Chapter 17
Back at camp I sat beside Momma so she couldn’t look me in the eyes. I wished I could set her backbone and shoulders straight, or even see a bit of the old gumption in her again. The weeks of struggle had pressed a weight on her spirit, seeming to bend her frame. We sat in the quiet. Papa had yet to come back, and the silence was like something was about to happen. When the sound of the truck come, my heart shivered inside my chest along with the rest of me. I got to thinking about how to explain the possibility of coming to know Clayton, and about this idea of his that now seemed as far-fetched as Uncle Hardy having a change of heart.
The truck come into view, covered with mud and pieces of cornstalks stuck to the lower half like Papa had drove it straight through a cornfield. He got out and I peeked to see if he’d take out some cornmeal, or maybe some beans, anything to show his leaving had been worthwhile. He did none of that, coming towards us as empty-handed as when he’d left. Nary a thing to show for a daylong absence. For only the second time since Seph passed away, Momma put her face into her hands and her body folded over as if she wanted to sink right into the ground. Papa come over to the fire slow. It tore him out of the frame to see her get this a way.
He shoved his hands in his coveralls and said, “I’m sorry. I tried.”
His face, so bleak and despairing, his failure setting a deeper divide between them. This was the moment I needed. I rose from my place beside Momma, my hands twisting one over the other as I cleared my throat.
I said, “Papa.”
He only stared at Momma and her disappointment.
I persisted. “Papa.”
He give me an impatient look. “What, Wallis Ann?”
I took a deep breath, and as I’d featured how I might do this in my head, I tripped over words, the tone of my voice shrill and odd to my ears.
“I got something to tell you. You know how I been going to the waterfall?”
Momma lifted her head and my eyes fastened on the sleek, wet channels running down her cheeks.
“Well, see? There was someone there named Clayton.”
Momma’s jaw tightened.
I talked faster. “He works for a traveling show. Cooper’s Family Fun and Shows. He’s a high diving act.”
Papa spoke sharply. “Wallis Ann, what’s this all about? What’s this got to do with anything?”
I won’t good at persuasion, I was good at working, doing as I was told, and singing. This was all brand-new, and Papa’s impatience didn’t help. Then there was Momma giving me an offended look. Laci picked that moment to start playing a tune on her fiddle. Frustrated, I marched over and snatched it from her hands.
Shocked, Momma said, “Wallis Ann! What has got into you?”
Holding Laci’s fiddle tight in my arms against my belly, I shoved the rest of my words out before everything come apart.
“I’m trying to tell y’all about a job. It’s about us getting a job. Clayton said a man named Johnny Cooper, who owns the traveling show, might want to hear us sing. Said if he liked us, he’d pay some of the take, and we’d have meals and a tent. That’s all. It’s about us maybe having a steady job singing.”
I held my breath, waiting for the words to sink in, squeezing Laci’s fiddle so hard I heard the wood creak. Papa’s reaction stunned me. He didn’t dismiss it immediately, he only rubbed his hand across his face and pulled on his beard.
He said, “Huh.”
Momma said, “It’s not practical.”
Papa said, “What?”
Momma said, “Oh, dear God. I know you’re not seriously thinking on this. You’d have us go work in some sideshow?”
Papa raised both arms in the air. “For Christ’s sake, Ann! What else we gonna do?” And then Papa said something what surprised me most. “What if Laci or Wallis Ann gets sick like Seph? What will you think then about deciding so quick against the best idea that’s come our way so far?”
Momma reacted like he’d slapped her. She jerked back and then her chin come forward, and her eyes tightened. “Let’s not forget who was in an all-fired hurry to bring Seph home.”
Papa dropped his head. “We ain’t got no other choice here. What would be wrong in seeing about it? It ain’t a permanent thing. It’s only temporary.”
Momma worried her hair. “I don’t know. It don’t seem fitting.”
Papa said, “Way I see it, we got three choices.”
Momma frowned at me like she couldn’t understand why I’d mentioned such a thing.
Papa kept on. “Go to Hardy’s.”
Momma cringed.
“Keep going around on our own like we been doing.”
She heaved a heavy sigh, and her shoulders slumped.
“Or, join them carnies for a little while, and make some money.”
Momma flipped her hand in a dismissive way that said, Do what you want. I imagined she give in because of what he’d said about Seph. It had put a fear in her.
I said, “He said that Cooper feller’s looking for new acts right now, but we got to be quick about it.”
Papa said, “Let’s go see about it then. If it don’t work out, we’re going to Hardy’s. And that’s that.”
Momma looked disgusted, but she got busy gathering together our few things and Papa kicked dirt on the fire to put it out. I went to hand Laci her fiddle, and she jerked it from me. Surprised, I studied her, but she only rubbed at the wood with the end of her sleeve. I shrugged and went to help Momma tote our cookware to the truck. It took us only a few minutes to finish, the only sign we’d been there the blackened pit from the campfire.
Inside the truck, I said, “He said it ain’t far from here, they’s set up near to Tucker’s Branch.”
Papa said, “I know where they’re at. I seen’em earlier.”
Momma didn’t ask what he’d been doing or how his truck got so dirty, disinterested since he’d come away empty-handed. The hills seemed to watch in silence as we made our way down Highway 28. The prospect of meeting Johnny Cooper and knowing his opinion could mean a return to Uncle Hardy’s had me wishing we didn’t look as scruffy as we did. We come to a curve in the road where foothills rose over a big, flat open field filled with tents and rides, and more vehicles than I’d ever seen at once in my life. Papa had the windows cracked, and I smelled a strange mixture of odors, from pungent animals, to something like exhaust from Papa’s truck, and most powerful of all, food. My mouth watered and after catching a whiff of that, I sure hoped he liked us enough to hire us out.
Papa turned into an area where several others had already driven. People milled about, and as we rolled and bumped through the flattened grass field, I heard a loud voice crying out, “Step right up, come on, let me guess your birthday, a penny to guess your birthday!” There was pigs being led to a small racetrack, a merry-go-round with kids screaming as they went round and round. I took in the signs telling about all sorts of sideshows, with Jungle Monkeys, a Snake Enchantress, and a bigger sign declared FREAKS! SEE THEM, ONE AND ALL! It looked like a very odd and bizarre world, and some part of me was scared of it, while the other part of me was excited. Momma gazed at some of the show folks standing near a section where off-white tents was lined up in neat rows.
The area looked to be private, and she turned her head and said to Papa, “What do we do, walk up and announce ourselves?”
Papa parked the truck, and said, “I reckon. I guess I’ll go ask for Mr. Cooper.”
He approached the group of workers, and spoke to one of them, a rough-looking man who reminded me a little of Leland Tew. The man spit on the ground and pointed to a tent. Papa tipped his hat, looked over his shoulder at us, then walked to the tent. The workers turned to stare at the truck, smoking their cigarettes and studying us like we was too boringly normal for the likes of this place.
Momma said, “This is a bad idea.”
“Momma, we don’t know for sure yet. It might work out.”
“Hm.”
She reached out a hand and brushed down Laci’s hair, licking her fingers and making an attempt to flatten down the stray hairs around her forehead, but her hair was so wild, and dirty, it didn’t do much good. I didn’t touch mine. It felt pure tee gummed to my head, and it was useless to worry with it now. Papa come out of the tent with a man who had silvery hair and a mustache what drooped down past his chin. He’d been eating right good as his belly led the way.
When Momma seen them, she said, “Wallis Ann, get out!”
I obliged and we spilled out of the truck in all our dirty glory, rank, starving and desperate for a chance.
Papa spoke quick and eager. “This here’s my wife, Ann Wallis Stamper, my oldest daughter I told you about, Laci, and our young Wallis Ann, voice like a songbird.”
Mr. Cooper, sounding bored, said, “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh. Show me what you got.”
We shifted around into our usual positions, Laci to Papa’s left, and me to Momma’s right. It never got easier for me, and my insides curdled like a glass of milk gone bad. I tried to settle my nerves down.Without prompting, and likely because of the habitual way we stood, Laci tucked her fiddle under her chin and drew the bow over the strings, sending out a high, sweet note. The ones who’d been standing around, nudging each other when they seen our raggedy clothes, stopped talking and give us their attention. Laci started with a real familiar song, “Shall We Gather at the River,” and Papa began with the opening verse, then Momma and me joined. Our voices soared out and into the trees, and it seemed like our singing could touch the clouds above our heads.
I closed my eyes and I didn’t think about how we looked, or anything. I simply opened my mouth and sang knowing this moment needed to shine. We had to be our best. We had to eat. Suddenly, it was like I wanted to be doing this. I wanted to sing because of what we’d been through, I wanted to sing for losing Seph, and there went an unlikely tear streaking down my filthy cheek, though I didn’t care how it looked to anybody right then. Papa, Momma and I harmonized, belting out tune after tune between gospel and the old folk tunes I was most familiar with. I eventually opened my eyes and stared out at a gathering crowd. I’d never seen so many folks in my life. They stood, mesmerized it seemed, and I thought, Maybe we sound okay. We sound okay, or we sound real bad.
Mr. Cooper grinned from ear to ear, nodding at everyone like he’d discovered us, and I noticed at some point Clayton appeared and stood front and center of the gathering crowd. He was smiling, looking proud. Another man who looked like he was a ringmaster because of his coat with long tails and shiny shoes tilted his head, like he could picture himself announcing us. Mr. Cooper finally waved his hand indicating he’d heard enough. We’d sung four songs and ended the final one with a long, stretched-out note.
He led the crowd in a round of applause, and said, “How about that, folks? This here’s my newest act, and if you want more of them, be here at seven sharp tonight! The Stampers, folks, that’s their name, get used to it because you’re gonna be hearing from them!”
The crowd applauded again, and I felt it might be all right, we might do fine.
Mr. Cooper come over and shook Papa’s hand hard, and said, “You all is gonna do fine, fine. Come on, let’s get them details worked out. Bring the missus along too.”
He led Papa and Momma towards the cluster of tents, and I watched as they ducked inside the one he’d come out of. I shifted foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable and conspicuous, grateful when Clayton hurried over to us. The crowd dispersed on its own, and I was glad to not have them keep standing around looking at me and Laci.
Clayton seemed pretty excited. “Hey, I see what you mean about your sister on that git fiddle there. And you sounded great too, even better than yesterday. How’d y’all end up here so soon?”
I motioned towards the tent. “We was at a point, so to speak, and Papa decided.”
“Well, now, see? I was sure Johnny would go for the idea.”
The words I’d typically find to keep the conversation going didn’t come. Trying to talk to him here was different than at the falls. I couldn’t think of a thing to say, not with Laci pressing up against me, not with the effects of so little food, and the effort to sing. All of it together had sapped the very last bit of strength out of me.
“Can we sit down somewhere?”
Clayton said, “Sure, come this way.”
“I can’t go far from Papa and Momma.”
“We’re going right over here. See them benches? They got all kinds of snacks. You want something?”
He led me and Laci towards an area that said CONCESSIONS.
“Like what?”
“Name it.”
“I ain’t never had a store-bought snack. We always made ours.”
“You and Laci sit right there. I’ll bring you all something, it’ll be a surprise.”
We sat and Clayton walked to the man behind a makeshift counter. When he come back he held colorful bags.
“Look a here. I brung you Lay’s tater chips, some Twinkies, and a couple Snickers bars.”
I’d seen these things, just never had them. He opened the two bags that said Lay’s and handed them to me. They smelled like nothing I’d ever imagined. I give one to Laci and she took it and peered down into the depths. The bags crinkled loudly as we dug our hands in. The chips looked like the fried taters we used to fix sometimes for Saturday night suppers, only much thinner. I’d been hungry for so long, when I started, I started slow, placing a chip in and chewing carefully. They was so good that, without thinking, I picked up speed and went to shoving in handful after handful. Laci did the same thing. We crammed salty chips into our mouths like starving dogs gnawing to get the most out of a bone.
I finished the bag in seconds, and then grabbed for the Twinkies. I tore the wrapper off one and shoved half in, closing my eyes, and savoring the yellow fluffy cake and creamy center. I didn’t look to see what Laci did, because I’d finished that and was now on to a Snickers bar. I took a bite and half got gone. I heard a noise and raised my eyes to see Clayton staring at us, stunned, his eyes wide, and sad. Was that pity I seen in them? I dropped what was left of the candy bar on the table. I chewed and swallowed and it felt like it was sticking somewhere between my throat and my belly. My stomach knotted, sending distress signals by way of little shooting pains as I fought not to be sick. I was worried I’d lose all of it on the ground since it was the first food I’d had in I don’t know when.
Clayton rubbed a hand through his hair. “Damn, Wallis Ann. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say y’all was in such need?”
Laci was still eating her candy bar, chocolate traces on her fingers, eyes searching the tabletop for more as she took the last bite of her Snickers, eyeing what was left of mine. I shoved it towards her and she crammed the rest in her mouth. I breathed slow and easy to calm my stomach.
I mumbled, “We ain’t ones to talk of our troubles. We make do for ourselves.”
Clayton give me a look as if I was the strangest creature he’d ever met. Meanwhile, we sat here in the center of a carnival, with its oddities advertised, and I was the one he thought peculiar? This struck me as hilarious. I started laughing, bending over and gripping my tightened waist, gasping. I couldn’t seem to stop until Laci, who’d been sitting quite still, put a hand over her stomach, and looked distressed. I stopped my crazy laughing.
I said, “It’s all right, Laci. You ate too fast, and too much. Like me.”
Clayton offered us more food. “You want I should get her another bag of chips?”
“No, no, that’ll make it worse.”
“Maybe you both ought to have you a cold drink? I can get y’all one right there.”
He pointed to a line of people standing patiently, coming away with drinks, peanuts and popcorn.
I squashed my pride and said, “Okay.”
Clayton hurried off and returned juggling three bottles and some popcorn. The popcorn reminded me of last Christmas and using one a Momma’s needles and some thread to create strings of it to go round the tree. I took a swallow, and the sting of carbonation down my throat was another reminder. I’d go with Papa to Dewey’s for cornmeal, flour, sugar, and coffee. He’d always buy us a “dope” as he called it, which was bottles of Pepsi, plus some peanuts for the ride home. We’d dump the peanuts into the bottles and ride along, swilling and crunching the nuts and talking about whether or not we should catch us a mess of fish. Our world sure had changed, and it had me wishing for home, despite the excitement surrounding me.
“Thank you. I’ve not had one in a while.” As I said it, Momma and Papa come out of the tent. Papa shook Mr. Cooper’s hand, and I took that as a good sign. They started towards us, and Clayton stood as my parents got closer, his hand out.
“Sir, Clayton Jones.”
Papa eyed Clayton down the length of his nose. “And I suppose you’re the big time, that high dive act.”
“Not so big, no, sir.”
“Well, son. You’re either the craziest or bravest person we ever heard of.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Clayton spoke so formal like. Papa’s cheek twitched, and he give Clayton the once-over, like he couldn’t decide if he liked him or not.
He eventually said, “Maybe I’m the one who ought to thank you for suggesting to Mr. Cooper here his show might need a singing act.”
Mr. Cooper spoke enthusiastically. “That’s right, that’s right. Y’all are gonna fit right in.” He paused to look at us. “Looks like you could stand a meal. Ain’t no harm in going a little hungry, but ain’t no need if there’s work to be had.”
He rubbed his hands together, and said, “I’ll let you folks settle in. Clayton can show you around to your tents, where to eat, and all.”
Papa nodded, and shoved his hands in his pockets, while Momma’s expression remained flat as she stared dully at the commotion of the carnival swirling around us.