Carnival Souls

Genzel's Story

A short while later, the three were grouped around a fire spitting up different colored sparks as it licked along the piled driftwood. Genzel was reclined against his pack, his dislocated shoulder strapped to his body with a makeshift sling tied from a spare shirt. He was staring into the flames and sipping water from his flask.

Lira sat a little ways away, on the edge of the fire's warmth, her knife within easy reach although in his current state the old man wasn't an immediate physical threat. Owen had cleared away the leftovers from their meager meal, making a casual remark that their food stores were running low.

Both Lira and Genzel ignored him until he sat down cross-legged in the empty space beside the fire. "You don't have to tell us right now—" he began.

"Yes, he does," said Lira. Her voice was just loud enough to be heard above the snapping wood. Owen shot her a look through the flames, but her gaze remained fixed on the old carver. She wasn't going back to the carnival until she knew for sure what side he was on.

"I have two daughters," Genzel began. "Bebinn and Vivian."

"Vivian—as in the fortune-teller?" asked Lira, her suspicion momentarily suspended by surprise. The two looked nothing alike, but that may have been because Vivian appeared to be about fifty years older than Bebinn. "How is that possible?"

"If ye'd let me get on my with the story, maybe ye'd find out."

Lira pressed her lips together and sat back.

"The girls were young when their mother died. Soon after I sold our business and we moved to America. I wanted to give them a better chance at life. I didn't know much about motherin' so Bebinn kind a took over for her sister.

"Tha' first year was hard. The girls picked up English quick enough, but it took me a while longer. Made it hard to find steady work even though I was good with my hands. We had little to eat and living in a one-room run down flat.

"I—I may have turned to drinking more often than usual at night. Didn't help our situation any, but made me feel better."

Lira thought again of the scowling little girl asking, "Papa are you drinking again?" How many times, she wondered, did that little girl have to ask that question?

"After a year of scraping by, I came up with the idea of the carousel. It was a shot in the dark. Spent my last bit o' money on materials and built it in the park down the street. It did fairly well. But we lived in a poor town with other poor families who didna have the money to spare. I did a bit o' tinkering to get the thing mobile and we took it on the road. The circus could do it—why not us? Found an area to set it up where people have the means to spend time playing. I even got some extra work carving personal horses for wealthy families.

"We finally had enough money to buy new clothes, fresh food, shoes that wouldn' fall apart. I was still drinking, but things were looking up. We did okay for a few years though I may have expected too much of Bebinn with the housework and cooking and the like. She ne'er complained except the drinking. I shoulda listened."

Gensel's chin dropped to his chest, making his paunchy jowls puff out like an old bull frog. He took a deep breath through his nose and Lira got a flash of what he must have looked like back then, passed out in an old armchair from too much drink, a tumbler full of melted glass in danger of shattering on the floor. He lifted his head and continued tell his story to the fire.

"One night I came home from the pub, too far down in drink. Got it in my head to do some paperwork. So I lit a candle and sat down at my desk. Woke up sometime later with everything blazing around me and Bebinn shaking me awake. We got out okay, but we lost everything. Including the carousel. And I injured my hands badly.

"Things got worse, worse than before. Money was tight and Bebinn had to leave school to pick up a job. The girls barely spoke to me. We rented a rodent-infested flat. Went back to eating broth and stale bread. It was bad."

Genzel rubbed the back of his head and spit into the fire. He straightened, letting out sharp grunt of pain as he moved his injured shoulder. Owen moved to help him but the old man waved him off.

"When Bebinn's co-worker asked to marry her, I said yes. He came from money and promised to care for Bebinn and look after me and Vivian. She begged me to refuse, but I thought she was being naïve. I thought it was best. I thought it would give her the best shot at a comfortable life."

Genzel fell silent. The flickering flames threw long shadows on his face.

"What happened?" asked Lira. Owen nudged her with his foot. She didn't care. She knew there was more to the story and she leaned closer into the circle to hear it.

Genzel turned his hard stare on Lira, but she stood her ground. Dark looks no longer frightened her.

"He was abusive. Oh, he was all the gentleman when I was around. I didn' find out about it 'til much later when she came home with a black eye. She was tryin' to hide it behind sunglasses. She didn't want me to know because how much we relied on his money. I was working on a way to get the marriage ended...when he killed her."

Genzel's voice caught a bit, but he gave a hard clear of his throat and continued. The firelight made his eyes burn with hatred. "He called it an 'accidental drowning.' But I knew. And he knew there was nothing I could do about it. I didna have the money or the power or the name. I was just a drunken old man. And besides, who deserved more blame than myself?"

There was the sound of water sloshing in the canteen as Genzel took another drink. A second mouthful hit the fire, sending up a column of hissing smoke. Lira leaned back so she didn't lose her eyebrows.

"I carried the guilt with me for the next twenty years. Estranged Vivian in the process. Until one night, near the end, when I was lyin' in bed I had a dream. A dream about my dead daughter who led me outside where a carousel horse was waiting. She told me to get on. I thought it was a death dream, my last few minutes before I went....Turns out it wasn't a dream. She crossed me over righ' before I died so my body wouldn' change while I was here. Limbo she called it. Stuck in between life and death. Took me a bit to accept this place and everything in it—that she was still around in one way or another.

"When I got 'round to believing, she told me she needed a carousel carver. I didn' fight it, didn' ask why. I did what she needed me to do after what my decisions got her. Even when I found out about the horses bein' used for children I didn' ask. Better not to know, I thought."

He looked between Lira and Owen and sighed. "Old habits die hard...I don't know what it is she's doing with them and she wouldn't tell me if I asked. But somethin's changed. Whatever it was about in the beginning, it's not about that anymore, and I don' like the feel of it. I don' want anymore children taken like mine was from me."

"And what about you?" asked Lira. "You're not trying to go home. There's nothing in this for you, and if she finds out you helped us..."

"Don't worry about me girl. I've had enough of this life—both of 'em." 

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