The Traveling Man

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “Maybe,” I huffed.

  “And I bet at the top of the list is ‘Carnival’ by The Cardigans.”

  “Possibly.”

  “If you’ve got ‘Quando o Carnaval Chegar’ on your list, we’ll have to rethink our relationship,” he said.

  I cocked my head on one side. “Is that what we have? A relationship?”

  Kes looked taken aback. “Well, yeah.” Then he hesitated, “What would you call it?”

  “Well, at the moment, I’d say it’s two old friends catching a ride together to go see the carnival.”

  Kes nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Works for me.”

  “Just so you know,” I sniffed, “that’s the wrong answer. We’re totally in a relationship.”

  Kes grinned. “Good. So we’re both clear on that.”

  I couldn’t help thinking that I’d been played.

  “We going to hear that playlist now?” he asked.

  “Oh, look! We’re nearly there!”

  He laughed and flicked the turn signal, slowing as we inched through the narrow entrance to the carnival field.

  I stared out of the window eagerly, trying to make sense of the scene of organized chaos. Kes knew exactly where he was going and circled the perimeter until he pulled up next to a huge sixteen-wheeler with ‘Hawkins Daredevils’ emblazoned on the side. That missing apostrophe still really bothered me.

  “Wow! That’s your rig?”

  Kes smiled. “What, did you think we borrowed some planks of wood and a couple of sticks to make the ramps when we got here?”

  “No! I’m just impressed.” I was silent for a moment. “I Googled you.”

  Kes’s expression was wary. “Yeah?”

  “You’ve got a Guinness World Record.”

  He grinned. “Oh, yeah! Sydney was epic. I landed so hard, my balls cracked the casing on the fuel tank.”

  “Oh my God! Seriously?”

  “Yeah, it was fucking painful—it felt as if I was pissing around corners for weeks.”

  I shook my head, laughing.

  “And I looked you up on You Tube.”

  “And?”

  “Some of the stunts you do, they’re amazing. They scare the hell out of me, but they’re amazing.” I turned to look at him. “You’re amazing.”

  I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but his lips pulled into a pleased smile. “You know, you said the same thing to me when we were kids, almost the exact same words.”

  “It’s always been true.”

  I was about to say something else when Kes’s door was yanked open and Zachary stood there grinning at him.

  “Jeez, Kes! It’s good to see you, man!”

  Kes leapt out of the RV in a single lithe movement, and Zachary swept him into a bone-crunching man-hug.

  Then he turned, a huge smile on his face.

  “Holy shit, Aimee Andersen! He told us you were coming, but I didn’t believe it!”

  He jogged around the cab and opened my door, holding out his hand to help me down the steps like some nineteenth-century gentleman.

  “Gosh, Zach! It’s so good to see you!” and then I hugged the ever-living crap out of him.

  “Hey! Save some of the good stuff for me,” came Ollo’s voice from behind him.

  Seeing his face again, the shock of jet black hair, his quick eyes and wrinkled face, I wanted to cry. He’d always been so kind to me.

  “Ollo! You haven’t changed a bit!” and I hugged the little man until he squeaked.

  Kes was grinning like a loon, and as soon as I released Ollo, he got down on his knees and embraced his old friend.

  I was somewhat surprised when Ollo leapt on his back and put a painful-looking armlock on Kes, forcing him face down in the dirt.

  “Ow! Jesus, watch it, Ollo! You’ll break my fuckin’ arm!”

  Ollo was relentless. “You owe me five bucks, you lousy stinkin’ cheat! You welched on our bet!”

  Zachary laughed at my worried expression.

  “They do this—it’s kind of their thing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, they take turns seeing who can be the biggest cheat at poker.”

  “They cheat?”

  “It’s almost a matter of honor who can get away with the most. I’m talking cards up sleeves, cards in pockets, counting cards, the works—bunch of grifters! One year, Ollo made Kes and the guys play naked.”

  “Um, okay, because?”

  “So they couldn’t hide cards. It was the strangest game of poker I’ve ever seen.”

  “Huh,” grunted Ollo, who was now sitting on Kes, yanking his arm at an awkward angle. “Tucker still managed to hide his cards.”

  “Ugh, I don’t want to know!” I shrieked.

  “Anyway,” Zachary continued, his tone conversational as Kes thrashed around, coughing in a cloud of dust, “I’ve always suspected it was just a ploy to see who had the biggest dick.”

  My eyes automatically drifted to Kes, and Zachary saw me.

  “And in case you’re wondering, it’s Ollo,” Zach laughed.

  Ollo turned to wink at me, and Kes just looked pissed, although it may have been because Ollo was mashing his face into the dirt at the time.

  “Let me up, you short-assed little shit!”

  Ollo shook his head, but then Kes bucked his whole body and Ollo went flying off.

  When Kes stood up and dusted himself down, he rubbed his arm, wincing slightly. Ollo was lying several feet away, winded.

  Zachary laughed. “Boys will be boys.”

  I shook my head in disbelief—it was like having playground duty, except the kids fighting weren’t eight years old, even if they acted like it.

  Ollo sat up, puffing slightly from the exertion and scowling at Kes.

  “Is Mr. Albert in your trailer?” I asked Ollo. “I was expecting him to come running out. I wonder if he’ll remember me?”

  Kes stiffened and Ollo looked at me sadly.

  “I guess Kestrel didn’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” I asked, my eyes skating between them.

  “When Dono died, Mr. Albert wasn’t far behind him. Died of a broken heart is my opinion. Losing Dono like that, it was too much. And he was pretty old for a monkey. Little guy must have been nearly forty.”

  “Oh,” I said, wishing I could think of something more adequate to say. “That’s awful. Poor thing.”

  I’d really loved that little fella—I remembered the way he’d snuggle against me and wind his tiny hands into my hair.

  Ollo shook his head. “I can never understand people who say animals have no souls. You only have to look in their eyes to know that they do. Human beings can be so goddamn arrogant.”

  He turned away, and I think it was because he had tears in his eyes. I know that I did. I felt so bad that I hadn’t asked Kes about Mr. Albert or any of the other animals that had meant so much to him—his other family, in many ways.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask you,” I said to Kes, walking up and wrapping my arms around his waist. “I know how much Mr. Albert meant to you.”

  I felt Kes’s lips in my hair, but he didn’t speak.

  I pulled back to look up at him. “What … what happened to Jacob Jones and the other ponies?”

  He sighed. “They got sold. Dono had debts, so … Jakey went to a kid in Arcata. Her dad had promised her a pony for her birthday. He got a good crib, nice life, I guess. Better food than he ever had on the road. I saw him once. He’d gotten fat.” Kes gave a small smile.

  “And the others?”

  He shrugged. “Sold.”

  Sadness and memories drifted in the air, and we were all silent.

  I wasn’t sorry when we were interrupted by the appearance of Zef and Tucker. They greeted Kes warmly, and Tucker smiled at me and winked, but Zef stonily ignored me.

  This was going to be cozy, considering I’d be practically living with the guy for the next seven weeks. I think Kes noticed, but he didn’t say anything.
Instead, he hooked his arm about my neck and pulled my head toward him so he could kiss my forehead, his gesture casually possessive. Then he stood upright.

  “Gonna go check on the ramps. I’ll catch you later,” he said, as he strolled away with Ollo on one side, Tucker and Zef on the other, a lopsided entourage.

  If Kes hadn’t made it so clear that I was surplus to requirements, I’d have gone with him. I wanted to learn about his life. But we were both new at this, so I decided not to crowd him. Besides, Zef was throwing me such dirty looks, it was definitely best to leave them to it. For now.

  But I must have looked a little forlorn, because Zachary took pity on me.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, following the guys with his eyes. “Sorcha never had much interest in the technical side of things, so Kes is just doing what he’s always done.”

  “That’s what bothers me,” I admitted.

  Zach realized that his wording could be construed in more ways than one.

  “Sorry,” he said wincing. “That was tactless. I’m really glad you’re here, Aimee. It’s good to see Kes so happy.”

  “Oh! Does he seem different to you?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yeah, definitely,” Zach said, nodding briskly. “He tolerated Sorcha, but he never really cared about her. They used each other for … comfort. Sorcha always wanted more, but Kes was never willing to give it. He can be pretty stubborn—I guess he’d call it normal, we’d call it single-minded.”

  “I’ve noticed,” I said firmly.

  We stood uncomfortably for a second.

  “Let me show you around,” Zachary said, changing the subject. “We’re not opening until tomorrow afternoon, and some more acts are arriving this evening. It’ll be crazy later, but we’ve got some time now.”

  The midway was clearly laid out, and most of the booths and stalls had already been erected.

  A huge, skeletal Ferris wheel marked the back end of the midway, with the arena for Kes’s show, as well as the other rides fanning out around it.

  “Two other acts are sharing the arena,” Zachary explained. “There’s a family of rodeo riders and a clown troupe. You’ll meet them later.”

  As we strolled along the midway, Zachary waved at the stallholders and show people.

  “Sid over there in the red jumpsuit, he’s got a game called ‘Drown the Clown’. It’s your old fashioned dunk tank, where visitors have to throw a ball at the target to knock him in the water. The kicker is that the more they miss, the more he insults them. He used to be a stand-up comedian, so he’s pretty good at heckling the hecklers. The worse they are, the better he is.”

  “Remind me not to get on his bad side,” I laughed.

  “Yeah, it can be pretty ripe at times, so he saves his best lines for evenings. But even then, we have to watch out for people waiting for him after the show. You know, wanting to fight him. But anyone who tries it, we throw them out. Besides, Sid used to be a professional boxer. His fight name was The Troll.”

  “I’m not going to ask.”

  Zachary smiled broadly.

  “He says he makes good money doing this—and he gets to make people laugh. Better than getting beat up, I guess.”

  I gazed around me, eyes wide at the canvas city unfolding in front of me, our backdrop, the wide Iowan sky.

  “It’s so much bigger than Dono’s carnival,” I sighed. “It’s amazing. Even when you can see it all being set up—I still find it magical.”

  Zachary’s smile matched my own.

  “I love this life,” he said, his eyes sweeping across the scene in front of us. “We turn an empty field into a stage. But it’s not easy making the magic happen. We all work 12- or 16-hour days. But in return for the hard work, I get a family, I get space. It’s definitely not a 9 to 5 job—not like teaching.”

  He smiled at me slyly, then ducked as I tried to smack him.

  “Kes told you that I’m a teacher?”

  Zachary grinned at me. “Yeah, he told me. Still sounds like a pretty easy gig.”

  “Huh! You try wrangling a bunch of eight-year olds all day, planning their lessons and marking their work every evening, not to mention parent-teacher conferences, and writing IEPs for every child, reading schemes, phonetics, prefixes, suffixes, phonemes, multiplication tables...”

  I was making myself feel queasy, but Zach put his hands over his ears and yelled at me to stop.

  “I’ll take your word for it, Miss Andersen,” Zach laughed. “Just don’t make me stand in the corner.”

  “Lame! Like I haven’t heard that before.”

  “Yeah, sorry. We get all the stereotypes here, too,” he said seriously. “People still think we’re dirty, thieving carnies, but traveling shows aren’t like that. We’ve all had to clean up. People think that carnies live in trailers and have nothing. Most of us have homes to go back to, although not all. It’s hardest on families. If you’re single or,” he said, side-eyeing me, “traveling with your other half, you live where you work and it’s an exciting life. Maybe we are all misfits, who knows? But we create a community when we’re on the road.”

  “There doesn’t seem like much privacy,” I said, glancing behind me to the muddle of RVs and trailers.

  Zachary shrugged.

  “We make it as private as possible, and the living area is separated from the public. When Kes is with us, we park the motorhomes so that they face each other and create a kind of courtyard. We have cookouts and invite friends.”

  “Very homey,” I said, wondering how that fit with my image of a bunch of single guys living together.

  Zachary guessed what I was thinking.

  “It can get pretty wild at times, drinking and gambling. And we’re all on top of each other, so that’s an explosive mix. I’m the manager for the whole show, so it’s my job to calm things down. Not just with Kes’s crew,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the direction that they’d gone, “but with everyone here.”

  “So who owns it? I’m assuming someone does?”

  Zach smiled. “Yeah, an old carnie family called the Reynolds. They have the rodeo act that you’ll see later. But Old Man Reynolds retired two years ago. It’s his children and grandchildren who have the act, but they’re happy to have me manage everything.” He laughed. “Most carnies are allergic to paperwork, so I come in handy. So yeah, it’s their carnival, but we’re all family.” He smiled. “I guess I’ve got sawdust in my blood after all these years.”

  “You’re making yourself sound ancient!” I laughed. “You’re only, what, 30? Anyway, what’s your story, Zach? One summer, you just appeared with Dono.”

  He smiled sadly. “Same story as most people who end up on the road: family didn’t want me. Didn’t have any place to go. Dono caught me trying to steal a mark’s wallet because I was hungry and needed money to buy food. But you can’t scam a scamp. He kicked the shit out of me, then brought me over to his boys and fed me.”

  “Why didn’t your family want you? Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

  Zachary looked at me evenly. “I told them I was gay.”

  Sadness touched his eyes, but he brushed it away. I wanted to hug him and tell him I knew what it felt like to be rejected by your family, but I didn’t think he’d want that.

  “Oh, I see,” I said quietly. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

  “Don’t be. I have a good life. I’m happy.”

  “But don’t you find it lonely?” I couldn’t help asking.

  Zach shook his head. “I’m surrounded by people the whole time.”

  “That’s not the same though, is it? It must be hard meeting someone when you’re always traveling.”

  The truth of those words hit me. Maybe it explained why Kes had stuck with Sorcha for so long.

  “Guys like Tucker and Zef, they’re happy to score with any woman who’s going to get a thrill out of banging a rough roustabout.” He shrugged. “That’s just how it is.”

  “And you?”

  “Somet
imes I’ll meet someone, hook up for a couple of days.” He shrugged. “It’s easier to meet other gay men nearer the cities. There’s usually a gay bar I can find if I want company.”

  “Don’t you want to meet someone, fall in love, the whole fairytale?”

  A fleeting look of pain passed over Zachary’s face.

  “Oh,” I said, my voice softening with understanding. “You already have. Who?”

  His eyes wandered across the carnival field then back to mine.

  “Can’t you guess?” he said, his voice husky. “You love him, too.”

  A shocked gasp escaped me, and I lowered my voice. “You’re in love with Kes?”

  Zachary gave a pained smile. “Ever since I met him.”

  “Does he know?”

  Zach looked down. “Yeah, he knows.”

  I was silent.

  We walked further down the midway, but I didn’t see what was in front of me, I was trying to digest Zachary’s bombshell.

  He sighed. “Is this going to be weird for you, Aimee?”

  I smiled up at him sadly. “No, not really. Even when we were teenagers, he was the one everyone wanted. I can’t compete with that.”

  Zachary frowned at me. “You’re not competing with anyone.”

  I shrugged. It had always felt like it.

  “I can see how much he loves being on the road,” I said. “And I can see what performing means to him. He draws people in, even when he doesn’t want to—he can’t help it. I suppose that’s charisma, or star quality, or whatever you want to call it. He’s extraordinary … and I’m just me. I’m here for the summer. I won’t ask for more than that.”

  Because even if I did, even if I begged for more, I knew that I wouldn’t get it. I’d learned to be happy with scraps.

  “So, tell me more about your empire,” I smiled, trying to dispel the air of gloom that had settled over us.

  “My empire? Does that make me Darth Vader?”

  “Ooh, you must be older than I thought with that ‘Star Wars’ reference.”

  “Well, okay, Miss Teacher-girl. Pin back your ears and learn some lessons in carnie lore—although Ollo would do it better. He’s been with carnivals and traveling fairs his whole life.”

  “Really? How old is he anyway?”

  “No one knows, and I’m not dumb enough to ask. He’s got some great stories, though. He says in the old days, they used to sleep on the ground under the trucks. Although a lot of guys still do when it’s hot.”