Carnival Tales

By: Brian Holliday
(© 2009 by the author)
Editor: Rockhunter

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Part 2
Karl and Me

The shadows were lengthening, as they are wont to do of a fall evening. It felt strange to be away from the carnival, not resting on the bunk inside my cozy caravan, but Mama had persuaded me to spend the night at the farm house, like she did every time we camped close by. That was only maybe twice a year, New York State being about as far north as we would travel, and that just before heading south for the winter. Already, the northern nights were chilly enough to put a film of ice on the water barrels by morning.

Well, it was only for a day or two. We’d be back on the road tomorrow, and things would warm steadily until we reached our wintering grounds, which would be in Florida in this year of1921. That warmth would make all of us carnies happy – animals as well as people.

Just one last stretch of the legs before I went inside to bed. I’d maybe have a drink with Papa first, if he hadn’t already fallen asleep in his rocker in front of the fire.

A noise from away in the nearby field startled me and the hound that’d been padding along at my side. I jumped and the hound barked and a voice called quietly, “Hello, the house.”

I turned. “Who’s out there?” A shadow resolved itself into a man shape in the dim glow from the nearest windows.

“It’s Karl Larsen, Lucas. Can I come up?”

Karl Larsen? The bully who’d led the gang of boys that used to taunt me because I stayed on in school? One of those who made my life miserable by name calling and worse? I hadn’t seen him these three years since I left home with the carnival. I’d never expected to see him ever again. A little heat of old anger flared up in my belly. If he was looking for a welcome from me, he’d best look elsewhere.

I moved toward the shadows, away from the house, not shushing the hound dog who kept up a low growling as he paced, stiff-legged, beside me. Quietly, so as not to disturb the family, I spoke, “What do you want?” My tone wasn’t friendly.

I could see him clear now, and note that his clothes and hair were dirty and disheveled. Much as I disliked him, it seemed to me that his expression was strained - almost like he held back tears. Blinking, he stood about six feet away. “Lucas, I…” He stopped and swallowed hard, then looked down at his dusty boots. “Don’t know how to say this, but… I know I got no right to ask something of you, but…”

He stalled out completely. I didn’t know what to think, but this man was nothing like the arrogant boy who had caused me so much misery. I cursed myself for a fool, but pointed toward the water trough where an old wooden bench leaned. He thumped down on the bench and dipped a hand in the water, smoothing back the hair from his forehead and smearing water over his face, then gulping several mouthfuls. “Thank you, Lucas. I know I look a fright. I haven’t been home for three nights. I been waiting until the night before I knew you would be leaving.” The old hound had followed us and lay down, head on paws but still watchful.

Karl’s words made no sense. I knew he had been living at home, not yet married, though he was a year older than I - 22 to my 21. Why did it look like he’d spent those nights in a ditch?

I waited, but Karl sat silent and forlorn on the old bench, head hanging almost to his knees. Finally I asked, trying for an uncaring tone, “What’s the matter with you?”

He sighed deep, then lifted his face to the faded light of the rising quarter moon. “They caught me out, Lucas. Papa told Mama what he seen of me and Arnie Simkins in the barn, and then the preacher came and called down hellfire and brimstone. I’m cursed, Lucas. My own family, and yet they say I’m cursed and damned to hell.” His voice shivered.

I sat down on the other end of the bench, laying a hand on the hound’s head for calm. Karl’s family attended a different church from ours. Maybe they taught less about love there and more about intolerance – or maybe Karl’s family were more different from my own than I would have guessed.

“I’m sorry, Karl,” fell out of my mouth before I could think to draw it back. It seemed that both Karl and I both had good and sufficient reason for not marrying. The man I had loved since I was a boy of 15 had died and left me behind. I mourned his passing anew each time I woke up alone in our caravan. More than two long lonely years had yet to dim my grief to forgetfulness, but I kept busy and kept his memory alive as best I could. Caldwell’s Wonders would go on, even without my beloved Thomas.

I looked at Karl. What difference did old grudges make in view of this newly discovered kinship and humility? I had to offer, “What can I do?”

He sat up a little more. “Lucas, I know I never treated you right. I’m here to say how sorry I am and that I’d cut out my tongue if I could go back and change things. I know it don’t matter now why I plagued you so, but it was truly just so the other fellows would accept me - think I was like them. I must have known what they would think of me, even back then. Not a one of my friends will take me in, Lucas. I’ve got nowhere to go and I just hoped that maybe you’d…”

I felt my mouth tighten. He’d sacrificed me to save himself? What did he expect from me after that confession?

He stammered, but continued, “I…I hoped maybe you’d give me a job, let me travel with your show for a while. Nothing permanent, just a place to sleep and food to eat until we make a town where nobody knows my name… somewhere I can start fresh.” His eyes welled up as he softly added, “Please?”

I looked into those eyes. The moonlight washed out their blue and the maple-leaf red of his hair and laid a kindly touch on his dirt-smudged face. Could I turn him away? Could I do any less than what he asked? What would Thomas have told me, a man who took in strays as often as he was able?

I sighed. The Bible said to turn the other cheek. I would do that thing, but Karl would learn that my patience granted him only one chance more.

“Be at the carnival grounds by sun-up tomorrow. You can start by helping on tear-down. Ask for Will or Henry and tell them I sent you.” I stood up. “I doubt my folks will mind if you spend the night in their barn.” I began to turn away, then thought to say, “I’ll bring you out some supper in a bit.” I snapped my fingers and the hound and I went toward the house, neither of us looking back.

Karl tried to thank me when I brought him some cold ham and biscuits, but I was already regretting my hasty decision. Silent, I set the napkin on a straw bale and went inside to my bed.

Mama fixed a big hot breakfast for my last morning home, and I lingered in the warmth, soaking up enough family love to last ‘til my next visit, then saddled my horse and headed for my true home, not caring if Karl had shown up or not.

But he was there, and stirring around like he knew what he was about. Will and Joe the Alligator Man looked on as Karl hooked up a horse to pull stakes from the big tent, keeping a proper tension on the ropes and backing the horse nice and slow as if he’d done the task all his life. He’d washed his face proper and slicked back his bright hair and the sun and work had warmed him enough to leave off his shirt. I turned away, glad enough that he had yet to make a fresh fool of me to my men, and certain he’d never stick past the first big town.

But he did stay on, through one town and then the next, turning a deft hand to whatever job came his way and showing a feel for machinery as well as animals. It got so I was used to seeing his red head bobbing around the camp, grooming the horses or tinkering with a truck, and sometimes sitting across the fire from me after a communal supper. When a month had passed, with no complaints from the other roustabouts, I decided to leave him be. There was plenty of work for all.

Busy days went by, as days will. Full of work and sunshine or rain.

Karl was a good worker, but he made me uneasy and I had at last figured out why. There were men aplenty around the carnival and in the passing towns, but their natures were largely unknown, while I held the certain knowledge that Karl was like me. Worse, it seemed he went out of his way to be friendly – showing more than a little interest in my favorite attraction, the carousel, and being ever ready to share a game of cards or a last cup of coffee in the evening. Perhaps his motive was gratitude alone, but the promise of a kindred soul to share my lonely nights became for me a powerful aphrodisiac. Add to that his easy laugh and willing nature, his lean body, narrow hips and broad shoulders, muscles straining as he labored in the sun. Even my often wearisome responsibilities weren’t enough to insure to each night a sleep dreamless of a red-headed figure, warm beside me in the dark. But sense stayed any possible action. How utterly foolish would I feel were I to approach him and be rebuffed? I could only hope that I kept my infatuation well hidden.

Why hadn’t he left to find his own place in the world as he’d planned? I wanted to, but in my heart I didn’t wholly trust him.

When Karl risked his own life to pull me, unconscious, from the burning funhouse, it gave me food for thought. Perhaps he’d had no intention of saving me, but when he saw the chance he took it, knowing that we both might have been overcome in the building’s eminent collapse. Hurt as I was, head spinning with pain, I still felt the comfort of his strong body holding mine.

Mavis nursed me, but Karl was there to undertake those tasks not seemly for a woman. And, when I began to mend, he still returned, night after night, with crisp-cooked fish and salad greens, roast pheasant and fresh blackberries, coffee and cards and pleasant conversation. My trust in him increased with each passing day. He’d paid back any kindness I’d shown him, until we were equals and fast nearing true friendship. Did he feel for me even a fraction of what I felt for him? Pride held me and I dared not ask, but I now feared the day he would leave the show and me and make his way alone.

Days turned to weeks. Then came a night that might have been just the same as all the others. There was a soft knock.

“Lucas, can I come in?”

I stood up, pushing open the door panel and backing away as Karl climbed the two steps to my level. I almost smiled, but his eyes were full of something and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it could be. So I just went and sat back down on the bench at the little table, my eyes downcast at the book I’d been reading. Was he leaving? Was this to be good bye?

He didn’t sit – just stood staring at me until I had to look up, then stared some more, his eyes big and wide and blue. “Lucas,” he said, finally, “do you think you’d mind very much if I kissed you?”

I shivered a little. “Why don’t you try it and see?”

His mouth tasted of coffee and mint leaves, his throat of sweat and musk. His muscles were as lean and hard as I remembered, and as strong as I had hoped. His skin was burned red-brown on the shoulders and freckled cream white where his overalls would cover. Our bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Not much talk went on for a while, except the words that go along with lust and its fulfillment - words that might sound incomplete at any other time but are so very right when you are saying them - words like ‘don’t stop’, ‘oh, yes’, ‘Karl, Karl’, and even ‘I love you.’

After, when Karl’s arms held me tight against his sweat damp chest, both my hands clasping one of his, he spoke. “You all right, Lucas?”

I smiled to myself. I hadn’t been this all right in a long time. I couldn’t help but think that if it never happened again, or if he left me now, then at least I’d had this much of him. I was content. I reached one hand back to pull his leg up over my hip. “I’m good, Karl, real good.”

He sighed and kissed lightly behind my ear. “I’m glad for that.” His breath was warm. “I mean to stay with you, Lucas, if you’ll have me.”

I didn’t know what to say. Then I thought about Thomas and how I had figured we’d be together forever and how short a time our forever had been.  Did the shortness make it any less sweet? No, I found I still loved Thomas with all my heart, but somehow that took nothing away from the love I felt for Karl. Filling my heart with Thomas had taught me much about love. Now, with Karl, I’d learn even more.

My eyes burned, but not from sorrow or regret. The feeling tightened my throat, and I had to take a deep breath or two before I could answer. When I could, I said, “I’d like that, Karl. I’d like it a lot.”

End Part 2

Posted: 12/04/09