THE BITTER TASTE OF MOURNING
My Sweet Dearest Darling Zac,
My first unofficial college experience has taught me two things: I am a criminal and I am a horrible, horrible person. I am not sure that college life is for me.
I am not sure which part makes me a horrible person the most, the fact that I allowed Millie to drag me to a fraternity party full of boys, the fact that I looked at a boy, or the fact that I ate cake with the boy. In my defense, however, I DID tell him that I have a beau that I love. I'll never leave you, Zac. I love you forever.
The part about me being a criminal? I'm not a very good one. We stayed out at the party past curfew, which was ten o'clock. Millie promised to teach me how to sneak inside the dormitory after curfew, which was almost successful, except that I'm a clumsy individual and the hallway was dark. We had made it all the way up and onto our floor when my ankle twisted and I fell into the resident hostess's door and she happened to be there and then Dean Stiltner was called and then...well, I'm just lucky I wasn't expelled from the university before I was actually enrolled!
I'm so scared for Daddy to pick Millie and me up tomorrow. He's going to be so upset and I'm so ashamed of myself. I'm such a disappointment. I'm such a disgrace. I've disgraced you and my family and the university and myself. I wish you could just come here and sweep me off my feet and carry me with you with the carnival. I would be so happy just being with you always. Then I wouldn't even need college. I could be your personal assistant and see the country and not have to deal with football boys and cake and ten o'clock curfews. Oh, Zac. We would be so happy together. I miss you so much.
Speaking of the carnival, how are things on Coney Island going? I know you can't answer me right now, but I can't wait to go home and open the letters that will be waiting for me. I'm so happy that you kept your promise to write me every single day. Getting your letters are the highlight of my day every day and they're the only things that keep me going sometimes. They give me hope. They ease the pain in my heart. We're really going to have to sit and discuss my college future because I'm not sure I can go on without you again. I understand the importance of going to college. But we're going to have to reevaluate what type of education I'm going to have and where. I say 'we' because I want you to have a say in it. I want to share my life with you, I want to share everything with you. I'm excited to hear any ideas or suggestions you might have.
Well, I suppose I should sleep now, if I can. I'm sitting on my bed in the dormitory while Millie hogs up the washroom. Pray for me, Zac. Pray that I survive my father's arrival tomorrow.
My Love Always,
Bessie
"What on Earth were you thinking?" Bessie's father asked as the four of them rode toward the exit of the University of Oklahoma's campus. "I leave you ladies alone for less than twenty-four hours in an institution of higher-learning with some of this country's best faculty and staff, where school isn't even in session, by the way, and you still manage to find trouble." He paused and shook his head. "I would expect something like this out of a couple of fourteen and fifteen year olds, but the two of you are grown, sophisticated women. For shame!"
Bessie detected the smirk on her mother's face in the front seat but she had no time to assess her amusement. Instead, Bessie was on the verge of tears, ashamed of herself for her behavior--and equally as ashamed of not showing Millie what a good sneak she could be. Because Bessie was a good sneak and she knew it. Why, anyone could ask Zac--
No. No time for that now. Bessie's father was ashamed of her. Disappointed, upset, embarrassed. And now he displayed his displeasure by driving the four of them down the highway at the car's top speed of nearly sixty miles per hour. The windows were down, the ladies' hair blew in the wind...and Bessie couldn't even appreciate the mock feeling of freedom the fresh air provided.
Next to her, Millie crossed her arms over her chest haughtily and directed her attention to the driver seat, which Bessie sat behind. "You said she was spending the night to get a feel for college life, Uncle Jim," she spat. "Well, there it was. Frat parties and sneaking around past curfew. You can't tell us that you and the fellas didn't get into any college shenanigans at Yale."
"There was a frat party?!" The judge nearly shrieked.
Millie hunkered her head. Oops. That was the one minor detail that hadn't come up. The girls had told Dean Stiltner that they'd gone roaming for food. This was it. Bessie was a dead man. Or a dead woman?
"Well there really was cake involved," Bessie tossed in to make herself out to be a little less of the liar that she was.
But her father remained silent and stoic. Bessie hung her head.
The judge didn't utter another word for the rest of the trip. It was a long, quiet ride, and Bessie's heart nearly leapt with joy when they turned onto her grandparents' property. Once the car was parked, the judge wasted no time storming up to the house, while Bessie's mother trotted along to keep up with him.
Bessie circled the car and stood next to Millie as both girls crossed their arms over their chests and watched Bessie's parents make their retreat inside the mansion. "Gee," Millie mused. "Your father is livid."
"Well, I wonder what ever for," Bessie rolled her eyes sarcastically.
Millie gasped, releasing her arms and balling her fists up at her sides. "Surely you are not going to blame this on me!"
Bessie's body tensed up defensively for a moment before she relented and sighed, defeated. "No," she shook her head. "This wasn't your fault. I'm going to fetch Scout and give him a walk around outside. I couldn't imagine the fits he's given grandmother since I've been gone."
A little more than half an hour later, after Scout had expressed his delight in Bessie's presence and his joy for being outside, she brought him inside and unleashed him in the foyer. Met by her grandmother, the old woman smiled and embraced Bessie and then said to her, "Darling, why don't you run upstairs and alert your parents that it's time for dinner?"
The aromas of spice and meat suddenly wafted into the air and Bessie's stomach grumbled with excitement. She'd forgotten just how famished she was. Eagerly she made her way up the staircase, turned the corner past the library, and came to an abrupt halt when she heard voices through her parents' cracked bedroom door.
"Come now, Jim," her mother tried to reason. "You act like she's committed a heinous felony or something! She's just a young girl getting into a little mischief--"
"She is a grown young woman and her actions were disgraceful!" Her father hissed through his teeth. "I don't even know what to do with her anymore. Frat parties, sneaking around past curfew...I was willing to turn the other cheek at her abominable confession to spending the night with her beau at the gypsy camp, but now this? Not only has she shamed herself, but she's shamed her entire family--"
"Don't be so dramatic. You were young once, too."
"Cathy," he breathed, an attempt to calm himself. "For the first time in nineteen years, I felt ashamed to call Bessie my daughter. I have never been so disappointed."
The breath caught in Bessie's chest and her jaw dropped. As devastation threatened to overwhelm her, she interrupted the conversation by knocking lightly with her knuckle and opening the door. She couldn't muster up the bravery to look her father in the eye so she avoided all eye contact altogether. "Grandmother says supper is ready," she said in a tiny voice.
"Bessie," her father replied in a defeated tone.
The sniff that came before the tears was unexpected as she dropped her head and turned on her heel.
"Bess!" He called after her.
She bounded down the staircase, intent on keeping her emotions inside because she didn't want her family to detect any problems. All she wanted to do was get through dinner and go to bed.
Moments later, Bessie sat around the table with her parents and her grandparents and Millie while Jessy, her grandparents' maid, sat plates full of unique-looking cuisine in front of them.
"Jessy's Mexican grandmother sent her a cookbook in the mail straight from Mexico," Elizabeth Harlow announced proudly. "Jessy was kind enough to share a few of her delicious recipes with us. Jessy, why don't you tell us what we're eating, dear?"
As Jessy shyly recited their meal of enchiladas and salsa and beans, Bessie wanted so badly to be enthusiastic about it. After all, the scents of tomato and spice and meat were absolutely heavenly. Bessie had never tasted such entrees, but her current mood and state of mind had robbed her of her appetite.
"Jessy," her grandmother said to the maid in a tone that caused Bessie to lift her head and pay attention. "Where are you going?"
Jessy blushed as she stopped in her tracks and turned around. "You have guests. I'm taking my dinner in the kitchen."
"You most certainly are not," the old woman snapped. "You'll make yourself a plate and sit right down here with the rest of us."
Bessie and Millie widened their eyes at each other with surprise. Their grandparents had never included the help in any of their activities, meals included. The help were the help, they did as they were told and they stayed out of the way. But based on the current interaction, this was apparently a common occurrence now.
In turn, Bessie smiled.
Suddenly, Bessie's father jumped up and moved his place settings out of the way. "Here, Jessy. You can have my seat."
"Oh, Mr. Harlow," Jessy smiled and shook her head. "That really isn't necessary, I don't want to intrude--"
"Well, damn it, do as your told and have a seat, girl," Bessie's grandfather finally said. Bessie was shocked and she and Millie exchanged another surprised look. It was probably the most they'd heard their grandfather speak all weekend. "It's just our family, this isn't any different than any other time we take our meals here. Sit and eat. I, for one, have no idea why I haven't been eating this for my entire life!"
Bessie's smile widened as Jessy gratefully took her seat and prepared a plate for herself and her heart warmed at her grandparents' seemly change in demeanor towards their maid. She supposed that something had happened over the past few years since the stock market crash and the devastation of the economy that forced them to open their hearts a little more. Change could do that to a person--her own household was living proof of that.
At the thought of her household, Bessie's eyes glanced over her father's across the table and the tension instantly made its way back, her stomach churning with nerves. With her fork, she tentatively stabbed at the wrapped tortilla and speared herself a chunk of meat and peppers. Admittedly, the flavors danced on her tongue in the most delightful of ways but her stomach wouldn't allow her to enjoy it. It flip flopped and turned and twisted and she was upset at everything she could possibly be upset at. She was upset at Dean Stiltner for suggesting the sleepover. She was upset at Millie for dragging her to the party and keeping her out after curfew. She was upset at Robert Clayton for being so nice and offering her cake. She was upset at herself for not being able to follow through with the sneaking, upset at Millie for spilling the beans about the fraternity party, and upset that her father was ashamed of her. 'For the first time in nineteen years I was ashamed to call Bessie my daughter.' That was what he'd said. Out loud. That was how he felt.
Finally, she was upset that despite all the activity and distractions she'd had for the past couple of days, Bessie missed Zac so terribly that she felt like she could just die. Zac would make everything better. He would hold her in his strong arms and tell her how much he loved her and he would recite love poems and read Shakespeare to her in that warm, comforting voice of his. Bessie hated the carnival. Why couldn't he be home? Why couldn't things be like they were before he left? Lunch at the feed store, lounging under their shade tree, listening to the rain ting on the roof of the barn or the travel trailer. Where had life gone?
Silver violently crashed into china and Bessie jumped, startled out of her trance. "All right," her grandmother barked. "That's it. What on earth is going on under my roof? You can cut the tension with a knife in here."
Bessie hadn't realized that her grandparents hadn't heard yet and she was afraid of the repercussions when they did. With shame, Bessie glanced up at her father again, waiting on him to come out with it. She knew he would. He was just simply looking for an opening.
Except that he didn't. He merely cleared his throat and went back to his plate. Great. He was so ashamed of her that he didn't even want to discuss her actions. She betted that he didn't even want her there. He probably didn't even want to look at her. And with that, the tears formed a painful lump in her throat.
"Well?" Her grandmother pressed.
"I'm sorry," Bessie said in a small voice. Then she looked up and smiled across the table at Jessy. "Jessy, this is delicious. But I'm afraid I'm just not very hungry."
Bessie's grandmother smiled and winked at her, seemingly calming herself. "Overindulged on all that good college food, didn't you?"
"No," Bessie replied, shaking her head. "I'm just not feeling very well."
"Bessie," her father said, gently, the sound of his calm, soothing voice causing the tears to brim her eyes. "You should eat."
"May I please be excused?" Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard.
"Sweetheart," her grandmother said with alarm. "Are you all right? Do you need Jessy to--?"
"No, thank you. Please enjoy your dinner, Jessy. I'll be fine, I just need to...to rest a little bit. Have a good evening, everyone."
Bessie couldn't get up the stairs and into her room fast enough. Closing the door gently, she collapsed onto her bed and exploded into a fit of sobs, heavy, painful sobs that she buried into her pillow so that she couldn't be heard. She sniffed and she gasped for breath and she prayed that she could disappear. "Zac," she sobbed into her pillow. "Zac, please, where are you? I need you."
________________________________________
Coney Island had been a surprisingly satisfying run. The Incredible Hansons had come out with nearly five grand, keeping at least two of it a secret because "That's our money and Barney Harper's not getting his hands on a red cent of it." Now it was time to pack up and head back into the big city to perform on the grand stage as the headliner of a week-long nostalgic variety show. They would park their trailer once again, storing their supplies in the backstage of the theatre and they were being put up in, yet, another fancy hotel.
Outside, Taylor loaded the car and Isaac busied himself on his back underneath it, performing an oil change. Once those tasks were complete, the three brothers would strap the knife wheel to the trailer in a way less threatening than the last time. They had grown tired of worrying about the state of their trailer and the cargo aboard it and Isaac had stated, "The moment we wrap up this tour I can't wait to say good riddance to that wheel."
"No way!" Taylor had argued. "We worked hard on that thing! What if we need it again?"
"Then we'll build a new one," Isaac had replied.
And then the exchange had turned into an argument that was carried outside, much to Zac's relief.
As Zac found himself blissfully alone in the trailer, he packed and let his mind wander. He couldn't help the apprehensiveness he felt toward the telegram he'd received from Bessie. Oklahoma City, huh? Touring the college. Time seemed to be moving so fast, but yet so slow, and neither paces in Zac's favor. It was beginning to become all too real. In a little over a week he would be home and then he would only get a few precious weeks with her before she left him, and for a much more severe amount of time. She needed to go to school. She needed to follow her dreams. He wouldn't prevent her from that. But how would he cope with the pain? With her absence? He'd do it. He'd make it happen some way, somehow...
He sensed movement out of the corner of his eye and his breath caught in his throat as he spied the silhouette of the slender day dress in the doorway. His heart leapt and his palms moistened and then the pointy nose came into view as she stepped into the trailer and Zac had difficulty hiding his scowl. "Oh," he said flatly. "Hi, Dot."
Of course it wasn't Bessie. It was physically impossible for her to have been there. Why had he even gotten his hopes up?
Dejected, he went back to the satchel he was packing and yanked hard on the strap. "You here to offer me more hush money?" He muttered. "Because I already smoked up the first batch."
"No," she replied listlessly, examining her surroundings. "That's over with now. He was too demanding."
Zac snorted uncontrollably. Too demanding? She didn't look like she minded when she was on her back in the little guy's tent. The memory was both disgusting and humorous at the same time but he refrained from cracking any jokes. Instead, he replied, "How unfortunate."
"Not really," she responded, shaking her head. "He's not my type anyway."
Zac smirked. He couldn't help himself. "No? Sure looked differently the other night."
"I'm a woman," she shrugged. "I have needs."
"Right."
"Well? Don't you want to know what my type is?"
He side-glanced at her suspiciously. "I'm afraid to ask..."
"I generally prefer my men bigger," she mused, running her finger along the chair she stood beside.
"Yeah? If that's the case, I saw a guy in another show in the park, I swear he was, like, seven feet tall. If that's not enough man for you, I don't know what is."
Dot giggled with delight and Zac's stomach churned. "You're so funny! Anyway, I prefer them at reasonable height." She took another step toward him. "You know?"
Finally, Zac sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Dot. I get it. I'm flattered that you seem to have...taken a liking to me. And you seem like a very nice girl. But I have a girl. Back home. And I'm very loyal to her."
With that, Dot huffed in a pout and collapsed down into the chair. "Loyal? I saw you leaving Glorious Greta's tent in Philadelphia. Men only go in her tent for one reason--"
"It wasn't like that," he assured her. "I promise. Besides, she knows about Bessie, too."
"Bessie? Is that her name?"
"Yes."
"It's nice."
"Yes. Just like her."
"So she's a nice girl."
"Very, yes."
"Well..." Dot's eyes searched the floor in thought before looking back up at Zac. "I'm not a very nice girl sometimes."
"I doubt that's--"
"And she's not here, is she?"
"Dot..." he warned.
"Wouldn't she want you to be taken care of while you're gone? I'm not asking for a relationship, Zac. I'm just--"
"I'm not asking for any of it," Zac snapped. "Now I'm trying to be nice, here. But you're barking up the wrong tree."
"I saw the way you looked at me when I walked in."
"Momentary lapse in judgment."
Zac was growing livid. It was bad enough that his stomach churned with fear with his love's last message to him. He only wanted to be left in peace with his thoughts. Instead he was being forced to discuss her with someone who wasn't even worthy of the subject.
That wasn't fair and Zac knew it. The truth was he had no real reason to dislike Dorothy. Except that he knew what he had against her and he tasted the bile rising in his mouth every time he admitted it to himself.
As if reading his mind, Dot's voice came across dangerously close to a taunt. "Do I look like her?"
Slowly, his glare reached her. "No," he replied through gritted teeth.
"If I remind you of her, it's okay. If--if you need to close your eyes and pretend that I'm her, I won't mind--"
"God damn it, woman, get the hell out of my trailer! Don't you ever set foot in here again!"
Zac had exploded. The fury rose in his face, the anxiousness filled his breathing, and he felt the fire in his skin. His hands trembled.
He had startled her. She'd jumped in the chair, her eyes wide, but she didn't budge. "But, Zac," she objected breathlessly. "I'm offering you a release. I've seen the pain in your eyes since the day I met you. No one has to know, just a secret between us--"
"How dare you?" He replied darkly, feeling more sickening hatred than he'd felt since the first time he'd seen Billy Connors's hands on Bessie. "You have the audacity to walk into my home and propose to me that you could actually replace the love of my life? Have you lost your fucking mind? I would never, in a million years, ever be untrue to my girl and if I ever got so desperate and sunk so low, it certainly wouldn't be in the arms of a midget acrobat's sloppy seconds. I may have sown my wild oats in a past life, but at least those whores upheld a tiny sense of self-respect. They didn't sit around and screw everything that moved just because they were bored."
He hadn't realized that he'd gotten in her face until he heard the loud scraping of the chair's wooden legs against the trailer's floor as she scooted herself away from him. Careful to avoid him, she snaked her body around him and into a standing position and he found it easy to ignore the tears that welled up in her eyes. He almost felt guilty, but the emotion only lasted roughly half a second.
"Well I never," her voice wavered. "I've never had something so horrible said to me in all my life."
"I would commit murder if it meant protecting my future wife's good name and integrity. No woman could ever be her. No woman could ever even try. I couldn't be made to care about your feelings or anybody else's. Bessie is my number one priority. I live my entire life for her."
"Well you never said you were engaged," Dot replied defensively.
"Does it matter?" He spat.
"Look, Zac, I'm sorry. But I can't help myself. I'm only a girl with a hopeless crush on a boy, you know? I've been so crazy about you since the day I laid eyes on you--"
"Well that's unfortunate."
"I'll tell my father," she said in a small voice, a last-ditch effort to get Zac where she wanted him.
"Tell him," he challenged her. "Put me out of my god damned misery. It's just one week earlier that I can get home to my girl."
She stared him down for a moment before she finally turned on her heel and fled the trailer. Normally, Zac would have felt remorse. He would have regretted hurting Dot's feelings, he would have felt bad about the things he'd said, insulting a woman so brutally the way he had. But he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. His heart was in shreds over the agony of missing Bessie. He was bitter, he was cold, and this tour had lasted far too long already. Zac just couldn't take it anymore. And he didn't give a damn who stood in his way.
Barely able to collect himself, two more bodies seemed to materialize outside the trailer door where Dot had just fled. Zac's ragged breathing and resentful glare were now targeted at the two men he knew didn't deserve it. Taylor's blue eyes stared at Zac with wide curiosity. Zac thought he detected a flicker of fear. "She's going to tell her father what?"
Without missing a beat and unable to control his sinister tone, Zac's fists balled up tightly at his sides. "I want to go the fuck home. Now."
My Sweet Dearest Darling Zac,
My first unofficial college experience has taught me two things: I am a criminal and I am a horrible, horrible person. I am not sure that college life is for me.
I am not sure which part makes me a horrible person the most, the fact that I allowed Millie to drag me to a fraternity party full of boys, the fact that I looked at a boy, or the fact that I ate cake with the boy. In my defense, however, I DID tell him that I have a beau that I love. I'll never leave you, Zac. I love you forever.
The part about me being a criminal? I'm not a very good one. We stayed out at the party past curfew, which was ten o'clock. Millie promised to teach me how to sneak inside the dormitory after curfew, which was almost successful, except that I'm a clumsy individual and the hallway was dark. We had made it all the way up and onto our floor when my ankle twisted and I fell into the resident hostess's door and she happened to be there and then Dean Stiltner was called and then...well, I'm just lucky I wasn't expelled from the university before I was actually enrolled!
I'm so scared for Daddy to pick Millie and me up tomorrow. He's going to be so upset and I'm so ashamed of myself. I'm such a disappointment. I'm such a disgrace. I've disgraced you and my family and the university and myself. I wish you could just come here and sweep me off my feet and carry me with you with the carnival. I would be so happy just being with you always. Then I wouldn't even need college. I could be your personal assistant and see the country and not have to deal with football boys and cake and ten o'clock curfews. Oh, Zac. We would be so happy together. I miss you so much.
Speaking of the carnival, how are things on Coney Island going? I know you can't answer me right now, but I can't wait to go home and open the letters that will be waiting for me. I'm so happy that you kept your promise to write me every single day. Getting your letters are the highlight of my day every day and they're the only things that keep me going sometimes. They give me hope. They ease the pain in my heart. We're really going to have to sit and discuss my college future because I'm not sure I can go on without you again. I understand the importance of going to college. But we're going to have to reevaluate what type of education I'm going to have and where. I say 'we' because I want you to have a say in it. I want to share my life with you, I want to share everything with you. I'm excited to hear any ideas or suggestions you might have.
Well, I suppose I should sleep now, if I can. I'm sitting on my bed in the dormitory while Millie hogs up the washroom. Pray for me, Zac. Pray that I survive my father's arrival tomorrow.
My Love Always,
Bessie
"What on Earth were you thinking?" Bessie's father asked as the four of them rode toward the exit of the University of Oklahoma's campus. "I leave you ladies alone for less than twenty-four hours in an institution of higher-learning with some of this country's best faculty and staff, where school isn't even in session, by the way, and you still manage to find trouble." He paused and shook his head. "I would expect something like this out of a couple of fourteen and fifteen year olds, but the two of you are grown, sophisticated women. For shame!"
Bessie detected the smirk on her mother's face in the front seat but she had no time to assess her amusement. Instead, Bessie was on the verge of tears, ashamed of herself for her behavior--and equally as ashamed of not showing Millie what a good sneak she could be. Because Bessie was a good sneak and she knew it. Why, anyone could ask Zac--
No. No time for that now. Bessie's father was ashamed of her. Disappointed, upset, embarrassed. And now he displayed his displeasure by driving the four of them down the highway at the car's top speed of nearly sixty miles per hour. The windows were down, the ladies' hair blew in the wind...and Bessie couldn't even appreciate the mock feeling of freedom the fresh air provided.
Next to her, Millie crossed her arms over her chest haughtily and directed her attention to the driver seat, which Bessie sat behind. "You said she was spending the night to get a feel for college life, Uncle Jim," she spat. "Well, there it was. Frat parties and sneaking around past curfew. You can't tell us that you and the fellas didn't get into any college shenanigans at Yale."
"There was a frat party?!" The judge nearly shrieked.
Millie hunkered her head. Oops. That was the one minor detail that hadn't come up. The girls had told Dean Stiltner that they'd gone roaming for food. This was it. Bessie was a dead man. Or a dead woman?
"Well there really was cake involved," Bessie tossed in to make herself out to be a little less of the liar that she was.
But her father remained silent and stoic. Bessie hung her head.
The judge didn't utter another word for the rest of the trip. It was a long, quiet ride, and Bessie's heart nearly leapt with joy when they turned onto her grandparents' property. Once the car was parked, the judge wasted no time storming up to the house, while Bessie's mother trotted along to keep up with him.
Bessie circled the car and stood next to Millie as both girls crossed their arms over their chests and watched Bessie's parents make their retreat inside the mansion. "Gee," Millie mused. "Your father is livid."
"Well, I wonder what ever for," Bessie rolled her eyes sarcastically.
Millie gasped, releasing her arms and balling her fists up at her sides. "Surely you are not going to blame this on me!"
Bessie's body tensed up defensively for a moment before she relented and sighed, defeated. "No," she shook her head. "This wasn't your fault. I'm going to fetch Scout and give him a walk around outside. I couldn't imagine the fits he's given grandmother since I've been gone."
A little more than half an hour later, after Scout had expressed his delight in Bessie's presence and his joy for being outside, she brought him inside and unleashed him in the foyer. Met by her grandmother, the old woman smiled and embraced Bessie and then said to her, "Darling, why don't you run upstairs and alert your parents that it's time for dinner?"
The aromas of spice and meat suddenly wafted into the air and Bessie's stomach grumbled with excitement. She'd forgotten just how famished she was. Eagerly she made her way up the staircase, turned the corner past the library, and came to an abrupt halt when she heard voices through her parents' cracked bedroom door.
"Come now, Jim," her mother tried to reason. "You act like she's committed a heinous felony or something! She's just a young girl getting into a little mischief--"
"She is a grown young woman and her actions were disgraceful!" Her father hissed through his teeth. "I don't even know what to do with her anymore. Frat parties, sneaking around past curfew...I was willing to turn the other cheek at her abominable confession to spending the night with her beau at the gypsy camp, but now this? Not only has she shamed herself, but she's shamed her entire family--"
"Don't be so dramatic. You were young once, too."
"Cathy," he breathed, an attempt to calm himself. "For the first time in nineteen years, I felt ashamed to call Bessie my daughter. I have never been so disappointed."
The breath caught in Bessie's chest and her jaw dropped. As devastation threatened to overwhelm her, she interrupted the conversation by knocking lightly with her knuckle and opening the door. She couldn't muster up the bravery to look her father in the eye so she avoided all eye contact altogether. "Grandmother says supper is ready," she said in a tiny voice.
"Bessie," her father replied in a defeated tone.
The sniff that came before the tears was unexpected as she dropped her head and turned on her heel.
"Bess!" He called after her.
She bounded down the staircase, intent on keeping her emotions inside because she didn't want her family to detect any problems. All she wanted to do was get through dinner and go to bed.
Moments later, Bessie sat around the table with her parents and her grandparents and Millie while Jessy, her grandparents' maid, sat plates full of unique-looking cuisine in front of them.
"Jessy's Mexican grandmother sent her a cookbook in the mail straight from Mexico," Elizabeth Harlow announced proudly. "Jessy was kind enough to share a few of her delicious recipes with us. Jessy, why don't you tell us what we're eating, dear?"
As Jessy shyly recited their meal of enchiladas and salsa and beans, Bessie wanted so badly to be enthusiastic about it. After all, the scents of tomato and spice and meat were absolutely heavenly. Bessie had never tasted such entrees, but her current mood and state of mind had robbed her of her appetite.
"Jessy," her grandmother said to the maid in a tone that caused Bessie to lift her head and pay attention. "Where are you going?"
Jessy blushed as she stopped in her tracks and turned around. "You have guests. I'm taking my dinner in the kitchen."
"You most certainly are not," the old woman snapped. "You'll make yourself a plate and sit right down here with the rest of us."
Bessie and Millie widened their eyes at each other with surprise. Their grandparents had never included the help in any of their activities, meals included. The help were the help, they did as they were told and they stayed out of the way. But based on the current interaction, this was apparently a common occurrence now.
In turn, Bessie smiled.
Suddenly, Bessie's father jumped up and moved his place settings out of the way. "Here, Jessy. You can have my seat."
"Oh, Mr. Harlow," Jessy smiled and shook her head. "That really isn't necessary, I don't want to intrude--"
"Well, damn it, do as your told and have a seat, girl," Bessie's grandfather finally said. Bessie was shocked and she and Millie exchanged another surprised look. It was probably the most they'd heard their grandfather speak all weekend. "It's just our family, this isn't any different than any other time we take our meals here. Sit and eat. I, for one, have no idea why I haven't been eating this for my entire life!"
Bessie's smile widened as Jessy gratefully took her seat and prepared a plate for herself and her heart warmed at her grandparents' seemly change in demeanor towards their maid. She supposed that something had happened over the past few years since the stock market crash and the devastation of the economy that forced them to open their hearts a little more. Change could do that to a person--her own household was living proof of that.
At the thought of her household, Bessie's eyes glanced over her father's across the table and the tension instantly made its way back, her stomach churning with nerves. With her fork, she tentatively stabbed at the wrapped tortilla and speared herself a chunk of meat and peppers. Admittedly, the flavors danced on her tongue in the most delightful of ways but her stomach wouldn't allow her to enjoy it. It flip flopped and turned and twisted and she was upset at everything she could possibly be upset at. She was upset at Dean Stiltner for suggesting the sleepover. She was upset at Millie for dragging her to the party and keeping her out after curfew. She was upset at Robert Clayton for being so nice and offering her cake. She was upset at herself for not being able to follow through with the sneaking, upset at Millie for spilling the beans about the fraternity party, and upset that her father was ashamed of her. 'For the first time in nineteen years I was ashamed to call Bessie my daughter.' That was what he'd said. Out loud. That was how he felt.
Finally, she was upset that despite all the activity and distractions she'd had for the past couple of days, Bessie missed Zac so terribly that she felt like she could just die. Zac would make everything better. He would hold her in his strong arms and tell her how much he loved her and he would recite love poems and read Shakespeare to her in that warm, comforting voice of his. Bessie hated the carnival. Why couldn't he be home? Why couldn't things be like they were before he left? Lunch at the feed store, lounging under their shade tree, listening to the rain ting on the roof of the barn or the travel trailer. Where had life gone?
Silver violently crashed into china and Bessie jumped, startled out of her trance. "All right," her grandmother barked. "That's it. What on earth is going on under my roof? You can cut the tension with a knife in here."
Bessie hadn't realized that her grandparents hadn't heard yet and she was afraid of the repercussions when they did. With shame, Bessie glanced up at her father again, waiting on him to come out with it. She knew he would. He was just simply looking for an opening.
Except that he didn't. He merely cleared his throat and went back to his plate. Great. He was so ashamed of her that he didn't even want to discuss her actions. She betted that he didn't even want her there. He probably didn't even want to look at her. And with that, the tears formed a painful lump in her throat.
"Well?" Her grandmother pressed.
"I'm sorry," Bessie said in a small voice. Then she looked up and smiled across the table at Jessy. "Jessy, this is delicious. But I'm afraid I'm just not very hungry."
Bessie's grandmother smiled and winked at her, seemingly calming herself. "Overindulged on all that good college food, didn't you?"
"No," Bessie replied, shaking her head. "I'm just not feeling very well."
"Bessie," her father said, gently, the sound of his calm, soothing voice causing the tears to brim her eyes. "You should eat."
"May I please be excused?" Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard.
"Sweetheart," her grandmother said with alarm. "Are you all right? Do you need Jessy to--?"
"No, thank you. Please enjoy your dinner, Jessy. I'll be fine, I just need to...to rest a little bit. Have a good evening, everyone."
Bessie couldn't get up the stairs and into her room fast enough. Closing the door gently, she collapsed onto her bed and exploded into a fit of sobs, heavy, painful sobs that she buried into her pillow so that she couldn't be heard. She sniffed and she gasped for breath and she prayed that she could disappear. "Zac," she sobbed into her pillow. "Zac, please, where are you? I need you."
________________________________________
Coney Island had been a surprisingly satisfying run. The Incredible Hansons had come out with nearly five grand, keeping at least two of it a secret because "That's our money and Barney Harper's not getting his hands on a red cent of it." Now it was time to pack up and head back into the big city to perform on the grand stage as the headliner of a week-long nostalgic variety show. They would park their trailer once again, storing their supplies in the backstage of the theatre and they were being put up in, yet, another fancy hotel.
Outside, Taylor loaded the car and Isaac busied himself on his back underneath it, performing an oil change. Once those tasks were complete, the three brothers would strap the knife wheel to the trailer in a way less threatening than the last time. They had grown tired of worrying about the state of their trailer and the cargo aboard it and Isaac had stated, "The moment we wrap up this tour I can't wait to say good riddance to that wheel."
"No way!" Taylor had argued. "We worked hard on that thing! What if we need it again?"
"Then we'll build a new one," Isaac had replied.
And then the exchange had turned into an argument that was carried outside, much to Zac's relief.
As Zac found himself blissfully alone in the trailer, he packed and let his mind wander. He couldn't help the apprehensiveness he felt toward the telegram he'd received from Bessie. Oklahoma City, huh? Touring the college. Time seemed to be moving so fast, but yet so slow, and neither paces in Zac's favor. It was beginning to become all too real. In a little over a week he would be home and then he would only get a few precious weeks with her before she left him, and for a much more severe amount of time. She needed to go to school. She needed to follow her dreams. He wouldn't prevent her from that. But how would he cope with the pain? With her absence? He'd do it. He'd make it happen some way, somehow...
He sensed movement out of the corner of his eye and his breath caught in his throat as he spied the silhouette of the slender day dress in the doorway. His heart leapt and his palms moistened and then the pointy nose came into view as she stepped into the trailer and Zac had difficulty hiding his scowl. "Oh," he said flatly. "Hi, Dot."
Of course it wasn't Bessie. It was physically impossible for her to have been there. Why had he even gotten his hopes up?
Dejected, he went back to the satchel he was packing and yanked hard on the strap. "You here to offer me more hush money?" He muttered. "Because I already smoked up the first batch."
"No," she replied listlessly, examining her surroundings. "That's over with now. He was too demanding."
Zac snorted uncontrollably. Too demanding? She didn't look like she minded when she was on her back in the little guy's tent. The memory was both disgusting and humorous at the same time but he refrained from cracking any jokes. Instead, he replied, "How unfortunate."
"Not really," she responded, shaking her head. "He's not my type anyway."
Zac smirked. He couldn't help himself. "No? Sure looked differently the other night."
"I'm a woman," she shrugged. "I have needs."
"Right."
"Well? Don't you want to know what my type is?"
He side-glanced at her suspiciously. "I'm afraid to ask..."
"I generally prefer my men bigger," she mused, running her finger along the chair she stood beside.
"Yeah? If that's the case, I saw a guy in another show in the park, I swear he was, like, seven feet tall. If that's not enough man for you, I don't know what is."
Dot giggled with delight and Zac's stomach churned. "You're so funny! Anyway, I prefer them at reasonable height." She took another step toward him. "You know?"
Finally, Zac sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Dot. I get it. I'm flattered that you seem to have...taken a liking to me. And you seem like a very nice girl. But I have a girl. Back home. And I'm very loyal to her."
With that, Dot huffed in a pout and collapsed down into the chair. "Loyal? I saw you leaving Glorious Greta's tent in Philadelphia. Men only go in her tent for one reason--"
"It wasn't like that," he assured her. "I promise. Besides, she knows about Bessie, too."
"Bessie? Is that her name?"
"Yes."
"It's nice."
"Yes. Just like her."
"So she's a nice girl."
"Very, yes."
"Well..." Dot's eyes searched the floor in thought before looking back up at Zac. "I'm not a very nice girl sometimes."
"I doubt that's--"
"And she's not here, is she?"
"Dot..." he warned.
"Wouldn't she want you to be taken care of while you're gone? I'm not asking for a relationship, Zac. I'm just--"
"I'm not asking for any of it," Zac snapped. "Now I'm trying to be nice, here. But you're barking up the wrong tree."
"I saw the way you looked at me when I walked in."
"Momentary lapse in judgment."
Zac was growing livid. It was bad enough that his stomach churned with fear with his love's last message to him. He only wanted to be left in peace with his thoughts. Instead he was being forced to discuss her with someone who wasn't even worthy of the subject.
That wasn't fair and Zac knew it. The truth was he had no real reason to dislike Dorothy. Except that he knew what he had against her and he tasted the bile rising in his mouth every time he admitted it to himself.
As if reading his mind, Dot's voice came across dangerously close to a taunt. "Do I look like her?"
Slowly, his glare reached her. "No," he replied through gritted teeth.
"If I remind you of her, it's okay. If--if you need to close your eyes and pretend that I'm her, I won't mind--"
"God damn it, woman, get the hell out of my trailer! Don't you ever set foot in here again!"
Zac had exploded. The fury rose in his face, the anxiousness filled his breathing, and he felt the fire in his skin. His hands trembled.
He had startled her. She'd jumped in the chair, her eyes wide, but she didn't budge. "But, Zac," she objected breathlessly. "I'm offering you a release. I've seen the pain in your eyes since the day I met you. No one has to know, just a secret between us--"
"How dare you?" He replied darkly, feeling more sickening hatred than he'd felt since the first time he'd seen Billy Connors's hands on Bessie. "You have the audacity to walk into my home and propose to me that you could actually replace the love of my life? Have you lost your fucking mind? I would never, in a million years, ever be untrue to my girl and if I ever got so desperate and sunk so low, it certainly wouldn't be in the arms of a midget acrobat's sloppy seconds. I may have sown my wild oats in a past life, but at least those whores upheld a tiny sense of self-respect. They didn't sit around and screw everything that moved just because they were bored."
He hadn't realized that he'd gotten in her face until he heard the loud scraping of the chair's wooden legs against the trailer's floor as she scooted herself away from him. Careful to avoid him, she snaked her body around him and into a standing position and he found it easy to ignore the tears that welled up in her eyes. He almost felt guilty, but the emotion only lasted roughly half a second.
"Well I never," her voice wavered. "I've never had something so horrible said to me in all my life."
"I would commit murder if it meant protecting my future wife's good name and integrity. No woman could ever be her. No woman could ever even try. I couldn't be made to care about your feelings or anybody else's. Bessie is my number one priority. I live my entire life for her."
"Well you never said you were engaged," Dot replied defensively.
"Does it matter?" He spat.
"Look, Zac, I'm sorry. But I can't help myself. I'm only a girl with a hopeless crush on a boy, you know? I've been so crazy about you since the day I laid eyes on you--"
"Well that's unfortunate."
"I'll tell my father," she said in a small voice, a last-ditch effort to get Zac where she wanted him.
"Tell him," he challenged her. "Put me out of my god damned misery. It's just one week earlier that I can get home to my girl."
She stared him down for a moment before she finally turned on her heel and fled the trailer. Normally, Zac would have felt remorse. He would have regretted hurting Dot's feelings, he would have felt bad about the things he'd said, insulting a woman so brutally the way he had. But he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. His heart was in shreds over the agony of missing Bessie. He was bitter, he was cold, and this tour had lasted far too long already. Zac just couldn't take it anymore. And he didn't give a damn who stood in his way.
Barely able to collect himself, two more bodies seemed to materialize outside the trailer door where Dot had just fled. Zac's ragged breathing and resentful glare were now targeted at the two men he knew didn't deserve it. Taylor's blue eyes stared at Zac with wide curiosity. Zac thought he detected a flicker of fear. "She's going to tell her father what?"
Without missing a beat and unable to control his sinister tone, Zac's fists balled up tightly at his sides. "I want to go the fuck home. Now."