Grey

“A little farther.”

Pointing to something approaching on the left, he asked, “What is that?”

Leaning over to get a better view from the windows, we were quickly approaching a tall, lit yellow and red sign. As we neared, I could read the ornate, script letters. It read, Tanoshi No Wah. Behind the sign was a large red-and-yellow-striped tent.On each of the six peaks, a red flag flapped in the breeze. Around the central tent were a dozen smaller ones and what looked like parked trucks and several lit rides with mechanical women, giant ducks, and golden blimps. To one side was a makeshift parking lot with a few rusted but garishly decorated four-wheeled trucks.

I said, “It’s my mother!”

Fifteen

Walter laughed as if I were insane. “Your mother?”

“I mean it’s her carnival… the one she travels with.”

He looked horrified. “Way out here?”

“She left Father years ago. She joined this carnival. I don’t know. It’s like she does it to embarrass me.”

“Why would she leave your dad?” he asked. “He’s so nice!”

I was about to explain, but it did not seem worth it, or maybe it only confirmed his dreadfulness that he had charmed one odd and insignificant boy.  Instead, I said, “We’re stopping.”

“Oh no!” he said. “It’s too dangerous around here! Moscostan is not good.”

“Driver,” I said into the intercom. “Stop at this carnival.” As I spoke, we zipped past it, but she began to slow immediately.

“You didn’t tell me about this!” said Walter, panicked. “The places you go aren’t good!”

“You don’t have to get out. I’ll go alone.”

Frowning, he said, “No, I’ll go with you.” Then he sat pouting, as if he regretted our friendship.

Soon Walter’s driver had turned the car around and parked it in the muddy lot.

“Look how big they are,” he said, pointing to a group of slubbers in the same silver and white jackets and loose pants I had seen when I fell off the Loop. As the door slid open and the car was filled with hot smoky air, voices, I began to have second thoughts. I had just been so surprised to see the sign for Tanoshi No Wah, that I felt I had to stop, but really it made no sense. Worse, Mother would probably cry and plead with me to stay and when I refused, she would begin ranting and screaming.

Before I changed my mind, I grasped the side of the door and swung myself down. The ground squished underfoot.

From somewhere—maybe from the big tent—I heard an odd singing. The voice was at once lyrical and beautiful, but also oddly stinging, as though it was the combination of an accomplished opera soprano and a giant mosquito.

“I need a step.” Walter still stood in the car, his toes over the edge, looking down the three-foot drop.

“Come on,” I said, holding up my arms, “I’ll help you.” He jumped right into me and almost knocked me backward. I grasped the shoulders of his jacket, though, held him and kept myself up, too.

Straightening his jacket and hat, he frowned and said, “I don’t want to die.”

“We’ll be fine,” I said, hoping that was true. From here, I could see that the smoke was coming from one of the smaller tents where a vendor was roasting meats.

As Walter and I walked across the muddy field, slubbers who had been milling about stopped to watch. A few pointed at us, some gestured at my Loop car. Most looked unhappy that we were there. Several children laughed at us. They pulled their loose, nonwoven shirts taut as if to mock our tailored jackets. A tall, heavy man in a silver jacket had purple blotches all over his face. From his left nostril a clear viscous drip began to lower itself. I thought of the goo at the MonoBeat Tower, but tried not to show my disgust. Sniffing violently, he sucked the mucus back into his nose, and then turned away.

Walter tugged on my sleeve as if he wanted to run back to the car.

“He was just trying to frighten us,” I said, not sure that’s what he’d really meant.

As we continued, I saw a makeshift fence surrounding the tents, and next to the opening stood a small red booth. On top of the booth was a sign that read tickets. Inside was a man in a shiny gold shirt. He had a small face, a heavy brow, and what seemed like a permanent scowl.

“Good evening handsome and distinguished guests,” he said, louder that I expected. “It seems you have come from afar in a very fancy car! I am so very sorry to say that the Tanoshi No Wah has already performed tonight.” His glowering expression was gone. Now he beamed at me with a manic look. “I can offer you both the very best seats for tomorrow’s performance,” he said. “Only one hundred thousand apiece, gentlemen.”

Exiting slubbers slowed to gawk at us. Two women in white plastic pointed at us. A man in silver and the same bunny shirt as I had seen before, scowled.

“Thank you,” I said, leaning in so the others might not hear. “Actually, I’m Michael Rivers. I believe my mother works here.” I wasn’t sure if work was the right word. “I’d like to see her if I could.”

He leaned slowly back as his eyes circled my face. For an instant, I thought he was going to tell me to go away. “Forgive me! I should have recognized you! Please, forgive me.” He then fumbled with the things on the little desktop—a roll of tickets, pieces of blue and green paper, a grey metal box. After he had jammed everything in the container, he jumped down from his chair and disappeared. A second later, he emerged from a small door on the right side of the booth. He was just three feet tall.

“I’ll tell her! I should have recognized you. I’ll go tell her right now! Forgive me, please.” In his right hand, he held the metal box. “I’ll run and tell her right now!” He hadn’t yet moved.

“Yes,” I said. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you!” He laughed. “Thank you, Mr. Rivers!” Next, he threw his arms around my right leg, as if hugging me. Walter must have thought I was being attacked. He yelped, stumbled backward, and fell to the ground with a splat.

The golden man let go. “Forgive me! Is this… another of our brothers?”

“No, he’s a friend,” I said, as I stepped to Walter’s side to help him up. The golden man got on the other side and together we righted Walter. Several of the circled slubbers laughed. Walter frowned at them. His back was covered with mud and bits of trampled grass.

“I’ll go tell her now!” said the golden man. He ran ten feet away, then stopped, and came back. “Forgive me,” he said. “Please come in! You and your friend. Please, come with me! Come inside! I don’t know what’s the matter with me!”

At the entrance stood a woman in a frilly, dusty mauve dress, wearing a matching cone-shaped hat with a green feathery puffball at the top. Her exposed shoulders were bony and sad. The way she moved, she didn’t appear able to turn her neck, head, or eyes. She strained to smile, and said, “Welcome to Tanoshi No Wah,” in such a hush of a voice I barely heard.

Meanwhile, the golden man was running around shouting. “Michael Rivers is here! Everyone, he’s really here!”

From the open door in the tent and from the trucks and smaller tents strange creatures began toward us. I felt Walter’s hand on my sleeve again. “Freaks,” he said with what sounded like both curiosity and dread.

A man, who looked my age, had no arms but fingers like plumes of feathers on his shoulders, stepped forward and stared at me intently as if he wanted something. A young woman, dressed in a tight silver bodysuit, had a tongue so long it hung to her knees. A clear, steady stream of saliva dripped from it. A boy had huge eyeballs that bulged from his head like a koi. A shorter, stout young man had another smaller head growing upside down from the top of his. Two men were dressed in red costumes with pointed yellow hats. One was holding what looked to be the enormous, gold spandex-covered genitals of the other. A bare-chested boy of maybe sixteen had a metal and glass contraption attached to his chest. Inside were tubes filled with blood, a spinning motor, and odd, glowing blue lights.

They stood and stared. The man with the genitals reached out a hand, but I retreated a half step.