He reached behind his head, out of habit, and lightly touched the base of his long ponytail. All was well with the world from his perch atop the Super Slide. He hadn’t set foot on Caribou soil for nearly 25 years and the realization was bittersweet. He was now an integral part of this tiny, family-owned carnival and though he had dreaded this unexpected gig in his hometown, he was handling it well. He glanced over at the water balloon game and his wife looked up at him suddenly, waving her hand to assure him that she had everything under control. He acknowledged her wave and climbed back down into the center of activity; the miniscule midway.
He was comforted by the sound and smells of the carnival. Bright pink cotton candy, fried dough, hand-cut french fries, sausage burgers, hot dogs, hamburgers and the ever present, traditional roasted peanuts. He was a gallant prince, strolling through his kingdom with pride and valor. He could not help but wonder if anyone would recognize him after all of these years, and he thought again of his mother. He had called her just this morning to let her know he was coming home for a short visit and when he realized she was crying softly on the other end of the phone, he reprimanded himself yet again for leaving her. For Barry, moving away from his hometown was necessary for his survival.
Barry could hear loud voices coming from the direction of the water balloon game and he picked up his pace. His wife was obviously in the midst of a disagreement with a patron. A small crowd had gathered around the water balloon game tent, their eyes unable to turn away from the scene unfolding. It was obvious that the patron was unhappy about his latest attempt to win the grandest prize of all: an 18-inch, dark blue stuffed moose. “This game is rigged,” he shouted over and over again. “Rigged!”
Barry slowly placed his hand on the customer’s shoulder and when the man swung around, his shouts of unfairness ceased immediately. Recognition erased the fury in his eyes as he looked Barry up and down. “Scary Barry! Workin’ at the carnival, huh?”
Barry nodded at his old schoolmate. “If you have a problem,” Barry said, “let’s take it to the security office.” The patron bent over at the waist, clutching at his chest with exaggerated laughter. The old schoolmate was dressed shabbily, his hair long and unclean. He was surrounded by much younger men who now looked at each other with uneasiness and embarrassment. The blue moose sat precariously on the edge of the shooting stand, his eyes directed toward an unsettled northern Maine sky. “You really think you’re somethin’ Scary Barry. Wait! Don’t tell me! You’re the head of security, right?”
Barry smiled. “You got it,” he said. How well Barry remembered the man before him and his constant taunting and name calling. It was obvious this man had not moved past those glory days, but Barry had. He was now a married man with responsibilities and a steady job; a job that brought him back to Caribou and face to face with some of his demons.
Barry pulled gently on the man’s arm. “Come on, sir. We are going to the security office and settle this once and for all. You’re on my turf now. Some people reach their peak at 17, but as for me? Well, I’m still climbing.”
Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives in Connor with her husband, Dale, and their Goldendoodle, Barney Rubble. You may contact Belinda online at dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
