So Over My Head (19 page)
C
hocolate-chunk cappuccino ice cream.” I pass my money through the window at the Dairy Barn drive-thru and try not to think about my dismal life. My e-mail from Hunter showed a picture of the back of someone’s head. Like that did any good. And don’t even get me started on Luke. “Better make the ice cream a double please.” The man slides the glass closed with a nod.
“Did that guy look familiar to you?” Ruthie asks from the passenger side of my Bug.
“Didn’t notice him.”
“You didn’t
notice
him? He was at least seven feet tall.” Ruthie flicks off the radio. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been in a mood all day.”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” Or will be as soon as I have chocolate.
“You got a double scoop
and
you didn’t even notice that man used to work at the carnival.”
“Oh.” I try to see into the window. “Did he?”
When the giant appears again with my ice cream, Ruthie leans until she’s nearly in my lap.
“Lars, what are you doing working here? You’re the tall man. Not the ice cream man.”
He sticks his order pencil behind his huge ear. “I’m telling you, I’ve had it with carnival life. I want to be known for more than just being a giant.”
I lick the top scoop. “I personally think serving ice cream is an admirable trade.”
“You can’t quit!” Ruthie yells. “We’re your family, and family sticks together.”
“Kid, you ain’t carny folk. I’ve only known you for a month.”
“But I had just written you into the encore performance for next week.”
“Really?” His demeanor softens. “That’s so sweet. Nobody’s ever included me in a unicycle ballet before.” Lars shakes his head, sending his long blond ponytail swishing. “No, you won’t tempt me back. There are weird things going on there. Spooky things.”
“Like what?” I ask.
He shrugs a shoulder the size of a small country. “I’m just saying things haven’t been the same since Betty died and Alfredo went to the big house. Something ain’t right on those carnival grounds. And when those trailers pack up and leave, I won’t be going with them. I’m staying right here in Truman where there are so many opportunities.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“The manager’s already told me she’d teach me how to work the deep fryer.”
“You gonna make chicken fried steak and fries the rest of your life?” Ruthie yells so close to me her blue spike jabs me in the neck. “You have a gift.”
Lars sniffs, his blue eyes downcast. “What gift?”
“To entertain children of the world with your outrageously weird tallness.”
“I’m not going back. Fran quit too.”
I try to bring this woman to mind. “The lady with the talking pig?”
“Yeah, he also oinks a few Elvis tunes, so it’s a pretty big loss.”
My ice cream drips onto my hand as the May sun seeps into my car. “We’ll see you later, Lars.” In fact, I’ll probably be by after tonight’s show.
I roll up my window and aim my car toward the carnival grounds.
“You had an ice cream sandwich for lunch,” Ruthie says, staring out at a green field.
“So? Maybe I’m calcium deficient.”
“Bella, just spill it. You’ve eaten enough ice cream to make Ben and Jerry name a flavor in your honor. What’s wrong?”
I take a large bite and let the light coffee flavor settle into my taste buds. “Luke and I had this weird talk last night. And he basically said if we’re ever going to get back together, I will have to do the pursuing.” How boringly respectful. I mean, where’s his sense of chivalry? His manly leadership?
Ruthie snorts. “Good for him.”
“What? Whose side are you on?”
She flips down the visor and glides neon pink lipstick over her lips. “I’m on the side of love, Bella. Love. I just want you guys to be as happy as Budge and I. Every day I just say, ‘Thank you, Lord, for my Budgey Wudgey.’”
“If you make me yak up my cappuccino chunk, I’m going to stuff your leather riding jacket down your throat.”
She applies a top coat of gloss and smacks her lips. “You speak of violent things, but I know it’s coming from a place of hurt, so I won’t take it personally. You should just go for it with Luke. He’s a nice guy.”
“He’s also demanding, bossy, domineering, and intelligent to the point of speaking another language.”
“You know Luke didn’t cheat on you.”
“He’s still hanging out with Ashley.”
“He told you it was nothing more then a friendship.”
“It doesn’t look like just friendship.”
“Lindy dove into the love pool. And look how happy she is.”
“Happy? Every time I see her, she looks like her dog just got run over.” Except for last night when she was hanging out with Matt again. She laughed and smiled the entire time.
“You got it bad for Luke Sullivan. The sooner you accept that and deal with it, the better. He won’t be available forever.”
“He was out with Ashley Timmons last night.”
Ruthie cracks her knuckles and smiles. “She can be taken care of.”
Moments later the sound of yelling greets us, as Ruthie and I walk into the big top at the carnival.
“Cherry, you’re so stupid! Don’t let go of my hand!”
I flinch and look up. “Stewart’s such a slimeball.”
Ruthie nods. “I got a pair of nunchucks I’d like to introduce him to.”
“Focus!” Red yells from the ground. “Cherry, take this seriously.”
“I am!” She brushes sweat from her brow. “We’ve been practicing for three hours. I need a break.”
“You’ve got about two weeks before I expect to see the Praying Mantis.” Red glares at his niece. “I won’t let you mess this up for my circus.”
Even from where I stand below, I can see the hurt flash across Cherry’s pale face. What a life she leads. Makes me grateful for my family—crazy though they are.
Red claps his chubby hands. “Back to the beginning. Try it again!”
“No.” Cherry climbs onto the ladder and begins to shimmy down. “I’m taking a break.”
“Cherry, you hop right back up there this instant! I’m warning you!”
“Or what?” She continues her journey until she reaches the dirt. “You’re going to ground me—from work? That’s all I do!” She stomps toward her uncle. “Maybe I want what other girls have. Like the chance to go to have lots of friends, go to dances, and take driver’s ed! To sleep in a bed that you can’t pull down the highway in a caravan.”
“I told you her living with Dolly O’Malley was a mistake,” Stewart says as he joins them. “Now little cousin thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”
“I do not.”
Stewart’s face pulls into a sneer. “You always have. You think you’re privileged or something because of who your parents were.”
Ruthie nudges me with an elbow. “This is better than those Latin soap operas I watch. And no subtitles.”
“You want to know who my parents were, Stewart?” Cherry’s voice packs a punch I’ve never heard before. “They weren’t famous to me. They were kind and loving. And they cared about me. They didn’t make me work all day long. And when I did work, it was because I wanted to and because it made them happy. I wasn’t just some show dog.”
“That’s it!” Red pokes his finger in Cherry’s face. “When Dolly comes tonight, we are having ourselves a little talk. And you can bet you’ll be moving back here—where you belong. I don’t know what crazy things that woman has filled your head with, but I will not have you disrespecting me. I took you in when you were an orphan with nowhere to go. Your parents left you nothing because all they cared about was this carnival. But you have a place to stay and food to eat because of me. If it weren’t for me you’d be on the streets.”
Tears gather like thunderclouds in Cherry’s eyes. “My parents loved me!” With a choking sob, she runs away—right past the gathering crowd and out of the big top.
“We better check on her.”
Ruthie follows me outside. “Just say the word and I’ll get those nunchucks.”
I catch sight of Cherry running to the back corner of the carnival grounds. She stops at the Ferris wheel and speaks to the guy cleaning it. He nods and walks to the control box.
“Oh, no.” I can see where this is headed.
“Want me to talk to Cherry?” Ruthie asks. “I’ll jump on with her and you can just um . . . text some encouraging words from below.”
I lift my head toward the heavens and beyond until I find the top cart on the Ferris wheel. Gulp. “No. We’ll go together.” How is it I can ride a plane once a month with no problems yet can’t get on a simple fair ride without breaking out in hives?
Cherry walks onto the ramp and pulls the front latch of a cart.
“Wait!” I call. “We’ll go with you.”
The worker frowns and steps in front of us. “Miss, I don’t think she wants to be bothered.”
“We’re her friends,” Ruthie says loud enough for Cherry to hear. “And we want to ride too.”
We walk to the cart, and I get in, scooting beside Cherry. Ruthie climbs in next, pulling the door closed and squeezing us in like toes in a stiletto.
“What are you doing? Go away.” Cherry swipes at the tears spilling down her cheeks. “I want to be alone.”
“Too bad.” Ruthie gives the man a thumbs-up as he double-checks our door.
My heart squeezes as I look at the pain in Cherry’s eyes. “Normally you’d be talking to Betty right now, wouldn’t you?”
She sniffs and nods. “Whenever I had a problem, my mom would bring me out to the Ferris wheel, and we’d take a spin. Just the two of us. My grandpa bought this machine for my dad as a wedding present. Every cart is painted in a fairy tale theme. My mom loved it. This Sleeping Beauty one was her favorite.” Cherry rubs a finger where elaborate paint swirls rise and fall. “After my parents died, Betty would ride with me in this cart when she knew I wanted to talk. She would have torn into Red today. She wouldn’t have let him talk to me like that.” Her voice catches. “And now there’s no one to take up for me.”
I pull her into my arms as best I can, given I’m plastered between the two girls sardine-style.
The Ferris wheel groans, and with a lurch, we’re off.
“I’m so sick of being alone,” Cherry whispers.
Ruthie leans on me and moves in for a three-way hug. “You’re not alone. You’ve got us.”
Cherry’s laugh is small. “It’s not the same though. You have no idea what it’s like to not have parents. To be an unwanted guest. I’m just a burden to my uncle.”
You have no idea what it’s like to feel this cart swing and imagine
yourself plunging to the ground
.
“You’ve got God too.” The words tumble out of my mouth in a rush. “I know it’s hard to see that he has a plan in all of this, but he does.” Why are my cheeks burning? Why is it so hard to talk about God to people?
“I’ve gone to church with Dolly. We’ve prayed.” The wind lifts Cherry’s hair as we rise. “But how could I buy into that? Where’s God in all this? Why was I left by myself? If there is a God, how could he just take my parents?”
I sneak a quick glance at Ruthie. I am so not prepared for this conversation. Why couldn’t Cherry ask these questions to someone who knows her Bible a bit better? Or someone who’s had lots of practice witnessing. I’ve had lots of practice shopping. But unless she asks me whether I prefer Gucci or Prada, that is pretty much not going to be worth diddly-squat.
“Um . . . you have to believe that there is a God, and he loves you.” Ruthie could pick up the conversation at any moment. She
is
a pastor’s daughter. I’m a plastic surgeon’s daughter! Ask me about butt implants! But Ruthie’s just sitting there leaning on the edge like she can’t wait to hear what I have to say next. “Bad things happen. But I know that when we hurt, God hurts. He’s not just some big, bad guy up there. He wants us to think of him as a father.”
I release Cherry from the hug, and she rests her head back on the seat, staring at the clouds. My stomach rolls as the ride slowly revolves.
“What father would leave his kid stuck with Uncle Red and Stewart? What father would take away both my parents
and
Betty?”
“Cherry, believing in God isn’t going to magically fix anything.” Don’t I wish it would. “And it’s hard to trust in something you can’t even see, but every day . . . God waits for you to try.”
She closes her eyes and rubs her hands over her face. “I just want a life. Is that too much to hope for?”
“No,” I say, trying not to glance down as we make another swoop. “And I’m going to pray that you’ll have a family and love.” I still feel like I’m just spewing words.
“Whatever. Unless you’re ordering me up a total life transplant, don’t waste your breath.” Cherry signals to the carnival worker below, and he throws the lever. When the Ferris wheel stops, Cherry jumps out
over
the cart. No door, no waiting for Ruthie and me to get off. Just shimmies from the seat, leaps off the front, and hits the ground running.
Ruthie reaches into the pocket of her leather pants and gets out her Tic Tacs. “That went really well.”
“Are you kidding me?” I set my teeth and count backwards from five. “You could have helped me. Instead of letting me just flail in the water.”
“I helped.” She pops a mint into her mouth.
“Oh, really? Tell me one thing of any significance you did.”
“Prayed.” Ruthie locks her eyes with mine. “I prayed the entire time you were talking.” She reaches over and unhooks the door. “You’re quite the doubter, Bella Kirkwood. Anybody ever tell you that?” She hops out, leaving me sitting there.
“Miss, you want another ride?”
I glance at the worker standing by the control box. “No. Thank you.”
“You sure?”
“Sir, I think that’s about the only thing I am sure of.”
