#28: Stove on the Face

Charlie and Claire had fought earlier that day. They made up and went out for dinner.

They were wandering around Seaport Village, a touristy collection of ocean-themed shops when they came across a loud guy with a collection plate bragging about his balancing prowess. He was going to balance: 1) a Coke bottle on a stick at the end of his nose; 2) a little girl in a chair on top of his head; and for a finale, 3) a stove on his face.

Claire clapped when he balanced the Coke bottle, laughed when he drank it empty. She held her breath when he balanced the little girl, who took a little bow at the end of her part. And Claire held her two hands together with her fingers wrapped tight against her heart, mouth agape, eyes stunningly wide, while the large bald Eastern-European guy balanced the stove on his face.

Claire hopped up and down wildly, a smile stretching her skin to the limits of its elasticity when he took the stove down and bowed.

Charlie didn't feel threatened. It's just that she showed a level of enthusiasm and happiness in her composure that she had never come close to displaying when watching him do anything. No matter how hard he tried, Charlie would never think that he captured her imagination and held her heart again, he just knew.

He looked out across the bay at the Coronado Bridge and imagined what it would feel like, those rich moments of free-fall, breaking the surface-tension of the choppy water.


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