Charlie, we did, we did, we sure did.' And she sort of giggled to herself, secretly.
Charlie was ice cold. He stirred upright on an elbow.
She said, 'We found out what it is in your jar, Charlie — ' insinuatingly.
Charlie flumped over, hands to ears. 'I don't wanna hear!'
'Oh, but you gotta hear, Charlie. It's a good joke. Oh, it's rare, Charlie,' she hissed.
'Go — away,' he said.
'Unh-unh! No. No, sir, Charlie. Why, no, Charlie-Honey. Not until I tell!'
'Go,' he said in a low, firm voice, 'away.'
'Let me tell! We talked to that carny-boss, and he — he liked to die laughin', he said he sold that jar and what was in it to some, some — hick — for twelve bucks. And it ain't worth more'n two bucks at most!'
Laughter bloomed in the dark, right out of her mouth, an awful kind of laughter.
She finished it, snapping, quick:
'It's just junk, Charlie! Liquid rubber, papier-mâché, silk cotton, chemicals! That's all! Got a metal frame inside it! That's all! That's all it is, Charlie! That's all!' she shrilled in triumph.
'No, no!'
He sat up swiftly, ripping sheets apart in big fingers, roaring, tears coming bright on his cheeks.
'I don't wanna hear! Don't wanna hear!' he bellowed over and over.
She teased. 'Wait'll everyone hears how fake it is! Won't they laugh! Won't they flap their lungs!'
He caught her wrists. 'You ain't — gonna tell them?'
'Ouch! You hurt me!'
'You ain't gonna tell them.'
'Wouldn't want me known as a liar, would you, Charles?'
He flung her wrists like white sticks into a well:
'Whyncha leave me alone? You dirty! Dirty jealous mean of ever'thing I do. I took shine off your nose when I brung the jar home. You didn' sleep right ‘til you ruined things!'
She laughed nastily. 'Then I won't tell anybody,' she said.
He caught on to her. 'You spoiled my fun. That's all that counted. It don't matter if you tell the rest. I know. And I'll never have no more fun. You and that Tom Carmody. Him laughin'. I wish I could stop him laughin'. He's been laughin' for years at me! Well, you just go tell the rest, the other people, now — might as well have your fun — !'
He strode angrily, grabbed the jar so it sloshed, and would have flung it on the floor, but he stopped, trembling, and let it down softly on the spindly table. He leaned over it, sobbing. If he lost this, the world was gone. And he was losing Thedy, too. Every month that passed she danced further away, sneering at him, funning him. For too many years her hips had been the pendulum by which he reckoned the time of his living. But other men, Tom Carmody, for one, were reckoning time from the same source.
Theyd was standing, waiting for him to smash the jar. Instead, he petted and stroked and gradually quieted himself over it. He thought of the long good evenings in the past month, those rich evenings of camaraderie, conversation moving about the room. That, at least, was good, if nothing else.
He turned slowly to Thedy. She was lost forever to him.
'Theyd, you didn't go to the carnival.'
'Yes, I did.'
'You're lyin',' he said, quietly.
'No, I'm not!'
'This — this jar has to have somethin' in it. Somethin' besides the junk you say. Too many people believe there's somethin' in it. Thedy. You can't change that. The carny-boss, if you talked with him, he lied.' Charlie took a deep breath and then said, 'Come here, Thedy.'
'What you want?' she asked, sullenly.
'Come over here.'
'No, I won't.'
He took a step towards her. 'Come here.'
'Keep away from me, Charlie.'
'Just want to show you something, Thedy.' His voice was soft, low and insistent. 'Here, kittie. Here kittie, kittie, kittie — HERE KITTIE!'
It was another night, about a week later. Gramps Medknowe and Granny Carnation came,
Charlie was ice cold. He stirred upright on an elbow.
She said, 'We found out what it is in your jar, Charlie — ' insinuatingly.
Charlie flumped over, hands to ears. 'I don't wanna hear!'
'Oh, but you gotta hear, Charlie. It's a good joke. Oh, it's rare, Charlie,' she hissed.
'Go — away,' he said.
'Unh-unh! No. No, sir, Charlie. Why, no, Charlie-Honey. Not until I tell!'
'Go,' he said in a low, firm voice, 'away.'
'Let me tell! We talked to that carny-boss, and he — he liked to die laughin', he said he sold that jar and what was in it to some, some — hick — for twelve bucks. And it ain't worth more'n two bucks at most!'
Laughter bloomed in the dark, right out of her mouth, an awful kind of laughter.
She finished it, snapping, quick:
'It's just junk, Charlie! Liquid rubber, papier-mâché, silk cotton, chemicals! That's all! Got a metal frame inside it! That's all! That's all it is, Charlie! That's all!' she shrilled in triumph.
'No, no!'
He sat up swiftly, ripping sheets apart in big fingers, roaring, tears coming bright on his cheeks.
'I don't wanna hear! Don't wanna hear!' he bellowed over and over.
She teased. 'Wait'll everyone hears how fake it is! Won't they laugh! Won't they flap their lungs!'
He caught her wrists. 'You ain't — gonna tell them?'
'Ouch! You hurt me!'
'You ain't gonna tell them.'
'Wouldn't want me known as a liar, would you, Charles?'
He flung her wrists like white sticks into a well:
'Whyncha leave me alone? You dirty! Dirty jealous mean of ever'thing I do. I took shine off your nose when I brung the jar home. You didn' sleep right ‘til you ruined things!'
She laughed nastily. 'Then I won't tell anybody,' she said.
He caught on to her. 'You spoiled my fun. That's all that counted. It don't matter if you tell the rest. I know. And I'll never have no more fun. You and that Tom Carmody. Him laughin'. I wish I could stop him laughin'. He's been laughin' for years at me! Well, you just go tell the rest, the other people, now — might as well have your fun — !'
He strode angrily, grabbed the jar so it sloshed, and would have flung it on the floor, but he stopped, trembling, and let it down softly on the spindly table. He leaned over it, sobbing. If he lost this, the world was gone. And he was losing Thedy, too. Every month that passed she danced further away, sneering at him, funning him. For too many years her hips had been the pendulum by which he reckoned the time of his living. But other men, Tom Carmody, for one, were reckoning time from the same source.
Theyd was standing, waiting for him to smash the jar. Instead, he petted and stroked and gradually quieted himself over it. He thought of the long good evenings in the past month, those rich evenings of camaraderie, conversation moving about the room. That, at least, was good, if nothing else.
He turned slowly to Thedy. She was lost forever to him.
'Theyd, you didn't go to the carnival.'
'Yes, I did.'
'You're lyin',' he said, quietly.
'No, I'm not!'
'This — this jar has to have somethin' in it. Somethin' besides the junk you say. Too many people believe there's somethin' in it. Thedy. You can't change that. The carny-boss, if you talked with him, he lied.' Charlie took a deep breath and then said, 'Come here, Thedy.'
'What you want?' she asked, sullenly.
'Come over here.'
'No, I won't.'
He took a step towards her. 'Come here.'
'Keep away from me, Charlie.'
'Just want to show you something, Thedy.' His voice was soft, low and insistent. 'Here, kittie. Here kittie, kittie, kittie — HERE KITTIE!'
It was another night, about a week later. Gramps Medknowe and Granny Carnation came,
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