Miraculum

by Steph Post

  Tom had braced himself against the dirt and retched and retched until his body was empty and his head burning and heavy. January. And other men. And the geek. The geek. With his suit and his teeth and that smug look of ownership in his black eyes when he walked past January. The rumors and the whispers. People had seen them together. Behind the tents, talking, laughing. Daniel’s hand on her waist. On her waist and who knows where else. On his girl. His girl. Tom had pushed himself up and wiped his mouth against the sleeve of his shirt. He had known exactly what he needed to do. His head had felt clear and he’d marched purposefully across the empty midway to the wagons on the far side.

  Now Tom was standing in front of the wagon decorated with a mural of chickens and rodents and snakes, all struggling against each other in the painted grass, and he felt sick again. He clenched his fists and forced himself to climb the steps. He wiped his mouth and raised his hand to pound on the door, but it opened before he could touch it. From the darkness inside, a voice purred at him.

  “Come in, Tom Given. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Tom didn’t move. His instincts told him to run, but then a light bloomed inside the wagon and Tom felt compelled to step through the doorway. The door closed gently behind him and Tom stepped farther inside. The only other wagon he’d ever spent time in was January’s and it was always a mess of costumes, clothes, dime novels and magazines. With three bunks and two dressing tables all crammed together, divided by swooping curtains, there was barely space to turn around. He had helped unload some of the other wagons and they were all relatively the same. Living spaces and sleeping spaces, the wood walls and floors scratched and gouged from being packed with tent materials during the jumps. He’d even helped to unload the geek wagon once, and it had appeared the same as all the others. Even sparser than most since Jacob had lived alone.

  The geek wagon now was nothing like it had been before. The wooden walls were a slick, blood red and seemed to shimmer slightly in the candlelight. Faded tapestries woven with scenes of mythical beasts fighting one another hung on the walls and between these were tacked long scrolls, painted with complicated designs and symbols. There was a lacquered wooden bench running down the length of the wagon and it was strewn with the sorts of small trinkets and artifacts that Tom had once seen in a dime museum. Animal skulls and lengths of twisted branches and glass jars half filled with cloudy liquid. Thick books with leather covers were stacked along the wall, but Tom was sure the titles weren’t written in English. A long row of small statues carved into monsters and human figures with ugly, twisted faces was lined up along the very edge of the bench. There was no bunk or bed of any kind, but a large round table, inlaid with gleaming squares of white and black, occupied the center of the wagon. And at the table sat the man in the dark suit, his back straight, hands clasped before him, long white fingers interlocked beneath his sharp chin and flashing smile. Daniel was indeed waiting for him and Tom could do nothing at first but stand there stupidly, trying to remember what had brought him to the geek in the first place. Daniel raised one arched, black eyebrow and helped him.

  “I assume you’re here about the girl. About January.”

  Tom caught his breath and pushed his hair off his forehead. He was sweating. He licked his lips and nodded. Daniel leaned back and shifted in his high-backed chair. He crossed his legs and knit his fingers over his knee. Tom could see the sharp crease in the trouser fabric creating a shadow in the flickering candle light. That crease alone cost more than Tom would make in a year and suddenly his anger overtook his astonishment and he balled up his fists again.

  “I know what you’re doing, glommer. I know what you’re doing with my woman.”

  Daniel blinked his eyes slowly, calmly.

  “No, you don’t.”

  Tom stepped forward, the lanky muscles in his forearms taut. He wasn’t a big man, he did more running from brawls than fighting in them, but he could hold his own if he had to.

  “Now listen to me. I know what you’re doing. I know what you’re doing with January. Or what you’re trying to do. And I ain’t allowing it. So, I’m only going to give you one chance. You back off from her, you hear me?”

  “Or what?”

  There was a chill in Daniel’s voice that almost made Tom falter. A chill and an unnerving certainty. But then Tom remembered the way January had smiled at the geek. And Daniel’s knowing smirk back. The rage came up in him again like bile.

  “Or I will mess you up, pretty boy.”

  Daniel laughed. Not like a man with bravado, but like a man hearing a truly ridiculous notion. A joke. Tom might as well have said that he just stepped down from the moon. Daniel brought his lips together in that smug smile again and Tom felt his stomach twist. Something about that smile was wrong. Something about the wagon was wrong and Tom felt a disorienting buzz between his ears that wasn’t coming from the liquor. Daniel sighed.

  “Oh, Tom. You don’t even know what those words mean. You don’t even understand the language that you speak. I doubt you even feel the emotions behind them. You are an ape trying to make sense of the shapes and colors around you. You are clay. You are a speck.”

  Daniel flicked his fingers at Tom and Tom narrowed his eyes.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Daniel shook his head and his smile grew wider.

  “Never mind. It is too much. You want to fight me, don’t you?”

  Tom dipped his chin, glaring, trying to conjure the anger again.

  “Are you man enough?”

  Daniel pursed his lips and cocked his head.

  “No.”

  Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “No?”

  Tom looked around the wagon, grasping to figure out what was going on. The situation just seemed to keep turning for him. Daniel put his chin in his hands.

  “No. I will not fight you. I will play you.”

  “Play me?”

  “Play you. A game. A bet. I hear you are a betting man, Tom.”

  Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of sleek black dice. He set them precisely in the center of the table.

  “Will you roll the bones with me?”

  Tom looked intently at the dice. He had never been able to walk past a pair of dice. He had never backed away from a bet, whether it be cards or horses or how many drinks or whether or not it would rain. He eyed the dice on the table, double sixes staring straight up at him, and felt his rage replaced by the burning itch, the need to play, the need to be a part of the odds. To win. His fingers trembled.

  “What are we playing for?”

  Tom looked up at Daniel. He wasn’t smiling now, but there was a curious glint to his eyes. Tom recognized it. The junkie look for a game of chance.

  “For January, of course.”

  Tom stepped back.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I’m serious. One game. Dead Man All In. You know it?”

  Tom nodded silently.

  “Good. If I win, I get January. No questions. No interference. She’ll belong to me.”

  Tom swallowed.

  “And if I win?”

  “You win and I disappear. Leave this place. You’ll never have to worry about me again.”

  Daniel reached out and fingered the dice.

  “So?”

  Tom licked his lips. His forehead was slick with sweat again, but he didn’t wipe it away. He stared at Daniel’s hand. Daniel cupped the dice and rattled them softly.

  “Are you in?”

  Hayden stared up at the roof of Ruby’s wagon. They had left one of the lamps flickering on the table and its small glow came through the carved panels at the head and foot of the bed and illuminated the painted ceiling above him. Hayden had forgotten he’d painted it for her that summer. Ruby had curled up against him and told him how much she hated the curved brown ceiling arching over her every night. He had taken an evening off and crept into her wagon, painting it for her while she perfo
rmed. A celestial ocean with fish made out of stars and clouds blowing ballooning airships through forests of seagrass. It was completely fantastical, the sort of painting that came from dreams, and Ruby’s eyes had flashed and her lips had trembled and she had thrown her arms around him. It was underneath his painting, cocooned in the high dormer bed, that he’d spoken so many promises to her. Promises he knew she had hesitated to believe, but had wanted to. Promises he hadn’t kept.

  Ruby shifted against him and he gently put his fingers against her temple, touching her warm face and cloud of tangled hair. He could tell by her breathing that she had finally fallen asleep. They hadn’t spoken much after she led him back to her wagon. It was almost as if she trusted her body, but didn’t trust her voice. Or perhaps she just didn’t know what to say. He had told her the truth and hadn’t expected this in return. But he hadn’t expected it before, when one summer had suddenly become different than the rest. She had possessed him for years, since he’d first seen her with Pontilliar in Beaumont, standing with her arms crossed and hip cocked out, arguing with her father about his grand idea for the painted wagons. He’d tried to win her that first season, using every trick he knew for women, failing at them all. She ignored his teasing and flirtations with the other girls. He couldn’t seem to interest her or make her angry or jealous. She looked right through him, walked past him as if he were a ghost. He had been dumbfounded, and then frustrated, and finally fed up. He’d come back the next summer, though, and the next and the next.

  Each season she seemed to warm a little more toward him. By his third summer with the Star Light, Ruby was laughing, drinking cheap wine with him behind the big top and telling him stories. He’d tried to kiss her, but she had socked him so hard his jaw hurt for a week. The summer after was a rollercoaster between them. One night he put his arm around her waist and she leaned into him. The next morning, she insulted him in front of the entire cookhouse. She would smile at him and then ignore him for days. That season, Ruby had made his head spin. Hayden had fallen for her to the point of hating her, telling himself over and over just to leave her alone. There were so many other women, both at home and on the midway, and yet he had wanted only her. When he was apart from her, he understood her. He understood why she pushed him away, why she built up the walls, why she was constantly battling against him and against herself. But standing next to her, he was bewildered. Hayden was overcome and he raged, tormenting them both. He had left at the end of that season swearing never to go back.

  But, of course, he had. And it had been different that year, from the moment the Star Light came through and he had jumped on the circuit. There had been something in the air, something in the way her eyes were always on him. He halfway thought she was going to kill him. Two weeks in, he had followed her back to her wagon, arguing with her, challenging her about the way she was acting toward him. He’d said terrible things to her and she’d returned them and it reached a point where he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had knifed him. Instead, she had crashed into him with an inconceivable force and everything between them had changed. He’d later held her in his arms, as he held her now, and asked her why. Ruby could give him no explanation, only herself.

  He didn’t dare ask her now. Hayden bent his head and put his face in her hair. He closed his eyes against the painted ceiling, against the wavering lamp glow, and breathed in the moment.

  Tom ran his sweaty palms down the length of his trousers and eyed the dice in front of him. Dead Man All In was simple. The winner of each round was determined by the highest roll. The winner of two out of three rounds was called the Dead Man and set the bar for the final round. The loser of the first rounds had to play against the bar and roll higher than it three times in order to turn the tables and be declared the winner. It was easy, though Tom knew the odds could shift in the blink of an eye. The chair he was sitting on was hard and uncomfortable, and the air in the wagon seemed to become even more stifling as the seconds ticked by, but Tom was only focused on the game. He picked up the dice and blew on them. He rattled once in his right hand, switched to his left, blew again, back to his right and rolled. He had never been able to toss a pair of dice without this routine, just as he had never been able to draw a card without licking his index finger first or place a bet on a horse without crossing himself three times. The dice rolled to a stop. A four and a two. Low, but not too low. Daniel’s long fingers encircled the dice and Tom heard the rattle, but he did not look up at the man across from him. He kept his eyes on the checkerboard pattern of the table. Waiting. Tom held his breath as the dice clattered across the surface. Double twos. Round one was Tom’s.

  Tom slung his arm over the back of his chair and grinned at Daniel. The man still had a smirk on his face, but Tom thought it was wavering just a bit. Tom wished he still had the bottle of liquor and could take a celebratory swig, but Daniel didn’t appear to be drinking. He glanced around the room, just to see if there was anything to drink nearby, but there wasn’t. Only those strange jars and skulls and the red walls and the flicker of the candles on the bench. Tom turned back to the table. Winning the first round also won him the privilege of rolling first again in the second. He picked up the dice, rattled and blew on them.

  “Well, here we go, partner. You ready for this?”

  Tom rolled. A six and a five. He couldn’t help himself and he smacked the edge of the table with the palm of his hand.

  “Beat that, sucker! I hope you got a trunk big enough to pack up this fancy-ass wagon of yours, because it looks like you’re going to be leaving in a hurry.”

  Daniel didn’t say anything. Tom watched his face, thrilled to see that Daniel’s smile had continued to fade. He wished they were playing in the G-top and that the other rousties could see what he was doing to the geek in the rich suit with the greasy hair and the perfect teeth. Daniel reached for the dice. His hand was like a claw, not casually scooping the dice up, but enclosing them fully before letting his fingers part from the table. Tom clicked his tongue as Daniel rolled and watched intently as the dice settled. Snake eyes. Tom had won both rounds and could set the bar for the final. He smacked his thighs and hooted.

  “Whew-ew! We didn’t even need to go for three. You throw any lower there and somebody’s going to have to make a special pair of dice just for you.”

  “There is still the final round, Tom Given.”

  Tom snorted and rocked back in his chair.

  “I know the rules. But with the run of luck you’re having, you sure you don’t want to just throw in the towel now? I won’t make a fuss. Hell, I’ll even give you ’til morning to pack it in, seeing as you got all your little toys and dolls to wrap up before you go.”

  Tom gestured at the row of statues and laughed. His head was spinning, but he felt good. For a moment, the room seemed to grow even hotter and the red walls seemed to ripple, almost as if the wagon had taken a breath and exhaled. The sensation was unnerving. He could no longer read Daniel’s expression, it seemed neither superior nor concerned, but the man’s black eyes seemed larger than before and his skin appeared almost translucent in the candle glow. Tom quickly looked away from Daniel and down at the dice in his hand. He had this; he knew he did. Tom blew, rattled, right, left, right and rolled. A three and a six came to a halt in the center of the table. Nine. Tom almost couldn’t stay in his seat.

  “Ha! Now that’s what I call a Dead Man roll! Three times, mister. Beat that three times. Let’s see you do it.”

  Daniel had to roll the dice three more times. If any roll came up nine or below, Tom won. The only way the geek could trump him now was to throw three rolls coming up higher. Tom had it in the bag. He watched Daniel’s expression to see if it had changed again, but it hadn’t. Daniel silently reached for the dice and Tom couldn’t help himself.

  “Come on, let’s see you do it. Hot damn! I should’ve staked more than January on this game.”

  Daniel rolled. Double sixes. Tom was unfazed.

  “I guess if you
’re going to go out, you might as well start with a bang.”

  Tom had the sense again that the walls had quivered. Wherever he looked they were still, but he had the feeling that something had shifted in the air. He was suddenly ready to end the game and leave the geek’s wagon. Daniel picked up the dice and rolled. Double sixes. Tom stopped smiling.

  “Well, the harder they fall, they say. You going be able to pull that one off again?”

  The smirk had returned to Daniel’s face and his eyes were not only larger now, but shining. Tom felt the room grow hotter once more and this time he was sure he saw the walls pulse. He felt the floor roll underneath his feet in a wave and tried to tell himself that it was just the hooch catching up with him. He shifted in his chair and leaned his elbows on the table to steady himself. Daniel grinned, showing his teeth.

  “Yes, Tom Given. I am.”

  Daniel picked up the dice and rolled. Tom watched them settle. His stomach churned and a rush of heat flared up around him. Tom closed his eyes and opened them again, just to be sure. Double sixes. He couldn’t look up at Daniel, but the geek’s voice floated to him from across the table.

  “That was fun. Perhaps we should do it again sometime.”

  Tom stood up, knocking the chair over with his clenched fists, but a bet was a bet. Tom had never reneged on one before. He didn’t think about his job at the carnival. He didn’t think about January. He only thought of those double sixes. The impossible luck of it. The absurdity. But he himself had never figured out a way to cheat at Dead Man All In, so the rolls had to be true. Tom looked down at his boots and heard Daniel’s voice again.