* * *
The autumn wind carried a hint of winter but the sun shown today, a dull disk diffused by a brown sky. The park, which was nearly the whole city block, was safe enough in the daylight. The trees had already shed their sad leaves and the bare branches stretched like old fingers over the muddy, patchy grass. Half the park was paved, the basket ball court the most populated area as skateboarders watched young men play games of two on two.
The best part about the park wasn’t the listing swings or the rotted play structure that was really just a single tower with a cracked blue plastic slide. The reason to come here was the carousel. It was a relic of better days, but the plump woman who owned it kept the thing running as long as there was no rain or snow.
“Horsies, horsies, horsies!” chanted Tabby.
Angel was trying to look more grown-up but Queenie could feel his trembling excitement through the tiny cold hand clutched in her own. She carefully reached into her purse and extracted the dollar bills she’d kept out of her tip money for today. Most of her tips went to groceries and school supplies and all the other little things that came up on a seemingly unending basis. But her kids were just kids. She hated saying no to them all the time.
“One dollar for you, Angel. One dollar for you, Tabitha.” Queenie smiled as they got in line for the carousel. The line was never long, only a handful of other children stood waiting for the ride to end.
The tinny music came to a halt and a dozen laughing children climbed down along with a few parents and the odd teenagers on a Saturday afternoon date. Queenie kept a grip on Tabby’s hood to prevent her daughter from slipping to the front of the line.
“You wanna ride with your girl, Queenie?” Linda, the operator, asked.
“No, that’s okay, thanks,” Queenie started to say.
“Mommy, ride the horsies with me, please please?” Tabby looked up at her with liquid brown eyes that shown with hints of pale orange in the diffused sunlight.
“One dollar for both of you, it’s a Saturday special for regulars.” Linda winked at her.
Queenie’s jaw tightened. She didn’t want charity, she wasn’t that type of woman. But her baby’s eyes and the tug of Tabby’s little hand on her coat broke her momentary pride.
“Okay, baby. I’ll go with you,” Queenie said, then added as she stared Linda in the eye, “Just this once though. One time.”
Linda nodded. The message delivered and pride restored, Queenie’s kids handed over their dollars.
Angel raced away around the carousel to search out his favorite lion. Tabby went right to her favorite, a yellow horse with purple bridal and what might have once been bright silver accents meant to represent metal but which now were chipped and grey.
Queenie climbed on and helped Tabby up in front of her.
“My Veld horse,” Tabby said, smiling up at her mother.
“Where are his stripes?” Queenie said.
“Right here, mommy.” Tabby pointed at the faded and chipped yellow paint.
The music started and the carousel slowly turned, their horse beginning a gentle ride up and down, up and down. Queenie gripped her daughter and closed her eyes, trying to imagine what Tabby saw.
The carousel and the park faded away and the music became bird and insect song. The sun was hot on her upturned face and the horse beneath her shifted and moved, impatient to run. His fur was soft as clean sheets and his mane tickled her fingers.
“Mommy! Mommy! See, mommy, we’re here!” Tabby’s shrieks made Queenie open her eyes.
She blinked and forgot to breathe. She shook her head but the vista remained.
All around them, as far as she could see, spread out rolling golden hills studded by the occasional Acacia tree. Large dragonflies with iridescent wings danced between the stalks of grass. Beneath Queenie and Tabby was a stocky horse with bright gold stripes and a mane of silky yellow that fell to brush the grasses below. She could feel the beast breathing, his sides beneath her legs moving in a hypnotic rhythm. The breeze rippled through the grasses in a never ending wave and the air smelled clean and earthy.
She and Tabby both didn’t have their coats, their bare dark arms soaked in the warmth of the place and Queenie reveled for a moment in the delicious heat on her skin. She tried to remember the last time she’d felt this warm and whole. Never, maybe.
“Mommy, can we ride? Where’s Angel? Find him?” Tabby twisted around to look up at her mother.
Queenie stared down at her. She didn’t know what to say. This couldn’t be real, could it? And if it was, where was Angel? Had he not come with them? She wanted it to be real, something deep within her came loose for a moment and she was able to breathe again. She breathed deep.
She didn’t know how she’d gotten here. If she could go back, get Angel, would she be able to return?
“I think, baby,” she said slowly, “I think mommy isn’t getting enough sleep, or food, or something. We’d better go.”
“But,” Tabby started to say.
Queenie closed her eyes and pictured the carousel, pictured Angel riding the lion. She heard Tabby’s whimper of disappointment followed by the strains of music and the shouts of the basket ball players. The park, her escape from the city, seemed small and dim when she opened her eyes. The air tasted metallic and bitter and the cold hit her with a physical punch.
The carousel ground down to stopped. Tabby tried to slip off the horse, but Queenie grabbed her.
“Tabitha, listen to me. Don’t mention the Veldt to anyone, okay?” She added, “Not even Angel,” as she saw the look in her daughter’s wide eyes. “Just, not yet. It’s our secret.”
“We go back?” Tabby asked.
“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.” Queenie lifted Tabby down and then slid off the wooden horse. I wish it were real. I wish we could have stayed in the sunlight forever. She’d never felt more tired.
The ten block walk back home was subdued. She left the kids in front of the TV and went next door to the Minute Market to get milk and more bread.
In the shower before work, Queenie looked down at her body. She was thinner than she’d ever been and her arms looked like the branches of the park trees, pale brown and weak. She told herself that was it; she wasn’t eating enough, sleeping enough. Years ago, before Angel, before everything, she would have given anything to be so thin. Thin enough to hide. To be overlooked. Now, at twenty five, she felt only tired. Used up. A shell full of nothing but determined survival fueled by the burning love for her kids.
Things would be different for them. She’d make things different. And she didn’t need a stupid fantasy world to do it.
Queenie normally skipped her short lunch break at the bar in favor of more tips, but she forced herself to choke down half a basket of chicken strips and a few tater tots. When she got home, Tabby was firmly asleep and Angel didn’t say much.
He climbed into bed with her, though, his body small and warm as he nestled against her. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. His hair smelled of pert plus and underneath that indefinable yet unmistakable scent that said mine to Queenie. Mine. His pulse was fast and light like a bird’s. He said nothing of the Veldt but Queenie fell asleep with the image of her son racing across golden plains on the back of a lion, his laughter sparkling, a tangible thing in the bright air.