SEVEN
In town he found a dry-goods store and they had engineer’s
boots – black with black straps and a buckle and thick leather soles. He bought
them for seven ninety-five and a pair of Levi’s for four dollars and two
T-shirts for two dollars each and a set of three pairs of grey work socks.
The jeans he had on were almost falling apart and he went
into a back room of the store and changed clothes, ripping the labels off the
new Levi’s and pulling them down a bit on his hips. He also took off the work
shirt and put one of the T-shirts on. In the front again he bought a pack of Old
Gods – not cork-tips but straight – and wrapped the package in the sleeve of
his T-shirt and rolled the other sleeve up to show his shoulder. He then looked
for a Zippo lighter but they didn’t have one, so he took a book of matches and
bought a nylon unbreakable pocket comb and stuck it in his back pocket.
In front of the store at one corner there was a tap and he
wet his hair and combed it back into a ducktail. He was light-haired, almost
blond, and his hair did not make a good ducktail but he worked at it and looked
in the front window of the store and thought that the Levi’s looked too new and
his hair to blond but it wasn’t bad – much better than he’d looked before – and
he liked the way the boots made him taller. He had filled out from all the hard
work he’d been doing and felt more like a man now than he had before; felt that
he was truly a man on the run from the law taking off with the carnival.
Nearby there was a grocery store. He didn’t have a plan
except to do as he’d been told and avoid running into that son-of-a-bitch
crooked deputy until the carnival packed and left, and he went into the store
and bought a box of crackers and three cans of sardines with key openers and
two Cokes and two bags of peanuts.
There was a narrow stream running through town, winding
behind the stores, and he walked out along the brook a mile and a half, where
he found an isolated grassy flat place under some cottonwoods. He sat there
with the sound of the running water and ate two cans of sardines and crackers and
for desert had a Coke with a bag of peanuts poured into it and thought it
wasn’t bad now, had not been for some time and in fact the death of the man
with the car and the deputy’s taking all his money were the only bad things
that had happened since he’d run off. He lit a cigarette but only smoked half
before throwing it away and then he just lay back on the grass.
He tried to remember his parents, his home, all of it, but
he could not picture exactly how his mother looked, though he could recall a
little more of his father, their apartment. Instead he remembered the Mexicans
and the beets – he could close his eyes and see beet plants still – and the
sardines mixed with crackers and Coke and peanuts made him feel full and he
opened his eyes once, closed them, opened them again in a blink and was asleep.
When he awakened it was just into darkness and he would have
slept more – the night was warm and soft – except that the end of the sunlight
brought out mosquitoes and their buzzing and biting killed sleep.
He had fished and hunted for as long as he could remember
and he knew about mosquitoes and how to get rid of them. He made a small fire
with bits of dead cottonwood and added green grass and leaves to it to make a
smudge. This took away the mosquitoes and he ate the last can of sardines and
drank the remaining Coke and peanuts and decided to hell with it, he’d head
back for the carnival. It was after ten and by the time he got back it would be
eleven. The deputy should be gone and he could help pack the ride or whatever
it was he was supposed to do.
There was no moon and it was slow walking in the dim light
from the stars. He tripped several times and swore each time and was smudged
and dirty when he came back into the lights of town.
The carnival was winding down when he came back to the
fairgrounds. Small groups of diehards were still there but the rides were
closing and some of the workers were already breaking down. He hung back for a
moment, looking for the deputy, and when he didn’t see him went to the Tilt-a-Whirl.
Taylor was disconnecting the shaft that ran from the engine
to the drive mechanism and glanced up when the boy approached.
`Took your time, didn’t you?`
`I didn’t want the deputy to see me.`
`He’s gone. I paid the bastard off and he left hours ago. Wanted a little tip on the side with Ruby and I told him to blow it out his ass unless he paid. Here, get to work. All those panels need to be loaded on that flatbed. Start unhooking them.`
`I didn’t want the deputy to see me.`
`He’s gone. I paid the bastard off and he left hours ago. Wanted a little tip on the side with Ruby and I told him to blow it out his ass unless he paid. Here, get to work. All those panels need to be loaded on that flatbed. Start unhooking them.`
The boy didn’t have the slightest idea what Taylor was talking
about – Ruby or whoever and the tip on the side or why Taylor had to pay the
deputy off – but it didn’t seem like the time to ask questions and he started
working at unhooking the floor panels from each other.
He was soon lost in the work. Trying to force the heavy
panels apart was nearly impossible and within fifteen minutes he was greasy and
his knuckles were bleeding and he was swearing and pissed and wondering if
maybe working on a farm wasn’t better than this.
`Here I’ll help.`
The boy turned and almost jumped back. He was facing a tall man – he had to be six-five or more – with his head shaved and his eyebrows gone and covered with some kind of black grease that made his face disappear in the darkness except for his eyes and teeth.
The boy turned and almost jumped back. He was facing a tall man – he had to be six-five or more – with his head shaved and his eyebrows gone and covered with some kind of black grease that made his face disappear in the darkness except for his eyes and teeth.
`I’m Bobby,` he said, grabbing the side of the panel the boy
was hoisting and helping him throw it onto the flatbed truck. `Taylor’s
brother.`
The boy nodded and stared at Bobby. He knew it was rude but
he couldn’t help it.
The man noted the stare and smiled. `Don’t worry. I do the
geek show. I just haven’t washed the make-up off. Taylor, he likes to get going
when the show breaks down. It keeps the farm boys off Ruby. It don’t pay after
the show is down.`
There it was again: Ruby. He wanted to ask a dozen questions
– what was a geek, who was Ruby and why did the farm boys want to be on her and
what did Taylor have to do with any of it – but the work was hard, harder than
any farm work, and soon the two of them – Taylor had disappeared as soon as
Bobby arrived – were grunting and heaving to get all the parts of the
Tilt-a-Whirl on the flatbed. When it was lashed into place Bobby went to the
cab of the truck.
`Get in.`
The boy – covered now with grime and sweat and grease, every muscle in his body aching – moved to the offside of the truck and climbed in. Bobby started the engine, reached under the seat, pulled out a pint of Four Roses, took two swallows and handed it to the boy, smiling. `Want a snort?`
The boy – covered now with grime and sweat and grease, every muscle in his body aching – moved to the offside of the truck and climbed in. Bobby started the engine, reached under the seat, pulled out a pint of Four Roses, took two swallows and handed it to the boy, smiling. `Want a snort?`
The boy stared at the bottle. It was the same brand his
parents drank and he hated the four roses on the label, hated the smell of it,
hated the memory of it. But there was Bobby, smiling, the make-up coming off in
streaks with the sweat, and the boy was a man now on the run with the carnival
so he took the bottle and pretended to sip, handed it back, nearly puking from
the taste of it on his tongue.
`Makes the night drive easier,` Bobby said, putting the
bottle back under the seat. `That’s all we do – drive all night, work all day.`
He delicately worked the clutch and shifted into gear – with much grinding –
and started out of the fairgrounds. Other rides were loaded and leaving as well
and he had to stop twice to wait for other trucks to get on the highway before
he could line it out and shift up into highway speed. The mufflers were bad and
the noise was loud but not as deafening as tractors and the boy decided to ask
one question. He had many but didn’t want to be a bother and though he would
learn things as they came anyway but he was curious about Taylor and wanted to know
more about him except that he didn’t want to seem nosy.
So he turned to Bobby and asked, `Where is Taylor?`
It was the right thing to do. Bobby was one of those who
just needed a start and they keep going and he shifted, grabbed a towel off the
seat and swiped some make-up off his face and laughed.
`He’s driving the pickup that tows the Ruby wagon. You won’t
see them until we’re all set up in Harken in a couple of days. Taylor, he’ll
sometimes help break down but he hates to set up. I remember once in – I think
it was Hastings – he didn’t come out at all until it was time to get the money
boxes. Then there was the time in Cordovia when he went home with two farm
sisters and I didn’t see him till nine days and two towns later..`
The boy nodded and tried to pay attention but it all just
made more questions come and the night air blowing in the window was soft and
warm and in spite of sleeping all day he was tired, bone tired. He closed his
eyes.
He dreamed while he slept. There was his mother and she was
sitting at a table and she pointed her finger at the window and he turned to
see what she was pointing to but he never saw, couldn’t see and then he woke
up.
It was daylight. Bobby was still driving and the boy closed
his eyes again, wanting to see what his mother had been pointing to, but he
could not. The drone of the truck worked up through the metal of the doorframe
into his skull where he rested his head and he moved away from it, sat up,
wiped his mouth.
`Want another snort?` Bobby again held out the bottle, which
was now nearly empty, and he shook his head.
`No. it’s too early for me.` He’d heard men say that as an
excuse to not drink. Never his parents. It was never too early for them. But
other people. Other men.
`I’ll bet you’re hungry.`
The boy nodded and realised that he was- starving.
`You’ll find some prunes in a bag under the seat. Hand them up.`
`Prunes?`
`Damn right. Good food, keeps you regular – just don’t swallow the pits.`
The boy nodded and realised that he was- starving.
`You’ll find some prunes in a bag under the seat. Hand them up.`
`Prunes?`
`Damn right. Good food, keeps you regular – just don’t swallow the pits.`
The boy fished under the seat and found the prunes, handed
them over. `I’ll wait until later.`
`Later. Shit, kid, there ain’t no later. We don’t get to Harken until tonight. You’ll starve by then. You’d better eat some.`
`Later. Shit, kid, there ain’t no later. We don’t get to Harken until tonight. You’ll starve by then. You’d better eat some.`
Another thing that men do, the boy thought- eat like this,
on the run. He remembered the meals with Robert, the food on the tailgate at
the farm, the pots of food with the Mexicans. Prunes. Jeez. Prunes. He sighed
and took a handful and popped one in his mouth, chewing.
`See – they ain’t bad. I started eating them with whiskey to
take the taste of chicken heads out of my mouth but now I like them. Prunes and
whiskey.` He laughed. `Gives you the runs, but you don’t care….`
`Chicken heads?` The boy couldn’t help it. `You put chicken
heads in your mouth?`
Bobby looked at him. `You don’t know what a Geek is?`
The boy shook his head. `I don’t know anything about carnivals.`
Bobby looked at him. `You don’t know what a Geek is?`
The boy shook his head. `I don’t know anything about carnivals.`
Bobby laughed. `Not many do. Once you’ve been a carny you
never look at people the same way again. It’s just like being a cop. You know
everybody is a loser.`
Not everybody, the boy thought. For sure the deputy, and his
parents, but not Hazel and the Mexicans and Bill – but he didn’t say anything.
`A geek is a wild man from Borneo who lives in a cage. He’s
so wild he can’t be out with other people and once a day the carnival people
throw a live chicken into the cage and the geek bites the head off.`
`You’re the geek?`
Bobby nodded.
`Are you from Borneo?`
Bobby nodded.
`Are you from Borneo?`
Bobby stared at the boy, smiled and then shook his head.
`You don’t get it, do you? I’m from Michigan. There are no real wild men from Borneo. It’s a setup. A lie. It’s all a
bunch of bull t take money from the farmers.`
`Oh.`
`I use make up and turn my skin black and wear some rags to
hide my privates – only let it show a little now and then to get the women to
peeking – and sit in a cage pretending to pick bugs off my skin. The suckers
pay fifty cents each to get in the tent and see me and then another fifty cents
to watch me being fed.`
`You actually bite the head off a chicken?`
Bobby laughed. `I’ve bit worse than that, boy. I was in jail
in Mexico once and ate a rat. Raw. And I was damn glad to have that.`
Maybe that’s why prunes aren’t so bad for him, the boy
thought. If he has to eat chicken heads and rats.
`if you do it right you can get them to puke. Best night I
ever had was seventeen people and nine of them puked. Course it wasn’t all me.
When I bit the head and I spit blood and shook the chicken around some to
splatter blood on the hicks two women started puking. Then another one smelled
that and I think it caused the rest to let go. It was great. I left the upchuck
on the ground in front of the cage and the smell of it got the next batch going
– hey, I had all of Lincoln puking before it was over.`
The boy felt queasy and looked out the window, let the wind
blow on his face until the feeling passed. He turned back. A different question
– to get Bobby off puke. `Who is Ruby?`
Bobby stopped talking for a moment, looking out the
windshield. `She’s Taylor’s … wife.` she dances the kootch.`
`Kootch?`
`Hootchy-kootchy. She takes her clothes off for the farm boys.`
`And Taylor doesn’t care?`
`Kootch?`
`Hootchy-kootchy. She takes her clothes off for the farm boys.`
`And Taylor doesn’t care?`
`You are so
green!` Bobby snorted. `Taylor doesn’t care what she does as long as she makes
money for him.`
Bobby stopped talking then. He finished the rest of the
whiskey in one swallow and threw the bottle out on the highway, fished under
the seat and pulled out another pint. The boy was to find that while he never
saw Bobby actually act drunk he was never without a pint of Four Roses.
`All right.` Bobby slowed the truck and pulled over to the
side of the road near some brush. `The prunes have hit. I have got to take a dump.`
He jerked the hand brake on, slammed the doo open and was
squatting in the brush before the boy had his own door unlatched.
The boy found another bush and peed, listening to the meadowlarks,
looking across the prairie until he was done. As he walked back to the truck a
car roared by and the boy was surprised to see the driver – he looked like a
salesman – give him the finger. He climbed back into the cab and waited for
Bobby, who was done in a short time.
`That guy gave me the finger. I don’t even know the guy and
he flipped me the bird!`
Bobby laughed. `That’s because you’re in a carny truck. He saw the ride on the back. Nobody likes carnies.`
Bobby laughed. `That’s because you’re in a carny truck. He saw the ride on the back. Nobody likes carnies.`
Bobby started the truck moving and worked through the
whining of the gears until they were at highway speed again. He was silent
while shifting but started talking when they got up to speed. The boy tried to
listen – something about a man who would swallow anything as part of a geek act
– but he was still drowsy and the sun was high enough to warm his cheek and he
closed his eyes and was sleeping again.
No comments:
Post a Comment