Sideshow

by Amy Stilgenbauer

  “And then the carnival.”

  Annette let out a high-pitched squeal of joy and raced from the room. Abby shook her head. Natale was always so much better with the little ones, looking out for things that would make them happy. She hadn’t known that a carnival was in town, let alone that her siblings would like to go. Of course she wanted them to be happy; she just couldn’t read them as Natale did. Natale could read anyone. It was one of his more annoying qualities. She tried not to let that fact bother her yet again, but dressed quickly and hurried down to the kitchen where the coffee lived.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” Natale chirped, holding out a mug of the precious liquid.

  Abby slurped it down, then looked around at the assembled Amaro siblings: Leon, soon to be a newly minted teenager, slouched against the wall while the slightly younger Joseph attempted to imitate him; and Carla and Annette, the two youngest, sat at the corner of the table and watched Abby expectantly, perhaps assuming that if she didn’t agree to the day’s plan, only the boys would be allowed to go. “I hear we’re going to a carnival today?”

  Annette let out another happy little squeal.

  Leon rolled his eyes. “This one has professional fighters,” he pronounced with some relish. “Patrick Donovan at school says that sometimes they pick people out of the audience to fight them!”

  Natale and Abby exchanged a glance; neither wanted to be the one to tell him he was probably too young for such a feat. They seemed to decide to cross that bridge when they came to it. “Well, that sounds like fun,” Abby forced out.

  “Is everybody ready?” Natale asked, voice still chipper. Was his tone masking something?

  The group nodded assent.

  “Then get to the car. Abby and I will be right out.”

  Ah. There it was. “Abby and I will be right out.” The rest of the Amaro children ran out to Natale’s car and waited.

  Abby focused on her brother as he put a few of the breakfast dishes away. “Spit it out, Nate. What couldn’t you say in front of them?”

  Natale frowned and turned to face her. “There was a nasty note for you in the mailbox this morning.”

  Abby tried to sip the last of her coffee nonchalantly, hoping that the tension beginning to develop between her shoulders wouldn’t show. “Was there?”

  “Tell that …” Natale trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with whatever word came next. He shook his head as if the memory of it hurt. “Tell that … sister of yours, it’s not like she can do better.”

  “Nate, Frank’s just trying to rattle my cage. Ignore him.”

  “After what he did to you, Abby?”

  “I’m over it. Some anonymous note’s not gonna change that.”

  A car horn beeped out front, and Natale shook his head. “I worry that you’re just covering up what you really feel.”

  “Let me worry about that, okay?”

  Beep. This time Natale laughed. “We better get going, I guess.”

  Abby nodded. “What about Nonna?”

  “She said she wanted to stay in today and work on her letters. Maybe listen to her stories on the radio, and I quote, ‘Without constant interruptions.’”

  “Maybe I should stay with her.” She was still thinking about what Nonna had said the night before. Part of her hoped that one of their chats—like the ones they’d had when she was small—would sort out Nonna’s meaning.

  “No, Abby, come on. I need you. You’re better with the girls.”

  “I don’t know about that.” She stood up from the table and rinsed her coffee mug. “Will you buy me an elephant ear?”

  “You got it.”

  PLATE OF FRIED DOUGH IN hand, Abby and her siblings walked the midway. Though they wouldn’t let them play any games, Abby and Natale did buy each of their siblings a giant stick of cotton candy and two trips on a haunted house train ride that, both times, left Annette in tears and begging to go again.

  “I still don’t see why I can’t try to ring the bell. I bet I could do it. I’m the strongest in my class. I can lift my desk,” Leon persisted as Natale once again directed him away from the young tattooed man who was chanting, “Prove yourself a man!”

  “I wanna try too!” Joseph said, crossing his arms and pouting.

  “And me!” Annette chimed in, more gleefully than her brothers.

  Natale looked at Abby in frustration, but she smirked back. “This was your idea,” she mouthed.

  Then, from behind them, they heard Carla scream. They spun, ready to rescue her from heaven knows what, and saw her pointing at a man with a face full of what appeared to be pins. Abby went to hush her, but Carla continued screaming and wouldn’t lower her pointing arm. A few seconds later Annette and Joseph had joined her.

  Abby tried herding them away, but the three children stayed rooted to the spot.

  Then a thick, heavy voice that sounded like the villain in a bad science fiction movie spoke. “Pardon me. I’m sorry. I didn’t see the little ones. I was just coming out for a smoke.” It was the man wearing pins in his face. Fearful of how they might react, Abby watched her younger siblings.

  “It’s not your fault,” Natale said, waving a hand. “They’ve had a little too much sugar.”

  “Perhaps they’d like to see the show?”

  The looks on the younger Amaro siblings’ faces turned from fear to eagerness.

  “I don’t know …” Abby began, looking at the man. The kids could barely handle him, but to her he seemed tame.

  “They see worse in movies,” Natale said with a laugh.

  The man nodded. “But we’re better.” He lifted a corner of the tent flap. “This way! If anyone gives you trouble on the other side, tell them Boleslaw is following.”

  Abby frowned as her brother led the rest of the family through. She had a vague sense of foreboding; in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered, “Don’t go. It will change everything.”

  “Miss?” Boleslaw asked, gesturing toward the tent. She took a deep breath and went through.

  What she saw inside the tent took her breath away. The bright light of day had dimmed to an almost insubstantial twilight. As her eyes adjusted, Abby could see that they had entered from the side, and, while they did not have a direct view of the slightly raised wooden platform, what she saw upon it was still exceptional: A dark-haired young woman in a shimmering white costume twirled a flaming hula hoop about her waist. Abby cast a sideways glance at her siblings. Carla’s mouth had dropped open in utter awe.

  The girl finished her act by throwing the hula hoop into the air. The audience gasped as if expecting the canvas tent to catch fire and burn them alive. Seeming to ignore their fear, the girl caught hold of the hoop and carefully slid her hand along it. The flames disappeared. The onlookers burst into thunderous applause as she bowed and hurried behind a curtain. Seconds later, she was replaced by a highly muscled man with a snake around his shoulders. Leon yelped.

  Before their eyes, the snake began to wrap itself around the man’s body, tighter and tighter, and his face turned redder and redder. Abby couldn’t look away. “It’s going to kill him,” Joseph whispered to Annette, who clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. Natale shushed them.

  The man dropped to the ground. Abby choked back her own scream. She immediately looked to Boleslaw, feeling stricken.

  “Now, now, don’t you worry for Gregor,” Boleslaw hissed in her direction, seeming to take pity on her. Seconds later, the man stood up, snake once again draped loosely over his arms. The audience let out a collective sigh of relief before applauding.

  Gregor walked to the edge of the stage and bowed as the applause continued. Then he squinted and appeared to examine the crowd as he passed up and down the length of the platform. “You!” he shouted, pointing into the audience. The dim lighting in the tent shielded the person’s face from view. “I challenge you to a match of strength at the athletic show this evening. Do you accept?”

  A murmur of intrigue and amuseme
nt rippled through the crowd.

  “What’s the athletic show?” Carla whispered to Abby.

  Before Abby could attempt an answer, Boleslaw intercepted the question, “Never you mind, mala mysz.”

  Carla looked puzzled at the nickname and quite unsatisfied by the answer. She drew her eyebrows together. “Is it illegal? Is that why you won’t say?”

  Boleslaw laughed. “No! You clever thing. It is legal, but for the grown-ups … And so is the last act, so back out you go.” Once again, he lifted the tent flap and hurried the Amaro siblings out, youngest first.

  As Abby gathered her younger brothers and sisters, Gregor’s voice boomed once more. “Wait! Young man! I did not see you before!”

  Natale froze, and Abby’s heart stopped.

  Chapter Three

  LATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER THE young Amaro siblings had been dropped off at home, and after a series of protests from all of them that they wanted to see, Abby and Natale returned to the carnival. “I don’t see why we’re doing this,” Abby muttered as they approached the tent, which now advertised the night’s athletic show. Five tough-looking men, one of whom was Gregor, stood outside on another small raised platform, showing off how much weight they could lift and challenging passersby to a show of strength.

  “Because we get two hundred dollars if I win. Don’t pretend we can’t use that money. It’s two weeks’ wages.”

  As they passed the weightlifters and entered the tent, Natale winced, but Abby did not mention it. Natale could fight. He had worked in road construction while putting himself through night school; it left him well-built and able to scrap. Nevertheless, these men had a road-honed strength and looked as though they could rip his head from his shoulders without breaking a sweat.

  “You really think you can win?”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  The pair took their seats. Natale watched the stage, which had been transformed into a boxing ring, while Abby watched the people entering: men still in their work clothes and laughing women with kerchiefs tied around their necks. Nothing distinguished this crowd from any other in a Cleveland bar on a Saturday night. In the corner near the door stood Boleslaw, his face now devoid of pins. He was talking to a younger woman, who appeared to be closer to Abby’s age. When Abby saw her, she couldn’t look away. The girl was astonishingly pretty and quite tall. Her hair, a dark auburn color, was tied into an intricately braided bun, and her face, though scrunched into a scowl, showed chiseled features. Her muscular arms were crossed, and she looked quite annoyed by whatever Boleslaw was telling her. “What do you know?!” She shouted and stormed off into the ring.

  “Look, Abby,” Natale hissed. “Girls can fight too. Go challenge her!”

  Abby shook her head. “How about I just try to get a few extra dollars in tips tomorrow? It’d be better for my health.”

  In the middle of the ring, the young woman lifted a large metal rod, then snapped it in half. The crowd in the tent fell silent, and all eyes turned to face her.

  Natale nodded slowly. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” she called out. Her voice was strong and carried without any aid. Abby imagined her opera coaches drooling over it. “Tonight, on this stage, you will be witness to great feats, not only of strength, but of cunning, bravery, and will. Those assembled are truly spectacular, but I’m sure that the men of your city might prove to be a challenge. What do you say, folks?”

  The assembled crowd roared.

  “That’s right! Then let’s get started. Now, we fight using professional wrestling rules here. I want to assure you, these fights are fair as fair. And first of the night, welcome our own Gregor to the ring!”

  Natale sat up straighter as Gregor strode in. Abby bit her lip and tried hard not to feel worried. “What happens now?” she hissed.

  Before Natale could answer, Gregor had pointed in their direction. “I see you have accepted my challenge.”

  Natale glanced around, looking lost and unclear about what to do. Abby wanted to reassure him, but she didn’t know what to do either.

  Gregor laughed a forced, loud laugh. “Are you scared now or are you going to join me?”

  Gulping down a deep breath, Natale stood and made his way through the crowd to the ring. Silently praying that he would come through this alive, Abby clutched her hands together.

  The young woman who had opened the event squared Natale and Gregor off in the center of the ring. “Remember, I want a clean and fair fight. Nothing dirty, Gregor, this time.” Her emphasis on “this” made Abby involuntarily clench her hands more tightly. She held her breath.

  “Do you agree to these terms?” the woman asked Natale. He nodded, already sweating.

  Then she turned to face Gregor, who looked utterly calm. “Do you—”

  Before she could finish the question, Gregor struck out, hitting Natale square in the nose. The audience gasped. Abby jumped to her feet.

  Natale stumbled back, trying to get his footing, but Gregor had the momentum. He lashed out, hitting hard and fast. Abby heard herself scream, but she heard it as if she were outside her body, listening to a poorly tuned radio.

  “How dare you!” a voice bellowed from the back of the audience, somehow making itself heard over the din of the indignation from the rest of the crowd. “This man is my friend!” The voice continued as the man it belonged to pushed forward through the audience. When he started climbing into the ring, Abby saw that it was none other than Frank Butler. She would have recognized that purposefully rumpled white sport coat anywhere. With what seemed like relative ease, Frank pulled Gregor away from Natale and hit him, knocking the carnival fighter to the ground. He remained there, unmoving.

  Natale wobbled. His face was bloody, and he looked close to passing out. Abby raced forward, forgetting for a split second how much she hated Frank. She scrambled into the ring and gathered her brother into her arms.

  Frank and the referee stood back, watching. The referee’s eyes were wide, their icy blue color accentuating her look of surprise. She took a step forward and stopped with a partly outstretched arm. Something about the way she stood seemed to say she had been frozen by fear. Frank, however, smirked, looking moderately pleased with himself. “Don’t worry, Abby, he’s going to be fine,” Frank said.

  More than anything, Abby wanted to shout back that he didn’t know that, but instead she shook her head and looked at her brother’s bruising face.

  Natale coughed and looked at the referee. “I am gonna be fine. No thanks to you. You said clean fight.”

  She nodded, still looking stricken. “Gregor—”

  “You said—”

  Abby tugged on Natale’s arm to stop him from saying anything more. She wanted to leave. A terrible sense of foreboding had settled inside her since she set foot in that show tent; now it was taking her over. “It doesn’t matter anymore, okay? Let’s go. Please, Natale?”

  The two began to make their way out of the ring.

  “Wait!” Frank called after them.

  Abby didn’t want to stop. She wanted to get home before she even thought about stopping. Natale, however, did stop. He turned back to face Frank. “What is it?”

  “I want to talk to Abby. You owe me that much.”

  Abby turned back as well; her heart seemed to catch with fear. Frank stood at the edge of the ring, holding out a rose. “Abby Amaro, look, I just saved your brother’s life. Please marry me?”

  “No,” she said before thinking. Whether he rescued Natale or not didn’t enter into the equation.

  “Abby, I think that’s a mistake. You need me to protect you.”

  “No.”

  “I’m a powerful man, Abby. I would hate to see something happen to you.” There was a glint in his eye, one that Abby had seen before. It was a glint that said Frank knew he was going to win a prize. Abby wasn’t about to give him that prize. She squeezed Natale’s hand to say, “I’m sorry,” and bolted from the tent.
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  WHEN NATALE FINALLY FOUND HER, huddled behind a shuttered concession stand, a wave of guilt crashed over her. He still looked terrible. His face was even more swollen than it had been just after the fight. “This is all my fault,” she muttered when he came into view. “I’m so sorry, Natale.”

  “How the hell is it your fault?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

  “Frank,” she spat. “He’s behind it somehow. He made that man hurt you.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Abby shook her head. She did know that. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. “He all but threatened me, Nate. I… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t see him anymore.”

  “And, you don’t have to.”

  “No, Nate, you don’t understand. I think I need to get away. I need to get out of Cleveland.”

  “And go where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The pair stared at each other for a long time, sizing up the situation. Abby could hardly bear to look at her brother’s face for fear that she wouldn’t be able to keep her resolve. She knew Frank; if he didn’t see her, he would lose interest, but if things continued on as they were now, she hated to think of the possible outcomes. If he could inflict such a thing on Natale, she didn’t want to think of what he could do to her younger siblings.

  She knew they needed her. The younger ones could barely talk to Nonna, and even if Natale could manage them on his own, did she want to do that to him? The family could get by without the little she brought in from the diner, and after all it wouldn’t be for long, but where would she go? Her thoughts drifted to her mother’s sister, Aunt Teresa in Chicago. She hadn’t seen her in years, and they hadn’t parted on great terms, but maybe—

  Natale took a deep, resigned breath. “Fine,” he said, breaking into Abby’s thoughts. “Fine. Come on. I didn’t want her to see me like this, but … can’t be helped.”

  Puzzled by his words, Abby watched him walk off, then dashed after him. He didn’t head toward the car. Instead, he went deeper into the almost empty carnival grounds. All the game booths and concession stands had been closed in anticipation of the next day’s move. The entire place had a haunted air.