Chapter 19
We stood a few minutes soaking in the applause and feeling right proud of ourselves. Even Laci had calmed down enough to peek out from behind her hair.
Mr. Massey said, “Folks, I sure hope you enjoyed The Stampers as much as we did! If you’ll please exit out the front there, that’s right, move right along for our next thrilling show, the high dive act!”
The crowd began filing out, and Momma and Papa smiled at each other, something they’d not done in weeks, luxuriating in the moment of how well it had gone after our bumpy little start. Mr. Cooper come over and handed Papa some paper bills and coins. It was a good feeling, earning our keep, but now I was anxious to see Clayton jump from the tall platform. All them times watching him practice at the waterfall didn’t compare to the anxiousness I felt after seeing the height of that skinny pole and the little platform.
“Papa, can’t we go watch Clayton?”
Papa, with a pocket full of money and riding high on our success, was agreeable. “Sure, I suppose we could go see what all the fuss is about,” only Momma said, “I’m rather tired. I’d like to go on to the tent.”
I was disappointed because I figured I’d have to go with them. Papa hesitated, looking from Momma to me.
I said, “Please, can I watch?”
He studied the crowd, and then he said, “You know what?”
“Sir?”
“I think you’re owed some free time for all you done back home and since we left. Here you go, Wally Girl. Buy you and Laci something to eat and drink, and watch the show, see some sights.”
Papa handed me a whole quarter. I’d never had so much money in my life.
“Yes, sir!”
Momma said, “William, you sure it’s a good idea for them to be alone?”
“They’ll be all right, Ann. This here’s a family crowd, and besides, it’s high time they had a bit of fun.”
Papa took Laci’s fiddle, and got ahold of Momma’s arm with his other hand. “Come on, Ann, let’s you and me take us a little evening stroll. Look a there at them stars overhead!”
Momma allowed another little smile at him, and said, “Talking about stars. We did all right tonight, didn’t we?”
They drifted off in between the tents, talking soft to each other, arm in arm, looking almost like old times on Stampers Creek.
After they was out of sight, I turned to Laci. “Come on, let’s hurry! I don’t want to miss it!”
I weaved around the crowd, keeping Laci separate from the jostling elbows and crush of bodies. A big gathering clustered together near the front of the platform, held back by ropes near the big tub of water. It seemed to me, those nearest the ropes might get splashed. I took us to the concession stand and got two Pepsis and two bags of peanuts. I give Laci hers and then moved us to the left-hand side of the platform out of the way of everyone. I kept turning this way and that, looking for Clayton. There was a small tent set off to the side, and a minute later he come out of it and the crowd clapped and whistled. I hoped Laci would be less bothered by the noise outside, though it was hard to pay her any mind when he approached the ladder to climb.
Clayton was serious about this diving business. He wore a swimsuit with a strange style top with thin straps over his shoulders like some of them undershirts some men wear. His body, although lean, was muscled, and toned. He didn’t see me at first, and I wanted to get his attention, let him know I was there, only his intense expression kept me quiet. I felt Laci against me, and she was looking over my shoulders, staring intently at Clayton. He raised his arm to the crowd and when he began a long, slow climb, he spotted us. He threw us a quick smile and a wink. His attention sent a glow through me, like the sensation of warm sun on my skin. Every twenty or so steps, he’d stop and lean out to wave at the crowd and at us.
The higher he went, the louder the oohs and aahs. I slurped on my drink and chewed furiously on the peanuts. I couldn’t stop watching as he went up and up and up, and I began to think, It’s too high. That’s way too high. The crowd become quiet when he got close to the top. He leaned against the structure, his arms behind him, hands gripping the metal poles. After a minute, he shook out his arms, and his legs, one at a time. Finally, he let go of the metal, and with nothing between him and the ground, he stepped out onto the tiny platform. I stopped drinking and eating. He looked so small.
Mr. Massey spoke in a low, dramatic voice. “Folks, that’s fifty feet up. Young Clayton here’s been doing this for two years. He’s fearless, but still! Something could happen! Watch carefully! This death-defying leap happens in seconds!”
I wished Mr. Massey hadn’t said something could happen. I tilted my head back, and so did Laci. My hand went to my neck and I thought on the day I first seen him jump at the waterfall, and how I’d screamed. My throat swelled with the need to do the same thing now, and I pressed my lips together, holding it in. He placed his toes right on the edge and looked straight ahead, not down. There won’t a whisper in the crowd. Everyone had their faces turned to the night sky, where a spotlight shone directly behind him and another shone on the wooden tub filled with water. He held his arms out, not moving for several seconds. And then, he did look down, and when he did, it was like he simply fell, holding his body straight, his arms still straight out forming a perfect human cross.
It was a beautiful thing to watch as he hurtled down, slow and then faster. The gasps of the crowd was like a collective hiss, yet he remained as silent as an owl swooping after prey in the dark of night. Somebody squealed, but thankfully, everyone else only gaped in awe and fear. Laci’s fingers almost squeezed the blood from my hand and then, he hit the water. A loud, cracking noise echoed over the tents. The splash was enormous, and sure enough, the people closest to the part of the roped off area to the front got soaking wet. After the noise from the crowd died down, another hush fell over us all. There was no sound from the water.
The crowd began to buzz with anxious questions. “Where’s he? Reckon he’s flattened out in the bottom? Why don’t he swim to the edge and show us he’s all right?”
Mr. Massey cleared his throat.
He whispered into his mic, “A death-defying leap, folks. What a show, what a show.”
Someone called out, “He ain’t showed his self yet.”
Someone else said, “Yeah, might not a been so death defying. Could be dead.”
I wanted to tell them “hush!” A few in the crowd tittered and I got madder and more uneasy as seconds went by. Then I heard a gurgling sound, followed by a squelching noise, and up popped Clayton, wearing a big old grin, his arms raised beside his head in a victorious manner. He swiped a hand across the top of the water and sent a spray into the air at the crowd, who yelled their approval. The applause went on and on.
Mr. Massey said, “Well now, there you have it, folks, another spectacular show by this young daredevil of ours! Give him another big round of applause!”
Clayton had partially climbed back up the ladder and hung off it waving to the crowd. He kept turning towards me and Laci, keeping his eye on us while he celebrated with the audience, his chest and the front of his legs visibly red. When he climbed down, the crowd began to scatter, some going towards the rides while others headed for some of the other attractions. He stepped over the rope and come to stand beside me grinning and wiping his hair with a towel.
“Well? What did you think?”
“It was scary, and unbelievable!”
“You liked it, huh?”
“Oh yes, most definitely!”
“What did you think, Laci?”
Laci paid him no mind, as she studied a few clowns walking by. I spoke for her, as usual. “Well, I guess she might have liked it, but if she did, she won’t tell. Like I said, Laci don’t talk.”
“I know. I figured since she’s never seen anything like that, she might have had some sort of reaction.”
I suppose it won’t surprising Clayton was curious about Laci. She was mysterious since nobody understood what went on in that head of hers, and then she’d turn right around and play this beautiful music. People couldn’t help but find her intriguing.
I said, “I was too busy watching myself, so I didn’t notice what she might a done.”
Clayton changed the subject and said, “Hey, you want to go see Trixie’s show, and after, we can go look at the two-headed sheep. Whaddya say?”
I glanced at Laci, wishing I could have Clayton to myself.
Hesitant, I said, “Sure.”
“Okay, wait here.”
He disappeared into the tent and come out a few minutes later dressed in dry clothes, his hair slicked back.
“Come on, I know all the shortcuts.”
We stayed to the rear section of the main midway, and everyone who worked for the carnival called out to Clayton.
Some said, “I see you survived—again—you crazy nut!” Others said, “So, you and the devil still got a deal?”
Others only whistled or hooted. He waved at the carnival barkers who managed the games, and called out to the money collectors for the sideshows.
Some shouted, “Who you got there with you?”
He introduced me and Laci as we went along. “This here’s Wallis Ann, and her sister Laci, they’s the new singing act. Y’all be nice to them or you’ll have to deal with me!”
Everyone seemed to know and like Clayton. We went into another tent, a little bigger even than the one we’d performed in. It held a corral, and outside of the corral, circling all the way around, was rows of wooden bench seats. It held a familiar smell of horses, and hay, and manure, and I breathed it in deep. Clayton pointed out Trixie’s momma, who wore a fancy-looking riding habit, as did her papa. They walked two beautiful black horses, big as I’d ever seen, around the square shaped ring in a warm-up. One horse looked to be seventeen hands, while the one Trixie’s momma rode was a little smaller.
Clayton said, “You ever seen horses like this?”
“No. They’re beautiful.”
“Friesians is what they are.”
They put the horses through various steps without seeming to move, while the horse performed. Afterwards, Trixie’s routine was like watching the reverse of her parents’, with her bright clothes and the zebra, the monkey and the dog. It was a lighthearted performance, yet very daring. Trixie stood on the zebra’s back, dropped down to ride along its side, and did other acts of balance. The monkey mimicked her every move while riding the dog as they went around the ring. When the show was over, Trixie come over to us, and Clayton properly introduced us.
“This here’s Wallis Ann, and her sister, Laci. This here’s Trixie.”
“Nice to meet you,” we said at the same time, which made us laugh. Trixie looked at Laci and the first time ever, I didn’t have to explain Laci’s silence. It was like Trixie understood somehow she won’t like other people.
She said, “This one’s special.”
Without reaching out to touch her, she said, “Good to meet you, Laci.”
And then she said, “What are y’all gonna do? Clayton, you taking them to see the giant snake? Don’t let him take you to see that thing. It’s hideous.”
I said, “He didn’t say nothing about no giant snake.”
Clayton acted offended. “Aw, come on, Trixie, don’t spoil it!”
She said, “I got to go change for the next show, but maybe I’ll see y’all around later on!”
We left the arena and the odor I’d noticed before got stronger as we approached a line of tents with signs strung across the front advertising GIANT ANACONDA SNAKE! and TWO-HEADED SHEEP! So, this was the giant snake they’d talked about. Could it really be as big as twenty feet? The very idea of something I’d only seen grow to maybe three feet sounded impossible. Elephants chained to pegs pounded into the ground was being washed down with buckets of water. They swayed and flipped long gray snouts up and down or searched the pockets of the workers washing them. I could’ve watched them forever, but Clayton was talking.
“This here’s the tent for Sheba and Shiloh.”
He led us around the back and lifted a flap. Inside stood a small wooden corral with a sheep’s rear end pointed at us and the two heads nowhere in sight because the animal was eating. Clayton whistled and the sheep turned around to face us. I was captivated. Both heads moved independent of each other, with one looking like it wanted to keep eating and the other wanting to keep looking at us.
“Can I pet them?”
Clayton said, “Yeah, go on, Sheba and Shiloh don’t mind, do you, girls?”
The two heads bobbed in different directions. I carefully reached over the little corral and patted each bony head. They was awful cute, even with the deformity. They had floppy sort of ears, and soft mouths nibbling my fingers. I wondered what Laci might do.
“Laci, you want to pet them?”
Laci kept her hands behind her back, which more or less told me what she thought of the idea.
Clayton held his hand out to her and said, “Here, give me your hand.”
I said, “She ain’t gonna take hold of your hand, Clayton.”
Then, Laci made a liar out of me when she did that very thing.
Stunned, I said, “Laci?”
Clayton give me a little smile and led Laci forward. Stupefied, I watched as she allowed him to keep hold of her hand as he placed it over Sheba and Shiloh’s two heads, lowering it slowly and carefully. He moved her hand along their knobby skulls in a stroking motion, smiling down at her. She wouldn’t look at him, but the fact she let him do this was so unusual, I could only watch with incredulity.
After a minute, and feeling a bit bewildered, I said, “I sure seen a lot of things, but ain’t that something.”
Clayton said, “Oh shoot, wait till y’all see the snake in the next tent over.”
Except I won’t talking about that. His hand over hers, they petted the sheep together while I tried to decide what was happening to Laci. Studying her features, I seen no fear or anything other than she looked perfectly content. Clayton smiled at me over her head as he continued to hold her hand and move it along the sheep’s head. He looked pleased with himself. Clayton eased his hand off of hers, and she kept on rubbing the sheep’s two heads.
While she was preoccupied, he come over to me and said, “Y’all sure put on a mighty fine show.”
“So did you.”
“Did it scare you?”
“Well, yes, I couldn’t never do something like that. Fifty feet in the air!”
“No, silly, did singing in front of all them people scare you?”
“I don’t know. I was a bit nervous. It didn’t help none when Laci pushed me out in front of everyone before we even got started. Everyone looked at her, but she showed them when she got to playing on her fiddle.”
“Why’d she do that?”
“I think the crowd was getting to her, the noise and all. She ain’t used to it. None of us is.”
He nodded, then went over and placed his hand on top of hers again, following along as she continued to pet the animal. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and a little sour mood come over me. I felt a tinge of relief when her expression stayed as smooth and blank as a glass window. Some small part of me wished she’d start rocking, or grab at her hair, ruining its sleek, burnished look. Laci glanced at him and despite the flatness of her mouth, and lackluster eyes, something tensed in her face, reminding me of the day by the Tuckasegee, when I’d seen a similar expression I couldn’t put my finger on. An awareness, or a hint of understanding. Like then, quick as it was there, it was gone.
Clayton looked back at me and said, “Y’all wanna go see the snake?”
“Okay, but after, we probably need to go on back to our tents.”
He led us out and like before, we didn’t go through the front of the snake tent like anyone else. We slipped through another secret flap, where a slit had been made to allow workers access without going by the paying customers. Clayton explained how handy it was when cleaning out the animal areas, or for feeding and watering them. The smell inside the snake tent was musty and stale. The lighting dim, it felt warmer than the other places we’d been. Clayton pointed to heated stones placed around the perimeter. In the center of the tent sat a large wooden box erected on a table. The table had heavy black material draped around the lower half of it, and when Clayton took my arm to lead me closer, my nervousness at seeing something so unfamiliar and strange took hold of my senses.
I pulled back a little, and he teased me. “You scared? Ain’t nothing but a snake.”
Laci went to the box and looked down at it.
Clayton said “Snake!” directly in my ear, causing me to jump. He giggled like a kid, like he thought scaring me was right funny, but I didn’t.
I frowned and said, “Ha-ha.”
I heard a rustling noise coming from the box, and I crept over to stand beside Laci. The snake was stretched from one end to the other, and sort of folded in half. It had to be about fifteen foot long, and when I considered all the other ones I’d ever encountered out in the woods, it was like comparing a field mouse to a possum.
“What kind is it?”
“A python.”
“What does it eat?”
“Mostly mice, or rats, like any old snake in the woods.”
A man come into the tent area through the secret opening, and Clayton said, “Hey, Darren.” He said, “This here’s the snake handler, Darren.”
Darren didn’t have much to say at first. He was short and stocky, with heavy black whiskers and long black hair. He come towards the box and we moved aside. He reached down to stroke the snake, and it rippled, and moved slightly. The rustling noise I’d heard earlier come again. Despite Darren’s gruff look, I could see he cared about it. Darren stared at me, a question forming on his face.
Before he could ask, I backed away and said, “No.”
Darren said, “Aw, come on. It only feels like leather. Go on, Hercules don’t bite. He’s a squeezer.”
Clayton said, “He’s right.”
I hesitated, and then eased my hand down into the box, and Darren said, “Like this, go in this direction, not the other way. The other way you’ll only feel the scales.”
I did as he said. He was right, the snake’s skin did feel like a lot like leather, a little rougher maybe, and the movement under my fingers as his body swelled and flowed made me think of a cat stretching with enjoyment. I pressed along the snake’s back, feeling bones too. After a minute or so, I withdrew my hand and Darren gestured at Laci.
I said, “I don’t think she’ll want to touch him. It’s a lot different than the sheep. Do you want to, Laci? She kept her hands behind her. “See? I didn’t think so.”
Like everyone else, Darren considered Laci, like he won’t sure why she didn’t speak, or why she couldn’t make up her own mind.
I explained, “My sister don’t talk. She’s musically gifted, but she’s never spoken a word.”
Darren said, “That right? Can’t blame her. Not many around here I want to talk to myself.”
Clayton stood by Laci and held his hand out to her again, like he’d done with the sheep. A feeling of satisfaction come over me again when she kept her hands tucked away. Clayton dropped his hand and shrugged. I motioned at him we was ready to go.
“Thank you,” I said to Darren.
He flipped a hand at us and went to get a small box, and Clayton said, “Uh-oh, yeah, good time to go. Feeding time.”
We exited the tent, and it hit me how tired I was.
I said to Clayton, “Thank you for showing us around. We got to go.”
Clayton tilted his head and said, “Maybe tomorrow we can ride the Ferris wheel?”
“Sure, okay then.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders a bit.
“Clayton?”
“Yeah?”
“I ought to thank you proper for suggesting we come here. Thank you. Papa said as much. I imagine he’ll mention it when he sees you next time.”
Clayton won’t looking at me. His eyes was in a spot somewhere over my head, on Laci. “It won’t nothing. It only made sense. Johnny’s always looking a good show.”
I nodded, and began walking away, picking at the little fuzz balls the dress kept gathering each and every day. Laci fell in step beside me. Something kept me from turning around to see if Clayton watched us. I didn’t want to see what I might see. A short distance later, I squinted at Laci’s profile as she walked beside me, at her small upturned nose, the wide set of her mouth, and how, even in the nighttime, her strands of her hair shone under the moonlight with hints of light. I’d never thought so much about our differences ever before, believing I had my own appealing qualities and Laci, well, Laci was Laci. Until now. In this moment when Clayton’s eyes won’t on me but on her, it was just like I’d feared. It stuck in my mind he likely considered me like an Apple Pan Dowdy and her as a beautiful, layered cake topped with elegant icing. She was a flower, I was a weed. Her presence was like a light-scented breeze in spring, whereas I was more like an unexpected gust coming up the side of a mountain.
Buried memories rushed forward, and I thought of other times this sort of thing had happened, little incidents what had likely bothered me, but I’d kept tamped down out of guilt. Like the time we’d gone to a fall apple festival to sing about a year ago, and there’d been a boy there. I’d spied him coming up in a truck with a man I figured for his papa. He’d not come in time to see us sing, and I remembered having a vague feeling of relief Laci had gone off with Momma to get a cup of cider. He and I made eye contact like young folks do, and he’d come over to hand me a polished apple out of the basket he carried. He’d said they’d come from his family’s orchard.
His name was Brice, and I’d bit into the apple, tasting the sweetness of it, sweet as the smile he offered me. I looked over his shoulder at Momma waving, motioning me to rejoin them. I ignored her, acted like I hadn’t seen her while I smiled at Brice, his eyes on me, and mine on him. When her waving got more emphatic, I told him I’d be right back and hurried away. He’d followed me though, him and his basket of shiny apples, and that sweet attentive smile. All Laci done was plant one a them looks a hers on him, a piercing right through your gaze you couldn’t look away from, and that was it, I faded away from his view, and gone was any interest in me. The apple turned sour in my mouth. I spit it out in my hand, hid it till I could throw it away, along with any hope I’d ever measure up in anyone’s eyes for being just me.
And there was a more recent time, when we’d been down to Dewey’s store, me, Laci and Papa. The usual group of old men was sitting in back by the coal stove, corncob pipes stuck between creased lips, smoke hovering like mist over their heads.
They was talking quiet, but I’d overheard one a them say, Shame a purty gal like Laci is how she is, and downright shame that younger one, what’s her name? Oh yeah, Wallis Ann. Too bad she ain’t got none a that purty Laci got. When Laci comes around ole Wallis Ann don’t stand a chance.
I’d heard it, and felt something cold rush through my body like I’d jumped into the Tuckasegee in dead of winter followed by the heat of anger. I considered stomping over to them old coots and letting them know I’d heard what all they’d said. Only Papa asked me did I want a peppermint stick, and I’d let it go. Partiality towards Laci was something I’d got used to, even from Momma and Papa. Nobody meant nothing by it, it was simply on account of folks’ belief Laci was suffering in some way and not able to live life to her full potential. I reckon we was all expected to make up for that.