Tan was too old for carousels. But the love inspired in her youth had not died. At twenty, she considered buying an eighty-five cent ticket and riding a wooden horse.
She smiled, remembering times when she'd delighted in the most battered of mounts. Instantly enamored of anything remotely equine, the merry-go-round had been a childhood favorite for years. The bright colors, flashing mirrors, and circus calliope music bouncing under a peaked roof, all contributed to a feeling of happiness. Children and parents bobbed up and down, holding spiral brass poles and turning a circle in a blur of light, color, and laughter. She couldn't remember ever seeing a sad face on the carousel. Later, when roller coasters and thrill rides became the ones she sought out, there was still a place for it. No visit to a fair or theme park was complete without a trip on a hardy wooden steed, even if she had to sneak away or endure the groans of impatient friends.
Tan leaned on the low rail, chin in palm, elbow against the cold black metal. She gazed wistfully at the parade of horses, reluctant to move. It had been at least two years since she'd been on a merry-go-round, and in that time she'd had a flesh and blood horse move beneath her, warm and alive. Tired wood couldn't really compare. Still, the fascination had crept into her life, business studies balanced by books on the history and craft of the wooden animals, horses and otherwise. Drawings and paintings had started it, and now she made her own miniatures from wood and clay. She could easily spend hours carving a perfect horse, complete with twisting pole and ornate saddle.
But for all her familiarity with the carousel horses, she had just recently noticed that most of them were in poses you preferred not to see a real horse in, particularly if you were on top of it. Ears were pinned back, or thrown far forward. Mouths yawned open, teeth bared. Heads were tossed high, or tucked back on nervously curled necks. Legs were stretched to the extreme, or held in such a way as to leave no doubt they were running at full speed. Tan smiled as she remembered having once thought that the brass pole was the only thing keeping the painted horses on the ride, and if their hooves were ever allowed to touch the ground, they 'd gallop away.
Tan laughed quietly to herself, brushing a strand of light brown hair from her eyes. Why she'd ignored the fact that some had at least three legs bolted to the floor escaped her now. And then there were what she called prancers. There were a few in this carousel. Prancers had proudly arched necks, often sideways or oppositely facing ears, and their legs suggested a spirited trot or canter.
Yet . . . there was a lure in those other frightened or startled horses, a wildness, a hint of the unexpected, of adventure.
"Getting ideas for your next project?"
Tan nodded absently, still musing on long ago thoughts.
"Wish I'd brought my sketchbook," she said.
Her best friend settled beside her.
"I'm telling you Tan, you could sell your stuff. You could sell it in a minute."
Tan shifted. She had let her eyes go unfocused, so that the lights, colors, and movement of the carousel slid by in a comfortable fuzz. Her friend's statement roused her, brought back thoughts and memories she didn't want to deal with.
"Yeah, right. There's a real good living in making sculptures these days," she muttered.
Her friend shot her a look.
"You're good Tan. I've seen your horses, and no matter what you say, they're quality work. Bet any craft shop would take your little ones. Maybe an antique store would even agree to sell one of the big ones."
"Heidi, who is going to buy a wooden carousel horse that some store would charge twice its worth for? I can't depend on selling enough to pay the bills, that's for sure."
"Tanara J. Gavin, I don't believe you just said that."
Tan winced at hearing her full name. Heidi, green eyes flashing, hands on hips, continued anyway.
"You sounded just like your mom, and angry about it too."
The merry-go-round snapped into focus, details sharp once more. Tan rounded on her friend, the old anger starting its slow burn.
"So what if I am angry? There's nothing you or I can do about it. The fact is there are many people who can be called artists. But what are the chances of succeeding? I'm sure not even a tenth ever make it big."
"That's not the point! You don't have to make it big. A lot of artists sell out of their homes to boutiques or go to flea markets and craft fairs. They do just fine and like what they do. You've quit before you even started. You've lost your dream."
"Heidi, get off your soapbox. I get enough of this kind of thing at home."
Tan turned back to the rail and leaned on it again. Her voice hardened.
"Besides, if I've lost the dream, it's because I've woken up."
Twenty years is a long time, and I'm too tired to hang on. She shook her head and dropped her gaze to the ground. It's too perfect. Lately mom's been trying to get me to 'explore my options', see what else I can do, even with my art. The exact opposite of what she's been saying all this time about having a 'real job'.
Tan huffed quietly. It's like she finally noticed something in me had broken.
Tan raised her eyes and looked again at the small merry-go-round, really looking, hoping to find some detail on a horse to distract her. Her eyes widened as one in particular flashed by.
"A unicorn . . . " she whispered in surprise, forgetting her somber thoughts. She straightened.
"Look Heidi, a unicorn!" Tan pointed excitedly. "There's another! I didn't see them before!"
"What?"
"Unicorns! I've never seen one in any carousel!"
Heidi smiled. It had been awhile since she'd seen her friend so animated.
"What? Never?" she said teasingly.
"Well, once in this old movie, but you could tell they just stuck the horn on. It came off after they finished the movie."
Tan was leaning against the rail, almost falling over. She answered absently, not really listening to her own words. She was busy looking at the unicorns.
One was on the outermost ring, where the largest and usually most ornate horses were put. True to form, it was the better looking of the two. Its golden spiral horn was longer, and its real hair tail was full and thick. It was a prancer, but the mouth was open, teeth bared in a feral neigh. Polished black eyes shone beside a glittering halter, and the mane, painted a soft gold, curled around the ivory neck.
That decided it.
"I'm riding."
"What?"
"I'm going to ride. You want to come?"
Heidi put up her hands.
"You go ahead. I'll watch."
Tan shrugged. There was no line, so she paid the bored attendant and took her ticket. She waited patiently, and as the minutes rambled by, the line grew behind her. She kept her eye on the unicorn, and when the gate opened, she used her longer legs shamelessly. Kids and parents with smaller children looked oddly at her, but Tan ignored them all. She mounted from the left, as one would a real horse, with a smile of amusement at that piece of knowledge. She swung her leg over and settled down on the hard seat, legs dangling. They almost touched the ground. Tan looked at her sneakered feet, too long to even rest on the steel bar stirrups. Everything about her was too big in comparison. She leaned her head against the cold metal of the pole. She had fit in the saddle once. It seemed a very long time ago now. How ridiculous she must look, sitting on a thing carved for children! Then the music started, and the unicorn moved up, as the horses began their circle dance. The speed built, and Tan was surprised. It went faster than any that she could remember, and there was a little jerk at every rise and dip of the brass pole. The unicorn rocked as if really cantering, heightening the illusion. Tan threw back her head and laughed, a bubbling feeling of delight rising up in her. This was more like the rides she remembered as a small child, instead of the wistful escapes of her older years. She balanced on the unicorn's back, holding neither the mane or the pole. Tan giggled. She hadn't tried that since she was small, holding on to her mother's hand for safety and reassurance.
Tan let the lights dazzle her eyes, and everything outside the bouncing ring was a darker blur. Waiting children's faces lined the edges, as if looking through a window. She remembered waiting like that, impatiently anxious to get into the ring of horses, and away from the crowd of adults. The unicorn leaped ahead, and Tan slipped her hands onto the curls of the wooden mane. She couldn't stop smiling, and thoughts of her friends and her art arose. Her fingers itched to hold a pencil, a chisel, a brush, and she finally knew what to do with the block of good redwood in her garage. She would make a small one, to sell, and a large unicorn for herself. She would display that one wherever she went, as a reminder of this day, this ride. Tan shrugged and laughed again. She hadn't felt this good for a long time. She reveled in it, gloried in the moment, as she had not done in years. For a fraction of a second, the unicorn and its rider existed, lived and breathed, the dream and the dreamer.
Then the beautiful creature was wood once again, its lacquered neck smooth beneath Tan's hands, and the carousel coasted to a stop. She sat for a moment, letting her thoughts slow from their whirlwind as well, then dismounted with a final pat to the smooth neck, and walked away.
Heidi came up beside her as she went down the stairs to street level.
"That sure lasted a long time," Heidi commented.
Tan just kept walking, and laughed. Heidi looked at her in surprise.
"Boy, now I know where to bring you if you ever need cheering up."
Tan turned and looked back up at where the unicorn sat. She smiled, knowing her good mood would last the rest of the day, the unicorn's gift. She shook her head.
They walked back out into the bright autumn day, into the crowd of bustling tourists, business people, and locals, and disappeared from view.