Page 83 of Between Love and War
“Or the next best thing,” she adds as we locate Haley’s car and she slips into the passenger seat. I look at her, her face happier than it was ten minutes ago.
And I stare at my reflection as I adjust the rear-view mirror. I’m happier too. Because I came here not expecting anything. Definitely not this. But somehow, the next best thing is starting to feel suspiciously like the first best one.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Michael
Idrive with no real destination in mind, headlights cutting through the dark, winding roads of Tagaytay. The air outside is crisp with pine and damp earth, touched with the faint sweetness of roasted corn and chestnuts from roadside stalls long closed for the night. Kate rolls down her window, sticks her hand out into the wind, and starts tracing lazy shapes in the air. It’s such a small, ordinary gesture, but something about it feels like progress. Like she’s letting the night carry her, even just a little.
We don’t talk for a while. I let her be in her thoughts, and I stay in mine. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. So I try to calm myself down and not overthink it. I drown out thoughts of my career in basketball. My murky future. The interview Heather proposed. My sponsorships. Everything.
Right now, I’m here. Driving nowhere, with someone in the passenger seat who somehow makes nowhere feel like somewhere.
Then, out of the dark stretch of highway, lights appear—flickering in the distance. I spot the soft glow of a Ferris wheel turning. I see a large sign that reads “Starville Funland – Open 24/7 until December 30!”
Kate jolts upright, hair whipping around her face. “No way. Is this real?”
“You tell me,” I say, already pulling into the gravel lot.
We step out of the car and look at the giant amusement park in front of us. “You know,” I say, voice a little lower, “I’ve never been to an amusement park.”
“Ever?” Kate’s eyes widen.
I nod. “Never had the time. The friends. The opportunity,” I say.
“That’s sad,” Kate says. “And that’s the only reason I’m going out of this car, into that amusement park, wearing my pajamas.”
“I appreciate it, Katie,” I say with a chuckle.
We enter the park, and I’m glad to see it’s not packed with people.
We head inside, and the park is practically empty—just a few other silhouettes in the distance, a couple of workers in faded uniforms, and a sleepy energy hanging in the air like the final hours of a party no one really wanted to leave. It’s perfect.
We wander past the food stalls, which, frankly, are just energy bars and soda at this time of day. We reach a couple of game booths, none of which are appealing until the final one, where Katie grabs my arm in excitement, her cold hand sending jolts into my system.
“Oh my gosh, that’s like a giant version of the bear I have at home!” she exclaims, pointing to the giant teddy bear plushiewith a bowtie on the highest shelf of a game called ‘Swish it to Win It.’ I remember the miniature version she’s talking about. The one sitting on the shelf in her room, beside two other bears. The lady running the booth is sitting half-asleep behind the counter, nursing a thermos of coffee. She perks up when she sees me eyeing the basketballs.
“Five consecutive shots for a consolation prize,” she says, pointing to the rules taped haphazardly to the table. She continues in a flat, uninterested tone. “Big bear plushie if you get all ten. But don’t get cocky, it’s professional-height. Most people don’t even get three.”
I snort, and Kate elbows me. “Too bad you’re just someone who played some high school basketball, huh?”
I laugh. “Ten consecutive shots?” I ask the lady. She grunts a response and hands me the basket of balls.
I take a ball, and the moment my fingers wrap around it, something in me clicks into place. I shoot. The ball arcs perfectly, drops clean into the hoop. I hear Kate’s small gasp. Then I make another. And another. By the fifth shot, the lady running the booth is staring.
By the tenth shot, the woman’s shaking her head in disbelief, muttering something about miracles. Kate’s laughing, half in awe, half in disbelief herself.
“Well,” the woman says, grabbing the giant teddy bear from the top shelf. “You’re one in a million. You should play professionally,” she says.
“Yeah, I should,” I reply. “Maybe point guard or something.”
“Congratulations,” she says.
I turn and hand it to Kate. It’s so big it nearly swallows her whole; the bowtie practically brushes her chin.
Her face softens. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know.” I grin. “But I wanted to.”
