Festivals were the few times a year I could truly feel the spirit of anything. Similar to the feeling of Christmas or Halloween you would feel as a kid, the moments you’d yearn for and chase for years, only to realize you can’t experience things like a child again. But for me, festivals were that. Maybe it was the grouping of people for a common purpose, or the lights. Like a moth, I’m attracted to the sparkling lights that brighten the usually grimey city hall or square. Cheesy music, overpriced snacks, and tipsy adults. It’s the thing I secretly count down for every year.
“It’s unbelievable how packed this place is. Normally it’s just drunk people around this time at night,” he shouted to me as we walked through a large crowd. I dragged him to this festival; one I have never been able to see, yet one he has seen a hundred times over. The street, which split off into smaller sections, was filled with black coats and warm mulled wine. Children with light sparklers ran in between the tall figures huddled by the stalls selling food and small knick knacks. My cheeks were bitten with cold, but the lights distracted me as we walked towards the city centre.
The cobbled path and icy patches only accentuated the groups of drunk people. I looked over at a group of women laughing as they stumbled down one of the smaller streets, singing a verse from a rap song over and over again as if it’s the funniest thing they have heard in the world.
“I mean, they’re still here. Just mixed in with the crowd,” I nodded towards the girls.
“I would love to be them right now.”
The main path was coloured with lights that reminded me of childhood Christmas. The carousel spun with an old traditional song I couldn’t quite place, and my toes were frozen stiff in my boots that didn’t seem to insulate well enough. Yet, I couldn’t open my eyes wide enough to drink in the view.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked me. I forgot he’s used to decorated lights and Christmas festivals, something I yearn for all the time. He stood stiffly on the icy ground; each step a risk of a total wipeout. He was huddled in his twee coat that wasn’t made for winter weather, turtling into his plaid scarf which caused his round glasses to fog up with his breath. His thick brows were scrunched lowly, but the tip of his nose glowed such a cherry red it didn’t look intimidating at all. Somewhat a good representation of who he was as a person.
“Stop, stop. Stay still.” I take out my phone to capture him in the wreath of light around him.
“What? Why do I have to be in it?”
“Because I said so. Now stand there, I need to get a good shot.”
He rolled his eyes so aggressively it felt animated. The past few days were shouts of protests and hiding away from my phone’s view, constantly repeating he did not want to be in any of the photos. But now, he huffed and waddled in front of the camera. He pulled a grumpy face that peaked from his scarf as I tried to focus the night mode on my camera.
“What the hell is that look? You look like you want to cry.”
“I do,” he retorted, his face frowning even more aggressively.
“Okay,” I sighed. I put my other finger to my cheek as I smiled wide. “Now say, ‘cheese!’”
He pulled a pained smile. This wasn’t some ironic joke about how much he hated a little trip; I could feel the annoyance radiating off of him. Like he was forced to be there, to be with me. I hesitated pressing the button. The bitter taste of rejection and knowing that the moment of happiness has left almost entirely. “At least say the word ‘cheese’.”
That made him actually chuckle for some reason, and for a moment it all felt genuine. I took the photo quickly before slipping my phone back into my pocket. The taste was still there, and I pushed it down with the thought of hot apple cider.
He pulled me closer as we walked, talking about his new classes as he waded through the crowd from his high vantage point. Conversations were easy for him, so much so I didn’t have to say anything. He was studying hard for his math classes, but his professor was a bitch. Just when I want to comfort him, he waves it off by saying he’ll pass it somehow. Then it was all about how he hated this one girl in his dorm, and couldn’t help but repeat over and over again how annoying she was. I couldn’t help but remember her from the hallway on his floor, and biting my lip from saying how pretty she was. Instead, I looked at the tall 40 foot christmas tree that we were walking towards and saw how the lights engulfed my range of sight. I did not blink, not for a while. It helped drown out the conversation, his excuses of why he didn’t want to hang out for the past few weeks.
“Hey, could you not post those photos of me?” He said quickly. He did a little smile that tried to be non threatening, turning to me with his glasses being completely covered with the light from the tree.
“I was going to send it to your mother, actually.”
“What?”
“No, no. I wasn’t even thinking of posting it.”
He let out a small sigh of relief. Small enough where someone would think it’s a normal breath, only now the fog gave it away. I looked away from him to pretend I didn’t see. “Good. I mean, I’m not doing it to be mean, I just don’t like social media much, and you know how weird people get.”
“It’s okay.” I said. And though he responded to me as if I was talking to him, it was a reassurance to myself. The tree was twinkling in a colourful pattern I couldn’t miss. I wish I could go to another festival.