The Dry Grass of August(21)

“Yay!” Puddin shouted. “There’s a carnival, too.”

A wide midway of sand and sawdust ran through Joyland, with booths and rides to either side. Calliope music played somewhere ahead. Signs pointed the way to the carnival that had hooked up with the amusement park.

The stroller was hard to push. Every time I freed it from the sawdust, I had to shake out my sandals, too. But I was glad I’d worn them, even if there was dust on my toenails, which I’d polished a dazzling red for our outing at Joyland.

Mary took over the stroller. “No need for us to slow you down.” She looked hot, and I wished she could have worn shorts like Stell and me, but Uncle Taylor had advised her to wear her uniform so it would be clear she was there to help with the children.

Stell and I walked ahead, past an old woman in short shorts who sat on a stool at a lemonade stand, her skinny legs streaked with bulging veins, grinning at people who walked by. If most of my teeth were gone, I wouldn’t smile.

I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and bumped into a fat man strolling along with his family.

“Excuse me.” I tried not to stare at the enormous stomach hanging over his belt.

“That’s okay, young miss.” He touched my shoulder.

A skinny girl about my age spoke to him. “Hey, Daddy, let’s go on the merry-go-round.” Why would a teenager want to do such a childish thing? But I thought it was neat that she wanted to ride with her father. Her knobby knees and black hair made me think of my cousin. When I had asked Sarah to come with us to Joyland, she said she’d rather go out to the base with Mama and Uncle Taylor.

As the family walked by, a woman in green coveralls called out, “Ri-i-i-ide the rolly coaster!”

Stell nudged me. “You and I can do that later.”

A man with a gleaming bald head winked at Stell and beckoned, waving a pennant. “Penny pitch, ring toss! C’mon, girly-girls, give it a try!”

Ahead of us a man pulled a woman between two tents. I looked at them as we passed. They were kissing hard, his hands on her back, moving up to her shoulder blades, down to her bottom. Stell caught me looking and yanked me by the hand. “That’s disgusting.” She sounded like Mama.

Four sailors crowded around us, their white bell-bottoms flapping. “Hello there,” said the tallest one, who was redheaded and skinny.

A short brunette boy swept off his sailor hat and bowed to Stell. “Can we treat you to the Ferris wheel?” He was a Yankee, I was sure.

“I have a boyfriend,” Stell stammered.

A sailor grabbed my hand. His thick blond curls bushed out under his cap. “Howdy, ma’am. I’m Tucson Tom from New Mexico. You might think Arizona, but you’d be wrong.” His hand was strong and warm. How would it feel to see the circus with this cute boy, to walk the midway holding hands?

“So where is he,” the first sailor asked Stell, “this famous boyfriend?”

Stell snatched me away from the blond boy. “Y’all stop bothering us.”

Mary came up, pushing Davie, Puddin hanging on to her skirt. “What you boys doing?”

“And here’s their mammy,” said the third sailor.

The first one saluted Mary. “We want to take these nice girls for a ride.”

“Just leave us be,” Mary said.

Three girls passed by in a cloud of perfume, arm in arm, smiling at the sailors. They all had bows in their hair, white blouses, and red lipstick. I was disappointed when the boys ran after them.

“Thank goodness,” Stell said. Did she really mean it?

Everything tempted me—the freak show; the Enchanted Castle Boat Ride where a couple waited, the boy feeding cotton candy to the girl; the Tilt-A-Whirl, kids staggering as they left it. The warm air carried delicious smells that made me hungry—corn dogs, peanuts, candy apples.

“The merry-go-round!” Puddin shouted.

I asked Mary, “You want to ride with Davie and Puddin?”

She frowned. “Ask the man.”

I walked up to the ticket window and saw a notice: MERRY-GO-ROUND, TEN CENTS. And in larger print below that: WHITES ONLY EXCEPT MONDAYS.

I looked at Mary.

“Hey, young lady, you wanna ride?” The man in the ticket booth talked around the cigar in his mouth.

“Yes, but—I mean not me, just my sister and my baby brother. And our girl, to hold him.”

He took his cigar from his mouth and pointed it at the sign.

“What if I pay double for her and she doesn’t sit down?” I put four dimes on the counter.

He put his cigar back in his mouth. “I’ll let her go if she just stands there, holds him on the horse.”

As I gave Mary the tickets, a clown standing nearby smiled at me and tipped his hat.

Mary, Davie, and Puddin spun in a whirl of music from the calliope. The fat man I’d bumped into stood by his daughter on the merry-go-round, his hand on the neck of her pony, waving to his family as the carousel turned. Davie laughed every time he saw us, and Mary stood beside him, beaming, tapping her foot to the tooted notes, the skirt of her uniform rippling. It was worth the extra dime.

“Whew! Now that was fun!” Mary said as she got off, carrying Davie, holding Puddin’s hand. She shifted Davie to her other hip. “You girls leave the little ones with me. Go have some fun your own self.”