I didn’t see her again that evening, but I could hear her. She was pacing the tiny space of her/my bedroom, with muttered words of frustration and then tuneless singing that told me she was listening to music, loud.
I knew that she was playing her Pissed playlist because she’d showed it to me once. God, was that only yesterday? I’d smiled at the time. I wasn’t smiling now.
It frustrated the fuck out of me that this guy, this Him, had power over her, even though she’d traveled hundreds of miles to get rid of him, even though she’d been in my bed, taking what she wanted.
The next day, she caught a ride with Zach and Luke, ignoring my existence. Well, hell, she’d said it: I was no one.
How did you protect someone who didn’t want you around? I’d do what I could to smooth her path, but when she went back to him, my job was over.
I watched in the side-view mirror as dust spiraled from the rig’s wheels, blooming into a yellow cloud behind us, blotting out the ocean.
Tucker glanced at me but didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned on the radio, listening to some indie channel.
After an hour, he turned down the volume, his eyes concentrating on the road south.
“You guys seemed good.”
I looked out of the window.
“She’s a kid. She doesn’t know what she wants.”
“You showed her your plot, where you’re building the cabin?”
“Yep.”
Tucker sucked his teeth. “Guess she didn’t like the view.”
I grunted an aggrieved laugh. “Guess not.”
“You two have been dancing around each other for weeks. I thought you’d finally figured it out.”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to rub out the confused thoughts that tangled in my brain.
“So what happened?”
Would talking it through with Tucker help? Because I definitely wasn’t getting anywhere by myself.
“She got a call while I was showing her where I’m going to build and she just froze. She stared at her cell like it might bite her. So I answered it for her.”
Tucker groaned.
“You didn’t!”
“Well, yeah! Some asshole starting swearing up a storm wanting to know where she was. Then she grabbed the phone back. She hasn’t spoken to me since.”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell Tucker that she’d called me nothing.
“Zef, you’re a good guy, but you’re a freakin’ idiot sometimes . . . make that all the time around this girl.”
“What was I supposed to do?” I asked indignantly.
“You’re not supposed to take her phone! You’re not supposed to answer it for her! What were you fixin’ to do? Confiscate it? Send her to her room? She may be young, but she’s a grown woman.”
“I know that!” I yelled, but even as I said the words I wasn’t sure they were true. “Tucker, you didn’t see her face—she was scared. Really scared. And I can’t protect her if I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. I don’t even know if she wants or needs that. If I ask her about it, she clams up. I’ve told her everything about me. If we were going to be . . . she had the right to know.”
Tucker raised his eyebrows.
“You told her about your time in stir? Why you were there?”
“Yes!”
“Wow, okay. But you know, brother, you’ve done the right thing, but you can’t force trust from her. How would you feel if she’d taken your phone and started snooping through it?”
“I wasn’t snooping! I did it right there in front of her!”
“That don’t make it okay.”
I was silent, afraid to admit that he was right. Again. Dammit.
“I just want to help her.”
He sighed.
“Yeah, I get that. But someone’s gotta want to be helped or none of it makes any difference.”
The man spoke the truth.
We drove without talking until we took a break at a truck stop a few miles south of Oakland.
I saw Sara coming out of the ladies’ room by herself, so I took a chance.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t,” she spit out. “You made it ten times worse!”
A vein throbbed in my temple. Worse than being a pregnant homeless teenage runaway? But I kept my mouth shut and gave her a curt nod.
“My mistake. It won’t happen again.”
My words were quiet but she definitely heard them. I forced myself to walk away.
I’d gone twenty steps when she came running after me, slightly out of breath.
“Zef, I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch.”
She rested her small hand on my arm.
I frowned and looked away.
“I don’t know what you need from me, Sara. Maybe nothin’, maybe somethin’, but it’ll go a helluva lot smoother if you just tell me.”
Her hand dropped and I thought she was going to yell at me again, but she didn’t.
“I can’t.”
Her voice cracked, but her mouth was a stubborn line.
I bit my tongue, holding back the demands that she tell me what was wrong.
“When you can, I’ll be around.”
I met her eyes so that she knew I’d keep my word. And then even though I wanted to take her in my arms and promise that everything would be okay, I walked away.
We rolled into Pomona shortly after midnight, probably interrupting the guard at the performers’ entrance from whatever movie he was watching.
The vast, gated compound had a fenced perimeter and 24/7 security. I’d guess that 200 or so carnies lived here from Easter through Thanksgiving, then went back to their homes for the off-season.
Tucker’s eyes were red with tiredness and I felt bad for not being able to take my turn at the wheel, but we’d all pulled long trips before now so I wasn’t going to bleed for the guy.
We trundled over the concrete back lot, making our way toward a small stand of trees and grass that was reserved for us near the barbecue pit.
Zach parked their RV by the nose of our rig and Kes parked at the back end, making three sides of a rectangle and creating a little courtyard that would give us some privacy. Ollo’s RV was off to one side which was how he preferred it.
“Gotta take a leak,” Tucker yawned, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his spine.
But then his eyes brightened, all tiredness gone, and he jumped out of the truck’s cab, a huge smile on his face. Next second, a cute blonde was wrapped around him and they were lost to the rest of us as we climbed tiredly from the vehicles.
Kes walked over and slapped the back of Tucker’s head.
“That’s my sister, asshole!”
And he hugged Tera, pushing Tucker out of the way.
Then it was Aimee’s turn, and I heard the two women squealing at each other, and the word “congratulations!” being bounced around.
“I’m going to be the coolest aunt ever!” Tera laughed, as Tucker wrapped his arms around her waist again.
I hopped over and gave Tera a quick hug.
“Oh, Zef! Look at you, all banged up! Where’s this girl I’ve been hearing about?” She whispered. “Where’s Sara?”
“Uh, riding with Zach and Luke, I think.”
She threw me a confused look before Tucker walked her towards an expensive-looking Mercedes and they drove off into the night.
A twist of jealousy knotted my gut as I watched their tail lights disappear.
We stumbled around, drunk on tiredness, hooking up the RVs to water and power, then collapsed into our respective beds.
I didn’t think I’d sleep, not with Sara just a few feet away in the next room, but I did, tiredness taking its toll.
I woke once in the night and I heard her voice. She sounded like she was arguing with someone, but was trying to keep her voice down. I strained to pick up a few words, but all I could hear was “no” said emphatically several times.
I lay awake listening for a while longer, wondering if she was okay or if she’d need me, but Sara’s room stayed silent.
When Bo slipped through my window just before dawn, I was grateful for the company. He crawled under the covers, curled up by my waist and went to sleep.
I stroked his soft fur, wishing my life was as uncomplicated as his. It used to be.
When I woke up for real, I felt more optimistic. All around me, the massive Fairplex fairground was stirring into life. I could hear the voices of other carnie families who were parked nearby, and also knew that soon the five thousand plus employees would be showing up for work, ready to entertain, amuse and feed the people who’d be pouring from one of the thirty thousand designated car parking spaces.
The big status rides like G-force and Evaluation would have their daily check; college kids hired to be Captain Jack Sparrow, Belle and the Beast or characters from Avatar would be arriving to change into their costumes; and the Daredevils would be supervising the installation of our ramps, as well as the supersize ones that were stored here for our biggest shows.
I stumped into the shower, staring critically at my gimpy leg and testing how much weight it would hold. Hmm, not too bad. I had my first physical therapy appointment this afternoon, and I was determined to ace all my exams and be performing again by the end of the month, screw what the Voice of Doom had said back in Washington.
Just as I was hobbling back to my room, Sara was coming out of hers with a towel wrapped tightly around her. She gave me a quick smile—a definite improvement on being ignored.
Aimee was bustling around in the kitchen, somehow managing four pans and a stack of plates warming in the oven. She was wearing a light summer dress, and for the first time I noticed that she had a small baby bump.
“Hey, Zef!” she said brightly, happiness radiating from her.
“Lookin’ good, mamacita,” I said, smiling as she blushed.
Kes came up behind her, kissing her neck as his hands stroked her newly protruding belly. It was an intimate, private moment. I turned away and switched on the TV to catch the news.
I glanced up when Sara walked in, but her gaze was fixed on Kes and Aimee, and even from this distance I could tell that her eyes were filling with tears.
My chest ached for her.
Kes and Aimee were in their own bubble, so they didn’t even notice the strained atmosphere or Sara’s silence. I was relieved when Zach and Luke, followed by Ollo and Bo came to rustle up some pancakes.
“Nice job on the new web content, Sara,” said Zach, looking at something on his phone. “The Fairplex racetrack manager said that ticket sales are up four percent from last year, and the Fourth is a sell-out.”
She gave him a wide, happy smile, and my dark heart growled, wishing that I could put that look on her face.
Ollo nodded approvingly.
“Thanks, Zach,” said Sara. “I loved doing it.”
“Great! Well, I spoke to Tera this morning . . .”
“I bet Tucker loved that,” I muttered, earning an amused smile from Luke.
“ . . . and she said that KTM is definitely interested in sponsoring us, and she wants some more pictures from you: not just action shots, but set-up, maintenance, the guys goofing off—just more of what you’ve already been doing, but specific to this location.”
“Oh, I’d love to! Thank you! That’s awesome! Thank you so much, Zach!”
Then she kissed him on the cheek and started piling her plate with pancakes, sausages and syrup.
Part of me wanted to hug the guy for making Sara so happy; the other part wanted to punch his lights out because she’d kissed him and not me.
I wasn’t used to being jealous—I hadn’t known how much it burned.
Fourth of July had been a crazy day. Usually, I’d be working my ass off, but with my gimp leg, all I could do was a little bike maintenance, and watch the guys put on a stunning show, finished off with a massive firework display.
I was in a bad mood because I wasn’t being even slightly useful. I even tried to help Aimee and Sara with food prep for the after-party, but in the end Aimee kicked me out of the kitchen, saying I was getting underfoot. Which I was.
I was glad when it was all over and I could sit back with a beer and enjoy listening to all the carnie talk around the fire-pit.
“I don’t really get it, Ollo,” said Sara. “What’s the difference between a circus and a carnival?”
He chewed on a wad of tobacco thoughtfully.
“It’s changing now, but back after the Second World War there were traveling carnivals and there were circuses. It was a gray time, a tired time, and everyone was sick of it. Circuses were mostly owned by one family, and carnivals were groups of shows coming together and traveling together a while. Carnies were the rebels of the road. But it was more than that. We offered color and life. Respectable folk,” and he raised his eyebrows, “went to the circus, but in carnivals anything goes. We had gambling and freak shows like the Dog-faced Woman—a good friend of mine—the Human Lightbulb, real fakirs—those guys who stuck pins through their faces. The Great Impossible Possible used to sew buttons to his eyelids . . .” Sara looked like she was going to throw up. “And there were other torture acts, bed of nails, you know? But you’d also get carousels for the kiddies and hootchy-kootchy shows for their daddies. The Fat Lady was always a big draw, Jolly Daisy was her name—had five husbands and weighed seven hundred pounds.”
Sara wrinkled her nose.
“That’s disgusting! Putting people on stage just because they’re . . . different.”
Ollo shook his head.
“It wasn’t like that. The freaks earned a good living, better than the canvasmen or the roustabouts, that’s for sure. Get a good freak and they could keep the carnival going. Here, they had a life, a purpose, and they had their friends. Some had families, too. But what would they have been if they’d been forced to live with ‘normal’ people?” And he drew air quotes with his stubby fingers. “People like them . . . like me . . . were hidden away, something shameful. But in the carnival, they were important.”
“But . . .”
Ollo fixed Sara with a serious stare.
“It’s different now. People like to think they’re more acceptin’, and maybe they are, but I can tell you when I walk down the street with townies, the nicest thing that happens is people stare. Sometimes they’re not nice; sometimes they’re mean. Being ugly is a sort of prison. So you tell me which is better: a life of being hidden away by families too ashamed to let their friends see you, or a life with the carnival where you’re accepted for all your freakishness? A place that gives you a chance, the courage to turn a misfortune of birth into something positive, and you can thumb your nose, be unashamed, and throw your strangeness in the face of the world?”
Sara was silent and Ollo’s fierce gaze softened.
“But like I said, times have changed and things are different now.”
Were we all misfits here? Or maybe misfits who fit?
Either way, this was family. This was home.