Page 88 of Watching Her

“Blue raspberry was a staple in going to the fair?” I asked as we walked, taking our time.

She nodded. “Always. My mom loved blueberry cotton candy. And candy apples too.”

“What happened to your mom?”

Penelope glanced away, taking several shallow breaths. “She died when I was eleven.”

“I’m sorry.” We shared one too many things in common. Including pain that never left.

“People die. You learn to reshape your life.”

“But death affects you in ways you never fully understand.”

With a tip of her head, she nodded several times. Always searching my eyes.

The guys behind every counter started shouting to come play their game. Only two dollars for a chance to win big. The mood shifted away from sadness.

Penelope eyed me with even more curiosity than before. No, she was challenging me.

“Alright,” I told her, using the game as an excuse to toss the rest of the cotton candy. “Let’s see what I can win.”

“Go for it.” She stood off to the side, enjoying the tasteless air as I paid the guy twenty bucks. He plopped down several beanbags.

“All you need to do it get them in one of the holes over there. Two out of three wins.”

The guy’s voice sounded like every carny movie I’d seen. Which was one to be exact.

“This will be easy,” I told her. “Stand back so the expert can work.” I’d never claim to be a baseball pitcher, but when I couldn’t get one in after trying six times, I felt humiliated.

I also found myself getting pissed off, as if it was the game’s fault I sucked at it. I tried again, getting in one.

Now I was really getting to the point.

Four more tries and I almost tossed the last beanbag at the guy thinking he’d rigged the game.

When I turned, I realized she’d already slapped down two dollars. Two lousy dollars for three balls.

She offered a look, a swivel of her hips and simply tossed them one after another.

And all three went sailing toward the top hole, which of course provided the largest prize, and flew into the open spot with ease. All while keeping the cone of sugary slop in her other hand.

She nodded in satisfaction and offered me another look. “That’s how it’s done.”

As she pointed toward a medium-sized stuffed bear, I came this close to ripping the guy over the counter by his throat given how hard he was laughing.

All at my expense.

Before I lost my cool, I stepped away. Losing hadn’t been on my agenda.

I suddenly felt her hand on my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You found something you aren’t good at.” She took another massive bite of the cotton candy before finally tossing the rest into a trashcan.

“There are reasons I’m highly successful, Penelope. I never lose. Never.” When she remained quiet, I moved in front of her, keeping us from walking any farther.

She peered up at me cautiously, her eyes immediately searching mine. “Losing is part of life. My father used to tell me that you could tell the true measure of a man by how he reacted to losing. Winning was easy, but when you put your heart and soul into something only to discover someone was just a little bit better, a true champion took it in stride. Learning tips or a lesson from the experience. When a man reacted poorly, you knew he’d stop at nothing to ensure he never lost again, including cheating.”