The Dry Grass of August

by Anna Jean Mayhew

  Stell and I walked ahead, past an old woman in short shorts who sat on a stool at a lemonade stand, her skinny legs streaked with bulging veins, grinning at people who walked by. If most of my teeth were gone, I wouldn’t smile.

  I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and bumped into a fat man strolling along with his family.

  “Excuse me.” I tried not to stare at the enormous stomach hanging over his belt.

  “That’s okay, young miss.” He touched my shoulder.

  A skinny girl about my age spoke to him. “Hey, Daddy, let’s go on the merry-go-round.” Why would a teenager want to do such a childish thing? But I thought it was neat that she wanted to ride with her father. Her knobby knees and black hair made me think of my cousin. When I had asked Sarah to come with us to Joyland, she said she’d rather go out to the base with Mama and Uncle Taylor.

  As the family walked by, a woman in green coveralls called out, “Ri-i-i-ide the rolly coaster!”

  Stell nudged me. “You and I can do that later.”

  A man with a gleaming bald head winked at Stell and beckoned, waving a pennant. “Penny pitch, ring toss! C’mon, girly- girls, give it a try!”

  Ahead of us a man pulled a woman between two tents. I looked at them as we passed. They were kissing hard, his hands on her back, moving up to her shoulder blades, down to her bottom. Stell caught me looking and yanked me by the hand. “That’s disgusting.” She sounded like Mama.

  Four sailors crowded around us, their white bell-bottoms flapping. “Hello there,” said the tallest one, who was redheaded and skinny.

  A short brunette boy swept off his sailor hat and bowed to Stell. “Can we treat you to the Ferris wheel?” He was a Yankee, I was sure.

  “I have a boyfriend,” Stell stammered.

  A sailor grabbed my hand. His thick blond curls bushed out under his cap. “Howdy, ma’am. I’m Tucson Tom from New Mexico. You might think Arizona, but you’d be wrong.” His hand was strong and warm. How would it feel to see the circus with this cute boy, to walk the midway holding hands?

  “So where is he,” the first sailor asked Stell, “this famous boyfriend?”

  Stell snatched me away from the blond boy. “Y’all stop bothering us.”

  Mary came up, pushing Davie, Puddin hanging on to her skirt. “What you boys doing?”

  “And here’s their mammy,” said the third sailor.

  The first one saluted Mary. “We want to take these nice girls for a ride.”

  “Just leave us be,” Mary said.

  Three girls passed by in a cloud of perfume, arm in arm, smiling at the sailors. They all had bows in their hair, white blouses, and red lipstick. I was disappointed when the boys ran after them.

  “Thank goodness,” Stell said. Did she really mean it?

  Everything tempted me—the freak show; the Enchanted Castle Boat Ride where a couple waited, the boy feeding cotton candy to the girl; the Tilt-A-Whirl, kids staggering as they left it. The warm air carried delicious smells that made me hungry—corn dogs, peanuts, candy apples.

  “The merry-go-round!” Puddin shouted.

  I asked Mary, “You want to ride with Davie and Puddin?”

  She frowned. “Ask the man.”

  I walked up to the ticket window and saw a notice: MERRY- GO-ROUND, TEN CENTS. And in larger print below that: WHITES ONLY EXCEPT MONDAYS.

  I looked at Mary.

  “Hey, young lady, you wanna ride?” The man in the ticket booth talked around the cigar in his mouth.

  “Yes, but—I mean not me, just my sister and my baby brother. And our girl, to hold him.”

  He took his cigar from his mouth and pointed it at the sign.

  “What if I pay double for her and she doesn’t sit down?” I put four dimes on the counter.

  He put his cigar back in his mouth. “I’ll let her go if she just stands there, holds him on the horse.”

  As I gave Mary the tickets, a clown standing nearby smiled at me and tipped his hat.

  Mary, Davie, and Puddin spun in a whirl of music from the calliope. The fat man I’d bumped into stood by his daughter on the merry-go-round, his hand on the neck of her pony, waving to his family as the carousel turned. Davie laughed every time he saw us, and Mary stood beside him, beaming, tapping her foot to the tooted notes, the skirt of her uniform rippling. It was worth the extra dime.

  “Whew! Now that was fun!” Mary said as she got off, carrying Davie, holding Puddin’s hand. She shifted Davie to her other hip. “You girls leave the little ones with me. Go have some fun your own self.”

  Stell and I ran to buy tickets for the World’s Biggest Ferris Wheel. Soon we were at the top, swinging forward and backward as the wheel stopped to load the bottom baskets. The redheaded sailor and one of the girls from the midway were in the car in front of us. The sailor said something close to the girl’s ear, and I wanted to be in her place, smelling of perfume, wearing a bow in my hair, flirting with a boy who might go off to war any minute.

  We were so high I could see the gulf, blue and smooth under the cloudy sky, looking cool and clear beyond the tattered carnival tents billowing in the wind. Mary, Puddin, and Davie were toys on the ground far below us. Mary waved at me. A boy Puddin’s size walked up to them, handing out papers. He was dressed all in glittering red, and even from our great height I thought there was something odd about him. Puddin pushed him away and ran behind a tent where I couldn’t see her.

  “Mary!” I yelled, but the wind carried my voice away.

  “What?” asked Stell.

  “Puddin’s running off.” The Ferris wheel began to turn, and the sailor put his arm around the girl. Down on the ground, Mary turned in a circle, looking for Puddin, who came from behind the tent, waving.

  “There she is.” I sat back and let the wind hit my face.

  After the ride, the clown who’d tipped his hat waltzed over to me, his outsized shoes slapping the ground with each step. He reached out and plucked a red rose from my ear. The sweat running down his painted face looked like tears, which went with his sad orange mouth. He handed me the rose, bowed, and danced away, trailing a scent of cigarettes.

  Stell asked, “What was that all about?”

  “My natural beauty.” I touched her cheek with the rose. It was the color of my toenails and smelled like Meemaw’s toilet water.

  The boy in the sequined red suit handed Stell one of his papers, and when he turned I saw a cigar in his mouth, the stubble of a beard—no wonder Puddin had run from him. He wasn’t even four feet tall, but he was old.

  “A dwarf,” said Stell. She gave me the paper he’d given her, with pictures of the freak show attractions. The Three-Legged Girl. The Python Charmer—a man wrapped in snakes. Madame Capricorn, the Eastern Mystic—a colored woman with a towel around her head.

  “The carnival freak show. I’m going.”

  Stell grabbed my arm, her mouth set. “I’ll tell Mama.”

  “I’m going.”

  “Not by yourself,” said Mary.

  Another group of sailors passed. One of them winked at me. “I’ll take you.”

  Stell took my arm, ignoring the sailor.

  “There it is.” I pointed to a sign for the freak show and went to the ticket booth. “Two, please.”

  The man stared at Mary.

  I dropped three dimes in the change tray. “She can stand in the back.”

  The man took the money.

  Inside the tent, no more than a dozen people sat in rows of folding chairs, fanning themselves in the heat and dust. I took a seat on the last row so Mary could stand behind me without blocking anybody’s view. A drum roll sounded. A tall colored boy wearing a yellow satin coat and black trousers pulled the curtain open. He had on a top hat that teetered as he moved.

  The three-legged girl sat in a wheelchair, her legs under a pink afghan, three feet sticking out. Yellow curls framed her face. Circles of rouge matched her red lipstick. What with her having three legs, I wanted to see her wal
k. But she just sat there, wiggling, moving her legs so we could see they were real. She had on patent-leather pumps with bows on them, two lefts and a right. I thought about what a problem underpants would be for her.

  The boy crossed the stage again, closing the curtain. Mary grabbed my shoulder and yelled, “Leesum!” The boy jumped like he’d been shot, giving the curtain such a jerk that the whole thing came down. The three-legged girl stood by her wheelchair on two good legs, the third one in her arms. She dropped the false leg and ran.

  Mary yanked me with her as she headed toward the stage. “Leesum Fields,” she said, “you stay right there.”

  The audience screamed, “Fake! Money back!” The ticket seller crossed the stage, waving his arms. “Sit down, sit down. The show will go on in a minute. Believe me, it’s worth seeing—”

  “Boo,” yelled a man. “We want our money.”

  Mary had me in one hand and the boy in the other, pulling us outside, where even the overcast day was too bright after the dim tent. Mary let go of me and took the boy’s hands. “Leesum Fields, what in the name of the Lord are you doing in this carnival?”

  “Hey, Miz Luther. I got me a job.” The boy’s voice was deep and rich.

  “Your mama’s been in her bed with grief over you.”

  “Huh, I bet.” He didn’t look at all concerned about his mama.

  “You show some respect for your mother, boy.”

  “She nothin’ but a ho, smokin’ tea an’ sniffin’ coke.”

  I strained to understand him.

  “She still your mama.”

  “Yeah, and she still a ho.”

  The ticket seller came out and yelled, “What in hell you mean, boy, jerking the curtain down?”

  “Couldn’t help it.”

  The man shook his fist in Mary’s face. “Girl, you cost me a dollar and thirty cents in refunds.”

  “I wanted to talk to Leesum.” Mary didn’t seem one bit afraid.

  “You owe me a dollar-thirty.”

  “I don’t reckon I do.”

  “Watch how you talk, girl.”

  “You running this here fake show. Got this boy working for you, which probably’s not legal. And I has these white children with me and they uncle is a commander out to the Navy base.”

  The man’s face twisted. I tried to pull Mary back, but she didn’t need my help. The man stomped his foot and turned to Leesum. “You’re fired, boy. Weren’t that good anyway. Get the hell out of here ’fore I throw your pecker to the wild dog.” He snatched the top hat off Leesum’s head. Snaky ropes of hair sprang out in all directions. “Gimme back my costume.”

  Leesum took off his yellow coat. “Can’t take off the pants, Mr. McCurdy, ain’t got nothin on under ’em.”

  “Get your clothes, then. And don’t let me catch you ’round here again.”

  The boy ran toward a metal trailer that looked like a tin can on wheels, his pigtails bouncing. Mary hollered after him, “We’ll wait right here, Leesum.”

  Stell Ann walked up with the kids. “What’s going on?”

  Mary shook her head. “That boy, he been in trouble for a year. He only fifteen and he ran off from home last spring. His mama been beside herself. They in my church.”

  “What boy?” Stell Ann asked.

  “The boy pulling the curtain in the freak show,” I said.

  “Where is he?”

  “Putting on his clothes.”

  “He didn’t have any clothes on?”

  “He was fired. Had to take his costume off.”

  Leesum walked up, carrying a paper bag and wearing a filthy shirt and shorts, his bare feet dusty.

  Stell stared at his hair.

  “What you plan now, Leesum?” asked Mary.

  “Get me ’nother job.”

  “And how you gone do that?”

  “Go into town.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather go home?”

  “Ain’t got money for a ticket, and Mama’d whup me till I couldn’t walk.”

  “What if I bought you a bus ticket, and what if you stayed with Reverend Perkins for a while?”

  Leesum looked at the ground.

  “Be easier to get a job in Charlotte, where your church family is, than in Florida, don’t you reckon?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Then come on out to Commander Bentley’s. I’ll see what we can do.”

  “Mama is going to have a duck,” Stell said.

  “Leave your mama to me.”

  As we left Joyland, we passed an open tent where a clown was sitting in front of a mirror, rubbing his makeup off. He saw me in the mirror and waved. It was the clown who gave me the rose. Under the makeup, his skin was darker than Leesum’s.

  We’d planned to stay at Joyland for supper, but Stell said we were leaving. “Mama’s going to be mad enough when she sees that boy. If anybody who knows Uncle Taylor saw him having hot dogs with us . . .” She walked toward the parking lot. “I’ll pick you up at the front gate.”

  Mary and Leesum got in the back with me. Puddin climbed into the front seat with Stell and helped put Davie in his canvas seat. We hadn’t gone more than a couple of miles before I regretted my decision to sit so close to Leesum. He smelled like a wet dog. Mary cranked her window all the way down. I did the same thing.

  “You gone get a bath, boy, soon’s we get to Commander Bentley’s,” said Mary.

  “Yes’m.”

  “Too bad there’s no colored beach out where we staying. I’d dip you in the ocean first. Wash off the top layer of dirt.”

  “Yes’m.” He looked at me, ashamed. I wanted Mary to be easier on him.

  “Hmph.” Mary grabbed at his hair. “A nappy-head boy with bobo tails.”

  “Mr. McCurdy wouldn’t let me cut ’em.”

  “How come?”

  “At the end of the show I takes a bow and lifts my hat. My tails pops out. Folks laugh.” He stared out the window.

  Mary touched his hand. “I can cut your hair nice, Leesum. Always did it for Mr. Luther and Link.”

  On the way home I kept thinking about the boy at the Enchanted Castle Boat Ride, pinching off pieces of blue cotton candy and putting them in his girl’s mouth, her red lips closing on his fingertips.

  At Uncle Taylor’s, I put the limp rose in a glass of water and set it on the dinner table, hoping to revive it. Stell looked dubious.

  Mary took Leesum’s paper bag and dumped it on the kitchen floor by the washing machine. She pushed Leesum down the hall to the bathroom. “Hand me your clothes out the door and run that tub full of hot water.”

  “Yes’m.”

  She went up to her room, returned with her long chenille robe, and dropped it outside the bathroom door. “Here’s a dressing gown for you.”

  After his bath, Leesum came into the kitchen wearing Mary’s robe. It was miserably small, but it covered him so he’d be decent till his clothes dried. I tried not to stare at him, but he didn’t seem to care. I had thought he was fairly dark, and was amazed how the bath had lightened him. His ropy hair looked dry, but water ran from it down his golden bronze face. His eyes were a hypnotizing pale green, his lips full, his teeth gleaming white. I was surprised that a colored boy was so good-looking.

  Mary put Leesum’s clean clothes in the dryer, then fixed supper: tuna salad sandwiches, potato chips, ice tea. None of us was crazy about tuna fish, but nobody complained. When it was ready, we all sat around the kitchen table, Leesum and Mary, too.

  “How long were you with the carnival?” Stell asked.

  “Leff school an went with ’em end of May.” He tightened the belt on the robe.

  “Where-all did y’all go?” I asked.

  “Knoxville, Chatt’nooga, ’Lanta, M’gomery. Other towns we hooked up with places same as Joyland.”

  “How much money’d you make?”

  “Fifteen dollars a week, my bed and food thrown in.”

  “What kind of bed and food?” asked Mary.

  “A pallet in one
of the wagons. When it rained I slep’ on the sofa in Mr. McCurdy trailer. All the carny food I wanted.”

  “Ham biscuits and Co-Colas,” said Mary. “That right?”

  “Cotton candy,” said Stell.

  “Weren’t so bad.” He sounded like he thought we were making fun of him. “Least it was regular.”

  “Where Leesum live in Charlotte,” said Mary, “his mama isn’t working every day, money’s not coming in steady.”

  “She do the best she can.”

  I wondered again about the words ho and tea and coke. I asked Mary, “Didn’t you say Leesum could stay with reverend somebody?”

  “Reverend Perkins and his wife. They take in folks who down on they luck.” Mary started clearing the table. “Jubie and Stell Ann, y’all get this kitchen straightened up. Puddin, go read something to Davie. Leesum, get your clothes out the dryer and come upstairs.”

  We were putting the last plates in the cupboard when the front door opened.

  “We’re home,” Mama called out. “Where’s everybody?”

  “The kitchen,” I hollered.

  Mama, Uncle Taylor, and Kay Macy Cooper came to the kitchen. Mama lit a cigarette and filled the coffeepot. Sarah walked through without saying a word and closed the back door behind her.

  “Have a good time at Joyland?” Uncle Taylor asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Stell and I answered at the same time.

  Mama pursed her lips. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” we said.

  “Nothing, my fanny. You two are into something.”

  Mrs. Cooper said, “Paula, do you have radar?”

  “They look like they robbed Fort Knox.” Mama put an ashtray on the table. “What is going on?”

  I was about to speak when Mary came into the kitchen. “Good evening,” she said, just as cool as could be, like it was perfectly normal that a colored boy was in the attic.

  “Mary,” said Mama, “what’s with Jubie and Stell Ann?”

  “They has done nothing wrong. It’s all my doing and I can fix it, don’t need no help; just want to keep him here till we can get him a ticket home and—”

  “Whoa,” said Uncle Taylor.