Heavy Stares

Wayne didn’t really like the carnival, but it came to town every year. So he went. When he was little, he remembered how the midway always lit up at dusk, when the sun had set down behind the Cyclotron. The thousands of colored lights that only glimmered before now seemed to come alive in the dark, glowing ever brighter by the minute, as the day slipped away and more and more people arrived, looking to forget their mundane lives for a night, lured by the promise of cheap fun.

Usually Wayne went with his buddies Robby and Fuad. They both had weight problems. Fuad was Egyptian, and he claimed he inherited his bad glands from a Pharoah. Robby just liked to eat a lot. Fuad topped the scales at three hun, and Robby clocked in at two seventy-five. Wayne was real skinny himself, and he always felt a little funny going to the carnival with his friends, because he could see people staring, and pointing, and laughing at Robby and Fuad behind their backs. Neither of them cared, they were used to being stared at because of their size, but it bothered Wayne.

Once he asked Robby how it felt to know other people were always looking at you and whispering about you when they thought you couldn’t hear. Robby just laughed.

“The bigger the cushion, the better the pushin’,” said Robby. “Those who don’t got it, want it. Besides, anybody looks at me I don’t particularly like lookin’, I’ll sit on ‘em. Give ‘em a punctured lung.”

Robby was kidding around, but mostly he was serious. Deep down, he truly didn’t give a damn. And Wayne knew that, and he wished he could be like that, too, but he couldn’t help resenting the people who stared at his friends.

Every year Wayne found himself drawn to one part of the carnival. They used to call it the freak show, back when he was little, and the first year he was bold enough to step up to the line and pay his fifty cents to get inside was the last year the Lobster Boy showed up. His hands and feet were deformed at birth, his fingers and toes clumped together, claw-like, and they exhibited him sitting half-naked in a grimy salt water tank. This was six months before he hired a hit man to kill his father-in-law in the off season. They would have given him the chair, because it happened in Florida, but he died of kidney failure while waiting to stand trial.

So the Lobster Boy didn’t come back to Wilmington the next year. But strangely enough, when the carnival returned, they advertised for local talent to beef up the freak show now that its star performer was gone. Home grown oddities who lived all over other parts of Delaware and even New Jersey came out of the woodwork. There was Rufus, the Human Jigsaw, who had removable arms, legs, and a prosthetic eyeball. And Lucy, the Dogfaced Girl, who ended up marrying a barber from Wendysville who had a thing for bearded ladies.

Wayne’s favorite was Tommy the Acid Eater, who was supposedly a recovering drug addict, his brains long ago fried by LSD. Tommy lived in a garbage-strewn pen and ate raw meat, plus any food carnival goers felt like throwing him. Once Wayne spent an hour in the back of the tent, watching him closely when the other people would leave, just to see if Tommy ever stopped drooling, or if his expression would change, looking for some sign, any sign that might reveal whether Tommy was really a burnout or if it was all an act. Tommy spent the whole time staring into space.

Times had changed, and there were no longer live performers in the freak show. At least not in the carnival that came to Wilmington. And the price had gone up, to two bucks. Now they called it the sideshow, and advertised lots of deformed animals, like two-headed calves, and frogs with three eyes, but the main attraction that still made people stop and stare was giant, life-like paintings of plain old fashioned human freaks. Then they stepped up, money in hand, and stood in line with a throng of other, sweaty, thrill seeking customers - men, women, young, old, and all of them curious.

As he looked over the laminated, life-size display about Al “Fat Albert” Jackson, an article that originally appeared in the National Enquirer back in April, 1977, when Fat Albert weighed 819 pounds, Wayne wondered how many of them asked for their two dollars back when they found out nothing was alive on the inside of the sideshow any more, it was all just photographs, things preserved in jars, and stuffed animals inside dusty plexiglass cases. If you looked closely, you could see most of the stuffed animals were obviously fakes, with extra heads and other deformities glued on. But the human photographs were all too real.

At the very bottom of a long washboard covered with yellowing snapshots of famous freaks, there were several pictures of “Zip,” the original Barnum and Bailey pinhead, who died in 1926. Robby and Fuad were still reading about Fat Albert’s lifelong battle with the stairs, so Wayne had time to get a good look at some of the photographs thumbtacked to this board. They were also covered with laminate, and it was the laminate that was yellowing, and it looked a little greasy. Wayne stood up after he’d seen all there was to see about Zip, including a shot of him playing with his grandkids, who didn’t look at all like pinheads, although one of them would later grow up to be Rocco the Amazing Blockhead. That’s when he found the photograph of the world’s most Horrifying Man.

This poor soul was born with a terrible condition similar to Elephant Man’s disease. Bulbous, tumorous growths sprouted uncontrollably from his face. Folds of diseased flesh hung leperously from his forehead, cheeks, and jowls, obscuring his entire face. Wayne read the story inscribed beneath the photograph with initial fascination that soon turned to pity once he realized how sad the man’s life had been. Doctors could find no cure or treatment for his illness, and he lived in mortal terror of other people, who would invariably run screaming from him. He was a social outcast, and died by his own hand at the age of thirty, all alone in a squalid cottage located far outside of town. It was six months before anyone found his body.

Wayne stood transfixed by the Horrifying Man’s picture for a long time. Finally, Robby and Fuad came over and each grabbed one of his arms, pulling him away and out of the sideshow tent.

“I can’t believe you were still in there,” said Fuad. “We looked all over for you.”

“Let’s go get some fried dough,” said Robby, licking his lips.

There were tears in Wayne’s eyes as he looked at his friends. “Fellas, you’re not going to believe this. I saw something that really touched me.”

Fuad and Robby exchanged worried glances.

“Are you alright?” asked Fuad. “Somebody touch you in there?”

Just then Robby spotted the Fried Dough Diner and made a beeline for it, waddling down the midway at high speed. Fuad and Wayne had to struggle to keep up. When they reached the booth, Robby was already arguing with the girl in charge over wanting only lightly fried dough, and them being out of napkins. Wayne looked up and saw the full moon shining brightly in the night sky, just over the top of the Ferris Wheel. It all looked very beautiful.

“I mean, I decided something back there,” continued Wayne. “Something really big.”

Robby took a huge bite of his fried dough and some of the extra gooey apple jelly topping fell on his chin. He shot Wayne an amused look.

"You want some fried dough?" asked Robby. "This apple stuff tastes pretty good."

Fuad rolled his eyes. "Can't you stop thinking about food for a minute? Our boy here just had some out of body experience or something. Lookit him, he's all shook up."

"I'm just playing," laughed Robby. "Wayne, why you trippin'? What'd you see, Fat Albert's ghost?"

Wayne got all solemn before he answered. Then he started talking a mile a minute, real fast, jumbling up his words as he explained himself to his friends.

"It was those photographs of the freaks. They really bugged me out. All those people might have looked funny, but deep down, they were just like you and me. I bet they didn't like being stared at. But everybody did anyway, and they were all alone. One of them even killed himself because he couldn't stand it any longer. Well fellas, I ain't going out like that. I'm tired of being alone. I don't care any more if people want to stare at me, I'm going out tonight and find me a love connection! Someone who'll accept me for who I am, and stare at me with lust in their eyes, all day, every day, forever!"

Robby and Fuad backed away from Wayne, a little dumbfounded by his outburst.

"Dude!" said Fuad. "Did you eat some bad dough?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Robby. "Compared to us two, you look like an eligible bachelor!"

But Wayne was beyond listening. A vacant look had come over his face and he seemed far away as he spoke.

"Tonight," said Wayne. "It will happen tonight, because the moon is full and it all feels just right."

Then he took off running, and disappeared into the midway crowds before Robby or Fuad could raise a hand to stop him.

Later that night at Club Baby, on the seedy side of Wilmington, near where the downtown winos hung out on the corner of Papaya and Vine, Wayne met a girl. He had spent the whole evening nursing drink after drink and was beginning to think it wasn't his night after all. Then he turned around fast and almost spilled his Jack and Ginger down the front of her tight dress. She was very pretty in a natural way, wearing glasses, with long, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, full breasts spilling out of the top of her dress, and suddenly, she was face to face with Wayne.

"Whoops!" she giggled. "My name's Anna. What's yours?"

Anna was so beautiful that Wayne's knees shook a little, and he almost stuttered. "I'm Wayne."

She giggled again. "Well, Wayne, honey, you're kinda cute. Wanna buy me a drink?"

That was all it took. Over several more rounds, Wayne poured out his heart to Anna about the cruelty of mankind to the weaker, poorer, and less beautiful people among them. She was touched, and saw in Wayne a kind, gentle soul. And of course, Anna thought he was cute. She readily accepted his offer to come back to his place for more drinks and conversation.

When Anna walked through the door to Wayne's apartment, she noticed immediately how dark and quiet it was. The bars were all closing and the streets outside had been noisy, but once the door clicked shut behind her, the air fell still. She couldn't even see the streetlights, and when Wayne turned on a lamp, she saw that all the shades were drawn. But the silence was soon drowned out by loud music, as Wayne put a record on an ancient turntable fitted into a cabinet against one wall of his living room, and the room filled with noisy jazz.

"Ooh, I love that," said Anna. "What is it?"

Wayne smiled and showed her the record cover. "It's by Sun Ra. Interstellar Low Ways."

Anna giggled. "What kind of a name is Sun Ra? Is he Arabian?"

Wayne turned the album cover over in his hands as if he were studying it, lost for a moment in the music. "He was from Saturn. He traveled to this planet to save humanity from its evil path. This is from his personal collection of rare Arkestra recordings, made in the late sixties around 42nd Street, New York."

Anna looked over Wayne's shoulders at the record and giggled again. "He looks like a freak."

Wayne abruptly set the album down atop the turntable's cover and walked into the kitchen. Anna could hear him opening cabinet doors and drawers, and then he was standing in the doorway, smiling, wine glasses in hand.

"Would you like some wine?"

Anna nodded, and Wayne disappeared back into the kitchen. She looked around the living room. Everything seemed very clean, but old. Thrift store chic, she thought to herself. Through the door to the kitchen she could see Wayne pouring the wine, and behind him, a vintage art deco kitchen table and chairs.

Then Wayne was handing Anna her glass as they sat down on his living room couch, a massive, antique looking thing with plaid upholstery that squeaked beneath their weight. Anna guessed that it must be a sleeper sofa, and looked at Wayne with a sly grin.

"Wayne, you are just the slickest devil. Inviting me up to your place on our first date, and sitting me down on the nearest thing that folds out into a bed as soon as you could. What happened to what you said about getting to know a girl, and falling in love with her inner beauty?"

Wayne stared at Anna with a strange look on his face. "That's right, my darling," he said slowly. "It's a person's inner beauty that counts."

Anna laughed. By now she was fairly drunk. "But Wayne, you silly man. You're quite handsome."

Wayne fell silent for a moment. "I don't see what that has to do with anything," he replied softly.

Anna smiled and downed the last of her wine. "I think it's very noble of you to be so concerned about people who don't meet society's shallow standards of beauty, but really, what's the point? You're cute, I'm cute, that's why I came up here! So kiss me, you fool!"

Anna pulled Wayne closer to her, but he suddenly sprang up from the couch and then Wayne was laughing too, in a weird, high-pitched cackle. Anna laughed along, and heard the jazz ringing in her ears, echoing around the warm, still apartment, and thought how funny Wayne was, with his crazy theories and noble causes and records from Saturn, and what a splendid drunken moment they were sharing, until she noticed that Wayne had stopped laughing, and was staring at her with an odd look on his face, and Anna felt awfully light headed all of a sudden. A strange feeling came over her, she stopped laughing, and that's when Wayne said something that frightened her a little.

"I thought you were different, Anna. But you're not."

Anna looked at him, her head swimming, and suddenly she began to feel very, very ill. "What do you mean? Wayne, you're scaring me."

Wayne kept laughing, and now she heard it. Something cold and dead in Wayne's voice, something that seemed to take delight in her unease, something growing darker and bolder with every word.

"You're just like all the others," said Wayne, slowly. "Just like everybody else."

Then he carefully pulled the very life-like mask from his face, the mask he wore every day, the mask that took him two hours to put on each morning, the mask he wore to hide his hideous facial deformities from society's prying eyes. Anna screamed as she saw the diseased tumors that covered Wayne's face, the giant folds of rotting flesh that hung from his forehead and cheeks, her cries drowned out by the loud music swirling up from the turntable, and as Wayne raised the heavy wine bottle to strike her, she saw her eyes reflected in his. She couldn't stop herself from staring.