Overlooked(2)(75)

I kick myself every day for not paying more attention to the names of all the small towns we go to. But it’s the same with Razor and Whiskey and all the other carnies. You’d think at least one of us would pay attention to the names of towns. But no, apparently not, and now I’m paying the price.

I sit and party with them every night, but as soon as I’ve had enough, I go back to my bunk and spend forever on my phone to try to figure out what town Emily lives in.

It’s costing me a fortune in data charges on my phone, but I’m been looking at photos of every potential town to find hers. Not that I saw anything about the town, other than my look of it from the Ferris wheel when we first put it up. There are a whole lot of Golden Arches out there, and they aren’t much of a landmark to go by.

When I’ve had enough of that, I close my eyes and remember her scent, her taste and the way she responded to me. After I’m spent, I think of the rest of the night with her and the things we talked about. Nights always end in me making a new resolution to find her again.

* * *

The season finished a couple of weeks ago. We’ve gone further away from North Carolina, and are in Mississippi, near the Gulf. Only the core ride staff is working here over the winter: me, Razor, Whiskey and Zombie. Everyone else is on their own over the winter months, and many will join us again in the spring. Of course, lots will never be seen or heard from again.

“Tell me, dammit. I finished the fucking season. Now tell me the name of the town,” I say to Papa Smurf.

“You expect me to remember the name of some shitty town? Do you know how many we’ve been to this year?” he says.

“I know damn well you know it, I’ve been asking since the day we left.”

“Maybe I’ll remember it after the painting and yearly maintenance on the rides.”

Asshole. I’d be out of here today if he told me the town. Now he’s using it to make me do the shit work. Maybe my fists could make him change his mind about telling me it.

Except I know him too well. If I break his nose, there’s no chance in hell that he’d ever tell me the name of the town.





All by Myself (Emily)

It’s December, and I’m standing in the line at the coffee shop. I hear others in line chatting to neighbours, friends, nobodies. I used to be that every time I went out, everyone smiled and said hello. Since the carnival, no one says hello. It’s like I have a scarlet A stitched to my shirt.

Steel gave me one thing that night, and that’s the courage to be my own person. They can judge me all they want, but I’m going to walk around Colmar with my head held high. They can snicker behind my back all they want.

The Lions Club sponsors the annual carnival, and as the president my father has vowed to never allow Steel’s carnival -- or Steel -- to set foot in this town again.

“I’m praying for your family,” the old bitty Barbara behind the counter says.

For my family. Not for me, because I don’t matter one bit to these people. It takes everything in me not to tell her to fuck off. Barbara’s the biggest gossip in this town, and I’m positive I’m her number one topic.

I still haven’t forgiven my parents for barricading me in my room. They wouldn’t let me out until all trace of the carnival was gone. The tension in the house is still thick. There certainly wasn’t any ‘I’m thankful for my family’ at Thanksgiving. On their part, or mine.

The thing that upsets me most is that Steel thinks I didn’t come back for him. He probably long forced any thoughts of me out of his head. I feel so terrible.

I don’t remember the name of the carnival. All I remember is that the logo had a clown on it. A zillion carnivals have clowns in their logos. I never knew there were so many clowns before I spent hours online trying to find out the name of Steel’s carnival.

Too bad my best friends won’t help me. I can’t believe they’ve taken the side of my parents on this. I feel so alone, which only makes me more desperate to find him.

“Actually, Barbara, I’ll take my coffee to go.”

“Uh huh.”

I always have my coffee here, it’s part of my Saturday routine. But today, I’m tired of it. Tired of it all.

With cup in hand, I get into my car. There’s something I’ve been thinking of ever since that night with Steel, and I’m finally going to go through with it.

First, I send a quick text to my mother.

Going Christmas shopping in Raleigh

I wonder what she’ll get me for Christmas this year, a chastity belt or something nicer.

I Google tattoo parlors in Raleigh, I know better than to step anywhere near one in the remote area, and phone the one with the highest rating.