the James Dean that lived

6

river and i were going to disneyland finally, by this time it was may and he no longer had a girlfriend, because that's how things work in hollywood. river picked me up that morning in a car that probably shouldn't belong to someone of his status.

"it's been to florida and back more times than i can count, i hate flying with a burning passion," he explained to me as i got in his car and turned the radio knob without permission. he swatted my hand away and switched it back to the light alternative he was listening to. he patted the steering wheel gently with large soft hands and inspected his fingernails at a stoplight.

we had a halfhearted conversation about traffic and the weather and how school was going, he told me about movies he was asked to audition for, told me about his sister's babies. it was pleasant but it was small talk.

we got on the highway and then sat in traffic for over an hour, that, of course, is the only downside to living in los angeles.

he was twenty-three, or almost, but he was still a big child. he was bouncing his seat while we listened to the radio and he told me about all of the rides and attractions at disneyland, idly smiling and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. lines of white teeth smiled against thin tan lips when sonic youth came on the radio.

"they're such good people," he said, focusing on the road.

we drove through the large decorated front gate and he bounced more noticeably.

we stopped at the toll booth and he gave the man money for us to park, then we drove through the parking lot and found a space. we walked and walked to where the turnstiles were, where river bough tickets and quietly told me with his mouth next my ear,

"this is how they herd cows to slaughter,"

from afar it looked like he was saying something saucy, but he wasn't. i just nodded awkwardly.

he held my hand so we wouldn't lose each other in the large crowd where we were funneled after the front gate.

"we're going to go ride the teacups," he ordered me, pulling me through part of the park, we settled in a heap in a line of small children and parents. a little girl with blonde hair and big brown eyes look up at river and smiled.

"she looks like you, hilda!" he exclaimed happily, gently bouncing up and down on the heels of his brown athletic shoes. a group of children and parents got off the ride and went out through the exit gate. the bored teenager opened the gate and waved everyone in, and river and i found a suitable purple teacup to pile into. the ride sputtered alive and river and i turned the wheel, turning us faster, sometimes changing direction. when we were released from our cup and saucer prison, i was left on the curb heaving into my knees, staring into my converse sneakers and the cobblestone that held me while river threw his arms around my shoulders, pouring small bits of coca-cola into my mouth like an IV. he rested his head on my own and looked onward, at young families and old couples smiling and laughing, indulging in funnel cake. they reflected in his eyes.
"you deserve to be like them some day," i told him, and he looked over at me, smiling.
"you too, math"