was
holding her iced tea, but she wasn’t drinking it, and she looked mesmerized by
Sarah’s story.
“One day, after
I had walked by him, I was sitting on a bench eating my lunch and it started to
rain, so I ran and stood under this awning. It wasn’t raining hard, but I
didn’t have no umbrella, and I didn’t want my hair to
get wet and have to go back to work looking like a drowned rat. From where I
was standing, I could see him doing his fire thing. He wasn’t but twenty feet
away. The crowd had left soon as it started raining, so it was just him there by hisself and he kept
performing. I watched him. The way he held the fire, the way he was so gentle
with it, you’d have thought it was alive, and fragile. He sort of caressed it.
He looked at it with a kind of love in his eyes. I watched him juggle his
batons, and not one of them went out in the rain. Then he opened his mouth wide
and ate the fire from every one of them. It was so wonderful that I started
clapping. He turned around and saw me there and he smiled. And, Lord, was he
handsome. Scruffy-looking, like an alley cat, but he had a sweet face. He bowed
a few times and I knew he wanted me to give him some money, so I threw a few
coins in his hat. After that I would stop all the time and watch him do his
fire tricks, and I’d stand at the back of the crowd.”
“Did you ever
talk to him?” Paul asked.
“No. That one
time, I’m sure he was just glad to have somebody to perform for and be able to
make a little bit of money in the rain. But he never paid me no mind when there
was a whole crowd of people throwing money in his hat.”
“Seem like you
would have tried to talk to him, if you liked him so much,” Paul said. He had
always thought Sarah was a pretty woman, if a little skinny, and he knew for
sure that men were interested in her, because sometimes when his buddies from
work saw her they’d ask Paul if she was going with anybody. Whenever they’d
smile at her and try to start a conversation, though, she would act cold and
unfriendly. She never believed Paul when he told her they were interested in
her, no matter how much he assured her that they were.
Sarah shrugged.
“It wasn’t nothing but a silly little crush. I left
that job a year later and I aint really thought about him since,” she said,
which wasn’t true.
“We had a cousin
who juggled,” Helena said. “Remember, Paul?”
He nodded. “Just
oranges, though, and they wasn’t on fire.”
When, a few
minutes later, Paul went inside to use the bathroom, he found Ava in their
bedroom, sweeping under their bed, and he accused her of avoiding his sister.“I’m not avoiding anybody,” she told him.
“You the one
asked her to stay,” Paul said.
“I know.”
“Then what’s wrong? Why you acting all—” he
started to say nervous , but it wasn’t
a word he had ever used to describe Ava before, ever, and it felt strange even
to think it. Nervousness required a level of worry, of concern about things, that Ava just didn’t have. “Strange,” he said,
finally.
“I’m not acting
strange,” she insisted, and continued to sweep under the bed.
Paul sighed.
Maybe it was him . Maybe the surprise of Helena’s appearance
and the fact that he had barely slept in twenty-four hours was making him see
things that weren’t there. He felt suddenly overwhelmed with tired and he sat
down on the bed. For a few moments, he watched Ava sweeping, watched the ends
of the straw broom as it scratched against the worn wood floor. “Ava, I lied to
you about something,” he said, without knowing he was going to say it.
“About what?”
He continued to
watch the broom ends, noticing the way they caught in the cracks that had split
into the wood after so many years of nobody taking care of the floors.
“When me and my sister got separated, I didn’t go live
with my cousin like I told you. I went to jail.”
She didn’t even
look up from her sweeping. “Jail?”
He
holding her iced tea, but she wasn’t drinking it, and she looked mesmerized by
Sarah’s story.
“One day, after
I had walked by him, I was sitting on a bench eating my lunch and it started to
rain, so I ran and stood under this awning. It wasn’t raining hard, but I
didn’t have no umbrella, and I didn’t want my hair to
get wet and have to go back to work looking like a drowned rat. From where I
was standing, I could see him doing his fire thing. He wasn’t but twenty feet
away. The crowd had left soon as it started raining, so it was just him there by hisself and he kept
performing. I watched him. The way he held the fire, the way he was so gentle
with it, you’d have thought it was alive, and fragile. He sort of caressed it.
He looked at it with a kind of love in his eyes. I watched him juggle his
batons, and not one of them went out in the rain. Then he opened his mouth wide
and ate the fire from every one of them. It was so wonderful that I started
clapping. He turned around and saw me there and he smiled. And, Lord, was he
handsome. Scruffy-looking, like an alley cat, but he had a sweet face. He bowed
a few times and I knew he wanted me to give him some money, so I threw a few
coins in his hat. After that I would stop all the time and watch him do his
fire tricks, and I’d stand at the back of the crowd.”
“Did you ever
talk to him?” Paul asked.
“No. That one
time, I’m sure he was just glad to have somebody to perform for and be able to
make a little bit of money in the rain. But he never paid me no mind when there
was a whole crowd of people throwing money in his hat.”
“Seem like you
would have tried to talk to him, if you liked him so much,” Paul said. He had
always thought Sarah was a pretty woman, if a little skinny, and he knew for
sure that men were interested in her, because sometimes when his buddies from
work saw her they’d ask Paul if she was going with anybody. Whenever they’d
smile at her and try to start a conversation, though, she would act cold and
unfriendly. She never believed Paul when he told her they were interested in
her, no matter how much he assured her that they were.
Sarah shrugged.
“It wasn’t nothing but a silly little crush. I left
that job a year later and I aint really thought about him since,” she said,
which wasn’t true.
“We had a cousin
who juggled,” Helena said. “Remember, Paul?”
He nodded. “Just
oranges, though, and they wasn’t on fire.”
When, a few
minutes later, Paul went inside to use the bathroom, he found Ava in their
bedroom, sweeping under their bed, and he accused her of avoiding his sister.“I’m not avoiding anybody,” she told him.
“You the one
asked her to stay,” Paul said.
“I know.”
“Then what’s wrong? Why you acting all—” he
started to say nervous , but it wasn’t
a word he had ever used to describe Ava before, ever, and it felt strange even
to think it. Nervousness required a level of worry, of concern about things, that Ava just didn’t have. “Strange,” he said,
finally.
“I’m not acting
strange,” she insisted, and continued to sweep under the bed.
Paul sighed.
Maybe it was him . Maybe the surprise of Helena’s appearance
and the fact that he had barely slept in twenty-four hours was making him see
things that weren’t there. He felt suddenly overwhelmed with tired and he sat
down on the bed. For a few moments, he watched Ava sweeping, watched the ends
of the straw broom as it scratched against the worn wood floor. “Ava, I lied to
you about something,” he said, without knowing he was going to say it.
“About what?”
He continued to
watch the broom ends, noticing the way they caught in the cracks that had split
into the wood after so many years of nobody taking care of the floors.
“When me and my sister got separated, I didn’t go live
with my cousin like I told you. I went to jail.”
She didn’t even
look up from her sweeping. “Jail?”
He
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