Professor Renoir's Collection of Oddities, Curiosities, and Delights

by Randall Platt

  “She’ll be happy here,” Babe said, smiling at Egypt’s joyous chirp and swishing tail.

  “Now, how about that bear?” Cleve asked, pointing outside. “Can’t let him just wander around.” Babe wondered how a voice so deep could come out of a body so slim.

  “He’s a bit spun about. I’ll haul the wagon in and he can stay in his cage. He don’t like change.”

  “I’ll help,” he said. “That’s one heavy wagon.”

  “Ain’t nothing for me,” Babe said.

  Cleve pushed while Babe picked up the shafts and pulled. Jupiter growled as the wagon entered the dark barn.

  A familiar clanging rang out. “Lunch is on,” Cleve said, grabbing his hat off a nail. He headed toward the barn door. “You coming?”

  “Let me feed Jupiter, then I’ll be there. Critter is first.”

  “Jupiter, huh?”

  “He was God of something. I forget what.”

  “King o’ the gods,” Cleve said, his fine voice pleasing to Babe’s ears. “Hurry now! Let’s not keep the ladies waiting.” He trotted toward the house.

  Babe fed her bear, then dusted off her skirts and pulled stray hairs away from her sweaty face. “Well, Jupiter, reckon I can’t keep the ladies waiting.”

  Babe stooped on the front porch and tap-tap-tapped gently on the glass door. “Hello again,” Sarah Franklin said, opening the door wide. The smell of home cooking nearly dragged Babe inside. “Come in. Oh! Watch that . . .”

  The crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling set to swinging. Babe carefully stilled it. “I’m sorry. Now I remember why me and houses ain’t such a good match.”

  “It’s nothing. Come on. They’re in the dining room. Follow me.” She led her down a hallway. Babe was careful not to sway into the walls and risk upsetting the pictures and mirrors hanging. She stopped.

  “Is that there a telephone?” Babe asked, pointing to a contraption hooked low on the wall in an alcove.

  “Yes.”

  “Ain’t never seed one in a house. What a world!”

  They passed through a sitting area with wall-to-wall bookshelves, and in the corner was an elegant fireplace made of stone. A bearskin rug anchored the center of the room and Babe figured Jupiter didn’t need to know about that. But something was strange here, something different. The rooms appeared so large, but what was it? Then it hit her. The chairs, the tables, and even the bookcases. All small. It was just like a big dollhouse, making Babe feel twice her size and three times more awkward.

  “Oh, Babe, come in, come in,” Aunt Valerie said.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Oh, call her Miss V. She says everyone does,” Lotty chirped from across the table.

  “Thank you, Miss V.”

  Now here, the dining room furniture was regular size. Miss V sat at the end of the table in a small chair atop a carpeted platform with steps up, just her size. Lotty didn’t have it nearly as good as she balanced herself on a stack of pillows. Cleve sat across and there were still three places set at the table.

  Sarah showed Babe a chair. They both looked down at the elegant cane weaving.

  “That chair, there,” Miss V said, pointing out a sturdy chair in the corner. Babe picked it up and moved it to the table, then carefully eased herself down, testing the strength of the chair. She wondered if she looked as out of place as she felt, sitting across from Lotty, who looked as though she was born to such a house.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Babe said lowly. “I ain’t often late for vittles and—” She was interrupted by a growling noise. Eyes landed on her. “Excuse me, please.” Babe turned bright red. “Don’t know why that always happens. My ol’ man used to hear my stummy rumble, grab his hunting rifle and poke it out the window looking for game.”

  Silence, then laughter.

  Sarah left through swinging doors and they hardly came to a stop before she was back carrying a tray full of sandwiches. Next a plate of steaming corn on the cob, next thick sliced tomatoes, next potato salad!

  “That’s cherry pie cooling on the sideboard,” Sarah said.

  Once the table was laden with food, Cleve stood up, pulled back a chair for his wife, and she joined them at the table. That left one empty place.

  The silverware arrangement confused Babe. Two forks, two spoons, small and large knives. Lotty noticed, and picked up her larger fork, and Babe followed suit.

  Once everyone was comfortable, Miss V cleared her throat and said, “Well, I guess it’s time to explain about . . . us.”

  33

  “By ‘us’ she means Cleve and myself,” Sarah said. “Pass the potato salad, will you?” Babe hesitated because Sarah appeared to be eyeing the corn.

  “Our hey-hey days are over, thank God,” Cleve said, passing her the plate.

  “Well, I think the girls can certainly understand things,” Miss V said. “After all, from what Carlotta told me, they’re no strangers to strangers like us.”

  “You ain’t so strange. Hell, you should meet JoJo and Lucretia and some—”

  “Babe,” Lotty said, cutting her off with a warning smile.

  “Well, like you know now, I was a carnie, just like Carlotta,” Miss V went on. “Me and Egypt played the best towns back east. Big shows. Toast of the coast! And the Franklins here were with the show, too. Go ahead, Sarah. Show them.”

  Slowly, Sarah unbuttoned the top three buttons of her dress, then rolled up her sleeves. “I was the first tattooed lady to wow ’em in New York City. Sweet and Walleyed Sadie, the Famous Tattooed Lady!” Her chest, neck, and arms were a swirl of intricate, faded tattoos. “Don’t ask me how many or where I got them or even what they are. I swear I bleed ink when I cut myself.”

  “But your face ain’t touched,” Babe said. “We had a tattooed man, and even his face was a map of England with ol’ Queen Vic setting on his forehead!”

  “I might be dumb, but I’m not stupid,” she said, laughing. “I know my face is my fortune. I hennaed the tattoos on my face every few weeks.”

  Cleve took her hand and said, “Your ugly mug is beautiful to me, with or without henna.”

  She gave him a playful slap and passed the plate of tomatoes around the table. “And who doesn’t fall in love with a man with three arms?”

  Babe and Lotty stopped chewing and stared at Cleve as he rose from his chair and announced dramatically, “Curious Cleveland, the Three-Armed Man!” He began to unbutton his shirt.

  “Cleve, not at the table,” his wife warned.

  “Oh, yes, of course.” At that, he stepped away from the table and took a stance in the corner and continued to unbutton his shirt.

  “Thank you, dear,” Sarah said.

  There, protruding from the middle of his chest, was an appendage. Babe and Lotty both silenced their gasps of surprise.

  “Who couldn’t use a third hand now and then?” he said jovially. “But unfortunately this little thing can’t do much. Mostly just gets in the way. So my other stage moniker was Clever Cleve—Soft Shoe, Snappy Songs, Witty Quips.” He tapped a few steps, took a bow, rebuttoned his shirt, sat back down, and attacked his meal.

  “You see,” Miss V said, delicately peeling the crust off a sandwich, “we’re all carnies here. Between the three of us, we’ve played everywhere, seen it all, and hated it all.”

  “That month with Barnum wasn’t so bad,” Sarah said.

  “Until he welched us our pay,” Cleve barked.

  “Well, if you’d gotten our contracts signed,” Sarah snapped back.

  “If maybe you didn’t bat those pretty eyes both directions at ol’ P. T. . . .”

  “You don’t need to air your dirty linen,” Miss V said, breaking him off. Then, to the girls, “Don’t ever mention P. T. Barnum around these two old troupers. It’ll only bring on a fight!” The adults chuckled in agreement.

  “Speaking of dirty linen,” Lotty said, voice serious. All eyes landed on her. “I have to ask, Miss V . . .” She hesitated and cleared her throat. �
�How come, after the fire, after I lost my parents, how come you didn’t come and find me?”

  “Well, I was always on the road, so when I finally got word about the fire . . .” She reached over and touched Lotty’s hand. “You’d already been adopted. I thought anyone good enough to take on a girl . . . well, a girl like me, I should leave well enough alone. Besides, I was just a cheap burlesque act back then. Not the best way to raise a young lady.”

  Babe remembered the “free trial” adoptions Lotty had suffered and added, “She was adopted out on the wait-and-see plan.”

  “The what?” Miss V asked.

  “You know,” Lotty began. Babe noticed the tremor in her voice. “We’ll take this tiny little girl, then ‘wait and see’ how she works out. It never worked out.”

  “Three time out and three time back,” Babe added.

  “Oh Lord, no. If I’d only known,” Miss V whispered. She dotted her eyes with her napkin, then smiled. “Well, anyway, we’re all together now. Babe, bring over that pie!”

  Whack! The sound came from the kitchen. Sarah said, “Well, if the door slams, that’s our Denny.”

  Babe stopped chewing and felt a pain that jabbed her palms, ran up her arms, and through to her ears, where there it pounded like war drums when “our Denny” came in. Oh, God help me. God help Babe!, her thoughts raged. Her face and ears burned hot and glowed scarlet. She figured he was fifteen, maybe sixteen, gawky, lean, tall like his father, and the good looks Sarah didn’t get were heaped on Denny.

  The boy stopped, letting the swinging doors hit his backside. He stared at Babe, eyes wide, mouth open. “Wow,” he muttered.

  Miss V said, “Denny, this is my niece, Carlotta. And this is her friend, Babe.”

  Babe finally swallowed, leaned across the table, and tried to make her paw of a hand seem smaller by offering him just her fingers. Horny-knuckled, cracked, and anything but delicate. “Glad to—” She stopped, cleared her voice and began again, a bit higher. “Glad to meet you.”

  His face was still full of awe and surprise. He grinned and took Babe’s hand and pumped it up and down. “Uh . . . hello.”

  She would pass out cold if her heart didn’t settle down. Denny was the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen. She could barely keep from staring.

  He broke his stare and turned to Lotty, as small as Babe was big, as pretty as Babe was ugly. “Wow,” he said again, as he shook her tiny, delicate hand. “Hello. You’re the spitting image of Miss V!” Sitting there, pert and petite and pretty, more like a doll perched on a doll’s throne of pillows, it wouldn’t have surprised Babe if the handsome prince kissed the little princess’s hand.

  “Is it true? What Pa said? You have an elephant and bear locked up in the barn?” he asked, taking his seat and loading his plate. “Pa said I couldn’t go into the barn. Is it true? You’re from a circus and everything? I mean, you’re a dwarf and a real giant! Man! I wish school was in! A bear and an elephant, too! Wow! The guys will never believe this! Ma, can Hank come over? He never believes anything I tell him, and . . .”

  “Why don’t we wait until our guests get settled?” Miss V said.

  “Oh, yeah. Sure,” he said. “When can I see them?”

  “They’re a bit antsy and goosey right now. Best wait till they cool their heads a bit,” Babe said, suddenly aware of how even her speech was out of place in this elegant room.

  “So what do you do? In the circus, I mean?” he asked Lotty. “My folks don’t let me see geek shows, being, you know, retired freaks and all.”

  “Denny . . .” his mother warned. “Grab your plate and help me in the kitchen.” She stood up, taking her plate.

  Plate in hand, Denny stared at Babe. “Did you do those contests where the horses pull one way and you pull another? Wish I could see that! Man!”

  “Denny!”

  “Coming, Ma.” Then halfway into the kitchen, he looked back, first at Lotty, then Babe. “Wait till the guys hear this!”

  When he left he pulled some of the life out of the room, just like life seemed to gush in when he entered. Babe glanced at Lotty and she knew she was thinking the same thing; that Lotty’s tiny heart was beating faster than the fandango Ina, Mina, and Tina danced to, just like her own big heart was beating.

  Babe wasn’t one to think back or ahead, knowing a girl like her best stay in the here and now, but she thought this had to be the best day of Lotty’s life. She watched her on her pillowed throne, like a fairy princess. But Babe? This was the worst day of her life—because it was perfectly clear—the giant always gets croaked by the handsome young prince, while the princess always lives happily ever after.

  No sooner had the room recuperated from Denny’s absence than he came dashing back in. “Something’s out there! Howling! Come on!” He tossed a rifle to his father, and Cleve ran out the door, followed by the others.

  34

  Babe clumsily pushed back the heavy chair and looked around the empty dining room. Then she heard it, too. Another screech. She dashed through the swinging door, not looking back to see what it had crashed into.

  Another screech. Babe loped into the clearing, kicking up dust. When she got to Cleve, he was just aiming his rifle toward the sound. She slapped it out of his hands and screamed, “Don’t shoot! It’s Euclid! Euclid!”

  When the ape saw Babe, he picked up the pace, cantering on all fours. Babe knelt down on a knee, arms out. The ape’s speed and weight were enough to knock her flat on her back as he leaped into her arms.

  He wrapped his legs around Babe as she grasped him, rocking him. He whimpered like a lost child found. “Hesh, hesh. Your Babe’s got you,” she whispered to him. “Hesh.” The noose was tight around his neck and the rope was unraveled and frayed on the end. Babe gently pulled it off and tossed it high into the treetops.

  Lotty ran to them. “Euclid!”

  The others stood, staring at the reunion. Egypt sent muffled trumps from the barn, Jupiter roared. Even Ajax and Honeycomb trotted to the fence, eyes and ears transfixed.

  “Babe, how do you think . . . ,” Lotty began.

  “Dang, I wisht he could talk! Dang, I wisht I knew how he done it—how he got away from Renoir.”

  “It’s a miracle he found us!” Lotty said, reaching to touch the ape’s shoulder. He jumped at her light touch.

  “Reckon he sniffed out Egypt’s calling cards alongst the road. I don’t care about nothing, ’cept I got my Euclid back! If Euclid killed Renoir, I don’t care. Saves me the trouble. He ain’t going to no taxi-dermy man now, Lotty.”

  Babe carried Euclid back toward the house with Lotty alongside. Denny came running up, eyes popping. “A monkey! Wow!”

  But Euclid shrank deeper into Babe’s arms. “He’s had a big day. You best stay back.”

  “No closer, Denny,” Sarah said.

  Cleve said to Miss V, “And here we all thought we left carnie life behind.” Then, to the girls, “Any more creatures out there you need to spring on us?”

  “He don’t take much food,” Babe said, cradling Euclid’s head in her giant hand. “He’s old, and he don’t eat much.”

  “Never mind that,” Miss V said. “Let’s just get him safe and settled.”

  Babe carried Euclid into the barn, asking to be alone. She could feel his heart throbbing wildly against her chest. He chirped when he saw Jupiter, reached out toward his own cage, and leaped into it. He went to the farthest side, trembling and blinking back at Babe.

  “What have you been through, ol’ man?” She sat down next to him and offered him a few peanuts. He looked at them, sniffed indifferently, then looked away. She left a handful in the corner of his cage, scrunched his tiny, trimmed ears. “Your Babe’s got you now,” she whispered.

  She ran her hand against the grain of his hair and tried to work out some of the mats. When she pulled up a few stuck-together hairs and rolled them between her fingers, they left a rust-colored stain. Blood. He pulled his arm back and bared his teeth.

  “D
on’t you give me that look. You know I’m stronger’n you, so gimme your arm.” She took back his arm. “Gonna need iodine.”

  She found their first aid box, took his arm again, and touched the glass applicator to his cut. She blew on it to ease the sting. Euclid pulled away, then imitated Babe’s lips as she blew. “What the hell happened to you, Euclid?” She inspected his other arm and found scrapes and scratches and more matted blood. She handed him her silver hairbrush to keep him distracted while she ran her hands up and down his arms and legs.

  Then she set the cages so Jupiter and Euclid were side by side, just like they had been in their cattle car. There was an open space above the walls between this room and Egypt’s stalls, and every so often, the tip of her curious trunk sniffed over the top.

  “I see you, Egypt girl,” Babe said. “We’re all right over here. Euclid’s home.”

  35

  “And look, Babe,” Lotty said as she showed off her bedroom after dinner that night. “Everything is just my size! Miss V had a lot of furniture in the attic, and Denny helped me arrange it all. Took all afternoon. I’m exhausted! Oh, how’s Euclid?”

  “He’s a bit spun about, but he’ll be all right. Glad to be with his old friends.” Babe stooped under the threshold and scanned the dollhouse room. Perfect and petite.

  Lotty swirled around the room. “Isn’t this beautiful? I just love the curtains, and look at that lamp! Have you ever seen anything so pretty? Hand-painted flowers on the shade! It’ll be great to read by.”

  “It’s a nice room, Lotty.”

  “Oh there you are, Babe,” Sarah said, passing by the room. “If you’re done in the barn, then let me show you your room.”

  For a minute, Babe’s face lit. Her own room?

  “Here you are,” Sarah said, opening a bedroom door down the hall.

  “Dainty,” Babe whispered, taking in the size of the guest room.

  “Sorry?”

  “I mean it’s, well, small.”