How the Hula Girl Sings

by Joe Meno

  the fair queen of all corn

  How far Charlene and I would tread from making it secretly in the backseat of her car to some sort of arranged relationship where we could manage to speak in a public way was as unsure as a poor nervous knock on her parent’s thick wood door. But I took that chance anyway. I marched right up their nice front walk and up their porch and knuckled a nervous little report on their door without receiving any invitation at all.

  “Is Charlene home?” I asked as soon as Mrs. Dulaire had the front door opened. Her bottom lip trembled a little as she gazed at my face. Mrs. Dulaire had raised six daughters and girded up the Used Car King of the Greater Southern Illinois Area. It had left little wrinkles around her pretty brown eyes and thin red lips. Those little lines of care made her seem sensitive and sweet as hell. But now her bottom lip would not stay in place.

  “Charlene?” she murmured, still stunned. “’Course she is, Luce … just … one … moment … please …”

  Mrs. Dulaire stared at me, then shook her head and backed away from the door. “Charlene!” she screamed, trying to swallow all the strange discomfort in her voice. “Charlene!!!” Mrs. Dulaire smiled and nodded again, looking at my face.

  “She’ll be right down,” she whispered, cocking her head. She leaned against the thick white wood door, still peering at my face. “How have you been, Luce?” she asked. Mrs. Dulaire had always been nice to me. Mostly, she was just kind of crazy.

  She never made me feel bad for being me, a farm boy without much chance in the world to do a lot other than ruin the daughters of nice folk like her. I suddenly felt bad for not saying hello to her the time she came in for gas.

  But Mr. Dulaire was another story. He was a man who held me in the highest of contempt. “Who’s at the door, Virginia?” I heard him call from the smoking chair in the other room. “Is that Earl come to make up?”

  I shook my head, trying to swallow all the spit down from my mouth.

  “It’s Luce,” Mrs. Dulaire mumbled.

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s Luce,” she replied. “Luce Lemay. Here to see Charlene.” “What’s that?” he grumbled. I could hear the old man give a little grunt and pull himself out of his soft red chair and stroll on over to the front door. There he was all right. Mr. Milford Dulaire, the Used Car King, stared me hard in my face and nodded to himself. He wore a dull beige-and-brown sports jacket.

  “Didn’t know you were back in town, Luce,” he said. “Thought you were still up in the tank.”

  “I got out a little while ago,” I replied.

  “That so? Is all that worked out now?”

  “Reckon so.” I frowned and looked down at the faded black-and-red tattoos along my arms. They looked old.

  “Good, good, glad to see you out,” he lied. His beige tie was making me ill. “So you find yourself a job yet?”

  “I work nights over at the Gas-N-Go.” I smiled.

  “That’s something.” He nodded. “So.” He tried to smile. “What is it you mean to see Charlene about?”

  I stalled a little, taking a breath. “Just seeing if she planned on attending the fair tonight.”

  “That so? Well, I don’t rightly know if she does or not.”

  “Mean to ask her myself.” I grinned.

  “Huh.” He frowned. “That you do, huh?”

  He rubbed the bald spot on the top of his head and then leaned in close to me. “All right, Luce. What is it you want with Charlene?”

  I stared him hard in the face.

  “Why you gonna go and foul up the head of another one of my poor daughters on me?” Mr. Dulaire asked.

  I just shook my head and stared at my feet.

  “Milford!” Mrs. Dulaire whispered. “Hush! You have to excuse Mr. Dulaire, Luce. He hasn’t been the same since they took his hunting license away.”

  “That ain’t it, Virginia.” Mr. Dulaire frowned. “We just got a loyalty to Earl is all. He’s almost our son-in-law and we couldn’t just put him out like that.”

  Mrs. Dulaire shook her pretty head in protest.

  I frowned. “I understand.”

  “Earl is a fine fellow by me.” Mr. Dulaire frowned. “I think he can make Charlene happy. I don’t think the same is true for you.”

  I heard Charlene come pounding down the front stairs in a soft steady beat. I saw her glance at herself in the long hallway mirror and stick out her tongue at the reflection and skip on out toward the front door, frowning once she saw me and her old man squared off.

  “Daddy, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing, pumpkin. Me and Luce just having a little talk.

  Isn’t that right, Luce? I think I made myself clear.”

  “Yes, sir, you have.”

  I turned and strode down their cement walk and out into the street. Charlene didn’t come chasing after me. The thick white door closed as I turned the corner and crossed the street. There was no way I was good enough for that girl and I knew it. I had no business knocking upon her door and upsetting her folks and trying to prove that I was something better than I was.

  This was a feeling no Ferris wheel or goldfish toss or snow-cone in a thin paper cup could ever hope to fix. But me and Junior went on to the Corn Fair anyway. He said it would be good for a fool with a broken heart like me. Hell, ol’ Clutch was nice enough to let us close the gas station early so we could attend the festivities.

  Then there was the Corn King and Queen. It was something like being in the homecoming or prom court. Two kids from the high school would be picked as the Corn King and Queen and got to ride on horseback through the town’s streets at the head of the Corn Parade, which generally consisted of the two squad cars in town, the three fire trucks, the mayor’s car, and some turn-of-the-century farm equipment driving down the main street to the tiny fairgrounds where the Corn Fair was always held.

  “This is pitiful.” I frowned.

  I ate some cotton candy as me and Junior walked through the fair. It was a nice night out. People were talking loud and laughing and some Dixie band was playing “Oh When the Saints” on a little wood bandstand and the Ferris wheel was spinning around and some farmers were looking at a red 1923 tractor some other farmer had rebuilt. Most people I didn’t seem to recognize, most people didn’t seem to recognize me either, and that was fine. We saw Clutch getting drunk in the little beer garden and L.B. was following some poor girls around, and there was all the people I had ever sold gasoline to, smiling and laughing and having the time of their lives.

  “This is pitiful all right.” I frowned.

  “C’mon, cheer up.” Junior smiled. “You must know plenty of girls here in town.”

  “Know ’em, sure. But they haven’t got what I already got in a girl that’s too good for me.”

  Junior shook his head and handed me some more pink cotton candy, tearing it from the white paper cone. He looked happy. For once in a long time, he looked like he was having a nice time.

  “That’s not true, pal. You’re as good a guy as I’ve ever met. If it wasn’t for her folks, she might be here with you right now.”

  “If it wasn’t for her folks, she probably woulda never stooped so low to date me in the first place. She probably dated me to give her lousy old man a heart attack, I bet.”

  We walked to the center of the fairgrounds and stopped where the Corn King and Queen were standing and smiling and waving and wholeheartedly greeting everyone in town to this year’s Corn Fair. The Corn King was a pretty scrawny-looking kid with a big tuft of blond hair on his head and a dull look in his eyes and a huge horseshoe-shaped scar burned right on his left cheek. The kid’s name was Young Benny Bilk. He was the state’s all-around horseback riding champion for that particular year, but not much of a good-looking kid at that. He looked like he had been thrown or kicked in the head one too many times. He just kind of stood there and waved and mumbled hopelessly to himself.

  Then there was the Corn Queen and her hair. It was like a little spell floated f
rom her lips in each breath she exhaled. This girl was all the things that were good about that town, wrapped up in a puffy cornflower-blue dress and glass crown and her mother’s shiny high heels. The most remarkable thing about this girl was her hair. It stood straight up, full of pomade and waves upon waves of hair spray. It brought a smile right to my face seeing that girl, standing there waving and smiling and winking like a queen. If one bead of sweat was running down along her spine, she wouldn’t have let a single soul know. Hope. That’s what that girl had. Hope that she was as true as the whole town believed.

  Then a strange thing took place.

  The snow-cone machine blew its silvery metal lid and shot right out from under its white tent and headed straight up into the sky like a kind of rocket ship, crashing into a bright white spotlight and smashing the fixture with a tremendous clatter that made the whole fair suddenly dull and still. Then it all rained down like a quiet little flight of snow and tiny bits of glass and ice, shimmering in the lights cast down by the Ferris wheel that kept spinning around, right past the bingo caller’s noise, down into the Corn Queen’s lovely red hair, where it sparkled like a single veil of fallen stars in place. It was beautiful. It was one of the most amazing things I’d ever seen. This girl just kept smiling and waving, blowing kisses everywhere as the night and the stars seemed to blossom up right in her thick red hair.

  “She’s beautiful.” Junior smiled. “This town isn’t half as bad as you said.”

  “I guess.” I frowned. Junior passed me some more cotton candy and I swallowed it down and looked up into the stars right at the tip of that Ferris wheel. “I wish Charlene was here.”

  “Taking this awful hard, Luce. I thought you didn’t like the idea of settling on down with just one girl yet.”

  “What the hell do I know? I mean, I keep thinking, what if she’s the one for me?”

  Junior shrugged his shoulders, then leaned in close with a big wide smile.

  “Why don’t you go and ask her for yourself?”

  He gave a little nod and I followed his line of sight across the fairgrounds.

  Charlene, all done up in a nice white blouse and a blue skirt that ruffled between her long white legs.

  “What the hell should I do?” I mumbled.

  “Go on off with her.” Junior grinned.

  “What about you? I ain’t gonna leave you here by yourself.” “I’ve gotta open tomorrow anyways. You’ve been talking about her all night. Go on now and don’t screw it up by being stubborn.” He patted me on the back and gave a big smile as I took off.

  I met Charlene right by the broken snow-cone machine. She gave a little smile then a frown when she caught sight of me.

  “Didn’t think you were planning on coming tonight,” she said.

  “Thought I might meet some girl who didn’t have such a crazy old man.”

  “Well, good luck.” She frowned and began to walk away.

  “Wait a minute,” I mumbled, grabbing for her hand.

  “Just wait a second. I was just kidding is all.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you were looking to meet some other girl. I can’t change the way my daddy is. It’s lucky he didn’t try to strangle you.”

  “That’s funny,” I said. “So you think your old man’s right, huh? You think you’re a little too good for me?”

  “No.” She frowned. “But you seem to.”

  She was right. She had showed up at the fair, knowing I would be there waiting to see her.

  “Do you wanna go on a ride or something?” I asked.

  “With you? In front of the whole town? What would everyone say?” She smiled.

  “I couldn’t give a damn.”

  “It’s about time.”

  Charlene and I walked over to the shiny silver-and-white Ferris wheel and got right in line. This carnie with a red beard and a black patch over his eye took our tickets and locked us in place tight and threw the switch and sent us spinning up and around together right under that dull blue night.

  Charlene moved closer to me and rested her head on my shoulder. It made me feel weak as hell, spinning around like that, smelling her hair. Then she slipped her tiny hand into mine and held on. Everything was perfect.

  Charlene lifted her head a little and looked me in the eyes and gave a little frown. “How long do you plan on staying, Luce?”

  “What’s that?” I asked, still holding her hand tight as I could.

  “How long do you plan on staying in town? Until your parole is served? Until you save up enough money to move out?” The silver-and-white lights flashed on by. Then big-brown-eyed Charlene looked away. “Until you’re bored with me?”

  I held her hand tight in my hand and shook my head. “Why are you talking like that now? What brought this all on?”

  “You know what brought this on. My daddy and you arguing. I just want to be sure he isn’t right.”

  “Isn’t right? What do you mean?” I let go of her hand and shook my head.

  “I mean, what are your plans? Do you want to work at that gas station forever? Do you want to stay in this measly town the rest of your life? What do you want to do with yourself?”

  “I dunno.” I frowned. “Maybe pick up a trade. I can fix some cars now, I guess. I could get a trucking license maybe. I really don’t know. I never even thought about it until now. I was just happy sitting here holding your hand.”

  “Dammit, Luce, that’s what I mean. You just don’t seem to care. You don’t seem to want the things I want at all.”

  “Like what, Charlene?”

  “Well, I want to get out of this town for sure. Maybe go out West and go to beauty school and learn to do makeup for movie stars. But I know I’m getting out. I know one day I’ll be married and have some kids and a nice little house and be settled down somewhere else, somewhere far away from here.”

  “Why do you hate this place so much?” I asked. “What did ol’ La Harpie ever do to you?”

  “Nothing.” She frowned. “That’s exactly the problem. You can’t step outside your own house without hearing your neighbors talk about a rumor one of them heard about you. That’s why I hate this town. Look at them. Look at them right now, all watching us.”

  I peered down from the Ferris wheel and gave a smug little grin. Charlene was right. Every busybody in town was watching the lowly ex-con and the daughter of the Used Car King holding hands and sitting close. All their dull eyes flickering along our skin, hoping to see us make some foul unrepentant mistake.

  “Take your hand and put it on my heart,” Charlene whispered. The soft timbre of her voice nearly made me blush. I nodded and placed my palm along her soft white blouse.

  “Now kiss me,” Charlene said, nodding with a grin.

  “What?” I mumbled. “Right here?”

  “Right here.”

  I nodded and gave her the kiss of my life. The Ferris wheel spun on down and around and the carnie with the red beard and eyepatch let us out and we walked right out of that fair, holding hands and laughing at the way everyone seemed to stare at us. We hopped in Charlene’s car and drove away and then parked down the street from her house a little ways and began kissing and petting and getting sweaty in her backseat, mumbling to each other and still giggling like kids all right.

  Afterwards, Charlene tendered a gentle kiss upon my lips, then turned and walked up to her house.

  I thought for a minute that I was still back in the pen and this was all a kind of dream, but then I knew it was true.

  strange customer

  This place where I worked could be as strange and unpredictable as a night out kissing Charlene. Most of the time it was pretty dull and quiet. People usually just came in and filled their cars up and paid for their gas. But other times that gas station might be lurid and mean.

  It all started with a bird.

  I had been involved with a big 350-cid V-8 engine in a most personal way. Those sweet silver cylinders had me pulled in right down to their fiery pistons lock
ed in place on a glossy magazine page.

  Then a black bird hit the front glass window. It knocked me right out of my daydreaming during the middle part of my shift.

  BOOM!!!

  I snapped right awake.

  The bird hit the glass and disappeared, dropping down into the dirt. It was one of those big black crows that ate all the dead things that drifted along the side of the road, this big black crow just plowed straight into the front glass window there and snapped its feathery neck and fluttered and twitched in place, caw-caw-cawing and hissing where it had bounced off the shiny glass. Then it landed and became silent and still in the dusty gray dirt.

  There was no mark that it had smacked the glass except for a single spot where the damn thing’s beak had hit. I looked out the window and stared at the spot and caught a glimpse of

  Junior’s sign all in the same wink.

  Fuel-line cleaner

  on special

  do shine

  here thru

  munificent dirt

  I hopped from behind the counter and stepped outside. There it was, all puffed up and broken and bent, with its thick black wings fluttering and trembling in place, pounding its head against the dusty gravel as a line of blood dripped from its open beak.

  CAW-CAW-CAW!!! it howled, pounding its thick little head against the ground. CAW-CAW-CAW!!! Its wings twisted up together one last time, in a kind of mockery of flight, then it fell still and collapsed on its side, breathing heavily, then lightly, then not at all.

  I took all this to be a bad sign, and once I was sure it was dead and the first fly had landed upon the bird’s open eye, I picked it up by its one broken wing and dropped it out back in the trash, gritting my teeth. I went back inside and washed my hands and stared at the shiny spot on the window.

  A prostitute came in like a bad dream. It was the woman I had paid to make it with the first night I spent in town. She looked skinny and long and steady, and stunk of a desperate kind of perfume.

  Then there was this sound. This sound she kept making. It rose right from her chest, a jerking kind of sound, like one of the valves of her heart was loose. It was the sound of something running on down. Trapped. Her heart gave another little start as she spoke and asked for a pack of smokes, leaning against the counter with a sigh and a low broken cough. She looked sick. She made me sorry for all the things I had ever dreamt or done to any girl I had ever known.