Amandine had René’s plate ready by the time he collapsed, exhausted, into the chair beside her.
“Working hard?” she asked, leaning over him.
René opened his eyes. He was glad to see her. “I was, but I’m done now. We can show the electric-polly... I mean, the electro-pandemonium… we can show the machine to everyone and finally have some good, loud music for our performances.” He shook his head and chuckled at his own poor attempt to name their invention. “But I am not the only one who has been working hard. Everybody looks incredible, Amandine. I hardly recognize anyone in their new clothes.”
Amandine was about to reply when the firelight caught his eyes and made her forget what she wanted to say. His eyes were the color of a winter sky, yet as warm and inviting as a cup of tea. Now that she thought of it, his lips looked awfully inviting too. Without thinking, she started leaning forward, anxious to accept his lips’ invitation until Glorious’ voice stirred her from her trance.
“Ain’t no time for sleeping, son,” he shouted across the campfire. “Eat your supper before it gets cold.”
René sat up with a groan and reached for his plate. “Thank you for getting dinner for me,” he said, scooping rice into his mouth. “I would’ve rather starved than leave my chair again.”
“Anytime.” She reached under her seat for a final parcel. “But it’s not the only thing I got for you.”
He froze at the sight of the bundle she held out to him. “You didn't,” René said with his mouth full.
“I did.” She proudly put it on his lap. “And... it's a little special. I was running low on feedsack, and I didn’t expect everybody to actually pay me for the clothes I made, so I went to town a few days ago—”
René swallowed and silenced her with a gesture. “You used the money you’ve been saving for your mother on some fabric? On clothes? For me?”
Amandine’s smile wavered and after a hesitation, she nodded. “Only a few extra yards for you and Gia.” She didn’t expect the harshness in René’s voice, but she thought perhaps she misunderstood it. Sweetly, she urged him, “Open it!”
For as long as he could remember, René had only ever worn second-hand clothes. He had never owned a shirt that wasn’t already stained, and his trousers rarely came without a patch. While he was always aware that his clothes were in poor shape, he never gave much thought towards his appearance as long as he was covered in the summer, warm in the winter, and everything survived another trip through the wringer.
The clothes he unwrapped in his lap were different. They were sturdy, clean, fit to his height, and made in colors chosen to suit him. Pulling out a red shirt from behind the others, he was struck by how subtly it resembled a certain fictional outlaw.
Suddenly, René noticed the dirt and grease that covered his hands, and he dropped the new shirt as if it burned him.
“I can't wear these,” he said, yanking off his bandana and wiping his hands.
For the first time, Amandine’s smile fell completely, and the look of hurt that replaced it made René wince.
“Why not?” Her voice escaped in a cracked whimper.
He pointed to himself and exclaimed, “Look at me! You see what sort of work I do. I can’t accept this.” He stared at the clothes. They even had shiny, new buttons. He didn’t know buttons were supposed to shine. “This is too nice for the likes of me.”
A shadow fell over him and Glorious appeared with his plate piled high.
“Son, you best shut your mouth,” he snapped. “We're gonna formally present the machine we've been working on all month, and you wanna go before all of these well-dressed people looking like you just crawled out a coal-chute?” He plucked him out of his chair and confiscated his plate and parcel. “Go get yourself washed up in the stream, put this on...” He chose a navy shirt and a pair of slim, brown, pinstripe pants. “And throw those old rags in the fire when you get back!” With a kick, Glorious sent René out of camp and towards the stream.
Sangria snickered wildly; there was little she loved more than seeing René tormented.
“Damn fool boy,” Glorious muttered, taking the vacant seat. He shook his finger at Amandine. “Don't you let his foolishness upset you, Miss Mandy.”
“I'm not upset,” the dressmaker said. After a deep breath, her smile returned.
“I reckon it's my fault,” Glorious went on, tucking a napkin into his collar. “I wore him out. I've had him running from dump to dump and all over creation looking for parts to assemble. I mean, my daddy taught me how to run electricity like magic, but your René has a gift with machines. That young man is an artist. I couldn't have put this together without him.” Glorious took a bite and shut his eyes in satisfaction. “Good gracious, this is delicious! I ain’t never had curry before.”
“It has a way of lingering,” Coronado said with a grimace, examining a morsel on the end of his fork.
René returned by the time everyone else was finishing dinner. He looked ashamed as he tied his wet hair back. “I... I am sorry for my behavior,” he apologized. “Nobody has ever given me anything so nice before, and I didn’t know how to act. I don’t think I deserve it, but that’s no excuse.” He knelt down by her chair and took both of Amandine's hands in his own. “Thank you. I mean it. These clothes really suit me. Thank you for taking such care to make me something special.”
“You're welcome.” Amandine leaned back and evaluating him from top to bottom. “You look pretty sharp, if I do say so myself. I was a little worried about the fit, but luckily you never noticed me taking measurements on the sly.”
“Measurements?” He sat down when Glorious gave him his seat back. “When did you measure me? How did you measure me?”
Amandine only winked in reply.
Just then, the others noticed René’s change of wardrobe. The Russians started a round of whistling and catcalling, which made René wish he could disappear behind his dinner plate.
Glorious slapped his shoulder. “Don’t mind them. You eat. I’m gonna go fire up the machine and make a little speech. Maybe see if the Russians can serve up their treat.”
“We have dessert?” Amandine asked, imagining colorful Russian pastila.
Piotr appeared with a case of bottles and gently shook one at her in offering. “Well, it used to be bread and sugar.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Glorious said, standing proudly beside his machine. “I want to begin by thanking y’all for welcoming me into your traveling-show family. Thank y’all for sharing your your work, your food, and your tailor.” He hooked his thumbs into the suspenders under his new cream-colored suit. “I bet we’re now the best dressed transients in the NAR, am I right?”
Everybody clapped, and Amandine stood to take a quick bow.
“I wanna return the favor. I wanna show you what is gonna win us the big cash prize at the Freedom Festival in Nieuwestad.” His arm swept over the massive instrument. “This here machine is the result of some long, hard work from myself and your very own Monsieur Personne. You might have heard us making noise on it from time to time, but tonight we wanna put on a little recital for you. Tonight, I invite you to sit back and enjoy the music with refreshments generously provided by the Pasternakov brothers.”
Amandine swirled the drink in her cup. It was the color of tea, but certainly didn't smell like it. “What is this stuff, René?”
He didn’t answer. It looked like he was steeling himself against something unpleasant before he knocked his cup back, shuddered, and staggered off to fetch his guitar.
“Don't drink that rain-barrel swill, mi cariña.” Coronado reached for Sangria's cup and tossed it's contents over his shoulder. “Try something a little easier on the palette. I've been drinking it all evening.” The girls exchanged wide-eyed look while the tipsy illusionist refilled her cup with red wine.
Glorious started the generator, and it roared to life, belching a white cloud of exhaust. With a dramatic flair, he switched on the machine. The front display was il
luminated in multicolored lights in decorative rows. The display across the top said “MARMI'S MARVELS” in yellow neon letters, and Glorious looked for her reaction.
Marmi normally tried to appear stern and impassive, but her eyes went wide at the incredible machine before her. With the press of a button, her name began flashing. As each letter lit in turn, her smile grew a little wider until she finally nodded to Glorious, eager to see more.
Satisfied, Glorious took his seat and gave his arms a little shake.
“I call it ‘the electropolyharmonium.’ Enjoy!”
He began by playing an upbeat, minor polka. He played it well, but the audience was already familiar with Glorious’ musical talent. It was the machine they were interested in, and so far the only impressive thing about it was that the display above flashed lights in time to the music he played. When he finished, it earned a polite response.
Glorious pretended to be disappointed. “What's the matter? You thought Big Polly could do more? Oh, I suppose you folks want something that will knock your socks off. Fine! If this don’t turn you on, then you ain’t got no switches!”
He worked at his control panel and played several keys. Big Polly looped a bass beat with low flashing orange lights. It resonated like a pulse, and Chitra was the first to start tilting her head from side to side in time. Glorious added several chords, revealing to everyone’s astonishment that the machine could imitate every instrument in a jazz band and that got every foot tapping. Ludmilla finished her drink and did a little shimmy with Sasha. Piotr took Chitra by the hand and enthusiastically mimicked her Indian style of dancing.
René reappeared and leaped up beside Glorious, who handed him a cable. He plugged it into his modified guitar and played a swinging gypsy-jazz melody that Glorious altered through Big Polly. He looped it, skipped it, then when the song seemed to have no place else to go, he turned the entire machine down to just the bass again.
“Yes, sir!” he yelled over the beat. “Big Polly’s got an entire orchestra hiding under her skirt! But you know what's the very best thing about this machine?” With a push of several more buttons, the song returned to a climax. “She can play herself!”
Big Polly exploded with beautiful lights and exciting new music. René dropped his guitar, but his melody played on. He ran over to where Amandine was sitting, lifted her up off her feet and whirled her around the fire. Glorious claimed Marmi before she could protest, and even the half-sauced Coronado had Sangria by the hand.
They were all laughing and twirling, finally allowing themselves to let loose. Amandine was glad that she still remembered a few swing steps, and René could improvise well enough until he learned what she was doing. In no time at all, they were moving together naturally and exuberantly. She relished each time he pulled her close after she spun away, matching her kicks, steps and twists. Occasionally Glorious ran up to the machine to play a new tune, but the music never stopped. They danced until Amandine couldn’t stand anymore.
“I can’t dance another step,” she laughed. She doubled over and gasped for breath. René went to help her straighten up, and she pretended that exhaustion made her lean into his arms.
“Would you like to sit down?” he asked.
She nodded, and he led them away. To her amusement, they moved further from their folding chairs by the fire and in the direction of Coronado’s truck.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace quieter.”
“You aren’t taking me back to your tent, are you?” She whispered mischievously and prodded him in the ribs. The way he jumped made Amandine snort.
“Not my tent!” he said shrilly. “There’s barely enough room for me in there. I can’t even sit up to read.”
“Speaking of reading—” Amandine remembered her first gift. “How did you like the Rogue Rider?”
He made a face as if she had asked something offensive. “I didn’t. It was awful.”
“Horsefeathers!” She prodded him again. “You couldn’t put it down. I saw you during shows, reading by the stage lights. It was the ending, wasn’t it?”
René grit his teeth and exhaled hard through his nose. “It is so frustrating! If Jed would only tell Annie he’s the Rogue Rider, she wouldn’t have been fooled by the corrupt Sheriff.”
“But he can never tell her who he really is, because to do so would put her in danger. It doesn’t matter how much good Jedrick Anders does, because the Rogue Rider is still a criminal. He’s an outlaw!”
“He’s amazing,” René confessed with a dreamy sigh.
“I’ll keep an eye out for the next one in the series,” she said. “And I promise you’ll be happy with how that particular adventure ends.”
“Tell me!”
“No. I won’t spoil it.”
“Tell me!” He gave her shoulders a little shake. “I have to know what happens next. Between that cliffhanger and seeing you in that dress, I feel like I am going crazy.”
Amandine blushed. She reflexively touched her white skirt, dotted with hundreds of blooming roses. “You like my dress?”
He was glad he didn’t have to steal a glance at her now. René looked at her from the bow in her hair, down the trail of round red buttons to where the full skirt ended just below her knees.
“I love your dress,” he said as he drew her against him, feeling the warm cotton around her waist.
Amandine closed her eyes and slowly raised herself up on her toes. She waited for a kiss but to her disappointment, none came. When she opened her eyes again, René was scanning their surroundings. They were standing behind Coronado’s truck, but were not completely out of sight of the fire.
“Come on,” he said, pulling her away from the light. “This way.”
“Oh, the impropriety,” she giggled. “We don't even have our slipshod chaperone.”
“Well, if you’re worried about your virtue, we can always go to your trailer.”
“The only thing I’m worried about is Marmi.” With a stern poke in his direction, she added, “And you should be too.”
“But I am,” he exclaimed. “Marmi only wants what’s best for us. It’s just that…”
They stopped at the foot of her trailer, and he paused. He didn’t want to push her into something she might not want, so he respectfully took a step back. Hands in his pockets, he bashfully concluded, “It’s just that Marmi might see a lot, but she doesn’t see everything.”
Amandine tried to suppress the smile that pushed through her serious front. Red lips twitching, she coyly crossed her arms and nodded towards her door. “Anyway, how does my trailer safeguard my virtue when we’re just as alone there as the forest?”
“Sangria will likely come looking as soon as she sees us gone,” he said with a shrug and his roguish smirk. “And I know she would love nothing more than to spoil our evening.”
He had a point, but it was a flimsy defense. Amandine decided that she didn’t particularly care as she pulled him inside and shut the door behind him.
“Sorry about the state of this place,” she said, stuffing messy piles of fabric into a sack to be reorganized later. “I wanted to give you your clothes before the party, and I barely finished them in time.”
Once the place was tidy, she lit the lamp with shaking hands and sat down beside him on Sangria's bunk. She wondered if René could comfortably rest anywhere, because the bed didn’t contain him any better than his tent did.
They stared at their own laps, unsure of what to do. Both of them had imagined what would happen if they were alone together, but now that the moment was here, all of their plans and confidence evaporated. Looking up at the same time, they wordlessly decided to lay down. They settled on the quilt facing each other, just close enough so that their bodies touched. Amandine tucked one arm under her headand laced the fingers on her other hand into René's.
For a while there was no sound but the thumping bass beat of Big Polly. They could barely see each other by the dim glow from the lamp and changing
colored lights from outside.
René was unsure if he could convey how he felt in English, so he spoke first in French. His words were strained as he searched for the courage to say them. “Quand je t’ai vu pour la première fois, c’était le coup de foudre. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours… do you understand what I am saying?”
“Oui,” she replied, making no attempt at a correct accent. It made him chuckle. “I understand.”
“Is there something wrong?”
“No, René. Never. I adore you, too. Only...” she trailed off.
“Please, tell me,” he pressed. “Was it because I was being an ass earlier?”
“No, of course not. It's much more serious than that. It's that... well, what do we do now?”
His concern was replaced with a sly look. “I can think of a few things,” he said, moving closer.
She playfully pushed him back. “That's not what I meant. I mean, what happens when we finally reach Nieuwestad? The minute I get those costumes done, I need to leave and find my mother.”
“The minute?” he asked. “Won’t you at least stay until the festival and see the result of all of our hard work?”
“No, René, I’m sorry. I really don’t have any time to lose. While I’m endlessly grateful to everyone for looking after me, I’m afraid I may be wasting too much time. I need to find her as soon as my agreement with Marmi is fulfilled.”
“Then I’ll go with you,” he said, moving closer again.
This time she did not push him back. “If she’s still in trouble, maman and I might have to lay low until this business goes away.”
“I could look after you both.”
She smiled, imagining how happy she would be to have the two people she cared for the most always at her side, but she knew it was impossible. “You could never do that. I would never ask you to do that. Everyone would be heartbroken if you left. They need you.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she stopped him. “You might say handymen are a dime a dozen, but how many others could keep the trucks working, build and run the shows each night, design and construct ‘electric-pandemoniums’ and... and... throw fire?”
Threadbare- The Traveling Show Page 16