Educational Experience

Chapter Nineteen

19.

I know you want to get back to whatever was happening between me and Wyatt, but life doesn’t play out that way. Shit happens. And then more shit happens that makes you forget about the other shit that happens.

And then all of a sudden when you least expect it, you find out why all the shit happened—and why it happened the way it happened. No, I’m not high. I’m just saying that life’s not as random as it seems. Let’s go back to the carnival. I’ll prove it.

You already know that we own two buildings that take up a whole city block each--the one we live in, and the old trucking company one behind it. And for every carnival we provided three squares a day in the ground floor garage of the trucking company. Or, actually, we fed them in this big tent outside and inside the garage. The clinics and whatnot were in the old offices on the second floor, so people could have some privacy.

To help us feed so many people for free, we’d gotten all these big box stores and food trucks and fast food joints and grocery stores to donate food and volunteers. And then the public was invited to donate stuff, too. Especially hot dogs and burger meat we could grill on these gigantic contraptions also donated by restaurants and food trucks and people who worked the barbecue contest circuits.

That year, this group of local farmers brought us a few truckloads of veggies to roast—the super sweet corn on the cob booths were a big hit, with all the spices lined up for people to sprinkle on. The kids were running around chewing on cobs like they were candy. The doctors were thrilled to see that, believe me.

I mean, you’ve heard that “food desert” story before. They just don’t sell fresh produce in some areas, and what they do sell is too expensive for the locals to buy. But for a couple of weeks every December, we tried to make sure there was enough veg for an army.

Looked like an army had arrived, too, when we got to the tent. And as we were winding our way through the crowd to get into the garage, someone slapped me on the back. It was Lakesha, right? And her family, it looked like. A really good looking woman—big, but shapely, and a bunch of little bright eyed kids.

And Lakesha went, “Wha’chu doin’ over here wit the po’ folks?”

“Workin’,” I said.

“Well, we eatin’!” she said. I liked that she wasn’t ashamed of it. Some people don’t like their friends to see them there.

So I said, “Eat lots! There’s plenty.”

She looked at the woman and said, “Mama, this the one wit the helicopter.”

Her mother looked a little shy. Maybe a little ashamed, too, unlike her daughter.

So I said, “Nice to meet you. You enjoying yourselves?”

“We come to get they eyes and teeth checked out,” Lakesha said. “They got some ugly ass teeth.”

“Kesha,” her mother said, sort of quiet. Like Lakesha had embarrassed her even more.

But I said, “I think that’s the most popular thing, dentists.”

“Where you workin’ at?” Lakesha asked.

And Big Man said, “I’m trying to get him where he needs to go.”

So I nodded toward the stage and said, “I gotta go help up there right now. Lunch show.”

“You gon’ dance?”

“Something like that.”

“Ooooo, c’mon, let’s go, then!” she cried. And while Big Man cleared the way, she held onto my hand and followed right behind us. Except when we got to the stage, she stopped short.