THE SAG HARBOR CARNIVAL

Two summers ago, Jason moved to a remote cabin in rural Canada to direct his first movie, and I moved to a remote cabin in Bridgehampton with Sid and Lazlo.

When I first heard that he was leaving, I assumed I’d simply continue without him. In that sense, parenting is a bit like the Oregon Trail. Jason’s frostbite or broken axle didn’t preclude me from keeping calm and carrying myself to Europe. But I didn’t keep calm. After learning that Europeans don’t believe in summer camp, I panicked.

I ran through countless scenarios in my mind, combing my memory for a time and place where I’d felt totally in control as a mother. There wasn’t one. From the moment I had a baby, I’d been supervised. Even that first night in the hospital with Sid, I remember a nurse swaddling him in her arms while I looked on longingly from my bed. I wanted to hold him so badly, but felt completely powerless. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and I didn’t have the self-assurance to cut in.

I wish I were a Davey Crockett mom who knew how to fish, hunt, and send out smoke signals. Or, at the very least, a Betty Crocker mom who could whisk and bake without setting off the smoke alarm. But I’m not, or at least I never have been. I wanted my summer curated by a professional. I wanted structure, instruction, and a camp counselor who wasn’t going to Canada.

But he was. He did. And after the first two weeks, I had shingles.

Somewhere between spring break and the final few days of fourth grade, Sid told me he had a crush on this little girl, Nancy. He had no interest in calling this girl on the phone or even having a playdate unsupervised. It was just something he wanted her to know. He confided in me that on the last day of school, they’d made a pact to reveal the name of their crush.

“So? What happened?” I probed eagerly.

“I didn’t tell her.”

“Why not?” I asked, confused.

Sid shrugged and turned away. “I got scared,” he admitted. “But I did tell her that if the school was on fire, she would be the one person I’d save.”

“What about your brother?” I gasped.

“BRO! It’s hypothetical!” He shook his head and stared at me with the unparalleled ennui of a ten-year-old talking to his mother, whom he calls Bro.

I spoke to Nancy’s mom, who confirmed that Sid’s feelings were requited. She liked him, too. Who wouldn’t? He was my son, and he was perfect.

Nancy’s mom informed me that they, too, would be in the Hamptons, but Nancy was unfortunately going to sleepaway camp for the first three weeks. I told her to keep in touch, and we promised to make a plan with the kids once Nancy returned.

On our second-to-last weekend out East, I agreed to take the boys to the Sag Harbor Carnival along with my assistant Caroline and my nanny Erica. Remember that part earlier where I told you I was alone? Well, forget that now.

We planned to go on Thursday, but when the boys got off the bus, they were behaving like two cokehead Chuckie dolls and promptly lost the privilege.

Friday was their last shot at whiplash and cotton candy. When four-thirty rolled around, they bounded off the bus as best of friends. Their performative brotherhood was so over the top that I started to fear they were the worst actors I’d ever met.

“I love you, Laz,” Sid cooed.

“I love you, Sid,” Lazlo purred back.

When we arrived at the carnival, the place was packed with screaming tweens, funnel cakes, and shell-shocked parents holding newly acquired pet goldfish. Sid carried Lazlo on his back through the crowd like a silverback gorilla shepherding its infant through the Congo.

“We are going to do every single ride together,” he declared proudly, looking to me for validation.

Lazlo was on cloud nine, like a co-dependent spouse willingly suspending his disbelief to live out his deepest fantasy, if only for one night.

It was still light out when we arrived. After a week of rain, the sky was clear and the breeze coming off the water was salty and warm. It was one of those nights in July when it felt like summer might last forever.

Or perhaps it had, and I’d just been lost in some alternate universe. Was it 2024 or was it 1989? From where I was standing, either answer could have been true. Classic rock blasted as a mini roller coaster whipped backward and forward on its tired-out tracks. The lights from the bumper cars glowed with 80s movie nostalgia as we waited in line for wristbands.

I gave Sid my phone and told him that if he got lost, I’d call him. Lazlo jumped up and down impatiently, waiting to measure himself against the height requirement placards guarding the entrance to each ride.

I scanned the line ahead, only stopping when my eyes fell on her.

With a pile of coffee-colored curls and covered in blue and green snow cones, there she was. Nancy- back from summer camp.

When she recognized me, she froze like a deer hanging over a hedge fund mantle.

“Sid. Nancy’s here,” I said, delighted.

Sid looked up from my phone in disbelief. The blood drained from his face, and I felt his stomach drop out of his body. Mine did the same. I tried to stay present as I watched his breathless free-fall into total euphoria.

Nancy quickly spun around and pretended to be talking to her girlfriends. Sid put my phone to his ear and pretended to be on an important work call.

“Buy. Sell. Buy. Sell.” I almost heard him say.

I felt outside myself, but also blessed to witness what would become a core memory of his childhood and devastated by its significance.

I remembered being his age. I remembered the first time another person made me feel dizzy with dopamine. It was 2024 and also 1989, all in one fleeting moment. I could hear the opening guitar riff from Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing” as a hundred MTV screens exploded in my mind.

Everything was about to change.

“Go talk to her,” I managed to blurt out.

Sid handed me back my phone. “Don’t film.”

As he walked away, I suddenly felt my cheeks getting warm. My eyes welled up with tears, and I couldn’t stop them from coming.

“Jenny? Are you okay?” I heard Caroline ask.

“Yes.” I started laughing and crying. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Nancy’s parents looked over at me. I waved sheepishly and continued bawling.

“Jenny? Do you want your sunglasses?” Caroline subtly suggested.

Nancy’s mom started to approach, or maybe it was her dad. To be honest, I was weeping too hard to tell them apart.

“How’s it going?” he/she asked.

“GREAT! This is so cute,” I covered.

They looked at me sideways, no doubt thinking: Relax, lady. It’s not like they’re getting married.

“I can chaperone them while you guys wait in line,” Nancy’s dad/mom said.

Lazlo looked at me, heartbroken. “I thought Sid said he was going to go on every ride with me.”

“Yes, sweetie. He’s gonna include you. And if not, I’ll ride with you.”

The disappointment on Lazlo’s face was obvious. He looked over at Sid as he disappeared into the crowd with Nancy and one of her girlfriends.

When I reached the ticket booth, they informed me that the line I’d been waiting in wasn’t for tickets but for some kind of giant slide. I’d been standing there for half an hour only to learn that the carnival only accepted cash, and I had none.

“Do either of you know the PIN number on my ATM card?” I asked Erica and Caroline.

They shook their heads no.

Lazlo started to cry. “You said we could do all the rides.”

My eyes connected with Nancy’s mom’s, but I was too ashamed to ask her for help. I didn’t want to look irresponsible, poor, or helpless. I wasn’t close with her or her friends, who were also moms at my school. They preferred Jason, who had been class mom and, in my mind, judged me for my lack of involvement.

I remembered when my mom used to drop my sister and me off at SeaWorld for the day. We had a summer pass that was cheaper for her than hiring a babysitter. We used to take packed lunches, but when we got there and saw all the other kids with nuggets and fries, we became envious. Since we didn’t have wallets, we’d wander around asking people if they had a quarter so we could call our mom, eventually scoring enough cash to afford a Shamu sampler.

I looked at Erica and Caroline, on the verge of suggesting this same plan.

Luckily, Caroline offered a better idea.

She walked up to a dad standing a few feet behind us and offered to Venmo him if he paid for our wristbands. I hid behind a tree, mortified, until he said yes.

After nearly an hour, my tears had subsided and we were able to rejoin Sid and Nancy, her parents, and several others from our school at a flying-car ride.

“Can I go with you, Sid?” Lazlo asked excitedly.

Sid looked past Lazlo like he’d never seen him before in his life.

“I’m going with Nancy.” He shook his head.

I shot Sid a look, then turned to Lazlo.

“I’ll sit with you, Laz. I love flying cars.”

The other moms huddled around the perimeter snapping pictures as Lazlo and I loaded into our seats.

Spinning in the air, we went round and round like two hands on a clock. Every glimpse I got of Sid was obscured by the other cars flying between us. Each time I reached the spot where he’d just been, he was already on the opposite side.

I was chasing him, both figuratively and literally. Both felt like losing battles.

I tagged along as Nancy, Sid, and their friends bounced from ride to ride. Lazlo even managed to get himself invited on a few.

Finally, it was time for Nancy to go home.

“Bye,” she smiled at Sid, a full foot between them.

Nancy started to move toward him for a hug, but Sid missed the cue and held out his hand for a high five instead.

“Bye,” Sid said innocently.

I felt her disappointment, knowing full well she’d spend the rest of the night replaying the perceived rejection in her head.

I remembered being Nancy, waiting for Tad Deeter to walk over to my house and apologize for not wanting to build a fort with me after school. I fantasized about him showing up with a single rose and asking me to slow dance to “La Isla Bonita” on my front porch.

Tad never showed up. And even though I learned years later that he was gay, there’s a part of me that is still waiting.

The moment Nancy was out of sight, Sid was back to being Lazlo’s biggest fan.

“Can we please do another ride together? I’ve been missing my bro all night.”

Knowing full well he was lying but desperate to believe him anyway, I agreed.

The three of us boarded The Sea Viking. I was in the middle with both boys on either side. The boat started moving, building higher and higher with each swing. From the sky, the carnival looked like nothing more than a smattering of lights, empty soda cans, and cheap stuffed animals. Sid held my hand tightly, unaware of how badly I needed him, unaware of how soon he wouldn’t need me. It was happening. It always was happening. My kids were growing up, just as I had. Life was moving forward like a roller coaster with no tracks.

The Viking pushed on, higher and higher, until my stomach was in my mouth. Tears once again filled my eyes as I clung to the sides of the boat, giving in to the tingling, unnerving sensation of loving so hard and being completely, utterly out of control.

“Mom, why are you crying?” Sid asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think I’m just happy.”

Lazlo gripped my leg as Sid smiled back.

There was nothing left to do but raise my hands and fall.