Made in the U.S.A. (28 page)

The happiness he’d felt moments earlier was replaced now by dread.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A
FTER DINNER WITH
the Conner family, Dub helped the kids put up the tent in the backyard while Katy brought out sleeping bags and pillows. Johnny found two flashlights and sent Fate to the shed for insect spray.

The boys said good night and headed outside with Boggle, Scrabble, a stack of comic books, chips, cans of sodas, and what was left of Katy’s pie.

“Hey, are you all moving out or just planning on spending the night?” Dub asked.

“Just one night, Dad.”

“Well, don’t stay awake all night. You can help me fix some fence early tomorrow. I’ve got to go to Ardmore in the afternoon.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Fate said.

“You don’t want to do that,” Johnny said. “He only pays two dollars an hour. Not even minimum wage.”

“Oh, you don’t have to pay me. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Then you’re hired. Good night.”

As soon as the boys got settled in the tent, Fate said, “Listen. Just listen to that.”

“What? I don’t hear anything.”

“Night sounds. It’s so quiet out here you can hear the tree frogs, crickets, locusts.”

“My dad loves those sounds, too.” A minute later, Johnny said, “Tell me about your dad. What’s he like?”

“Oh.” Fate took some time here; he had a decision to make. Finally, he said, “He’s quiet. Real quiet.”

“And your mom?”

“She’s a lot like yours. She’s pretty, she likes to cook, I think, and she’s crazy about my dad. She worries too much, though, about me and Lutie.”

“Mothers are funny that way, aren’t they? The first time I rode an elephant, my mom went ballistic.”

“You rode an elephant? Wow. I’d like to do that.”

“If you come with the circus next season, chances are you might get to if your mom’ll let you.”

“What do you do in the circus, Johnny?”

“Once the tent is up, I help with the bleachers, the seats, the ring curbs, then I sell big top novelties before and after the show. I ride a horse in the spec and I—”

“What’s a spec?”

“Spectacular. It’s the introduction when all the performers and all the animals except the cats parade around the rings. I’ve gotten to do some clowning when they need me, and I help break down when the show is over. My mom does stunts on horseback. She’s really good, too. Seems like she communicates with the horses. My dad, he’s the troubleshooter. If anything goes wrong in traveling, setting up, the performance, or breaking down and reloading, it’s his responsibility to get the problem fixed. And fast.”

Johnny paused just long enough to catch his breath. “Hey, you want to play some Scrabble?”

“Okay, but I’m warning you, I’m really hard to beat.”

“Yeah, we’ll just see about that.”

Fate won both games before Johnny said, “I’m not sure you’re that good. Could be you’re just lucky. Luckier than a three- peckered billy goat. That’s what my dad would say. I’ve got to take a leak.”

“Me, too.”

“Come on.”

Fate followed Johnny to a rock ledge about twenty feet away from the tent. Then Johnny said, “Hold on.” He went back, grabbed two of their empty soda cans, scrambled down the ledge, and set the cans up on wooden fence posts about three yards away, then went back to where Fate waited.

“Here’s the rules: The one that pisses closest to his can wins. And if you knock it down, you get a prize. Ready?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Both boys pulled their penises out of the flies of their pajamas as Johnny counted, “One—two—three—go!”

Fate was the fastest starter, but the best he could manage was about two feet short of his can. Johnny, with more pressure, hit his can and knocked it over.

“Yes!” he yelled, pumping his fist in the air like a pro athlete.

“You win,” Fate said.

“Then that makes us even.”

“Huh-uh. I won two Scrabble games, you won only one pissing contest.”

“Yeah, but the night’s not over. We might have to pee again. But we have to do it before my mom gets up. My dad wouldn’t care. Hell, he’d probably try to beat us both, but my mom would think it was sinful.”

“Do you believe that, Johnny?” Fate asked as they crawled back into the tent. “That it’s a sin?”

“Peeing to hit a can? No way. But there’s other things I think are sinful. Like killing someone or committing adultery, but I don’t think I have to worry about that till I get married.”

“What about telling a lie?”

“A fib or a really big lie you’d tell your folks or your best friend?”

Fate was quiet for a while, then he said, “Johnny, I’ve got a confession to make.”

“I hope you haven’t killed anyone.”

“No. But I lied to you about my mom and dad.”

“What? Are they divorced?”

“No. They’re both dead.”

Johnny sucked in his breath. “You mean you and your sister are orphans?”

Fate paused, looked away, then nodded.

“Is that why you’re with Juan Vargas?”

“Yeah.”

“So he brought you here because of his grandma? Mama Sim?”

“Because of his whole family, I guess, except for his father.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Some trouble he had with his dad a long time ago. So he plans to leave before the circus comes back. Before he has to see his dad again.”

“Then where will you go when Raynoldo comes back?”

“I don’t know. If I had my way, I’d stay here. I think with a little practice I could take you in a pissing contest.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

L
UTIE HAD JUST
finished her shower, put on her pajamas, and gotten into bed with one of the books Essie had left with her. At first, Lutie had put them in a drawer in the nightstand, never intending to open the drawer or the books, but today, sleepless and bored, she’d pulled one out and started to read.

By the time she quit reading that night, she’d read almost a hundred pages. She’d lost herself in the story, a kind of magic to become someone else, to be living a life not her own, to be in a place she’d never been before.

An escape.

She’d also discovered that she didn’t have to read about a princess or a famous singer or a spoiled rich girl. For instance, in
Plainsong
, the main character was seventeen-year-old Victoria Roubideaux, who was pregnant, broke, and alone. A girl even worse off than Lutie herself.

In many ways, Lutie found that Victoria was not so different from herself, except for the pregnancy. At least Lutie didn’t have that to worry about. She hoped.

She was so charmed by the girl’s name that she said it out loud just to hear the sound, though she might have liked it even more if she had not pronounced the last name “Rowbeedux.”

After she’d readjusted the pillows and turned off the bed light, she didn’t hear the faint raindrops fall because Mama Sim had been running her bathwater.

Mama Sim closed the shade in the bathroom, took off her blouse and bra, then bent over the sink to wash her face. As she reached across the mirror for a hand towel, she glimpsed her reflection and wondered, as she often did, who that old woman was staring back at her.

If Gilberato were still alive, but hadn’t seen her since 1979, the year he died, would he recognize her should they cross paths? If she were paying her check for the dinner she’d eaten alone at El Tequila’s, their favorite restaurant in Austin, and if she’d dropped some coins he would pick up and put in her palm, would he know who she was, would he say her name, whisper, “Simona,” over and over the way he had each time they’d made love?

“Old woman,” she said, admonishing herself for such foolish thoughts, making sure not to look at her reflection in the mirror again after she’d shed her skirt and panties. If she got depressed seeing the deep wrinkles in her face, the sagging flesh on her neck, and her white hair, which had once been thick and raven black, how would she feel if she glanced at the rest of her aged body?

As she eased into the bathwater, she remembered the bath of her wedding night. Gilberato had undressed her, then himself, and carried her to the tub, which looked as if it had been frosted with whipped cream because he’d poured an entire bottle of bubble bath into it. Once they were both in the tub, he’d popped the cork on a bottle of champagne. He’d said that since their honeymoon would last only one night in a nice hotel in Nuevo Laredo, it should be a night to remember.

And it had been.

Even now, almost seventy years later, she could recall every detail. The soapy bubbles clinging to her nipples when he’d lifted her from the tub, causing them both to laugh as he’d carried her to the bed in the four-star hotel they couldn’t afford. But, oh, what a night they’d had.

Mama Sim put her head back against the cool enamel of the tub and closed her eyes, which somehow made the memories more vivid. Many minutes later, she was brought back to reality by the sound of the light rain beginning to fall.

She wondered if the girl two doors away was asleep, the girl who had called her a Mexican bitch. Mama Sim had raised her children, some of her grandchildren, and two of her sisters’ children, but she’d never dealt with a girl like Lutie. If only, she thought, she could figure out what possessed this girl, why she was so damn angry. Was it a boy? Her parents? Her home? Everybody, girl and boy, man and woman, she’d ever spent much time with would eventually talk about what was important to them.

Not Lutie. At least not yet.

But maybe if she caught her at the right time, in the right mood, Lutie would let down her guard and talk about what had led her to become this hateful person who had the ability neither to accept joy nor to give it.

Perhaps there was still enough time before she moved on.

Essie, who lived next door to her grandmother, was drinking a cup of tea at the kitchen table while helping her youngest, eight-year-old Morrell, with his homework. Tiki, her daughter who would soon be a teenager, had finished her school assignment and was reaping the reward: TV until nine o’clock, so she could watch her favorite show,
Grey’s Anatomy
. The volume from the set, still too high even after Essie had told her twice to turn down the sound, was the result of a hearing problem Tiki had had since birth.

Essie, only two years older than her brother, Juan, was the watchdog of the Vargas family, which included their spouses, ex-spouses, children, siblings, and—on occasion—their dogs and cats.

No one had made the decision that Essie would live next door to Mama Sim; everyone simply accepted the living arrangement when Essie divorced her husband, Carlos, after she caught him in bed with one of the Chinese tumblers.

And now, with Mama Sim widowed for over twenty-five years, suffering from diabetes, and having survived one stroke, Essie was content to stay in Hugo year-round so she could take care of her and run the costume shop.

Before anyone in the circus family made a major decision, they went to Essie for advice. Not just because of Mama Sim’s age and medical condition, but because Essie had a head for knowing the best advice to give. She wasn’t bossy or mean, but she was stern. And sometimes that’s just what was called for, especially with the younger ones.

She was asked out from time to time, but she always said no. For some reason she didn’t like the idea of her kids, especially Tiki, watching her pretty herself up for some man. And the way some divorced mothers thought it was okay to bring their men home to their bedrooms late, counting on the kids to be asleep, counting on the man to get up and out early the next morning, that just wasn’t her way.

She yelled at Tiki for the third time to turn down the volume on the TV, and the girl finally did as her mother had asked. That’s when Essie first heard the rain.

By the time Dub unplugged the coffeemaker in the cookhouse and turned out the lights, he knew they’d waited too long. The rain had already started. He and Juan had heard the distant rumble of thunder a couple of times but figured if they were going to get any rain, they’d be lucky. Hugo hadn’t had a drop for over three months.

“Come on home with me, Juan. You try to make it to Mama Sim’s, you might have to swim.”

“I no want to wake Katy.”

“It’s not much past eleven. She won’t be in bed. Besides, she baked pies today. I hid one from the boys, figuring they’d take the other one to the tent. And I was right.”

“Okay. For Katy’s pie, I do it.”

Jogging from the cookhouse to Dub’s trailer, they stopped to peek inside the tent. Fate and Johnny were asleep, wrapped in their sleeping bags.

“They’re out like a light. Don’t even know it’s raining,” Dub whispered.

As they went up the steps to the wide porch Dub had built around the trailer, Katy, with a smudge of chocolate frosting on her upper lip, met them at the door with an armload of towels.

“Looks like we might have chocolate cake, too.” Dub kissed away the chocolate, then tossed Juan some towels.

“The boys okay?” she asked. “I thought they might come in when it started raining.”

“They’re fine,” Dub said. “Now, let’s have some of that pie I hid and some chocolate cake if you haven’t eaten it all.”

“Does Raynoldo know you’re here, Juan?” Katy asked as she sliced desserts and poured coffee. “You haven’t seen him in a long time, have you?”

“No, but I must to be going before he comes.”

“Does Mama Sim know you’re going?”

“Yeah. She not happy with me about that.”

“What are you gonna do about Fate and his sister?”

“I think Fate could want to staying here forever. But Lutie, now she some kind of pistol. If I say to her, ‘We leave tomorrow,’ she say, ‘Why not tonight?’ She some kind of pistol, but I no understand what kind.”

“Have you given any thought to leaving them here?”

“I think Mama Sim would keeping them, but she too old, too not well.”

“You’d probably be surprised at all she does,” Katy said. “Your grandmother’s got more energy than I have.”

Just then, a flash of lightning struck nearby, so close they could hear wood splitting in the tree that was hit. At that second, the electricity went out, leaving them sitting in the darkness.