He found it difficult to let go of the old wood, but there was no point in torturing himself any further, so he snuffed the lamp, took his belongings and carried them downstairs. By the time he reached the spot where he’d left Tommy and Dog, the boy was fast asleep and only awoke once Cole shook him, after saddling Carol.
“Rise and shine,” Cole whispered, even though he barely saw anything in the faint light.
The boy didn’t say a thing, too sleepy to inquire about Dog, but the animal belonged to Ned, so it needed to stay. It was only when Cole put Tommy on the saddle and led him through the open door that the boy signed.
[What about Ned?]
The question pulled Cole right back to the office, the letter, and the love that brought him way more pain than joy. But he would not succumb to weakness again and shut the door behind them.
“Ned needs to find his own way.”
Chapter 24
Cole had barely slept. Daylight snuck its way into Terje’s wagon before he managed to get some shut-eye on the floor, and once he woke up to the sound of shouting and de-construction work, he was less rested than he had been before laying his head down.
Still, the moment Terje’s cuckoo clock struck twelve, it became clear that further rest made little sense, and he gravitated into the sunlight, which was so bright he ended up keeping his hat low over his eyes.
He must have resembled a ghoul from a story meant to scare children as he made his way through the encampment, so he washed in cold water, and then settled by one of the tables left standing close to the chuck wagon to sip coffee while troupe members pulled down stages and packed everything for today’s journey. Soon enough, there would be nothing left of the circus but a circle of sparse grass where too many feet had been digging into the dirt for the entirety of the past month.
He hadn’t touched liquor, yet felt as if he’d been drinking all night, and was fatigued as if the effort of saying goodbye to Ned has drained him of all strength. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been a coward and stayed ‘till morning to deliver the news in person?
The oatmeal in his bowl had brown bits of vegetables he didn't recognize, but at least trying to guess what they were was a game he could play to distract himself. Old carrot? Burned leek? Onion cooked in gravy?
“I know for a fact she let Leo slide two fingers up her cooch behind the stage,” a young man said to his friend with a snort as they rolled up the floor of the main tent. Both were strangers to Cole, so they must have been Jan’s recent acquisitions, unworthy of his attention.
The oatmeal had a burnt aftertaste, but eating it wouldn’t have made him happy even if it contained honey and nuts, so he fed on the gruel, watching the two men work. They were still built like boys, with arms that seemed too long and sparse muscle on their chests. One even had the misfortune of suffering of acne, but as all young men who hadn’t yet learned that this kind of talk marked them as curs, they loudly discussed the erotic encounter that likely never happened.
Cole didn’t care much about the vulgar chatter until the lecherous laughs turned into jeers as Roger walked past the two workers with a large tool box.
“Hey, Roger?” One of the boys started with a mean smile. “Do you stand in the corner when Parita gives the extra shows?”
His friend cackled like a madman. “If I had a woman like that, I’d keep her to myself, not let her—”
Roger gave them a level glare. “But you don’t.”
Cole smirked and would have whistled if he’d ever learned how to. He gave a short clap instead. “Well said, friend. Care to join me?” he asked to show his solidarity with Roger, who deserved a medal for not letting talk like this drag him down.
Some people believed lewd comments about the man’s wife or suggestions that she took him for a fool, were the height of humor, but for most it was yet another way to make themselves feel better. Cole figured the pimpled youth couldn’t fathom why a beauty like Parita had chosen a man whose face was deformed. But love didn’t care for propriety, and made unlikely matches just as often as the likely ones. It had been kind to Roger and Parita, but Cole suspected Cupid harbored a personal grudge against him. The poison on the invisible arrow stuck in Cole’s flesh might have tasted sweet, but it had brought him more pain than he was willing to take.
Roger slammed the tool box to the ground and sat next to Cole, pouring himself a bowl of oatmeal from the cooling pot in the middle of the table. “I didn’t know you were back.”
Cole sipped some coffee. “I’m here to leave Tommy in Judith’s care. But he might need a father figure too. Care to teach him how to build things next time you’re setting up?”
“Jan kept boasting that you’d rejoin the show. Shoulda’ known he was full of crockshit.” Roger laughed and stuffed his mouth with the gooey oatmeal. “But sure, I’ll look out for the kid. Whose is he anyway? The other fellow’s?”
Cole felt mildly offended on Ned’s behalf, even though Roger barely knew him and had no reason to remember his name or acknowledge his existence when he wasn’t present. “Ned’s? No. No, he’s… an old friend’s. Has no one in the world, and I guess it’s time for me to pay back a debt to his parents.”
“Might be a good place for him with the six fingers and all. Folk outside of our little world don’t accept different.” Roger shook his head. “My folks wanted to keep me away from people. Wouldn’t let me go to town or be around when guests came over,” he said, eating very slowly, as if he didn’t want to offend Cole with the sight of food in the exposed part of his mouth.
“That’s… terrible,” Cole said. “But I am worried about that too. It’s just his fingers, but I’ve heard stories from people who don’t quite fit in. I don’t want him to go through that.”
Discussing Tommy took his mind off Ned at least. Was he still in the old factory, contemplating where to go next? How did he take the letter? Did it hurt him, or had he been relieved?
“And he don’t talk neither. You made the right call leaving him here. This might not be the best place for kids, but Judith’s a caring woman, and he’s got a chance for a good life with us. So Ned’s washed his hands of the boy?”
An invisible grip tightened on Cole’s throat. “I took the choice from him.”
“Not pretty, that fight you had…” Roger muttered, and it felt as if he was trying to pry Cole open with an oyster knife.
“It’ll be better that way,” Cole said in a tight voice and slowly spread his fingers, trying to relieve the strain in them. “I told him I hated him. In front of everyone. We’ll never see each other again.”
Roger nodded, pretending he couldn’t look away from his burnt carrot porridge. “Oh, I’ve heard, but it’s also not what I heard in your voice…”
It was none of Roger’s business what Cole did or didn’t feel in his heart. Then again, hadn’t Cole just witnessed the kind of meat grinder others put Roger through, because they considered him too ugly for a pretty young wife?
Cole had another sip of coffee, so tense he had to put all his strength into not letting the cup shake. “How do you deal with comments like the ones I’ve just heard? If it was me, they’d both be nursing broken noses.”