll go back to being unbearable and demand we retrieve that hideous plushie.”
“You never stop being unbearable, babe.”
As the booth started moving again, descending slowly, her hand stayed in mine, neither of us wanting to let go. And for the first time in days, she looked lighter, quieter — finally letting go of the burden she’d been carrying alone.
I’ve seen a lot of shit. I know how hard it is.
But just like that Ferris wheel, everything that begins has an end.
Pain doesn’t have to be the only thing left.
And I was going to prove that to her.