Carnival

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

  “Yeah, well you didn’t,” she spit out. “You made it ten times worse!”

  A vein throbbed in my temple. Worse than being a pregnant homeless teenage runaway? But I kept my mouth shut and gave her a curt nod.

  “My mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  My words were quiet but she definitely heard them. I forced myself to walk away.

  I’d gone twenty steps when she came running after me, slightly out of breath.

  “Zef, I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch.”

  She rested her small hand on my arm.

  I frowned and looked away.

  “I don’t know what you need from me, Sara. Maybe nothin’, maybe somethin’, but it’ll go a helluva lot smoother if you just tell me.”

  Her hand dropped and I thought she was going to yell at me again, but she didn’t.

  “I can’t.”

  Her voice cracked, but her mouth was a stubborn line.

  I bit my tongue, holding back the demands that she tell me what was wrong.

  “When you can, I’ll be around.”

  I met her eyes so that she knew I’d keep my word. And then even though I wanted to take her in my arms and promise that everything would be okay, I walked away.

  We rolled into Pomona shortly after midnight, probably interrupting the guard at the performers’ entrance from whatever movie he was watching.

  The vast, gated compound had a fenced perimeter and 24/7 security. I’d guess that 200 or so carnies lived here from Easter through Thanksgiving, then went back to their homes for the off-season.

  Tucker’s eyes were red with tiredness and I felt bad for not being able to take my turn at the wheel, but we’d all pulled long trips before now so I wasn’t going to bleed for the guy.

  We trundled over the concrete back lot, making our way toward a small stand of trees and grass that was reserved for us near the barbecue pit.

  Zach parked their RV by the nose of our rig and Kes parked at the back end, making three sides of a rectangle and creating a little courtyard that would give us some privacy. Ollo’s RV was off to one side which was how he preferred it.

  “Gotta take a leak,” Tucker yawned, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his spine.

  But then his eyes brightened, all tiredness gone, and he jumped out of the truck’s cab, a huge smile on his face. Next second, a cute blonde was wrapped around him and they were lost to the rest of us as we climbed tiredly from the vehicles.

  Kes walked over and slapped the back of Tucker’s head.

  “That’s my sister, asshole!”

  And he hugged Tera, pushing Tucker out of the way.

  Then it was Aimee’s turn, and I heard the two women squealing at each other, and the word “congratulations!” being bounced around.

  “I’m going to be the coolest aunt ever!” Tera laughed, as Tucker wrapped his arms around her waist again.

  I hopped over and gave Tera a quick hug.

  “Oh, Zef! Look at you, all banged up! Where’s this girl I’ve been hearing about?” She whispered. “Where’s Sara?”

  “Uh, riding with Zach and Luke, I think.”

  She threw me a confused look before Tucker walked her towards an expensive-looking Mercedes and they drove off into the night.

  A twist of jealousy knotted my gut as I watched their tail lights disappear.

  We stumbled around, drunk on tiredness, hooking up the RVs to water and power, then collapsed into our respective beds.

  I didn’t think I’d sleep, not with Sara just a few feet away in the next room, but I did, tiredness taking its toll.

  I woke once in the night and I heard her voice. She sounded like she was arguing with someone, but was trying to keep her voice down. I strained to pick up a few words, but all I could hear was “no” said emphatically several times.

  I lay awake listening for a while longer, wondering if she was okay or if she’d need me, but Sara’s room stayed silent.

  When Bo slipped through my window just before dawn, I was grateful for the company. He crawled under the covers, curled up by my waist and went to sleep.

  I stroked his soft fur, wishing my life was as uncomplicated as his. It used to be.

  When I woke up for real, I felt more optimistic. All around me, the massive Fairplex fairground was stirring into life. I could hear the voices of other carnie families who were parked nearby, and also knew that soon the five thousand plus employees would be showing up for work, ready to entertain, amuse and feed the people who’d be pouring from one of the thirty thousand designated car parking spaces.

  The big status rides like G-force and Evaluation would have their daily check; college kids hired to be Captain Jack Sparrow, Belle and the Beast or characters from Avatar would be arriving to change into their costumes; and the Daredevils would be supervising the installation of our ramps, as well as the supersize ones that were stored here for our biggest shows.

  I stumped into the shower, staring critically at my gimpy leg and testing how much weight it would hold. Hmm, not too bad. I had my first physical therapy appointment this afternoon, and I was determined to ace all my exams and be performing again by the end of the month, screw what the Voice of Doom had said back in Washington.

  Just as I was hobbling back to my room, Sara was coming out of hers with a towel wrapped tightly around her. She gave me a quick smile—a definite improvement on being ignored.

  Aimee was bustling around in the kitchen, somehow managing four pans and a stack of plates warming in the oven. She was wearing a light summer dress, and for the first time I noticed that she had a small baby bump.

  “Hey, Zef!” she said brightly, happiness radiating from her.

  “Lookin’ good, mamacita,” I said, smiling as she blushed.

  Kes came up behind her, kissing her neck as his hands stroked her newly protruding belly. It was an intimate, private moment. I turned away and switched on the TV to catch the news.

  I glanced up when Sara walked in, but her gaze was fixed on Kes and Aimee, and even from this distance I could tell that her eyes were filling with tears.

  My chest ached for her.

  Kes and Aimee were in their own bubble, so they didn’t even notice the strained atmosphere or Sara’s silence. I was relieved when Zach and Luke, followed by Ollo and Bo came to rustle up some pancakes.

  “Nice job on the new web content, Sara,” said Zach, looking at something on his phone. “The Fairplex racetrack manager said that ticket sales are up four percent from last year, and the Fourth is a sell-out.”

  She gave him a wide, happy smile, and my dark heart growled, wishing that I could put that look on her face.

  Ollo nodded approvingly.

  “Thanks, Zach,” said Sara. “I loved doing it.”

  “Great! Well, I spoke to Tera this morning . . .”

  “I bet Tucker loved that,” I muttered, earning an amused smile from Luke.

  “ . . . and she said that KTM is definitely interested in sponsoring us, and she wants some more pictures from you: not just action shots, but set-up, maintenance, the guys goofing off—just more of what you’ve already been doing, but specific to this location.”

  “Oh, I’d love to! Thank you! That’s awesome! Thank you so much, Zach!”

  Then she kissed him on the cheek and started piling her plate with pancakes, sausages and syrup.

  Part of me wanted to hug the guy for making Sara so happy; the other part wanted to punch his lights out because she’d kissed him and not me.

  I wasn’t used to being jealous—I hadn’t known how much it burned.

  Fourth of July had been a crazy day. Usually, I’d be working my ass off, but with my gimp leg, all I could do was a little bike maintenance, and watch the guys put on a stunning show, finished off with a massive firework display.

  I was in a bad mood because I wasn’t being even slightly useful. I even tried to help Aimee and Sara with food prep for the after-party, bu
t in the end Aimee kicked me out of the kitchen, saying I was getting underfoot. Which I was.

  I was glad when it was all over and I could sit back with a beer and enjoy listening to all the carnie talk around the fire-pit.

  “I don’t really get it, Ollo,” said Sara. “What’s the difference between a circus and a carnival?”

  He chewed on a wad of tobacco thoughtfully.

  “It’s changing now, but back after the Second World War there were traveling carnivals and there were circuses. It was a gray time, a tired time, and everyone was sick of it. Circuses were mostly owned by one family, and carnivals were groups of shows coming together and traveling together a while. Carnies were the rebels of the road. But it was more than that. We offered color and life. Respectable folk,” and he raised his eyebrows, “went to the circus, but in carnivals anything goes. We had gambling and freak shows like the Dog-faced Woman—a good friend of mine—the Human Lightbulb, real fakirs—those guys who stuck pins through their faces. The Great Impossible Possible used to sew buttons to his eyelids . . .” Sara looked like she was going to throw up. “And there were other torture acts, bed of nails, you know? But you’d also get carousels for the kiddies and hootchy-kootchy shows for their daddies. The Fat Lady was always a big draw, Jolly Daisy was her name—had five husbands and weighed seven hundred pounds.”

  Sara wrinkled her nose.

  “That’s disgusting! Putting people on stage just because they’re . . . different.”

  Ollo shook his head.

  “It wasn’t like that. The freaks earned a good living, better than the canvasmen or the roustabouts, that’s for sure. Get a good freak and they could keep the carnival going. Here, they had a life, a purpose, and they had their friends. Some had families, too. But what would they have been if they’d been forced to live with ‘normal’ people?” And he drew air quotes with his stubby fingers. “People like them . . . like me . . . were hidden away, something shameful. But in the carnival, they were important.”

  “But . . .”

  Ollo fixed Sara with a serious stare.

  “It’s different now. People like to think they’re more acceptin’, and maybe they are, but I can tell you when I walk down the street with townies, the nicest thing that happens is people stare. Sometimes they’re not nice; sometimes they’re mean. Being ugly is a sort of prison. So you tell me which is better: a life of being hidden away by families too ashamed to let their friends see you, or a life with the carnival where you’re accepted for all your freakishness? A place that gives you a chance, the courage to turn a misfortune of birth into something positive, and you can thumb your nose, be unashamed, and throw your strangeness in the face of the world?”

  Sara was silent and Ollo’s fierce gaze softened.

  “But like I said, times have changed and things are different now.”

  Were we all misfits here? Or maybe misfits who fit?

  Either way, this was family. This was home.

  “Man! You cheat like your feet stink!”

  Tucker scowled at Sara who flipped him the bird.

  “You’re just a terrible poker player, Tucker, and my feet do not stink!”

  Tucker stared down at the single quarter left in front of him, at the large pile next to Sara, and then his eyes narrowed as he took in a grinning Ollo.

  I was pretty sure that the deck had been stacked in Sara’s favor, but it was hard to catch Ollo at it—he was a master of sleight of hand. There’d been a sorry lack of Aces in the last few hands, and now suddenly Sara had all four of them laid out on the table.

  She giggled, one hand over her mouth and the other resting on her belly.

  I glanced at Kes, and his knowing look told me that he’d seen exactly what Ollo was up to.

  “Face it, mothertucker, your brain doesn’t move as fast as your mouth.”

  “Never mind,” said Aimee, patting his arm as she smiled at Tucker’s indignant face. “You know what they say, ‘unlucky at cards but lucky in love’.”

  Tera laughed and leaned her head against his cheek.

  “See? Always an upside.”

  Tucker sighed and tossed his worthless cards on the table.

  “I’m going to need more sugar than that, sweet girl of mine. Let’s go home—leave the scamming to these losers.”

  They stood up together, Tera hugging everyone as Tucker eyed Ollo casually shuffling the card deck and grinning up at him.

  “One day I’ll catch you cheatin’,” Tucker grumbled.

  Ollo laughed. “Not in this lifetime,” and he winked. “Coulda been worse—we coulda played strip poker, then see who’s got cards up their . . . sleeves.”

  “Yuk!” said Tera and Aimee in unison.

  Sara leaned against me, sleepily counting her winnings. I was surprised because we hadn’t been so friendly lately and besides, I was supposed to be staying away from her.

  “I’ve won $23.75!” she said happily.

  “Nice going. And you made twice that amount whipping Tucker’s ass at Halo.”

  Her eyes glowed, the heavy lids drooping, long lashes casting shadows over her eyes.

  “That was fun,” she said. “But I’m so tired, I can hardly move. I think I’ll just sleep here.”

  Without a word, I scooped her up into my arms, smiling as she gave a little squeal.

  “Zef! What are you doing?”

  “Your taxi,” I said gruffly. “It’s an all-inclusive door-to-bedroom-door service.”

  She gave a snort of amusement but didn’t object as I limped into the RV, my brace clanging against the metal doorway, and I placed her carefully on the bed, taking off her shoes and tucking the quilt in around her.

  “Thank you, Zef,” she said sleepily. Then her eyes opened and she stared up. “Why are you so nice to me?”

  I stared back, trying to find the elusive words, but I failed. Again.

  “Go to sleep, Sara.”

  Her eyes flickered with disappointment, then closed, and soon she was deeply asleep.

  I watched for a moment as her chest rose and fell steadily and her pink lips popped open just a fraction.

  I could hear Kes and Aimee talking quietly in their room, so I closed the door and went back to the others. Zach and Luke had left, too, and Ollo had stepped outside to the bonfire, and now sat with Bo curled up in his lap.

  The flames were smaller now, flickering as the bonfire began to die, but they reflected in Ollo’s eyes, making him seem unearthly, something ancient and beyond time.

  The world had changed around him and I wondered if he was the last of the true carnies, born on the road with many miles behind him.

  He took another slug of Bourbon, careful not to disturb Bo, then passed me the bottle.

  “I didn’t even see you cheating,” I said, raising the bottle in a salute.

  He gave a rough chuckle.

  “You’re not supposed to, that’s the point.”

  “Tucker got played.”

  Ollo grinned at me.

  “You all got played. You were all too busy making moon eyes at the women folk to notice what I was doing. If Tucker had caught on earlier, I’d have blamed you. Check your pants pocket for a pair of Kings, hotshot.”

  Frowning, I was amazed when I found the King of Hearts and the King of Spades in the pocket of my sweatpants.

  “I don’t know how you did that, old man, but don’t you be puttin’ your hands anywhere near my pants again!”

  He cackled loudly, waking a grumpy Bo who showed his objection by baring his teeth and jumping from Ollo’s lap and disappearing into the night.

  Ollo sighed, stretching out his short legs.

  “The Wampanoag tribe are from the East coast and they tell the legend of Katama. In it a girl turns into a dolphin to be with the man she loved. She followed her heart through some hard decisions and ultimately brought peace to the Wampanoag Nation.”

  “Has anyone ever said that you talk in riddles, old man.”

  “She’s a good
girl.”

  I didn’t bother to ask who he meant but his words were painful to hear.

  “She’s too young.”

  “Says who?”

  “Immature.”

  “You act like a big kid yourself half the time.”

  He smiled to himself.

  “I don’t know if I can trust her,” and this time my voice was serious.

  “Maybe you can and maybe you can’t. But it doesn’t matter who she is or what she did. It’s who is she now, that matters; what she does here. The carnival is a place to become the person you could be or should be; a place to start over. You of all people know that. She hides the truth from you, and I get that you’re angry, but she has her reasons. She’ll tell you one day.”

  “I can’t trust her.”

  “You can trust your own eyes.”

  I sighed. “Maybe.”

  “It’s no secret that you have feelings for this girl.”

  “I . . .”

  “Look after her.”

  “If she lets me.”

  “You don’t see it, but she’s good for you.”

  “Yeah? Because I could swear meeting her has aged me ten years.”

  He smiled and leaned back on his arms.

  “You’re more connected. Before, you were always on the outside looking in, but she’s brought you into the circle, into the family. That’s important.”

  He took another slug of Bourbon and passed the bottle back to me.

  “What about your family, Ollo? I mean your parents, not . . . us.”

  “The dirt in the forest is my father and the stars above are my mother.”

  “How much of that Bourbon have you had?”

  We sat by the dying fire, passing the bottle back and forth until it was empty, and I listened to stories of Ollo’s early days with the carnival: the drifting, the grifting, the canvasmen and ride jocks, the time he’d been a jointee and ran a pool game named the Tubs of Fun, all the gloriously untethered life of a traveling carnival.

  “The world is changing and maybe traveling carnivals won’t survive,” he said quietly, as if talking to himself, “but people will always need a little magic in their lives.”

  He looked across at me, his face in darkness, only the eyes alive in his shadowy face.