Laci being on her own in some capacity was unlikely, and I doubted there’d ever come a time we’d go our separate ways. I thought of five years from now, ten years from now, my whole life laid out before me with Laci attached in some way, a constant companion, no matter what I chose to do. I would never be just me, Wallis Ann, uniquely set apart from her, or her wants. That was when, maybe for the first time ever, I understood, my own wishes for what I wanted to do with my life might not matter. I’d never thought of it before, and I pushed that fact away, knowing if I spent too much time dwelling on it, this tinge of resentment I was starting to carry round was only going to grow.
The next two nights the arena tent was packed. Word had traveled to other areas and we heard folks was traveling in from Walhalla, Seneca, and Long Creek, and other places to hear Laci play. I didn’t see much of Clayton, and considering how Papa had been about her learning songs and the way I’d acted, I won’t surprised. I didn’t stick around to watch his high dive either. I’d hoped he’d search me out, and when he didn’t, I went back to our tents, expecting he’d come the next day. I pictured him taking my hand, telling me he’d missed me.
The third night, and still Clayton didn’t show up to watch us although he had his own show. Again, I made myself go back to our tents with Momma and Papa, only to collapse on the cot, filled with despair. Laci lay down without getting undressed, and I started to poke her, tell her to get out of her good clothes, and thought, If she wants to sleep in her clothes, who cares? It was the last thought I had before I fell into a deep sleep.
The crunch of footsteps outside the tent woke me and I immediately sensed something off. Gritting my teeth, I turned over. Laci won’t in her cot. Angry and frustrated all at once, I yanked on a dress not caring which one it was. I put my shoes on and slapped the tent flap she’d left untied out of my way, and walked into the cold night air, my breath creating small vaporous clouds before me. I looked to Momma and Papa’s tent, knowing they slept. Footsteps a short distance away caught my ear and under the bright moonlight, I seen two figures walking together. I recognized them as sure as I’d recognized my own self in the mirror.
My heart went wild, beating like it was trying to escape my body. I hurried to follow, tucked away in the shadows. They walked slow, like they had all the time in the world. Clayton looked over his shoulder now and then, like he was nervous about getting caught. I was unsure of what to do. The idea Laci went willingly give me an uneasy feeling. They went by other tents carefully, then by the cookhouse. I ducked behind what I could here and there, while trying not to lose sight of them. They passed Diablo’s, and Trixie’s family’s tents. They went by the diving platform, and his small tent.
Where was he taking her?
Finally, they come to a section roped off, a grassy area where the horses and mules was kept. I scooted behind a large tree, my throat dry as the sawdust I’d just walked over. Clayton whistled low and a horse come to the fence. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple.
He give it to Laci, and I could hear him say, “This here’s my horse, Nugget. See? He likes you, I can tell by the way he’s wanting you to give him that apple.”
He placed a hand under Laci’s arm and urged her to hold the fruit resting on the flat part of her palm, the same way Papa had showed us a long time ago. The horse lipped the fruit, carefully taking it from her. I could hear munching noises as it ate. Then Clayton did something so unexpected, so startling, I almost cried out. He leaned in, and dipped his head toward Laci. He hesitated, then he kissed her exactly like he’d done with me. She pulled away from him, pushed against his chest like she was scared. I wanted to go to her, but I was frozen, my feet unable to receive what my brain told them.
What happened next was as shocking as seeing Seph drink the tainted water.
She stepped close to him, this girl who’d only ever wanted certain people to touch her, pressing against him so her breasts touched his chest. He put his arms around her the way he’d done me, and it was like I was standing at the edge of the waterfall and he was pushing me over the ledge. I leaned against the tree, the bark digging into my wrists and hands. I began to back away, only I couldn’t stop watching as he kissed her, again and again. It seemed Laci was kissing him too when she put her arms around his shoulders, and he drew her closer still, his hands gripping her waist. I felt sick to my stomach the way I had after eating too fast when we first come.
I began inching along backwards, keeping close to the tree line, hiding myself in the shadows. How stupid I’d been to think Clayton would like me. My legs felt like boards, unbendable, my thoughts as sharp and hard as the wires of a barbed-wire fence. I thought I might would cry, only I couldn’t. My eyes stayed dry as a used-up well. I don’t remember much about leaving, only that I stumbled a few times, like a drunk man I’d seen once. Somehow I found myself at the tents and somehow I went through the motions of undressing again.
I laid down, hearing my own heart inside me, an erratic pounding I couldn’t escape. Before long, there come the stealthy movements of someone trying to be sneaky. Then a male voice whispering. What kept me still was the shock of what I might see again. A few minutes went by, and then Laci come into the tent, slowly feeling her way over to her cot. Even in the dimness, her features stood out, the dark circles of her eyes, the line of her mouth, yet it was the curve of it, clearly seen in the predawn light what sent an icy chill over me. Bewildered, and amazed, it showed something I’d never seen, in all my born days. Something Laci never ever done, not to our knowledge.
She smiled.
Chapter 23
True winter bore down the next day bringing a biting wind and a hard freeze. It was Saturday before Thanksgiving, and typically the show got lots of the locals selling collards, sweet taters, or molasses. I doubted anyone was going to feel like being outside on a day like this. I was suffering another affliction, miserable, my strange inner hurt so different than when Seph died. It was a hurt unlike anything I’d ever known. I kept seeing Clayton’s head bend down to Laci and each repeat of it, made me feel like I’d stepped out into an icy wind without a stitch of clothes on. It made me want to huddle under my cot covers and never come out. I didn’t care nothing about eating, seeing to my chores, talking to Trixie or anybody else I might run into. Especially not Clayton.
I watched in secret as Laci rose from her cot. It had been a long time since I’d paid attention to her body, and now as I stared at her, I resented every difference we had, a sort of intolerable awareness of everything. Her shimmering hair, creamy skin, liquid soft eyes, long legs, slender arms. Her breasts. Every part of her I seen through Clayton’s eyes. It caused a commotion inside me, everything exploding into an internal uproar what made me grit my teeth. She tugged on her old dress, pulling her hair free before sitting down on her cot, patiently waiting for me to do up her dress. I twisted onto my other side and pretended I was asleep. I wished she could understand. I wanted her to know how I felt. I could see for myself in the clear light of day, she won’t any different, and I wondered if any of what I’d seen happened. I questioned whether the smile had been real. Maybe I’d only imagined it.
After a few minutes, I heard rustling, felt a cold draft, and heard Momma speaking. “Wallis Ann didn’t button your dress? Come here, I’ll do it.”
I raised up, peeked through the opening in the flap at Laci’s fixed expression. There won’t anything there to hint at what happened. I lay down again, resuming my study of the canvas wall. My eyes traced the pattern of a water stain in the shape of a lopsided heart. I was still in the cot looking at that crooked heart when Momma come in, a mass of cold air following her. The flap to the tent dropped with a popping sound.
She said, “Are you sick?”
Yes.
“No, ma’am.”
“Get up then, get dressed, and be quick about it, if you want to eat with us.”
“I ain’t hungry, Momma. Not really.”
“Then you must be sick.” Sh
e laid a warm hand to my forehead, “Well, you’re not hot. Does your stomach hurt? Are you having your . . . ?”
I shook my head hard, grabbed at her hand, and pressed it to my face.
Surprised, she said, “Wallis Ann? What is it? What’s wrong?”
I almost cried then.
I whispered, “My stomach’s not got a thing to do with it, Momma.”
“Well then, what is it? It’s not like you to be lazing about. Is it your head?”
My heart.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s my head, it hurts bad.”
“I’ll see if I can go find some aspirin. You’re not going to come eat then?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Should I bring you something?”
“No, ma’am.”
“All right then, we’ll be back soon.”
After I was sure they was gone, I got dressed, put on my shoes, and sat down on the cot. It was like being lost in the woods. I didn’t know what to do. If you’re lost, it’s best to stay put and not move, it’ll only make things worse. The longer I sat there, the more fidgety I got. It won’t in my nature to do nothing but twiddle my fingers. I stood, deciding I wouldn’t sit around. I left the tent, and went to the water buckets. I filled all the pitchers in the basins with clean water. I went and got our bedclothes again, even though we’d just washed them, dragged it all out the washtub near the fire, heated the water and boiled them. I scoured everything good, dumped the water, heated some more and did the rinse. I hung the bedclothes over branches to dry. Then I snatched Papa’s undershirt, his dirty coveralls, our underthings, and did the same to them. After that, I looked for something else to do. I found a big pine branch with a broad end and set about sweeping the campsite.
By the time I got all that done, I was sort of hungry, so I put on a pot of fresh coffee. I sipped on it, figuring I’d get on to chopping some more wood, when everyone returned from eating. Momma handed me a ham biscuit from Paulie, wrapped in wax paper and some aspirin too. I took the aspirin and refused the food.
“Wallis Ann, you need to eat or you’ll get sick.”
She pushed the biscuit in my hand, and got to looking around. “My word, I thought you had a headache? You done all this while we went to eat?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Usually Momma’s acknowledgment was uplifting. Not today. I choked down half the ham biscuit, and took the aspirin.
Papa said, “She’s always been our hard little worker, ain’t that right, Wally Girl?”
I blurted out, “Papa, would you please stop calling me that?”
Surprised, Momma looked to Papa as his chin dropped against his chest.
He looked a bit hurt as he asked, “You don’t like me calling you that? It’s only a little ole name.”
“I’m not five, I’m fourteen. It sounds like the name of a little girl.”
“I see.”
My request had come from out of nowhere. Even I was surprised by it.
I continued, “You call Laci only her given name.”
“Well. That’s true.”
I went into the tent, and lay on the cot again, and much to my annoyance, Laci followed me. The flap was left open and I glanced at Momma and Papa, sipping on the remaining coffee I’d left in the pot, and talking between themselves with a lot of frowning and head shaking, and I overheard Momma saying something about “young woman, like Laci.”
Laci got her fiddle and sat on her cot, facing me, the instrument in her lap. She made no move to play it, she only took the edge of her dress and began to polish the wood.
“Laci.”
Laci’s eyes remained fixed on her task, rubbing the same area of wood.
“Laci, did you go somewhere last night?”
On and on went the rubbing, round and round, over and over. I pictured grabbing it and throwing it across the tent. My jaw clenched at the thought, and my fingers curled into my palms.
My voice sounded strange, more insistent. “Where did you go? Did you see someone? Laci?”
I could have screamed as she tipped her head the other way and made no move to stop polishing her stupid fiddle. I thought about confronting Clayton, only it would be too embarrassing to admit I’d followed them. Maybe it wouldn’t happen again. Maybe Clayton only kissed her out of curiosity. What was done was done, as Momma said, and there won’t nothing I could do about it. I should try to forget, act like nothing was wrong, let bygones be bygones. The decision made me feel better, like I had a choice about how I handled things. I got up and Laci hurried to slip her hand into mine like always. Some part of me inside relaxed, like when you hold something heavy, set it down, and you get to take a deep breath as your muscles go loose and quit burning with the effort.
Same as asking Papa to not call me Wally Girl no more, as if I couldn’t help myself, words spewed from me like water from a spigot. “Laci, you didn’t know what you was doing, right?”
Laci waited, patient and serene.
“Last night, Laci? You and Clayton, you didn’t know, right?”
I moved closer, gazing into her eyes. Pools of green, moist, clear, as a mountain stream. Innocent, blameless, Laci. It won’t doing no good to keep pushing for what won’t there.
When we come out of the tent, Momma said, “Come sit by the fire.”
“I thought me and Laci might walk around some, find some fresh air.”
“It’s awful cold.”
“We’ll be fine, Momma. Walking will keep us warm.”
We headed towards Trixie’s tent, and the cold air surrounded us like a fog. Despite the less-than-pleasant temperatures, a few locals had come, some brung jams, jellies, pies or cakes to sell. I spotted Trixie with Zippity Doo in a small ring, putting him and Mr. M through one of their routines. Mr. M was dressed in a thick little jacket, and he bared his teeth at me in a grin as he climbed off the zebra to sit on Trixie’s shoulder. I dug into the pocket of my dress, and found a peanut to give it to him. He snatched it with his little man hands and crammed it in his mouth, chewing fast, tiny button chocolate eyes blinking quick, before coming over to my shoulder. He turned himself upside down, feet still clinging to my shoulder as he reached into my pocket to poke around looking for more. He sure was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
He give up and went from my shoulder to Laci’s. She tolerated Mr. M sitting there. He seemed fixated on her hair, and he began a grooming routine, picking out strands and searching them before letting a few drop. Laci sat real still, like she was barely breathing.
Trixie said, “Wallis Ann? You look like something’s eatin’ you up.”
“I do?”
“Yep. You got this little pinched area between your eyebrows.”
“I got a headache.”
“Must be a good’un.”
I cleared my throat. “Trixie?”
“Yeah?”
I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Trixie, how well you know Clayton?”
Trixie let out a little laugh and stage-whispered, “Well enough, I reckon.Why the whispering?”
Maintaining a lower tone, I said, “I wonder what sort of girls he likes?”
Trixie give me a measuring sort of look.
She asked, “Is that why you look like a dog been kicked?”
“Do I look that a way?”
“Kind of. I can’t say what sort a girl he likes. I ain’t ever seen him with one.”
“You ain’t?”
“Nope. Only y’all, ever since you showed up. Why? You likin’ him?”
I didn’t know Trixie well enough to know if I could trust her.
“Me? Not me.”
“Then Laci here?”
“No, no. I was only curious. I mean, he seems nice enough and all.”
Trixie maintained a dubious expression, like she’d figured things out despite my denials. I watched Mr. M work his way around Laci’s head, threading through her hair, piece by piece.
I changed the subject. “How did y’all come by Mr. M?”
Trixie watched him working on Laci too, and said, “We got this little rascal from another show. They was right mean to him. Actually, I sort a took him. Snuck him outta his cage one night, kept him quiet with bananas and oranges. Poor thing, he was about half starved.”
“I can’t believe anyone could do such meanness to that little critter.”
She said, “Me neither, but they can, and they do. Wanna help me with those big guys there?”
“Sure.”
I helped her brush down the Friesians, which I loved doing. Laci followed us, Mr. M still riding her shoulder. I offered her a brush to work on the horses, but she didn’t seem to want to be near them. She stood about fifteen feet away. I didn’t understand how she’d do something for Clayton and not me. I kept trying to get her to pet one a them big black horses and she never would. After an hour or so, I told Trixie we had to go.
She said, “Thanks for your help,” and she leaned in close and said, “Hey, want me to talk to Clayton?”
“What? No!”
Trixie snickered. “Whew! Calm down. I won’t.”
“Okay, please don’t. I was only curious.”
I coaxed Mr. M back to Trixie’s shoulder, and as we went to leave, I turned to wave. Trixie was still watching us, that slight knowing smile making me wish I’d not asked about Clayton. I led us through the tents in a roundabout way so we was less likely to bump into him, although it was hard when it seemed there was always folks popping out of nowhere. Diablo grinned at us from afar, and turned back to the two people waiting for him to shoot a ten-foot flame from his mouth, an astonishing stunt. He had scars on his ears and cheeks from past accidents.
When we got back, Papa was telling Momma we won’t going to perform that night. Nobody was. Mr. Cooper had come by and said the crowds was too small and it won’t worth it.
Papa said, “I can’t see how making a little money over no money is a good decision. I also heard some of the show folks is wanting to head down to Florida.”
The Road to Bittersweet Page 24
