This Is Stella's Reality

August 9, 2014

The windows of my car were rolled down, and summer air whipped my hair around wildly. Bucky was driving, his metal hand atop the steering wheel, his other hand on my knee. The radio blared some Russian song I had never heard before, but Bucky was singing to me and grinning all the while. Sunglasses were perched on his nose, and he had a loose-fitting linen shirt on with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair bounced gleefully in the roaring wind, and I couldn't shake how charming he looked.

He was taking me to Coney Island. I had never been, but Bucky said it was a favorite place of his and Steve's when they were growing up. The smell of saltwater was strong as we sped along the coast, and I thought of all the memories Bucky must have from the island.

Our relationship was unique. We were together without being together, liked each other without saying it aloud, and did all the things couples did without being a couple. It was strange, but I knew it was enough for now. I was happy being Bucky's best girl. He told me that often, and it rang in my ears every waking moment.

Over the hill of the highway, I spotted fair rides, lights dazzling even in the late afternoon sun, and the occasional screams of people on rollercoasters. Bucky turned the radio down, "What do you want to do first, doll?"

I hummed a response, "Well, I've never been. Do you have suggestions?"

He looked off into the distance and grinned, "A few."

Bucky parked my car, and as we got out, the strong smell of fried food slammed into my nose. There were tons of people here. Vendors, games, rides, families, couples - there was so much. I felt Bucky's arm fall on my shoulders, "Let's play games first."

I nodded, and Bucky led me past houses of mirrors, clowns, funnel cake stands, and people with dripping ice cream cones. We stopped at a dart throwing game. He turned to me and winked, "I bet I'll beat you."

I scoffed at him, "In your dreams, Sarge."

Bucky and I stepped up to the game and the host gave us the rules. Twenty darts, one minute, the more moving targets hit, the more points you earn. Bucky motioned for me to step in front of him, "Ladies first, doll."

My eyes rolled. The sun was beating down on us, and the first moments of sunset began settling into the clouds. Bucky had told me how magical Coney Island became at night, and I was excited to see it.

The buzzer rang next to me, and I threw my first dart. It landed and knocked back the first target. I did this again and again, missing a few, but hitting most of them. I knew Bucky would win; I had never seen him miss a shot before. He had perfect aim. Stupid supersoldier serum.

Again, the buzzer rang, and my score was 16 hits, 4 misses. I turned to Bucky who was smiling proudly at me. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he spun me to stand where he had been, "Nice work, angel, but I'm going to win."

The buzzer rang for Bucky, and as predicted, not a single dart missed its mark. I stood with my arms crossed, with my weight shifted to one hip. Because he's a show-off, Bucky turned to look at me with his last dart in hand. He winked and threw it blindly; it hit. A perfect score.

The host rolled his eyes in annoyance, "Alright, hot-shot, what prize do you want?" Bucky reached for my wrist and pulled me next to him. He popped an eyebrow at me, and I tapped my finger to my lips. There was a stuffed bear, rabbit, dinosaur, a duck - a duck.

I laughed at the thought, Bucky and Ducky.

I looked up and gave him a grin, "The duck, please."

The host reluctantly gave me the big plush duck. It was soft and baby yellow with a light pink blush on it's cheeks. We started walking down the pier, and Bucky turned to me, "Why the duck?"