Chapter 4 - Part 1

Chapter 4 – Sam

One of my earliest memories is about my brother, Clyde. It’s a simple memory really. Maybe too simple to be a real memory, anyway. I know the feeling too well though to doubt that it is true.

I was young – maybe three or four – and I was standing behind the table where I couldn’t really be seen. My mom was working in the kitchen – cleaning up dishes or preparing food – I don’t know which and it really doesn’t matter. The important thing is that Clyde came in the room and hugged Mom’s leg from behind. Clyde was just a year and a half older than I was and there wasn’t much difference in our height so at first she thought it was me.

She said, “Sam! I’m busy! Go play!” Then she looked down and saw her mistake. Her voice completely changed. Even at that young of an age, I knew tenderness when I heard it. And this is what she said, “Oh! It’s you Clyde! How’s my big boy today?” And she stooped to hug him back.

I can still feel the pain of that day. I was just a little boy and it doesn’t mean anything. I remember after Clyde left the room, I brought Mom one of the dirty dishes from the table – trying to do something to help – to get the same kind of affection she’d given to Clyde. It didn’t work though, and it never did and never would. Looking back, I should have thrown the dishes on the floor, then gone to find Clyde and smothered him with a pillow. Hindsight is always 20/20.

**

I found a hot dog stand and managed to get everyone fed. I hoped we wouldn’t have to stay in this place long. If the crazy rides didn’t kill us, the food definitely would.

I watched my family as we all ate in silence. We had found a small table with benches that seemed to have been plopped down in the middle of the rides. We hadn’t seen any people since the last madhouse mob had swept us into the bumper cars. Even the hot dog stand had been deserted. The hot dogs were hot, though, and the buns fresh, so after hollering to see if any one would come help us, I settled on just taking the hot dogs and leaving some bills on the cart. Not that they deserved to be paid. If they’re going to trap us in this silly carnival, then they may as well provide our food.

Tommy sat on the edge of the bench facing away from the rest of us. Sonya sat next to Brittney with her arm around her. Our family meals hadn’t always been this quiet. Tommy used to talk a lot and Sonya would laugh and look at me with her smiles to draw me into the conversation. Even after Tom withdrew, Brittney could still sometimes chatter along about things. Not today, though. Today everyone was quiet.

Perhaps I had finally pushed too hard. I know not heading home was madness. What was I planning? We would have had to turn around sometime. I just couldn’t seem to face it right then. Sonya always doing stupid things like not giving back my keys and Tom being all sulky, not talking to anyone at the reunion and being mean to his sister, even Brittney made me mad. What did she mean by yelling that I was leaving them? For crying out loud. Can’t a man get some alone time in his car without everyone freaking out? So, when I got to that turning point on the highway, I just couldn’t face more of it. I didn’t want to go back home. It’s always the same and it’s getting worse and I just felt there had to be a different place to go or I’d scream or explode or dissolve, maybe, into thousands of little pieces and be lost in the coming storm -- forever.

It didn’t help, of course. How could it help when everyone who was making me mad was still right there in the car with me? Maybe Brittney hadn’t been so off-track. Maybe I had meant to leave them. Maybe that would be better for us all.

**

Sonya and I used to go out together every Friday night. It was easier, of course, before Tom came along, but even after that we still got a babysitter and spent those evenings together. Sonya loved concerts. I never liked them much before I met Sonya, but with her they seemed different – almost magical. Sonya used to make everything seem magical to me. I look at her now and see how she cringes from me. I see the fear in her eyes before I speak when she is waiting to see if I am mad at her or not. I see all that and I wonder where my beautiful, happy Sonya has gone? Then the anger rises in me again. Life has taken all that is good away from me.

After Sonya gave up singing, she didn’t want to go to concerts anymore. I was still so mad about how much time she spent away from our family at her singing lessons and singing recitals that I didn’t care at first that she didn’t want to go to concerts. I was glad she was giving up all that music. It was what she should do for her family. It wasn’t until later that I realized that a light had gone out of Sonya’s eyes and that not only was she not singing for her teacher anymore, but she also no longer sang in the kitchen or around the house – she no longer sang for me. Life was stinking backfiring on me again. Not only that, but I realized that I missed the concerts, too.

Still, we continued to go out on Friday nights, even after Brittney came along. Not every Friday night like we used to, but occasionally we’d go out to eat or for walks through the city parks. We always seemed closer after those nights.
Then Tom pulled that stunt coming home stone drunk. He did it just to show that he didn’t care about my authority. Some kids, I know, get so mad at their fathers that they actually hit them – punch them in the stomach or in the jaw. I’m not stupid. I know that is what Tommy did to me – just with alcohol instead of his fists. How am I supposed to not retaliate to that? He’s showing me hate. Well, I’m an expert on hate. I can show hate right back.

One day, when I was a kid I had a really sore throat. It was so bad that it hurt to swallow. Even when I wasn’t swallowing, it ached from the back of my throat clear into my jaw. A friend of my mom’s was at the house and said that what I needed was some cayenne pepper. She poured a couple of swallows of orange juice into a cup, doused it with red pepper, and then handed it to me to drink. I’ll never forget the burn as that went down my throat! But I learned that she was right, it was better to feel the burn than to feel the pain.

Sonya and I were supposed to go on a date that Friday – the Friday after the thing with Tom and his stupid, messed-up life – but Sonya said she had a headache and didn’t want to go. She had a headache the next week, too, and the week after that. Finally, I stopped asking. I guess that was the end. It was the end of our Friday dates, but it was the end of so much more than that.

**

Gradually, we all finished our hot dogs, crumpled the papers and put them in the garbage can that was next to the deserted hot dog stand. Sonya and Brittney and Tom all looked different directions, none of them wanting to look at me and none of them wanting to decide what to do next.

I shook my head. “Fine,” I said. “We’re at a carnival. I guess we should go on the rides.”

I turned around and took in our surroundings. The bumper cars were behind us, still and dark. The hot dog stand was to our right and the prize booths lined the pathway to our left. At the end of the row of prize booths was a large tent with a door. It said, “HOUSE OF MIRRORS.” It seemed to say something else underneath it, but we were too far away for me to make it out clearly.

I started walking toward the house of mirrors and everyone else followed. The tent that held the house of mirrors was striped, as I suppose all good carnival tents should be. This one was red, yellow, blue, red, yellow, blue. How nice. Primary colors. When I got to the door, I looked up. It said, “If men were completely honest, their lives would heal themselves.”

Tom said, “What is that supposed to mean?”

I glanced back. I had forgotten for a moment that they were all with me. “Same kind of foolishness as the rest of the carnival, I suppose,” I said.

I looked around. At least this carnival thing was different from the same old path of misery we seemed to keep treading everyday. I had gotten a bit of my wish. Even if turning the wrong way, away from home, had been madness, at least I had done something different. Maybe that would really be all it took to have something different happen.

I sighed and looked at Brittney. “What do you think, Britt? Should we try the house of mirrors?”

Brittney’s eyes glowed. Brittney was such a comfort. A child could still find fun in things that adults had long ago ceased to notice. “Yes!” she said, “I love the house of mirrors!”

“Then, let’s go,” I said and led the way through the door.