All the Earth, Thrown to the Sky

51

I spent the night there, and Mrs. Carson put me in the room I was in before. Tony had his own room now, so it was just me in there.

I turned on the lamp by the bed and sat down on the edge and opened the letter.

I unfolded it and read:

Dear Jack,

I know I hurt your feelings, because I know you wanted more from me, and if I was going to be special with anyone, you’d be the one.

But I am not ready for that. I know my nature. I figured I should just cut the rope quick, not because I don’t care about you, but because I got to see the world and what’s out there. Just not ready to settle down and sew and cook and have babies. Though I would like a dog.

Now, I know you’re going to think this is a lie, ’cause I been known to lie, but I have gone off to California. I’ve got me a big notebook and a bunch of pencils and a pocketknife to keep them sharp, and I’m writing about what I see.

I’m writing about these folks that want to create unions. I’m writing about trains and hoboes. I’ve got real good at riding trains.

I want to learn to fly a plane.

I want to learn to sail a boat.

I plan to write a book.

Maybe I’ll see you someday. Maybe you and me will have a laugh, or another kiss.

By the way, I really liked that kiss.

May you have what you want in life. I hope the same for Tony. And I hope the same for me.

Love, Jane

I didn’t know exactly what to make of it, but that’s all there was. Next day I got in Strangler’s car and caught up with the carnival. It had gone across the Red River and was in northern Texas, at a place called Paris.

It wasn’t much like I pictured Paris to be. I had always thought it would be like Texas’s answer to the one in France. But it was just a hot little town where people came to the carnival, and Strangler won every bout.

I don’t know if I’ll stay with the carnival or not. I sure like Strangler, and I like the job of making him run and work out and eat right. I like making sure he’s ready for his bouts, and I manage his side bets. He makes quite a few, and he always wins. But I don’t know if I’ll stay. I don’t know if it’s enough, and it darn sure can’t last forever. Strangler is no spring chicken.

“Someday,” he told me, “when I feel one of them younger ones is making it too hard for me, I’m going to retire and go into another line of work.”

“What will that be, Strangler?” I asked.

“Brain surgeon,” he said, and laughed.

So, here I am, Strangler in his bedroom asleep, and me about to lie down on my couch. But before I do that, I thought I’d sit here with the lamp on, a writing pad on the table, and a sharp pencil in my hand, so I can put all the things down on paper that happened to us.

Guess I got that idea from Jane.

I hope she’s doing well.

I hope she’s finding what she wants out there.

I know I’ll never forget her. I love her, but truth to tell, I don’t know a whole lot about love. It confuses me. So maybe Jane was right to not let that go too far. Not with us as young as we are, with so much future stretched out in front of us.

But sometimes, right before I fall asleep, I think I can taste her lips, and they are sweet.

She was an awful liar, but still, she was so smart and so beautiful. She sure was something.