Abby waited as Constance prepped the cocoa and Ruth fussed over Phebe. She smiled to herself, though her heart ached just a little. She was about to attempt to excuse herself when a rap came at the trailer door.
“We’re about to go!” Constance called out.
The door opened. Boleslaw, looking quite presentable in his best suit, stood there. His face was creased and worn with worry, and he seemed decades older. “Phebe!” he said. Abby recognized the pain deeply hidden in his voice. He had lost people before. “You found her then, I assume?”
“We did,” Constance answered.
Boleslaw glanced around the trailer. When his eyes settled upon Phebe, curled up asleep in Ruth’s lap, his entire appearance seemed to change. Years lifted from his face, and he was himself again. “Thank the Lord,” he said, breathlessly. “We were all terrified. None more than you, I’m sure.”
Constance put a hand on Ruth’s arm. They nodded as one.
“I’ll let you get settled then.” He turned to go, then stopped, seeming to notice something. “Miss Amaro?”
Abby nodded sheepishly.
“I thought you’d gone home to your family.”
Not wanting to get into the details of the story now, if ever, she shook her head. “No, I just decided not to ride with Della for now.”
Boleslaw nodded, but his eyes were narrowed. “When Miss Adamson told me you would be leaving, I had assumed she meant leaving the show altogether.”
“No,” Abby said, watching him. He hadn’t moved from the doorway, and she could not squeeze past him without seeming rude, but she desperately wanted to locate Suprema before she left the lot.
“Beverly will be pleased.” A playful smile appeared briefly on his lips. It reminded her of the day she first saw him. Abby couldn’t help the blush that crept over her face. “Miss Constance, please let Alejo know that I will speak with him once we arrive in Kokomo.”
“I will.”
He slipped out then, giving Abby the perfect chance to escape. She only hoped that she wouldn’t be too late.
Chapter Eighteen
HER HEART POUNDED AS SHE knocked upon the closed and darkened trailer, feeling all the more exposed and ridiculous with each bang of her fist against the aluminum.
Just as she was about to go, hoping that the Lambrinos family had not yet begun the jump, she heard a creak. A light clicked on, and she heard the turn of a bolt. Suprema opened the door. Ashen-faced and wide-eyed when she saw Abby standing before her, she said, “You didn’t leave?” Her voice was hesitant, almost frightened, as if part of her expected to be speaking with a hallucination.
“I thought about it, but … I changed my mind.”
Suprema didn’t step closer. It seemed as though the doorway between them was a mile-wide barrier. “I thought you’d gone,” she said solemnly. “I thought maybe I’d scared you away.”
“No. It’s not you,” Abby said, though that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t want to explain why; she just wanted to be held. “It was nothing about you. I was a little scared, but not because of you.” She moved forward, crossing the distance between them. Suprema wrapped her arms around her and held her gently as tears slipped unbidden from her eyes.
“Abby—”
“I need to cry,” she said between her sobs. “I’m so sad. Why can’t I cry?”
“You are crying,” Suprema whispered, still holding her as if she were a china doll.
“I never even told her where I was. I should have just sent the letter. Even if it was full of lies. At least she would have thought I was singing. She wanted me to be a singer, or get married, now—now she won’t get to see either.”
Suprema didn’t answer. She held on to Abby as she cried. Then, once again, Nonna Gaetana’s words came into Abby’s mind. This time they were crisper, more demanding, than they had been on the day she said them. “Promise me you will never give in to what the world expects from you. Live the life that you want to live and be strong and never ashamed.” No, Nonna Gaetana didn’t just want her to be a singer or get married; she wanted her to be happy.
“I had wanted to talk about, you know, this,” Suprema started. “Well, but maybe now isn’t …”
Each of them considered the other. Abby looked into Suprema’s eyes, as her own still shone with tears. She didn’t know what it would take to live up to her promise to Nonna Gaetana. She didn’t know what she wanted from life or how to make herself happy. What she could do now was find out what Suprema had to say. “Now is exactly the time.”
Suprema pulled away and took Abby by the hand. With a gentle tug, she led her into the trailer and latched the door.
“Aren’t we supposed to be leaving?” Abby asked. The prospect of being left behind once again opened a pit in her stomach.
Suprema shook her head, scanning the slowly emptying lot from her window. “Can’t go anywhere until my uncle hooks the Empire up to his truck. We’re always the last to leave.”
“He seems pretty busy.”
“Yeah, the whole thing’s a mess. Someone has been spreading rumors about the carnival harboring communist spies. I don’t know where they get these things. And, his health, he is in no shape to be dealing with all of this. I worry about him.” Suprema took a seat and gestured for Abby to join her. “But he’s proud of what he’s done and way too proud to step down. I mean,” she glanced at Abby, who still hadn’t sat down, and sighed. “The human blockhead act is impressive. He’s one of the best, but I’m fondest of other stuff that he’s done. For example, getting me out of that hellhole I lived in.”
Abby still couldn’t bring herself to sit. Instead, she leaned against the trailer’s small table and watched Suprema’s face as she spoke. In the background, her radio hummed quietly: an old, jazzy Sinatra tune, the kind her mother was always enamored with.
“My family’s very different from yours, Abby.”
“You don’t know that,” Abby began, a little apprehensive that Suprema might be making assumptions about her.
“No, you’re right, but you seem to love them. Not hearing from them bothers you, so, that’s something.”
Abby nodded. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Here, let me show you something.” Suprema went to the drawer beneath her sleeping compartment and pulled out a small box, which she brought to the table. Once again, she gestured for Abby to sit, and this time she did. Suprema carefully removed several mementos: a few faded hair ribbons, a tarnished silver ring, and a tiny bird whistle. Underneath were several photographs. Suprema laid one before her, showing an older, but well-kept, house that reminded Abby a lot of her own neighborhood back on Murray Hill Road. In front of it stood a family of three: a tall gentleman, who looked like a younger version of Boleslaw; a squat woman with her hair tied up under a shawl; and between them, a surly, almost-teenaged Suprema. She looked nothing like she did now. Her hair was tied back in pigtails with long ribbons and she wore a dress so ruffled that Abby almost found it comical. Still, her face gave her away.
“Is this you?” Abby asked.
“I want you to know that I understand. I want you to know all the parts of me, even the messy parts. This is the messiest part, and this is the only way I can explain it.” Her face was a blank mask. Abby couldn’t read even a hint of emotion on it. Still, she knew that something was hidden beneath the surface. Perhaps a horrible memory. Perhaps a lovely one, sorely missed.
“You don’t have to talk about anything you’re not ready to talk about.”
Suprema shook her head. “You need to know. It tried to kill me. This house, these people, would have killed me if I let them.” The words spilled out of Suprema’s mouth faster than Abby could process them. “Not directly, of course. I mean, it’s a house, but the things that happened here… If it hadn’t been for Boleslaw…”
Abby held her hand and waited. She wasn’t sure what to say.
“They said I was sick, that they would send me to a special doctor to fix the things that
had gone wrong in my brain. If it hadn’t been for Boleslaw,” she said a second time. This time there was venom in her voice. She spat on the ground the way Nonna Gaetana used to do. “He got me out. Took me to the carnival instead.”
“They?” Abby still didn’t know what to say. It was as if she were walking along the edge of a cliff, and one wrong move would send her right over the edge.
Suprema nodded. “My parents. When they saw me kiss… Helen… her name was Helen.”
Abby swallowed hard.
She picked up the bird whistle and handed it to Abby. “She gave me this. I was thirteen. She was pretty. I don’t know why I’m telling you this…”
Abby squeezed Suprema’s hand as if that one simple gesture could convey all the sympathy, protectiveness, and love she was feeling. Suprema squeezed back, and Abby felt warmth rush through her whole body.
“Thank you for telling me,” Abby whispered.
“I thought you should know,” Suprema replied, not looking at her. Abby could tell that her mind was years in the past with the frightened girl whose parents did not understand what she needed. “They weren’t great before that, either, but I think it was something of a last straw for my uncle. He couldn’t stand to see me hurting anymore. He and I, we don’t always see eye to eye, about my act, about most things, but he loves me. Thanks to him, I have a real family.”
“I didn’t run away from you,” Abby said, after letting what Suprema had said settle between them. “Della had kept a letter from me. It said that my grandmother passed away a few weeks ago, and, for a minute, I just needed to get home.”
“I could have gone with you,” Suprema offered.
Abby shook her head. “No. God, no. I couldn’t. That’s way too much to expect this early in a relationship.”
“Relationship?” Suprema asked.
Abby blushed. She had said the word without realizing it, without fully meaning to, but there it was. She stopped cold, as did Suprema, who looked at her with confusion, but also with something akin to happiness. “I—”
“Do you mean that?”
“I want to.”
“I don’t know that I’ll be good in a relationship,” Suprema said after a moment of silence. “I’ve avoided it for so long.”
“Neither do I,” Abby said, and wanted to laugh as she said it. “My last relationship was so bad, and it was the only one I’ve ever had. I don’t think I know what to do or how to be. I’m afraid of being hurt again.”
“I can’t make you any promises.”
“My father once said that promises were for weak men to hide behind. The only thing we can do is live.”
“Wise words,” Suprema whispered.
Abby turned away and peered out of the blinds at the dark carnival lot. It looked eerie and empty, and her heart ached at the impenetrability of the darkness. She had the distinct sense that she was back on the haunted train ride where the strobe lights completely blocked out her vision. She had ridden this “relationship” ride before, and it hadn’t ended well. The darkness of the future could mask any number of dangers, but maybe it could hide joy too.
Abby didn’t have the words to explain. Instead she kissed Suprema. Suprema seemed frozen, and Abby pulled back, feeling awkward and out of line. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” Suprema said, initiating a kiss of her own. This time, they kissed each other. It was tender and sweet, cautious but hopeful. There was a softness, and a depth, that Abby had not experienced before. Only their lips touched for the longest time. Then Abby touched Suprema’s face. She needed something to ground her, something to make her believe that all this was for real. Gingerly, she trailed her fingertips along Suprema’s exquisite jawline and then into her hair; a thrill ran through her.
Eventually, Suprema took Abby’s hand, held it, and broke away from the kiss. Their faces remained close as they looked into each other’s eyes. Again, Abby was mesmerized by the blue-gray of Suprema’s eyes.
“Your eyes are so dark,” Suprema whispered. “I could get lost in them.”
“They’re just a really dark shade of brown,” Abby demurred.
“No, they’re the forest at night.”
“Well, yours are—” Abby couldn’t think of a good way to phrase what she wanted to say. Instead, she moved forward and kissed her again. They had plenty of time before anyone came to hook up the trailer.
Chapter Nineteen
Natale,
I just received your letter. I suppose mail on the road can take time. More time than I would like. I wanted to call. I wanted to come home. I still do. I even tried to contact Za Teresa, but before you yell at me, I came to my senses. Nonna told me to find a way to be happy. It was the last promise I ever made her, Natale. Right now, the carnival is what makes me happy. I hope that you can understand and forgive me.
I will come home. Soon. When the season has ended. There are only a few stops left. I have so much to tell you and the little ones. I think of them often. I have enclosed some toys I got for them from the one of the games. Say I won them for them and that I will be home soon.
Amuri,
Abby
P.S. You should bring them out when we are in Urbana. I bet the kids would love a vacation.
SUPREMA LACED HER PINKY FINGER through Abby’s. The sweet, gentle gesture moved Abby more than she liked to admit. It was a simple thing, small, unassuming, but it sent a thrill through her every time, as if a connection had opened between them with just this one, almost unnoticeable, contact. A smile on her lips, she glanced over at Suprema.
“What?” Suprema asked, beginning to blush.
“Just looking at you.”
Suprema blushed even more. Her complexion turned rosy. Abby took Suprema’s whole hand, interlacing their fingers. The pickled punks tent had just emptied of Kokomo townies, and Abby had Suprema all to herself. The moment was sweet, even if they were surrounded by rubber aliens in jars.
“I wish the summer were longer,” Abby whispered, trying not to sound as mournful as she felt.
“No, you don’t.”
“I feel like I’ve only gotten started. There’s so much more I need to do.”
Suprema didn’t say anything. She simply squeezed Abby’s hand reassuringly.
“Where do you go in the winter?” Abby asked after a silent moment had passed.
“I’m not a bird,” Suprema said with a light laugh. Abby watched her face, the way her nose wrinkled just slightly. She was beginning to learn how the smallest variations in expression could indicate the biggest differences in feelings. Suprema blinked when she was sad and closed her eyes for long moments when she thought she was making others sad. Abby’s favorite, an almost imperceptible twist of her lip, meant she was angling for a kiss. A wrinkled nose, though, from what Abby had gathered so far, meant she was deflecting. Suprema deflected in a number of ways. She lashed out at people she hadn’t allowed into her circle, but she had other methods: sarcasm, humor, always a wrinkled nose. Abby was surprised no one else seemed to have noticed.
“No, but the Lambrinos family goes south, right?”
“Yeah, to Florida.”
“And you? And your Uncle Boleslaw?”
Suprema closed her eyes. Abby waited for the blink. She felt bad for pushing. Sometimes she wasn’t sure when to push and when to let a subject go. Suprema kept her eyes closed and squeezed Abby’s hand. “We don’t go to Florida,” she said, still not opening her eyes. Abby nodded. Just as she was about to change the subject, Suprema spoke again. “We make camp with the McClures in Nashville.”
“I was expecting somewhere that stayed warm all winter.”
“Tennessee is warmer than Cleveland.”
Abby laughed. That was true enough. “Lake effect snow,” she said, trying to sound wistful and nostalgic, though that particular weather phenomenon was difficult to love.
“Blistering, minus-forty wind chills,” Suprema said, mimicking her tone. Abby kissed her cheek, and Suprema li
fted Abby’s hand to her lips, where she left a lingering kiss that sent a chill down the entire length of Abby’s spine.
“Why the sudden concern with winter?” Suprema asked, after savoring the moment of silence. “I thought you couldn’t wait to get home to your family?”
Gnawing guilt snuck into Abby’s stomach at Suprema’s words. She had felt this guilt on and off. She wanted to go home, of course she did. That had been her goal ever since she set foot on the carnival lot the night of the athletic show. But she also was truly beginning to come into her own. She felt confident in her singing and even more in her day-to-day life. This trip was what she had needed, this chance to build something on her own. She was coming to realize that it was about to be snatched from her before she’d had the chance to realize its full potential.
“It’s complicated,” was all Abby found herself able to say.
“It’s not me, is it?” Suprema asked, a hint of concern in her voice. “I mean, I don’t want you to go, but I want you to do what’s going to make you happy, and we haven’t known each other all that long …”
Abby shook her head as Suprema trailed off. “It’s not you,” she said with passionate sincerity. “I miss my family, but I want to be here. I think my being here, at the carnival, is right.”
Suprema scrutinized her face, then broke into a smile. “You do fit, you know? I hope you know.”
Abby appreciated those words more than she was willing to admit.
“I wonder if this is where they hid the Russian spies?” a young boy’s voice hissed just outside of the tent.
“It says they’re aliens, Billy, not Russians,” a girl who sounded about the same age pronounced.
“Well, they can’t very well put a sign up that they’re Russians, now, can they, Rebecca?”
“Not this communist spies nonsense again,” Suprema muttered as she and Abby laughed.
Abby held a finger to her lips and snuck as silently as possible to the tent’s entrance.
“Are you saying that the carnival people lie to us?” Rebecca seemed not to believe in this possibility.
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