A Symphony of Cicadas (13 page)

“We can still taste
food
?” I asked, and she laughed.

“Of course we can!  Can’t you hear, smell, and feel?  Why can’t you also taste?”  I immediate
ly
grabbed another handful of cotton candy from a kid passing by, this time a baby blue, and stuffed it in my mouth
.
A hot dog
ly
ing on a cart became my next meal, and I savored the way the hot juices exploded in my mouth with each satisfying bite
.
All the foods I had
resisted
as I worried about calories and getting fat were now beckoning me to indulge in a feast of culinary abandon.

“I never thought anything could taste so good,” I said in between bites of nacho
-
cheese
-
covered tortilla chips, popcorn, and chocolate
-
covered ice cream,
inhaling
the feast I had laid out in front of me
.
             
J
ane
had her own spread of forbidden foods in front of her, gorging on pizza and a hamburger as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“I know!” she exclaimed with a full mouth, making it come out in a garbled answer
.
Holding her finger up, she chewed for a few more moments and then gave a hard swallow
.
“When I was a kid, I was total
ly
fat,” she told me
.
I blinked in disbelief.

“But you were so thin
when I knew you
!” I exclaimed
.
I’d on
ly
seen her with a lean frame, her appearance showing no hint that weight had ever been an issue for her
.
I had a
hard time envisioning her as anything heavier than the healthy weight she now carried.

“Trust me, I knew how to pack on the pounds
.
I guess I just loved food so much I didn’t know how to say no
.
The worst part was that my mom and sister were natural
ly
thin
.
I took more after my dad who sported a gut almost all of my life
.
My mom was
always
on my case about food, comparing me to my sister. ‘You’d be so pretty if you just lost the weight,’ she’d tell me
.
‘Look at Tabitha
;
why can’t you be more like her?’ she’d ask, holding me up to an impossible goal
.
My mom would limit my foods and hide the sweet
s
from me
.
But I knew where they were, and would constant
ly
skim off the top, sneaking in bites of hidden candy and feeling guilty all the time
.
When she had me put the dinner leftovers in the refrigerator, I’d take advantage of the food in front of me and help myself to another servin
g
.
My favorite snack was a heaping spoonful
of peanut butter
and
ice cream
.
Food was my addiction, and because of it I got up to
two
hundred
pounds by the time I was
fifteen
years old.”

“So how did you stop?” I asked her, picking at the nuts that covered my ice cream
.
I could relate
to
the love-hate relationship with food all too well
.
Like every woman I had ever known, I’d fed into the impulse to be thinner and more fit, especial
ly
as my wedding approached
.
Thing is, even when I’d lose the five pounds
I had set
my mind to, it never seemed enough
.
I’d end up losing and gaining the same five pounds over and over again, all the while certain that those few pounds were
a screaming billboard
on my thighs and waist.
But even as I
thought about my own struggles,
I knew
they were
small compared to the
struggle with
obesity
Jane was detailing
.

“I guess I just became aware of the way people were looking at me and how I was being judged by my weight
.
When my mom did it, it was one thing
.
But
eventual
ly
my
friends started hanging out with me less, a swimsuit was the most terrifying contraption in the world, and I kept growing out of my pants
before they were even broken in
.
I found the motivation to change
when I realized that no one wanted to be around the fat kid, not even me
.”
She smirked, popping a
French
fry in her mouth
.
“Of course, you got to see how that turned out.”

“You mean the drugs?” I asked.

“Yup
.
I started out with the best of intentions, cutting my meals in half and avoiding all foods that made me want to binge
.
I began taking walks around my neighborhood and riding my bike everywhere
.
I even began to see some weight loss. But you know how the teenage years go
.
Someone introduced me to speed, and I realized I could lose weight even faster while a
lso experiencing this incredible
adrenaline rush
.
With that came my liquid diet of tequila
.
And soon I was on a constant high with whatever I could get my hands on
.
I traded one addiction for another
.”
She took another bite of food, this time chewing
much slower
before
she washed
it down with a drink of soda
.
She then looked at me and grinned
.
“I guess that’s
one of the reasons
I love it here so much, because of the food
.
It’s my favorite part
.
I can eat whatever I want and never get sick or full, or even fat
.
And I
can actual
ly
enjoy my food because there’s no guilt
.
I think it makes it taste even better that way.”

I looked off
to
the lights of the Ferris wheel
as it
turned
its lazy rotation
against the darkening sky
.
The blinking red, yellow, and blue held their own slow beat, beckoning me with a hypnotic pulse as they went around and around
.
I held J
ane
’s hand and felt
on
ly
the slightest pull as we left the feast of junk food and
found ourselves
sharing a seat
at the top of the ride looking out across the whole of the carnival.

At the highest point, the park looked like glowing embers
.
We could hear the faint metal sound of the roller coaster whipping around the tracks, screams echoing in an ebb and flow of fear mixed with delight
.
Carnies called out from unseen games, their words not quite audible to us as they got lost in a sea of noise
.
The whole carnival was alive, filling us with that void in our afterlife, feeding us the heartbeat and pulse of blood we were missing as we pretended to be a part of it all
.
In the distance I could see the spirits of those who had passed
,
rising and falling into the night sky, plunging against the stars while holding dozens of balloons.

“I think I could stay here forever,” she said, and I agreed.

We
studied the view
in silence on
our
slow journey around the wheel, catching our breath
at the
jump in our bellies
as it picked up speed
, and taking in the gusts of air
that
rushed past our cheeks and through our hair
.
I closed my eyes and leaned back, reveling in the moment of being off guard, out of control,
and
at the whim of the ride
.
But in the back of my mind was John, his unshaven face and sad eyes
staring back at me in abandonment
.
Even further behind him was Joey, his evaporating image haunting me with the
knowledge
that I still hadn’t found my son
.
I opened my eyes and looked at
Jane
.
Her eyes were still closed as the wind whipped her
short
hair
away from her face
.
A small trail of tears was traced from her eyes into her hairline, the constant rush of air pushing it back from her face instead of down her cheeks
.
I realized the
Santa Cruz
carnival was her escape, where she hid from all the demons that haunted her in life and followed her into death
.
It was here that she was able to leave them all
behind
, even for just the moment
.
But did we ever real
ly
get to leave
behind
these hurts that ate at our souls while we were living?  Judging by the emotional stream on her face, I guessed not
.
I took her hand again, and she opened her eyes and smiled at me
.
The tears evaporated as if they never existed.

“I can’t real
ly
stay here forever,” I told her, and I saw the slightest quiver in her smile before she squeezed my hand.

“I know,” she said.

“I have to find my son,” I told her.

“He’ll find you when it’s time.”

“I need to stay with John,” I whispered
.
Her smile was wistful.

“I know,” she
repeated, whispering the words back to me
.
We let the weight of that statement hang between us in the moment
.
I knew I was willing myself to be weighted down in the afterlife by focusing on the living
.
I was beginning to understand
even more
what Aunt Rose had described to me, the addiction that takes place when surrounded with those
we loved in life
,
and how much heavier it became with time
.
I knew that on this Ferris wheel I was being presented with a choice – to walk away or to run back into the addiction
.
I knew that I was making the wrong choice
.
But I didn’t care
.
I realized that no
h
eaven was tru
ly
perfect unless I could see John’s face every moment of the day.

“What happens when he moves on?” she asked me, and I flinched.

“Then I’ll be happy for him,” I lied
.
“I on
ly
want him to be happy.”

“Then let him live,” she pleaded
.
“The longer you stay with him, the longer it will take him to recover from the loss of you.”

And in that statement, my decision
was
sealed
.
I didn’t want him to recover from me
.
I wanted him to miss me every day, just as I missed him
.
Jane
sighed when she saw the shift in my face.

“You know where I’ll be if you need me,” she said, squeezing my hand again, this time in defeat
.
I smiled back at her
, grateful for her understanding
.

“I wish we had been better friends in life,” I told her.

“We’re friends now.”

I looked away,
peering
past the carnival where the darkness of the mountains met up with a purple sky peppered with stars
.
I could feel the pull inside of me as my mind turned to John, but I realized I needed more time
.
I glanced back at
Jane
, but she had already left
.
I
swung to my side, lifted up my feet,
and stood up
.
Placing my foot on the
metal bar that separated me from the open air below, I took a deep breath in and exhaled.