Page 146 of Mexico Can Choke On It
“That was always part of tonight’s agenda, Moneybags. Now quit trying to control my magical evening.”
The machine gears snap into position at the top. Petra flings her arms up, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Then we drop.
HOLY MOTHER OF—
We plummet like skydivers without parachutes, screaming uncontrollably. My brain submits a formal objection to the rules of physics while my stomach relocates to my esophagus.
As we ascend for the second drop, I reach over and intertwine my fingers with hers. She lifts her eyes to mine, and we plunge once more, her face dissolving into bliss.
She’s positively glowing… My heart is going to burst. This is what I have been missing my whole life.
Not the adrenaline. Not the junk food. Not the thrill of breaking social protocol.
This.
Being completely authentic with another human being. No masks, no performance, no image to maintain. Just someone to be ridiculous with—and loving every second of it.
… and apparently, also motion sick.
Moments later, I’m doubled over a trash can confessing my sins to the garbage gods.
“Okay, champ,” Petra says, her hand making gentle circles on my back. “Let’s pump the brakes.”
She guides me to a bench and presses a water bottle into my trembling hands. “Sip. Don’t chug. We’re not here to waterboard your stomach.”
I obey as we settle into people-watching. The carnival is a brilliant backdrop of neon lights and swirling music as locals greet each other with warm smiles. An elderly couple strolls hand in hand, sharing a churro like it’s their first date. Two young lovers embrace on the Ferris wheel, eyes only for each other. I look past a group of teenage girls dancing for a TikTok, and that’s when I seeher—
My gap-toothed accomplice from the Wheel of Fear. She’s standing near the rollercoaster with tears streaming down her cheeks. A woman who’s clearly her mother crouches beside her, gesturing helplessly.
“What do you think is wrong?” I ask, nodding toward the scene.
Petra follows my gaze, her expression softening. “I have a pretty good guess.”
She’s moving before I can respond, heading for the small family. The mother lifts her eyes, cautious, but Petra’s already handing over a thick stack of tickets—along with what appears to be every dollar in her wallet.
The child’s tears transform into squeals of delight as Petra crouches down for a high-five. The mother says, “Gracias, gracias“ as she pats Petra’s arm with a gratitude that comes from unexpected kindness.
Petra returns, settling beside me like nothing happened.
“I’ve got a radar for single moms,” she says. “You can always tell. That look—dead tired but still hell-bent on making things magical. My mom wore it too, back when she maxed out credit cards on school supplies or scraped together whatever she could to makemy birthday feel special.”
I watch as the young girl shows her ticket to the ride operator like it’s a golden pass to Willy Wonka’s factory.
“I had every financial need met,” I say quietly. “And every emotional need ignored. That’s why I gravitated toward Gavin. He had something I’d never experienced—a family who cared for each other.”
“Your family doesn’t know what they’re missing,” shesays gently.
Petra rests her head on my shoulder, and for a brief moment, it feels normal—this parallel world. Watching this innocent child climb into her seat, arms up, grinning like she’s on a personal rollercoaster to heaven.
“Is that why you want to become a lawyer? To help struggling mothers?”
Petra’s eyes snap open like I just accused her of murder. “What makes you think I want that?”
“Well, your passionate speech about justice on the yacht, your tendency to correct those who are out of line, and the extensive collection of law books scattered throughout your apartment suggested as much.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, and I’m not sure if she’s touched or concerned that I noticed all those pieces and put them together.
