Made in the U.S.A.

by Billie Letts

  “Are you? Ever behind, I mean?”

  “Shoot, no. We’re almost always a little ahead. And I don’t mind school here in Hugo, mostly because of Mrs. Gee.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Mrs. Gee? She’s the greatest. And pretty, too, like a movie star. But she’s tough. Won’t let us get by with anything. She seems to know when we’re not doing our best work. Kind of like a fortune-teller.”

  “Do you have a fortune-teller in the circus?”

  “Lady Scharinda. But I stay away from her.”

  “Why?”

  “She scares me.”

  As Johnny stacked the last of the costumes in the bin, he said, “Let’s take one of the clowns’ cars down to the lake. Want to?”

  “I didn’t know there was a lake around here. Will your dad care?”

  “He won’t even know.”

  They tried the fire truck and ambulance, both with dead batteries, before they got the double-decker bus running.

  “Hop in,” Johnny said. “I’ll drive us to the lake; you can drive back.”

  As they raced through the camp, they passed the welding shop, the painting barn, electrical repair, and the general repair garage. When they got close to the elephant quarters, Johnny slowed, then stopped.

  “Hey, Greta,” he called, then whistled. From inside the barn he heard the trumpeting of an elephant, followed by another, sounding closer than the first. Then, from the opened sliding door, a huge elephant came out, the weight of her footsteps so heavy that the ground beneath the boys’ feet sent a quiver up their legs. Greta was followed by a young elephant not even half her size but moving fast to keep up.

  When they reached the fence, their trunks found the openings and Johnny’s pocketful of peanuts.

  “Here, Fate.” He poured half the nuts into Fate’s hand.

  “What do I do?” Fate asked.

  “Just open your hand for Trini, the baby. She’ll find them.”

  As Trini’s trunk reached Fate’s hand, he giggled at the sensation of elephant flesh against his own, a sensation he’d never dreamed of having. But when all but the last peanut was gone, Trini accidentally nudged it from Fate’s hand, causing it to fall to the dust, beyond the reach of the baby’s trunk.

  Fate stepped a foot out of the bus so he could bend, twist himself into a position to retrieve the peanut, and offer it to Trini. She repaid him by gobbling it and then, at the boys’ quiet applause, raised her head to the admiring crowd of two. The elephants locked trunks and bowed.

  “Wow,” Fate said.

  “Yeah. They’ve been practicing so they can go on the road next year.”

  As the boys settled in the clown bus again, they heard Dub yell, “Johnny, where the hell you think you’re going?”

  “Hey, Dad. Thought I’d show Fate the lake.”

  “You muck out those pens yet?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then park your bus, grab your pitchfork, and get to work.”

  “Aw, shoot.”

  “Maybe Fate can come back tomorrow. Spend the day, have supper with us. That sound okay with you, Juan?”

  “Sure.”

  While Johnny drove the bus back into the building, he asked Fate how old he was.

  “Almost twelve.”

  “Then we’ll be in the same grade, same classes.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be here when school starts.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, it’s complicated. But I hope it works out.”

  “Oh, me, too. Then, next October, we’ll go on the road together with the circus.”

  “That would be great. Just great.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  LUTIE STAYED IN bed until almost ten-thirty, would have stayed longer if she hadn’t run the risk of peeing on the mattress. She made the trip to the bathroom in absolute silence, but then force of habit took over and she unthinkingly flushed the toilet, the sound reverberating upstairs, downstairs, front, and back.

  She hurried back to bed and pretended sleep when, ten minutes later, Mama Sim tapped on the door, entering with a tray of hot tea, orange juice, scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, and a short stack of pancakes.

  “Good morning, Lutie.” Mama Sim arranged the pillows at the girl’s back and adjusted the covers across her chest. “How you doing this morning?”

  “Okay.”

  “You look better. The bruising around your eyes is starting to fade. Did I hear the toilet flush?”

  “Sorry, I forgot.”

  “Maybe I ought to put a sign in there. Do Not Flush. We’ve got to make sure your urine’s clear.”

  “Where’s Fate?”

  “He went to the winter quarters with Juan.”

  “Oh.” Lutie sipped at the tea, then said, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you Juan’s mother?”

  “No, sweetheart. I’m his grandmother, but thanks for the compliment. His mother left here years ago. Took all the kids. I think Juan was two, maybe three. Last I heard, she was still in Mexico. Tampico, I believe.”

  “Why did he come back?”

  “He wanted to be with his father, Raynoldo, my son. And he wanted to work in the circus. He was just a teenager when he ran away from Gabriela, his mother. He started school here in Hugo, but that lasted only two or three weeks. Guess that’s why his English is so bad.”

  Lutie pushed her eggs from one side of the plate to the other. “I think you forgot my blue pill.”

  “They’re all gone, Lutie. You took the only one left last night.”

  “Can you get some more?”

  “No, Dr. Hector sent just enough meds to keep you comfortable for the trip, but now it’s time to taper off. Don’t want you to get hooked on drugs, do we?”

  “What about the white ones?”

  “You have the last one on your tray. There, by the spoon. Take that and you’ll be done with them, too.”

  Lutie swallowed the pill and managed a few bites of egg before she quit. “Sorry,” she said, “but I’m just not hungry.”

  “Yeah, narcotics kill your appetite, but now that they’re gone, you’ll begin to eat again. Just takes a couple of days for them to work their way out of your system.”

  “I wonder if you’ve seen my purse? It’s black with a shoulder strap and a silver clasp.”

  “Not that I’ve noticed. Honey, would you like me to unpack for you? Most of the drawers are empty, and that closet’s got plenty of extra space.”

  “I guess not. I suppose we’ll be going back in a few days anyway. No sense in packing twice.”

  “Back? To Las Vegas, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I guess that depends on how long it’ll take you to mend.”

  “But like you said, I’m getting better every day.”

  “You have something waiting for you in Vegas? A job? Boyfriend? School?”

  “A job.”

  “Chances are we can find something for you to do here. In the circus.”

  “I don’t think so. The circus life, well, it just doesn’t interest me much.”

  “Yeah, it’s not the job for everyone. Up at four, travel for a couple of hours, four more hours to set up. Then as the last performance ends, we start reloading the tent and everything in it, hit the road, then start all over again the next morning. Some love it; some hate it, like Juan’s mother, Gabriela, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think I do.”

  “Okay,” Mama said as she gathered up a glass, an empty soda can, a straw, and a hand towel. “I’ll be in the kitchen. If you need anything, give me a whistle. I’ll give you time to eat whatever you can, then after your bath, I’ll re-dress your wounds.”

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as Lutie heard Mama Sim banging around the kitchen, she crawled out of bed, put the tray on the dresser, and, as quietly as possible, upended the garbage bag she’d packed in. Somewhere she was going to find her purse. Rodney had s
tolen her money, but maybe she still had some drugs she’d bought from Viper.

  The bag contained mostly clothing—lots of underwear, a bathing suit, flip-flops, costume jewelry, a diary, some belts, a framed photo of her receiving a first place trophy for some gymnastic competition, a few teen magazines she’d swiped from Wal-Mart.

  But no purse.

  She left her stuff wherever it landed, then—energy spent—limped back to bed, fell asleep as soon as her head rested on the pillow, and had no recollection of Mama Sim coming in to remove the tray.

  She was too worn out to hear what was going on, too weak to care. All she wanted to do was escape, and the best way to do that right now was to sleep.

  After Fate volunteered to help muck out the pens, Johnny got him a pitchfork, and between the two of them, the work went fast. They cleaned the cages of a giraffe nursing a tender knee; two zebras—the female in heat; several camels banged up in a mishap from their last show. Johnny seemed to take the work in stride, but Fate was like a child in a surreal world where unicorns waited to make his dreamscape real.

  Finished, Johnny got permission from his dad to take bikes to the lake so he and Fate could seine minnows for a fishing trip the next day.

  Three hours later they returned, their jeans wet up to their knees. They both smelled of fish, their shirts and faces were splattered with mud, and small twigs were twisted into their hair. Their faces, sunburned, sprouting fresh freckles, and plastered with smiles, showed Dub how the day had gone.

  Perfect!

  “Sorry, Dad,” Johnny called. “We didn’t mean to be gone so long, but we followed Big Foot’s tracks for almost a mile”— a comment that sent both boys into spasms of laughter.

  Dub grinned. “Did you catch him?” He’d heard about Big Foot many times before. He’d tracked him even when he was a boy.

  “Not yet, but maybe tomorrow.”

  “Fate, Johnny’s mom talked to Mama Sim about that fishing trip you guys got planned for tomorrow. Wondered if you could have supper with us and maybe spend the night.”

  “What did she say?” Fate asked.

  “She said it was okay with her.”

  The boys yelled, jumped up, and bumped chests as they’d seen pro athletes do.

  “Can we sleep outside, Dad? In the tent? Please?”

  “I don’t see why not. If the weather’s good.”

  More celebration. “It’s settled, then,” Johnny said. “What time will you be here?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on what Juan wants me to do and how my sister’s feeling.”

  “What’s wrong with your sister?” Dub asked.

  “Lutie? Oh, she was in an accident.”

  “Well, that’s too bad.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Come as early as you can,” Johnny said, almost pleading.

  “Why aren’t you in school?” Fate asked.

  “We’re out for a teachers’ meeting. Three days.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow as soon as I can get here.”

  The boys waved as Fate took off running across the grounds.

  When Fate tapped on Lutie’s door, he got no response, so he started to turn away when he heard a sound inside.

  “Lutie, it’s me. Can I come in?”

  “Yeah.”

  He was surprised to see her sitting in the rocker, her face turned away from his as she looked out the window. But even more, he was shocked to realize how frail and gray she looked.

  She’d washed her hair and changed into a faded gown he’d never noticed before, probably something brought to her by Mama Sim or Essie.

  “You feeling any better?” he asked.

  “Have you seen my cheek?” she asked, her voice flat, without inflection that would give away her mood.

  “No, it’s been bandaged since . . . well, when all this happened.”

  Now, without another word, she turned to him, straight on, revealing her ravaged cheek, a deep cut, an insult to the newness of a fifteen-year-old’s face. A crevasse where none should be, the cut from just outside her eyelid to her lip. Inches of flesh separated by a sharp blade, held together now by black thread and medicated with a deep red application, a red that seemed more ruinous than blood.

  She held absolutely still, eyes unblinking, as Fate examined her face. She was so silent, so still, she might have been a young woman posing for a painter of fame in an earlier century.

  Fate worked hard to keep his expression steady and calm, to show none of what he was feeling or what he guessed she must be feeling.

  “You want to throw up, don’t you?” she asked.

  “No, Lutie. Honest, I—”

  “Don’t lie to me, jerk-head. I know how it looks. It’s mine, you know.”

  “Don’t you think maybe it looks worse to you than to anyone else?”

  “Oh, please. Don’t try that crap with me.”

  “I think you’re trying to rush it. After all, you still have your stitches. Nothing good happens fast, you know.”

  “Listen, goofy ass, one more phony comforting word and I’ll give you a scar that will make this one look like body art.

  “You know, there’s not a TV in this whole damn house. Not one. I haven’t seen The Jerry Springer Show since we left Spearfish. So what am I going to do but eat and sleep? And not that it’s any of my business, ’cause I’m only your sister, but where have you been all day?”

  Suddenly, Fate was a boy again, relieved of talk about scars and conversations meant to make him feel guilty.

  “I went to the winter quarters with Juan and met a boy my age. Johnny Conner. He lives out there in a trailer with his mom and dad. They’d be on the road with the circus right now, but his dad had an operation a few weeks ago.

  “Lutie, you should see all this stuff out there. They’ve got everything for clowns: unicycles, big rubber shoes, wigs, makeup, fake noses, stilts, costumes for firemen, policemen. Johnny dressed up in a gorilla costume and I shot him ’cause I was a policeman.

  “We rode around in a clown bus, I saw a tiger and two cubs, real ones; a mama elephant and her new baby; a giraffe taller than this room and—”

  “Whoopee!”

  “I can’t wait to take you out there. You’ll love it.”

  “I’d rather walk into a hive of bees.”

  “And we seined for minnows. You know what that means?”

  “Fate, I so don’t want to know what that means.”

  “’Cause tomorrow we’re going fishing and I’m going to stay for supper and spend the night.”

  “Is this supposed to be thrilling news to me?”

  Fate’s enthusiasm faded as quickly as it had enveloped him. He got up from the rocking chair and walked across the room to the window, looking out at Mama’s flower garden.

  “You know, Lutie, I’ve never spent the night with a friend. I’ve never gone fishing or been asked to supper. You know why?”

  “Could be ’cause you’re such a dork.”

  “No, it’s because I’ve never had a friend before. Never.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE NEXT MORNING, when Mama Sim brought in the breakfast tray, Lutie pushed it away, claiming she couldn’t eat.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I’m sick, that’s the problem. I told you I need some more of those pills.”

  “I could get you a Tylenol,” Mama said. “It might take the edge off your discomfort.”

  “Dammit, I don’t have discomfort; I have pain.”

  Eyeing empty suitcases and bags on the floor, their contents left wherever they’d landed as Lutie had tossed them out late last night, Mama said, “Looks like you decided to unpack after all.”

  Lutie glared but said nothing.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “You know I didn’t.”

  “Why, Lutie, how would I know that?”

  “Because you took it, you Mexican bitch.”

  Mama pulled herself to h
er full height, looking as if she’d grown by a couple of inches. She closed her eyes to count silently to ten, her habit since childhood. But Lutie’s accusation made her so angry, she barely made it to six.

  “Now, you listen to me and listen good, because I won’t say this but once. You were welcomed into my home, brought here by someone who cares for you. I’ve done all I know to do to make you comfortable and help you to heal. I’ve treated you with kindness and respect.

  “You may call me Mama, Mama Sim, or Mrs. Salazar Vargas, but if you ever call me a Mexican bitch again, or refer to me with any term of disrespect, you’ll find your baggage in my front yard, where you may retrieve it, then move on.

  “In the meantime, you may help yourself to anything in my kitchen, but I will not be serving you meals in bed again. And I expect you, beginning now, to clean up after yourself and to help out with chores.

  “Have you got that straight?”

  “Yes,” Lutie said with a look of shock on her face.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Salazar Vargas,” she said with as much sarcasm as she could manage given the ass stomping she’d just gotten.

  “The Tylenol is in the left-hand drawer of the kitchen cabinet,” Mama Sim said as she left the room.

  Lutie stared at the closed door for minutes, feeling angry, sad, guilty, and miserable. Finally she covered her head with the blanket and began to cry. She didn’t know how long she’d slept when she heard Fate’s voice.

  “Lutie? You okay?”

  When she lowered the blanket, he could tell she’d been crying. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “I feel like shit, and that old woman won’t give me any more of my pills. My pills. She probably took them herself.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Never mind. What do you want?”

  “I’m going over to Johnny’s and I won’t be back until tomorrow morning, so I came by to say good-bye and see if there’s anything you need.”

  “Yes! I need my purse. See that?” She pointed to the mess on the floor, on the dresser, the rocker, the bedside table, and a small chest. “I went through it all. No purse. You told me it was in the trunk.”

  “It was.”

  Lutie’s eyes brightened a bit. “You think it’s still there?”