The Traveling Man

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “I don’t want Zach managing me,” he said firmly.”

  I blinked a couple of times. “Oh well, okay. I thought he’d do a good job and…”

  “It’s not that,” Kes said, rubbing his thumb across his eyebrows.

  “Is it because of the way Zach feels about you?”

  Kes looked up, surprised. “He told you about that?”

  “Yes. I take it it’s a problem for you?”

  Kes sighed and slumped onto the sofa. “Yeah, but not in the way you mean. Yeah, I know about Zach. It’s one of the reasons I don’t travel with him all of the time. I keep hoping he’ll meet someone, not be…”

  “Hung up on you?”

  Kes looked embarrassed. “It’s sounds arrogant, but yeah.”

  “Oh,” I said softly. “I hadn’t thought of that—it’s actually really sweet of you.”

  Kes raised his eyebrows. “Sweet?”

  I waved the comment away.

  “Let him do it for now. You’re already on this tour with him so it won’t make any difference to how often you see each other. And you can spend the next month or so looking for a manager.”

  “You sure you don’t want to do it?”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “You’d figure it out—you’re smart.”

  “Thank you for that. But what about when I go back to Boston? You’ll be at square one again. No, you need a professional.”

  “Fine!” he snapped. “Maybe I could just impose on your precious time for a few minutes and get Zach into my emails and shit!”

  “Why are you yelling at me again! I’m trying to help you!”

  He swore softly and left me standing in the RV, annoyed and upset.

  He didn’t come back at lunchtime either. Zef ate his pizza in silence and Tucker kept up a stream of bad jokes. I felt too tense to eat more than a few bites.

  At 2 o’clock, the carnival was ready to open. The boys went off to prep for the first show, and I decided to take a walk along the midway.

  There was already a line of what looked like hundreds of people waiting at the arch. Unlike everyone else, I didn’t have a particular role, so I could just be one of the visitors for the day.

  I watched as they poured inside, everyone excited and ready for a good time. I wandered along, not quite lost in the crowds, because every now and then the carnies would look across and give me a wave. Their quick eyes missed nothing.

  I bought myself a cotton candy, for old time sake, but found that my taste buds had outgrown the sickly confection. The thought made me wistful.

  “Do you want to know the future, dearie? Madame Sylva will tell you your fortune.”

  I looked over my shoulder to see a woman dressed like an old fashioned gypsy, sitting outside a brightly-decorated booth. I was surprised by her English accent, and her words made me giggle. Her face was deeply wrinkled, the color of a walnut, and her hands were curled into claws and wracked with arthritis. She must have been at least a hundred.

  “I don’t need my fortune told,” I said, smiling at her. “I keep a schedule on my cell phone.”

  She wheezed out a hoarse laugh. “That won’t tell you what you need to know. Cross my palm with silver, and learn what the Fates have in store for you.”

  I decided to humor her, so I pulled out a few dollars as well as a handful of quarters.

  “Thank you, dearie. I like to use the traditional words: you’ve got to respect the classics.”

  She winked, beckoning me into her small tent. The heat was stifling—just being here was making my head swim.

  Madame Sylva gestured to a chair, then eased herself behind a small table, waving her hands over a crystal ball.

  “Ah, I see! This is about your traveling man,” she declared. “He was born to wander, this one, born to fly.”

  She was a poet, I’d give her that much. But honestly! How gullible did she think I was? It was obvious that being Kes’s new girlfriend had made me high profile in this small world.

  “Do you know Madame Cindy by any chance?”

  A rasping laugh rattled out of her chest.

  “She’s my daughter, dearie.”

  “Oh! I had no idea. How is she?”

  Madame Sylva shook her head sadly. “Living in California. In a house.”

  She spat out the last word as if it was dirty, but her eyes twinkled.

  Then she sighed heavily as she peered in the misty crystal. “He’s a hard man to love.”

  Madame Sylva had definitely got that bit right.

  “And you’re at a crossroads. You’re wondering which way to go—toward safety, or toward love.”

  She peered up at me. “Personally, I’d always go for love, but love isn’t safe—it cuts and burns.” She shrugged. “Difficult choice.”

  I laughed a little, but it wasn’t easy to feel the humor when her words had me rattled.

  She patted my hand kindly.

  “That which is broken can still be mended, if your glue is strong enough.”

  Her riddles were giving me a headache.

  “Thank you, Madame Sylva,” I said, standing up quickly. “It’s been fascinating.”

  She smiled. “You’re welcome. Now, don’t forget to keep the Ferris wheel close to your heart.”

  I shook my head, waving as I left. Nice woman, but nutty as a fruitcake.

  Then she popped her head out of the tent and called after me.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, dearie. Or him,” and she ducked back inside.

  I was glad to be out of her stifling tent, but it definitely added to the atmosphere of the whole experience. I had to admit she put on a good show. Except for that nonsense about keeping the Ferris wheel close to my heart. I couldn’t help feeling that she’d been sipping at the cup of loony juice.

  The crowds had increased by the time I staggered back out, despite the pressing heat of the afternoon sun. The soft drink vendors and ice cream concessions had long lines in front of them. All the carnies were working and I was feeling like I didn’t really belong. I didn’t have friends here—they were all Kes’s friends—even Zachary. And Kes hadn’t texted me, so I guessed he was still mad after part two of the day’s debacle. I was aware I’d stepped on his toes by interfering with his business, but honestly, Zef hadn’t given me much choice. I hoped Kes would understand once I’d explained.

  I decided to head back to the RV and take a nap before Kes’s show.

  I was walking past Sid and his ‘Drown the Clown’ show, moving more easily because the crowds were thinner here, when he yelled at me.

  “Hey, you! Hey, girlie! All by yourself—don’t you have any friends?”

  I stared at him, mortified. It was a little too close to what I’d been thinking, but then I caught his wink.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

  “Oh, I heard you,” I said blandly. “It’s just that you’re confusing me with someone who gives a damn.”

  He sniggered, and I could see the message flashing in his eyes: Game on!

  “I thought you were a nice girl, but if you’re going to be two faced, at least make one of them pretty,” he snarked.

  “Oh really?” I said, pretending to yawn. “I would like to see things from your point of view … but I can’t seem to get my head that far up my ass—it’s not as big as yours.”

  The people around me tittered, and several stopped to listen.

  “You’re cute,” grinned Sid. “I’ll have to put you on my to-do list!”

  I placed one hand on my hip and stared back.

  “You couldn’t handle me, even if I came with instructions.”

  “Don’t be hasty,” he said with a leer. “Let’s try having sex before we rush into dating.”

  Several parents ushered their children away, but the crowd around us still grew.

  “Why don’t you dunk that clown, honey?” a woman in the crowd encouraged me.

  “Yes, he needs to wash his mouth out!”
shouted another.

  I definitely agreed, so I handed a couple of dollars to his assistant who was smiling broadly, and I rolled up my metaphorical sleeves as I was handed a baseball.

  I went through my first dollars quickly, missing four times in a row, which only had Sid taunting me loudly. I was determined to duck that quick-tongued asshat.

  “Aw,” said Sid, as I handed over a few more bills. “How can I miss you if you won’t go away?

  Soon, I had an even bigger audience. Sid jeered and laughed at me, and I was surrounded by people giving me unhelpful advice.

  Growling a little, I threw yet another ball at the target … and missed.

  “I love the sound you make when you shut up,” he laughed.

  “I would love to insult you,” I said evenly, “but I’m afraid I wouldn’t do as well as nature did.”

  “You’re not funny, but your life, now that’s a joke,” Sid shot back, as I missed again.

  “You’re the one who’s about to get dunked!” I snapped, missing for a gazillionth time.

  Sid cackled. “You’re standing here talking to me! Why don’t you check eBay and see if they have a life for sale?”

  I gritted my teeth, and tried to remember some of the cool insults my third-graders yelled at each other in the playground. “Ooh! I’ve got a good one: somewhere out there is a bunch of trees, tirelessly producing oxygen so you can breathe. I think you owe them all an apology.”

  One of my kids had thought up that joke after a lesson in photosynthesis.

  People around me laughed, and I bought another four shots, determined to stop Sid’s mouth with a big drink of water.

  “Honey, you’re proof that God has a sense of humor,” he snorted, as I wound up to take another shot.

  Ugh, he was good!

  I tried again—and missed. I was actually getting kind of pissed at myself for being such a girly thrower.

  “Well, If you spoke your mind, you’d be speechless,” I sniped, handing over my final dollar for balls to throw.

  “Well I could agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong,” said Sid.

  Oh, I was never going to win against him.

  “If you’re going be a smartass, first you have to be smart. Otherwise you’re just an ass. Oh wait, too late!” I laughed, impressed that I’d thought of a great comeback.

  The crowd had built up a lot in the last five minutes as Sid and I continued to trade insults across a large tank of cold water. Jeez, my life!

  “Still can’t dunk me!” he crowed.

  Damn!

  When the last of my throws had come and gone, I was in such a lather and dripping with sweat, that I’d definitely lost my cool. I pulled off my sneaker and flung it at him.

  Miracle of miracles, I hit the target and Sid was dunked at last!

  The audience were laughing at him, laughing at me, and couldn’t wait to try their luck.

  His assistant passed me my soggy sneaker and winked at me.

  “Nice work! You’ve really got the rubes going with all those misses!”

  I didn’t want to tell her that I hadn’t missed on purpose—my aim really was that bad. But everyone was happy. Sid tried to kiss me, but I dodged out of his dripping arms and headed off down the midway, stopping once or twice to chat to people.

  I had half an hour before Kes’s first show, so I decided to go say hi to the ponies used in the rodeo act. Animals didn’t lose their temper or make bad jokes at your expense.

  They snickered softly when they saw me and trotted over to see if I had any apples.

  “Sorry,” I said, stroking their noses and patting their necks. “I’ll definitely drop by with apples next time. I don’t suppose any of you like broccoli?”

  A woman with short dark hair and a friendly smile strolled over.

  “Hi! You must be Aimee. I’m Rhonda Reynolds.”

  “Oh! You own the carnival!”

  She smiled. “Myself and my husband Dan, but Zachary is really the one in charge. I saw you this morning at the supermarket, but I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself. Did I hear you offering broccoli to my horses?”

  “Oh sorry,” I laughed. “Just trying to find someone around here who’ll eat vegetables. I had to tell Tucker that broccoli goes great with pizza.”

  She laughed loudly. “That’s a good one! You should try giving them son-of-a-gun stew.”

  “Son of a what?!”

  She grinned at me. “It’s a big ole stewpot with pieces of beef or pork or whatever meat you’ve got. Then I throw in a ton of vegetables and stew it all up so no one knows what son-of-a-gun is what. That way, my kids will eat vegetables and hardly know they’re doing it.”

  “That’s brilliant! I’ll have to try that.”

  She smiled. “So how are you enjoying traveling with the carnival?”

  “Oh, I’m absolutely loving it. I just had a very interesting run in with Sid.”

  Rhonda sniggered. “Yeah, I heard about that.”

  “You did? I was only just there!”

  “Oh, you’ll learn. News like that spreads fast. Sid said he hasn’t had so much fun in a long time.”

  I was pleased that I’d been able to hold my own with a guy who used to be a stand-up comedian—even if I was a lousy shot.

  “It must have been a big decision for you to give up your work and your life back east,” Rhonda said as she stroked the horses. “I remember when I told my parents that I was going to follow Dan on the rodeo circuit and that his father owned a carnival, you’d have thought I’d told them I was joining a cult.” She laughed sadly. “But in a way they weren’t wrong. This life, well, you’ve seen for yourself. We don’t always get treated so well because we’re outside of the norms, different from other folk and how they live their lives.”

  “Yes, I’ve definitely seen that,” I agreed. “It must be hard. But no, I haven’t given up my whole life—I have a job waiting for me in Boston at the end of the summer.”

  Rhonda looked surprised. “You do?”

  “Well, yes!” I laughed. “I teach third grade at a school just over the border in New Hampshire. I’ve been there for two years now. I love it.”

  Rhonda seemed confused, but she nodded slowly.

  “And you’re going back there, after the summer? I just thought that…” she hesitated. “Oh well, that sounds great. Just great.” Then she smiled again. “Well, better get ready for the show. We’re on right before Kes. Catch you later, Aimee!”

  I headed back to the RV, wondering if I should ask Rhonda for her recipe for son-of-a-gun stew, or whether I should just give it a try.

  But when I got back to the RV, I was pleasantly surprised to see that Kes had a smile on his face. He scooped me off my feet and twirled me around, kissing me soundly.

  “What’s that for?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Do I need a reason?”

  “Definitely not.”

  He laughed and kissed me again.

  “Cheryl, Sid’s assistant told me how much you helped them with the act. Sid was really pleased. He wanted to know if you’d do it every day?”

  I was astonished. “Really?”

  “Yeah, he says you got the marks going.”

  Kes looked so proud of me, and I sunned myself in the warmth of his praise.

  “Well, it wasn’t planned. I just tried to keep up with the insults. I guess teaching has a wide spectrum of applications. Who knew?”

  His smile faded a little, but then he kissed me again.

  “I have to go get ready now, but you’ll come see the show?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” I smiled, glad his sulk was over.

  While the guys were all at the arena, I boiled up a huge pot of pasta, put it in a dish with a bunch of vegetables, smothered it in cheese and shoved it in the fridge ready to cook for dinner later. I also had my secret weapon in completing the battle of winning over Zef: homemade apple pie. Well, homemade in that I bought a frozen pie crust at the store and added a can
of apple pie filling.

  No one would know the difference. Yeah, I’d keep telling myself that.

  I schlepped on over to the arena to watch the rest of the rodeo show. Rhonda’s family did a fast and furious comedy rodeo that had the audience laughing and cheering, but to my critical eye, it lacked the drama of the act Kes and his brother used to do.

  There was a short break between the shows while the two bike ramps were put into place.

  The crowd had tripled in size, and there wasn’t a single empty seat in the bleachers. A rustle of anticipation rippled around as the start time came and went.

  And then, against the backdrop of that vast open sky, tinged pink as the sun sank, Kes roared into the arena in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes.

  He looked lean and dangerous in his red and black leathers, painted flames dancing over the top of his helmet. The crowd went nuts, screaming and stamping their feet. He skidded the bike to a halt, then pulled it up onto its back wheel. If it had been a horse, it would have been pawing at the sky. I shivered and said a quick prayer. Keep him safe tonight.

  When I saw the show in Minneapolis, I didn’t know who was performing those perilous jumps. It was bad enough watching a complete stranger do them, but so much worse now that I knew it was Kes.

  I spent most of the hour watching between my fingers. To be honest, I was relieved when it was over.

  Why couldn’t I have fallen for a guy who worked in an office? Then the biggest thing I’d have to worry about would be paper cuts.

  Once the show was over, Kes spent more than half-an-hour going around and signing autographs.

  I hung around to watch the clown act, which was pretty funny, but I was glad to be sitting near the back. I dreaded all that audience participation stuff. Then I got to see Rhonda’s second show, then Kes was on again.

  It hadn’t got any easier to watch. I wondered how the hell I was going to last through seven weeks of this.

  I slunk back to the RV to finish up making dinner while the guys were signing more programs. Then I prepared my game face for when Kes walked in.

  Tucker and Zef arrived back first, buzzed on adrenaline. They were like bear cubs, horsing around and banging into furniture as they wrestled. I suggested they take themselves outside: okay, I may have yelled, but they just laughed at me. I’m not sure they’d have done what I asked if they hadn’t smelled the apple pie baking in the oven. I swear, they both drooled.