Imperfection

        start of  **IMPERFECTION**

 🎠 Saskia's Fiat was still in decent running order, and despite the rather stiff exchange they had a few months ago on replacing it, Neil still dared to ask about its performance from time to time. Nothing too intense, just a mild, usually one-off inquiry in the hope it was perchance on its way out. But part of his 'punishment' for having had that dig at her beloved car and wishing its demise, came swiftly - just a few days afterwards. 

  While driving with him in tow, at every nifty left corner she took, she would deliberately and dramatically keel over, head flopping close to his shoulder  just to unnerve him. Of course, he soon became used to it and that particular silliness dropped, only making the very occasional appearance when he wasn't expecting it; like tonight on their way home from picking up their usual bottle of wine or two.  He was in the middle of telling her how unfunny that was and she really shouldn't be such an idiot in the dark, when bright lights and movement up ahead waylaid their conversation, drawing her into even more immaturity.

   'Oh, look!' Saskia said briskly.

   'What?' Neil answered, suddenly aware of fairground lights and movements peeking over some tree tops.  Now, around two yards closer, Neil could actually feel thudding vibrations from inside this potential rust-bucket; it seemed to absorb the pounding rather than bounce it off (decision made, she was getting a new car like it or not!)  The child within her stirring, and Saskia indicated to go right, and he protested instantly.  

   'We've no time for this, I've got that lamb marinating!'

   'Oh, come on grumpy-lamb-chops, I think you'll survive being a half-hour hungrier!' 

   Neil looked at her askance, catching her determined smile in profile, sighed and succumbed, knowing he'd do anything to please her. Luckily she found a space despite the only luminosity coming from the fair itself.

   Just as they made their way over the gravel to the entrance, Neil squished a white trainer straight into that infamous muddy grass, forgetting that they were returning from a modern gallery visit, in casual clothes. As long as he didn't look down at his feet after each step, he might survive this. His presence beside her, however, came with a stipulation,  

   'I'm telling you here and now that my arse has never gone higher than the dodgems and won't be sat upon any time here!'

   'Relax, Raptor, we'll stick to the arcades.'

   Then a smell, all sweet and strawberry-like wafted toward them, and just a few yards on a strategically placed van selling candy-floss lured you over, the essence alone stopping you in your tracks. And candy-floss was no ageist but a clever temptress, as plenty of adults were walking about picking off tufts of their childhood, till only the stick was left. Watching the skilled seller twist and shape with ease, it took only ten seconds until that cloud of pink delight was in her hand.

   'Want one?' Saskia asked, genuinely considering he might. 'They have them in blue, too.'

   'Why would I want one?' he piqued, becoming a little piqued.

   She shrugged, with an expression of pure mischief that simply irked him more.

   'And you shouldn't either, you'll ruin your appetite!'

   She couldn't help but laugh at his response, he sounded soooo ridiculously parental.  

   'What am I... ten!' she scoffed. 'There's no weight to this stuff, just melts the second it's in, there'll be plenty room for that lamb-thingy you're making.'

   If things weren't sugary-bad enough for him, while merging into the thick of the fair in their search for arcades, she turned at some screams, gluing her floss to the shoulder of Neil's black leather bomber jacket; they had hardly been in the place five minutes.

   'Oh, for fuck's sake!' he said loudly, (forgetting there were kids around) and gave a loud sigh as Saskia lapsed into panic mode, feeling bad about it.

   'Hold on,' she said, rustling in her shoulder bag while the floss, still in one hand, was flitting all over the place. 'I'll get that off right away!' But the makeup wipe just stained the leather even more.

   'Och, it's in your hair too! Right... ' He snatched the pesky stick from her and chucked it out of harms way onto grass between stalls, 'that's got rid of that!' Saskia made no protest, just gave him a piteous look as he said,  'I can only imagine you were raised a very sticky child!'

     

Making their way through the crowd, colour jumped out at them from every near-blindingly lit stall.  Beats from typical rave-like songs thumped through their chest, while piercing screams entered Neil's head and stabbed needle-like to his ears. He didn't know why, but he felt rather nervous passing some of these huge, maniacal-looking rides - especially with the wind that whipped from them -  preferring constructions of the still and solid kind.  But Saskia knew from the arcades, juvenescence would still spread and make way for older heads when the body can't risk speed or height. 

   It took them a little while to actually locate the arcades which were sited at the far end of the ever-worsening muddy ground, and they entered the nearest one filled mostly with old-school-type entertainment. Even Neil, old as he was, felt retrospectively suited here. And Saskia jumped for joy with excitement at a vintage two-penny falls machine and cashed two pound coins into pence, leaving Neil to amuse himself at the bandits, where he eventually come across one he could more or less associate with his underage pub visits.

   After a quick £20 worth of what he called hee haw (Scottish vernacular for nothing), Neil re-emerged at Saskia's side to check up on her luck. Every so often he heard her winning coins, and was immediately rapt by the challenge before her.

   Bringing his architectural side to the fore, he carefully studied the way the coins had settled. Her monetary plight had her down to her last two coins, and the pile through the glass in front of her teetered on the brink of throwing themselves off the edge. If his calculations on the way the stud placements were fixed, she just had to drop a coin and let it land nearer the left and the forwarding slide (or slightest vibration) should do the trick.

   'Right there!' Neil tapped with his finger the slot to fire it down. It zigzagged down, landing perfectly for success, but the push bar only managed to make it ride over other coins. Now she was down to her last twopence piece. Success this time, surely? But watching it bump down with baited breath, all that resulted in was a mild shift at the front.

   'Again!' ordered Neil, 'It has to go this time.'

   'I've no more!' she screeched, frisking herself madly for a spare coin but coming up with nothing; there was no way she was leaving the win for anyone else! Neil popped his hands into his jacket pockets for a check, and while doing so she in her frenzy plunged hers into his front jeans pockets, and with blithe unconcern was brushing his penis with her fingers in her mad search to find that elusive coin! He just stared at her in disbelief and she drew them free. 

'What?! I can't leave it like this!' she squealed. 

   'Calm down, woman,' he tutted, 'there's one at your feet - look!' By Christ, the girl was irrepressible!

   She quickly picked it up, rubbed it off her lapel for luck and shoved it down the same 'winning' slot.  Even Neil's heart was in his mouth. 

   Nothing. 

   Nothing but a shuffle closer to the edge.

   'What!' he said, long and loud.  'That should have dropped... sod this!'  He twisted his head around, checking the joint out. Everyone seemed transfixed with their own battles in the arcade, so gave the unjust machine a thud with his fist.

   'There you go!'  

   A hail of twopence pieces tumbled loudly into the winning dish near her knees, and she grinned hugely at the dastardly deed. There he was, this multi-millionaire thumping a machine for a pittance so his daughter wasn't disappointedly duped.  'Bloody thing's probably fixed with magnets!'

   She scooped her 'win' into her pockets, contented enough even though she didn't even break-even. They'd go into the charity jar at the cafe.

Their venture after the arcade led only to the paltry stalls on their way out.  Feeling elated, (Saskia scored surprisingly well at the rifle range where she trounced him) she walked with a stuffed-something-or-other under her armpit for the collective price of £12.  The furry horse-like thing would no doubt have cost a pittance to manufacture, yet she still felt it money well spent.

   'What is that anyway?' Neil asked, puzzled by its appearance. 

   'It's a unicorn, got a gold horn coming out of its head - look.'

   Hmm... doesn't look much like it to me. Anyhow, you're lucky. In the seventies you won a gonk.'

   'A what?'

   'Gonk', he repeated, bringing unfortunate tubular hand movement in on his description. 'Basically it was a toilet roll tube with some fur wrapped round it and a paper face stuck to it.'  

   'What was it suppose to do?'

   'Nothing. Just stood there staring scarily at you. Think my mum eventually used it to clean her blinds.'

   Saskia smiled, enjoying these strange tales of yore. He often brought his mother up in his memories though asking of her out of the blue could noticeably upset him. With his parents splitting when he was young could upset the balance of his loyalty. Though his mother never bad-mouthed his father, nor interfered in their relationship, Neil still felt a guilt factor for ever having trusted him.

Just ahead of them while making their way back to the car (dinner would be extra-late tonight!) a woman was trying to exit the grounds with her grandson, but the boy was protesting and pleading with her to let him on this certain ride.

   'But look, Nana...'  He stood in front of a paper height gauge glued to a post. 'I'm tall enough for this one!'    

   'Yes, I see that,' she emphasised, 'but it also states that you're too young to go it alone. I really couldn't stomach going on, son, I told you that before we even come here.'  The agreement was that dear old grandma would only partake in things that didn't include velocity nor heights.

  'Please, Nana! All my friends at school have been on it.'  

   The older lady - a woman in her latter fifties - stood and watched in terror at the vicious speed and twists of these lethal-looking contraptions; even the carousel had looked too rough for her liking.

   'I'm sorry, Simon, it's not happening. Come on... let's some ice cream or rock candy.' 

    The look on the little lad's face radiated devastation, and she was sure there was going to be guilt-inducing tears to follow; sugar was no trade off, no substitute for the thrill of his life. 

   'I'll take him on!' Saskia, said with alacrity. 'Can't have him being the odd one out in class now, can we?' 

   'Oh no, really, I couldn't possibly— '

   'Nonsense,' Saskia said, taking the situation in hand by slinging her toy into Neil's chest and hanging her strapped bag over his head to hold too. Grabbing the boy by his sleeve, she led him through the barrier before his over-fussing nana could do much about it.

   'I'll have to pay for him! ' she called after them.

   'I'll get it!' Saskia called back.   

   The young lad's face lit up. Not only had he just met his own Joan-of-Arc-in-a-park, but she was a babe - the kind of girl boy's on the cusp of teenage-hood giggled senselessly over. Out came his phone for a selfie, lest his friends think he was bullshitting them! 

   'Zip that phone safely before the ride takes off - put it in your chest pocket!' The uneasy gran called out to him. Thirty seconds later they took off with a mighty whoosh!

   Neil just stood there like a lemon next to the woman, adjusting his 'handbag' to the front, an oversized smile on his face.

   'It really was nice of her to take Simon on the ride. I told him it was out of the question before we even came here and he still chanced his luck.'

   'Kid's eh, what are they like?' Neil quipped back, as if he was some sort of expert.

   'Mind you,' she continued, 'it must be a little less worrying with your granddaughter being that bit older.'

   'Oh, she's not... ' He suddenly stopped his correction, guessing the changing lights and shadows did his age no favours, '...afraid of heights in the least.' It was all he could think of to fill in with. 

   During the pleasantries with the woman, a small fountain of what looked and sounded like nails or rivets hit the barrier enclosing the ride. On further inspection, he saw it that it was a spattering of twopence pieces.  

   Coming off the ride jelly-legged and adrenaline-rushed, the beam on the contented little lad's face was well earned.  Job done, thought Saskia. The woman once again thanked her and gave Neil a fond goodbye.

   'Here...' he threw the shoddily stitched unicorn for her to catch, and as he did so she noticed a silly grin on his face. She had to ask;

   'Okay. What's the Cheshire-cat face in aid of?'

   'I'm pretty sure she was chatting me up.'

   Saskia froze to consider this, then jerked her head up to look at him.

   'Really? Mind you, you two did look cozy, even from high up. You could have been in there, Dad!'

   'Nah!' he shook his head, 'wouldn't have worked.'

   'Why not?'

   'She thought you were my granddaughter.'  

   Saskia laughed, then put on a deep voice. 'Raptor!' she teased and gave a yelp as Neil got her in a sudden headlock and knuckled her skull. It was an impulsive move on his part; quite beneath him to show such ribaldry in public. Freeing her head, he put an arm around her shoulders and walked on.      'Besides, I've no time for another woman in my life - not with you around!'

   'Phew!' She mocked swiping sweat from her forehead, not quite realising how potently he meant it.

   As for his daytime hours he seemed to be conforming, building layer after layer of the homey, unscripted life he once knew. He'd enjoyed his evening far more than he'd dreaded it and was rather sorry to be leaving all the chromatic and recrudescence behind them. Tonight was a fifty minute lesson in fun - even with her panic-stricken sexual assault on him - despite the only things he was taking home were an empty stomach and mushy-muck from his shoes and she a bout of relief.

                                                           

The over-marinated lamb was too late to prepare, so The Bamboo Panda Chinese takeaway had taken over for tonight's choice of meal. The giggles were very much still with her but intensifying now as double-gauged glasses of wine were making up for lost time. Saskia sat by Neil's feet on the floor as he bent forward from the settee, laptop on the coffee table, moiling at some next-day scheduling. But nothing of interest on TV or her phone gave him the scope needed for full concentration and he had no choice but to acquit himself due to her endless chatting. 

   'Can't you amuse yourself for ten minutes?'

   'Nope. Bored. Besides, you said you didn't have any catching up to do.'

   He sighed and slowly folded down the screen. 'Old habits. But you're right. I did.' Nothing was so imperative that it couldn't wait.

   Quickly, she turned round on her knees to face him, one arm draped over his left  knee, the other sipping away at her wine. Looking up at him with those over-mascara'd big green eyes. 'You work too hard. All you'd achieve by doing that now is fitting in an extra coffee in the morning.'

   Gently he brushed a stray bit of hair from her eyes. Even yet, there were times he still couldn't believe just how radiant she looked, how mind-blowingly immersing she could be. Then he took sudden rise, giving Saskia cause to quickly swoop her wine from any spillage on the settee.

   'Wow, Dad! A little warning wouldn't have gone amiss - nearly caused a map of Bali on the couch! Hey, are you okay?'

   'Bit of a headache, actually. You know I don't mind you staying up, but I'm off to bed.'

   'Oh,' she frowned, he rarely complained of such. 'God, I hope all that fairground noise has helped do that... '

   'No, it's more likely to be the wine. We got through almost three bottles.'

   'I'll get you some paracetamol.' 

   She stood to head to a kitchen drawer, but he gently grabbed her wrist as she tried to pass. 

   'No, really,' he said, pulling her into a hug, 'it's fine, I'm fine... I'm always fine with you, you're all the medicine I need, just don't know the right dosage, I'd probably be tempted to peel the label off, - then where would we be?'

   Saskia frowned, pulling back to look at him. 'Dad... you're sounding gibberish, I don't know what on earth you're on about. Are you sure you're okay?''

   A plaintive smile crossed his face and he made a dismissive gesture.  'Ah, just ignore me. Think I might be a tad too drunk. I'll see you in the morning ... strong coffee.' He kissed her head, headed off and she watched until he slid under the sheets, making just a small bump under the spacious king size, where he lay staring at the nighttime sky. 

   Picking up the TV control, she lowered the volume and did her own staring at nothing in particular, trying to fathom out his drunken bosh. Then she shook the puzzler - and it's feeling of something left unsaid - from her mind and made a latte to take to bed. One thing was perfectly fathomable; goodnight's were getting harder.

            end of  **IMPERFECTION**