Here's another short excerpt from Loving Who (copyright 2008 by Cynthianna Appel)
Scene set-up: The mysterious John Smith and Cici go up in the Gateway Arch.
I could do this. I could crawl inside an enclosed, cylinder-shaped pod five feet in diameter. I could sit quietly for four minutes while the tram hoisted its necklace of eight barrels up from the basement subway station to the top of the Arch structure along the combination elevator/Ferris wheel track. I could really do this. I could look out of one of the thirty-two windows—sixteen on each side according to the nice tram guide—from the observation deck at its peak and marvel at the ant-sized people and cars in the streets below. I could make the stereotypical disparaging remarks about the Illinois side of the river and laugh while a wind gust swayed the Arch an inch or so in either direction. I could do this...
So why did I screw my eyes shut and grasp John Smith's right arm with both trembling hands in a virtual death grip?
"You can let go now," John Smith said firmly. "I need the circulation restored in my extremities. Open your eyes."
I opened one eye and scanned the inside of the lighted soup can. "We haven't started moving yet, have we?"
"No, we're just sitting in the pod while others get seated in theirs. It's nice the guide let us have one all to ourselves. Somehow she knew you wouldn't be a good advertisement for the ease and safety of the Arch transportation system."
"Wonder how she figured that out. Could it be because my face has turned a horrible shade of green?"
"No, you're not green at all. You're more of a … more of a pasty white actually. But you look good in white." His goofy grin wasn't taking my mind off our current situation. "Which reminds me," he continued, "we must check out some of these haunted mansions in the city Jessie told me about. I'd enjoy chatting with a few ghosts."
A sudden lurch forward and a mechanical clatter alerted me that we were on our way. I felt my body rising like a phantom's inside the dark interior of the Arch leg, nothing beneath me but this tiny soup can clinking along on its metal track.
"Oh, dear God …." I shut my eyes and pressed a fist to my lips. "I'm going to be sick."
"No, you're not." John grabbed my chin and looked deep into my eyes. The small world of the pod had suddenly transformed itself into an infinite space filled with a gauzy mist. "Cici, listen. Listen closely to me and do exactly as I say. You are going to be fine."
"I am going to be fine," I repeated.
"That's right. You're going to have a lovely time standing 192 meters above the earth looking out the observation windows at the earth below. You will not feel anxious or dizzy or ill or panicked or anything of the kind. And you're going to say nice things about the Illinois side of the river."
I nodded. I spoke as if the two of us were wrapped inside a dream … A wonderful, gauzy cloud filled dream. "All right. I will not feel sick or anxious."
"Good, good. We're halfway there now. Everything's fine."
"Everything is fine," I replied automatically.
But it wasn't and I knew it. I had to mentally force my next words out. "Why do I have to say nice things about the other side of the river? It's a dump."
He sighed. "I know I can't make an individual go against her deep-seated beliefs, but I will try on this occasion." He cleared his throat. "Cici, listen carefully. You're going to say nice things about Illinois from now on because Ryan and his brother are from Collinsville. They told me about the unpleasant things people on the Missouri side say about the Illinois side. It hurts their feelings. So, from now on you will say only nice things and convince others of the same as well."
He lifted one eyebrow, the golden flecks in his brown eyes gleaming. The white mists swirling about me all converged at that one golden point in time and space, pulling me closer, closer ....
"Is that understood, Cici?" His voice brought me out of the dive.
"Yes, I understand. I don't have to become a Cubs fan, do I?'
"No, that's not necessary. The three or four fans they have currently are more than sufficient."
I continued gazing into the infinite depth of his eyes for what seemed an eternity. Images of strange places and even stranger faces flashed through my mind. Voices and cries and shouts and explosions reverberated through my head. The visuals and sounds came faster and faster until they rushed into a blur of color and a cacophony of white noise. What did it all mean?
John tapped my knee. I jumped, startled as if awakened from a deep sleep. The pod doors swung open.
"We made it," he said, smiling.
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