When we arrive in Woburn, I drive straight to the Motel 6. We check in, and out of pure coincidence, we're given the same room I stayed in all those months ago. The familiarity is nice, and it almost feels like coming home to me.
We unload our stuff, and watch tv for a bit. Emily finally seems like she's relaxed. Her phone is on the bedside table, ignored.
"You can't keep avoiding this, Goldie. You might as well get it over with."
"I just need some time to figure out what I'm going to say."
"You had days for that."
"Well I need more."
"Fine. Let's go out and get something to eat."
I don't want anything to eat, I just want her in the car. Following road signs, I drive to Colmar.
"What are you doing?" she asks, anger in her voice.
"The phone just isn't working. So we're going to see them in person."
"What the fuck? No way."
"Yes, way."
"What happened to seeing them on neutral territory?"
"It doesn't matter where we see them, I'll be standing beside you."
Emily flings her head back against the headrest but does nothing to try to stop me from going to Colmar. I'm still going to need her to tell me how to drive to her parents' house though.
I don't say anything else, and we drive in silence. I want her to prepare herself for this.
It's late Sunday afternoon, and I'm counting on her parents being home. Though maybe it's better if it's just her mother.
To my surprise, she directs me to her parents' house without hesitating.
It's huge, with a big, white veranda around it. I put the car in park, and get out. Emily gets out and walks straight to the front door. She knocks.
"It feels weird knocking on the door of my own house," Emily says.
"You don't live here anymore, remember?"
"I know, but … "
The door opens wide, and her mother stands in the doorframe, her mouth wide open.
"Who is it, Carol?" a voice asks from down the hallway.
"Hi, Dad," Emily shouts.
"Emily," he says, rushing to the door.
Her mother smiles and steps aside, saying, "Come in, come in. I'm so glad you're here."
Emily goes through the door, and I take a step to follow her.
"You're not welcome in this house," her father says, pointing at me.
"In that case, neither am I," Emily says, reaching for my hand.
"Greg, you said you wouldn't be like this if she came back. Remember?" her mother says, her voice a hiss.
"Emily wanted to meet on neutral ground, but I insisted her parents would be nice to her if she came here. Maybe I was wrong?" I say, cocking my head at her father.
"Of course, come in. I'll make coffee," her mother says. She turns to me and asks, "Do you drink coffee?"
What am I? An alien?
"Yes, coffee sounds good to me," I say.
I follow the three of them into the house, Emily leading me by the hand. Damn, I knew her parents were rich, but this house is something else. It looks like it's from the pages of a fancy magazine. The rooms are enormous, and all the furniture looks like it was made for a palace.
We enter into a bright room, with a huge kitchen at one end, dining table in the far corner, and a sofa area near us. Her mother goes straight to the kitchen area and begins making coffee. I follow Emily and her father to the breakfast table.
As soon as the three of us are sitting down, her father asks, "Where have you been all this time?"
"In the carnival," Emily says.
Greg sucks air through his nose, and I prepare for his reaction.
After a few breaths, he asks, "What's the matter, the carnival's finished for the winter, so you've come looking for a free place to stay, or have you come to your senses?"
"Neither," Emily says.
"Greg!" Carol exclaims from the kitchen.
"Neither? You're just passing through town?" Greg asks. I hope I'm imagining the hopefulness in his voice.
"It's certainly sounding like you hope that's all we're doing," Emily says.
There's a crash in the kitchen area, and Carol rushes to the table.
"Honey, Emily, you just ignore him. All that matters is you're home and you're safe," she says, draping her arms around Emily from behind her chair.
"Mom, sit down. I have to say this and get it out of the way, and you guys can freak all you want. Steel and I got married," Carol gasps and covers her mouth. "And we're having a baby."
"Jesus Christ!" Greg says.
"Greg, watch your language," Carol says, her voice breaking. The coffee is forgotten, along with the shattered mug, and she sits at the table.
"How could you let this happen?" Greg asks Emily.
"Look, it wasn't planned, or nothing," I say.
"At least you did the honest thing, and got married. Even though I didn't get to be at my baby's wedding," Carol says, unable to control her tears.
"We got married before it happened," Emily says, her voice calm.
"You what?" Carol says, wiping her cheeks.
"We got married in July," I say, sitting straight.
"Where? In Las Vegas?" Greg asks.
"No, in the carnival," Emily says.
"The carnival? What kind of marriage is that?" Greg says.
"It's carny tradition," Emily says.
"So you're not really married," Greg says.
"As far as I'm concerned, we are. But we also plan to make it legal," I say.
When we make it legal, I'll be able to get a good job, and support them.
Home Sweet Home (Emily)
"We don't want a big wedding, just to go and sign the papers," I say.
I always thought I'd wanted a big wedding, but now it doesn't even matter at all. Steel and I have already had my wedding, now it's only about the paperwork.
"Whenever you want, Emily. I'm just happy to have you back," my mom says. She reaches across the table and pats my hand.
"Thanks, Mom. I was really worried you'd never forgive me. But Steel said you would. He said it was important for me to have your help and support when the baby comes, and that he wants the baby to know its family," I say, blurting out everything that's been balled up in me.
"Coming back was Steel's idea?" she says, her brow creased.
"Do we have to call him Steel?" my dad says into the air.
"You can call me Kayden if you want, but I can't guarantee I'll realize you're talking to me," Steel says.
Kayden. I don't think I could ever get used to calling him that. But I like it, it's a good name. A strong name, just like him.
"And, Kayden, you don't have a job yet? To care for my grandchild?" my dad asks.
"Not yet, we only got here this afternoon," Steel says.
"Where are you staying, Emily?" my mom asks.
"At a motel in Woburn. We're still deciding which town to move to permanently," I say.
"You should stay here with us while you're figuring things out. There's no point wasting your money on a hotel," my mom says.
I look straight at my dad, and say, "I didn't think we'd be welcome here."
"Greg," my mother says in her sternest voice, "they'd be welcome here, wouldn't they?"
My fingers are laced through Steel's, and I examine them. My hand is rough from the months spent putting up and taking down Cess' booth. I used to always have long nails, polished during my regular manicures. Now my nails are jagged. Even after finishing the carnival a week ago, a layer of dirt is still stuck underneath them.
"I said, wouldn't they, Greg," my mother repeats.
I don't know what to say now. I'm not even sure what to say if my father invites us. Would Steel want to stay here? Would I?
"I'm not sure we know enough about Kayden to welcome him into our house," my father says.
My mother lowers her voice, and leans into my father, but I can still hear her say, "What do you mean, he's the father of our grandchild."
"What do you want to know, Dad? I'm not saying we want to stay here anyway, but whatever it is you want to know, you go ahead and ask."
My father clears his throat, and says, "For starters, Kayden, why do you have a neck tattoo? Are you in a gang?"
Steel screws up his face, and says, "No, I ain't in a gang. I'm from the carnival."
"Then why?" my dad asks.
"Come on, Dad, get with the times. Lots of people have neck tattoos now," I say.
"Not ones with decent jobs," my dad says.
"Sure they do. But it doesn't matter anyway, because you've answered my question - we wouldn't be welcome here."
"Anyway, Kayden," my father says, ignoring me, "What type of job are you looking for?"
"I'm good with my hands, strong, and work hard. I'm not too worried about finding something," Steel says, gripping my hand tightly.
"Funny, I hear that a lot in hiring, and it always ends up to be the opposite," my dad says.
"I've held down the same job for ten years, I worked my way up to ride foreman. Ain't no way Papa Smurf would've kept me around if I wasn't a hard worker," Steel says. There's fire in his voice and he squeezes my hand tighter still.
My dad laughs. "Papa Smurf?" he says, scoffing.
"He's the carnival owner," I say.
"And he's a real hard-ass to work for. If I can last with him, I can survive anywhere."
"So you're prepared to work and provide for this baby?"
"Of course I am, I already said that," Steel says.
"I know you said it, but do you mean it?" my dad says, raising his voice.