rolling motion and stream gaily out over the traffic. She laughs. Throws her head back and laughs. Nothing Brian feels at that moment can be translated into words, perhaps not even into a memory. The moment doesn't feel real, but a dream, and not his dream, but a dream she is dreaming that he has entered. There is a deep jarring blast from the horn of the approaching tourist boat, and camera flashes go pop, pop in the night. Brian sees her fall. He comes off the bench, but she has recovered her balance. She is crouched on her knee holding the beam, one leg dangling. She waves him off. She glares at the tourists looking up, eager for a thrill, and raises her middle finger. She dismounts backwards, walks unsteadily to the bench, taking a spot beside him, and stares out at nothing. Brian studies her face. She begins to tremble and tries to laugh, but he hears a nervous giggle disguised with false confidence. Brian puts his arm around her shoulder because he feels compelled to do something, and it's all he can think of. She leans on him. "Hold me," she says. He is holding her, he thinks. He places her jacket on her bony shoulders. "You're crazy," he says. She is laughing through her tears. He's surprised when she rests her head on his shoulder. He has no idea what can happen next, and he ignores questions that come into his head, letting himself drift with the moment. "Good performance," he says. "You liked it?" "l could do without the drama. Your Dad and Mom know you do this?" She lets out a single note of laughter. "Divorcing." He says nothing because he's afraid he'll say the wrong thing. "Don't sweat it. It's their life, not mine. I walked out on them tonight. They were talking, you know, yelling at each other. Why did they bother to have a kid? Some nights it's bad. They wake me up
36 I PAUL VIDICH