‘OK.’
‘Wait, I remember now,’ I say suddenly. ‘It’s important. When do you think The Rock will be president?’
‘Isn’t he president already?’ Dom says and we both think about it for a long time.
‘Help me stand up,’ I say impulsively, as he takes my hand. But neither of us stand. It feels very funny to be holding his hand, sitting on a beach, and so I start laughing. I’m holding the hand of this stranger I have known less than a week. A stranger I met in a taxi, whose penis has been inside me. How funny life is. He is giggling now too, and I cannot imagine life gets any better than this.How could it possibly?
Then – off in the distance – I notice the funfair on the pier. The Ferris wheel lights up the night sky. I stop giggling and grip Dom’s hand tighter.
‘We have to go to that. I want to go on a ride,’ I say and it is the most vital mission I’ve had so far on this life journey.
‘Yes!’ he shouts and he is on his feet, taking me up with him.
My legs feel funnyand I am glad to still have hold of his hand. I take out my phone and I take a photo of our hands, locked together. I have to remember this lovely moment with anear-stranger. I want to look at this photo forever. I want to look at it every time I am sad and not sure if things will be good again.
‘How far away is that?’ I say, looking off at the sparkly pier and I am giggling again.
‘Ithink it’s almost certainly too far to walk,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘Particularly because I don’t know if you can walk.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ I say crossly, ‘of course I can walk!’ And then I fall over in the sand and I lie there laughing, until he picks me up.
‘We don’t have to walk, but we do have to be able to stand,’ he tells me, and I think he may be right.
‘We will uder an ober,’I say, inspiration striking me. ‘Wait, I mean uder anorber. Wait, what am I trying to say?’
‘Do you mean uder an ober?’ he says and we both start laughing again.
‘You are an ober driver,’ I point out, helpfully. ‘Can I uder you?’
‘I’m not picking you up,’ he says and we are moving across the sand somehow. ‘You are only a 3.5.’
We walk a few steps. ‘Are we nearly there yet?’ Isay, and I think I mean in life.
‘Not even close,’ he says, and I think he means in life.
‘I have an idea!’ I say, stopping. ‘We can get a rickshaw along the sand. That way we don’t have to leave the beach. Because Uder Briver, I don’t want to leave the beach, ever.’
Dom agrees this is a better idea, and we haggle with a passing driver in yellow shorts. For twenty dollars he will takeus the three miles along the sea front, and he says we can shout as much as we like because we wanted that included in the price.
We climb on board and the man starts peddling hard. The warm wind in my face feels amazing as we fly along, passing glowing bikes and tourists and pedestrians and people on those scooter things. And I feel really happy. I know I am high, and also full of sexy hormones,but I think I really am happy.
I sit back and stare up for a minute.
I feel so far away from everything. So far away from my old, pathetic life. So far away from everything that needs resolving. I wanted escapism here; I wanted shallow silliness; I wanted fun; and that’s what I’ve found. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? It is. Because escaping is not the same as running away. Escaping isfine. And even running away is fine, too, I’m sure of it. Getting a rickshaw away is even better.
I think I was right to come here, to do this. I think this is going to beOK. I think thatIam going to beOK. Everything is going to work out how it’s supposed to. I just have to stay on the beach, and I just have to get on that Ferris wheel.
‘Which way is west?’ I ask our driver and hepoints out in front of us, over the landscape full of people and life. I turn to Dom to tell him I was right, and he kisses me.
‘Uber Driver,’ I shout, pulling away and looking deep into his big brown eyes. ‘This is important, you have to listen to me. You have to listen.’
We are silent as we stare at each other intently.
In a whispered voice I say it – I say the important thing.
‘Uber Driver, let’s play thumb wars with our tongues.’
And we do.
