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.