Anon and the Circus 13: Covenant

>In the heart of the sandstorm me and Nancy sat in the broke down car.  I had ventured out here to find Nancy who ran out of the gas station just in time to be lost in the wave of dust and dirt.  She wouldn't have ran out of the station if I had resisted BB’s advances.  That was in the past now, we were safe in our rusty shelter until the storm was over.  All we had was to wait and wait the weather swirl in front of us like mud mixed with water.
>”I'm glad you're alright Nancy.” I said. Despite the whipping winds smacking the windows it felt awkward and quiet.
>”I'm glad you're alright, too.” She said turning to side window.
>”I kept meaning to tell you about BB.” I said, clutching the steering wheel.
>”Yeah, when we got you out of that trap you told me you licked a cat.  I thought you were just joking or brain damaged…”She looked down and kneed trim of her shirt and continued, “I guess I was too preoccupied in the situation.  Still, you should have brought it up before we made love.  You acted like nothing was wrong. What the hell, Anon?”
>”It's, a little complicated” I started.
>”It's bullshit!” She interrupted. She was still hot about the manner.
>”We weren't really a couple at that time.” I reasoned. She gave me such a strong silent glare that it interrupted me again.
>”Okay, so it was the same night we first… what was that even called? Mutual masterbation?”
>”Hotdogging. I believe that's the technical name.” She said. Her voice didn't have blackened hatred in it anymore, or at least less of it.
>”Er… yeah. She had been sending me signals all day.  After the fights we hung out for Abit and she, I don't know, gave me a look.”
>”What do you mean a look? It's that easy with you?” She said berratingly.
>”Not like that. It's a sad look, like if you don't do what they ask you'll break their heart.”
>”Don't give me that crap.”
>”I'm serious!  It was the look my grandma gave me.”
>”I'm sorry, what?” She said as she turned to face me at lightning speed. She was confused on a deep level.
>”When my grandpa died, my grandma couldn't bear putting his things in storage.  She instead asked me to do it. She had the same look.”
>”You fucked someone who gave you the same look as your grandma? Really?” She said after a solid minute of silence.
>”It's not like that!  I just thought BB was very lonely and needed me to comfort her.  I don't feel for her like I do you. Also we didn't fuck.” I pleaded.
>”What the hell does that mean?” She said, she was getting angrier now.
>”I, uh, didn't actually penetrate her vagina with my penis.” I said stiffly. “I just, uh, canoodle her stroodle, I think it's called.”
>”...What?”
>”Topped her latte?”
>”That is not a thing!”
>”Gave her floors a toothbrush scrub?”
>”I'm sorry?”
>”Put stamps on her package?”
>”Anon… stop, please.”
>”Joined her clean plate club” I said. She almost giggled at that one.
>”Okay, okay. Oral stuff. The kind of stuff that tipped me off to this whole thing.  You really didn't put your dick in there?”
>”Nah, I couldn't.  I don't think I could have faced you again if I did.” I said hanging my head, ”I really did think I was helping her. I've never been in a situation where two women would come on to me so strongly.  You, BB--”
>”Ol’ Gran Gran.” Nancy interjected.
>”...I always thought the worst of philanderers but I never realized how hard these situations can be. I'm sorry Nancy, I screwed up.”
>There was a bit of silence before she spoke.  She said in a kind tone, “You are a min-whore, Anon.  I suppose that night I really did leave you hanging on what our relationship was.  I didn't expect you to run off and eat literal pussy before morning.”
>”I should have been honest rather than pretending nothing happened. Fuggles said that with everything it would have been better to ignore it and get on with being a couple.”
>”You probably shouldn't take relationship advice from him. He has had six marriages.”
>”So, I guess we’re not a thing, huh?” I said. My heart was in my throat but if anything I learned to just say it and get it out of they way.
>”You are a silly, silly man-whore but you are my man-whore now.” She said smiling and patting me on the shoulder.  “Since we are an official couple I don't want any cheating from you.  I don't care how much they resemble your grandmother or if they cry. I don't care if you are popping their pizza or whatever else you want to call it, understand?”
>I nod and chuckle.
>”I assume that is an agreement.  I'll be honest, I really was never going to forgive you but when I learned you marched out here to apologize and got lost I knew you weren't just an asshole.” She said. Something caught my attention.
>”Wait, back up a second. How did you know I was out here again?”
>”When I got back to the gas station they said you ran after me to apologize. You must have gotten blown off course.” She explained.
>”I ran out there because you didn't get to the RVs. I had to rescue you!” I raised my voice.
>”I got to the RVs just fine. My boyfriend had ‘canoodled a doodle’ that wasn't mine, I wanted to sulk for awhile! They were freaked out by you, though. They had lost contact with you.”
>”That's not right. I had this life line.” I said waving the joke Hankey.
>”Yeah, that was snagged on a bush back there. The line has been cut. What's with the get up, anyway? You look like the last scene from Monsters Under the Bed.”
>”Oh, this is all to find you with the lights and bull horn and all that.” I pondered for a minute.  “I think this has been an orchestrated encounter, my dear Watson.”
>”Yeah, I think they took advantage of you there.”
>”Well, you too.”
>”What do you mean?” She said surprised.
>”They dressed me up like a light tower and sent me out. You came back and they sent you out knowing you would easily find me with the lights, noise, and brightly colored Hankey trail.  They dropped that handkerchief line knowing that we would have to stick together and make our way back or take shelter.” I assumed.
>”So that we could have a nice long chat about our relationship issues?” She mused.
>”Except I don't know why they dressed me up and didnt send you out with as much as a flashlight, though.”
>”Ah, they did.” She pulled out a .38 snub nose revolver. “If I couldn't find you I was to fire afew rounds.”
>”Or maybe worst case you shoot me.” I said with a grimace.
>”I'd never do that! I knew you really loved me and you must have had a good reason... In any case, don't forget the rules!” She teased as she waved the gun.
>The storm was subsiding now, I could make out the skies above us.  I reflected on this strange scheme our friends laid out for us.
>”Our cooworkers are strange people.” I said.
>”Oh yeah!” Nancy said with a chuckle. “They really should not be mixed with the general population!”
>”Nancy… I was wondering something lately. Whenever something happens that you feel some shame about it seems like, I don't know, you react badly to it.”
>”Yeah, I know. It's just I can't stand people questioning my intelligence or how good I am.  It's not like I freak out if anyone gets in my face just people I've known awhile.” She said before facing out the side window again.  She wasn't going to say anything unless I asked, and ask delicately.
>”Nancy, why did you join the circus?” I asked.  I knew just about everyone’s reason for being here but her.  I knew she was from Boston but that was it, really.
>”Why did you?” She replied with clear agitation in her voice.  I realized I had kept as much from her as she did from me.  Leadership is leading by example, I thought, so I'll be the one to break this deadlock.
>”You know I'm a potato farmer, right? My whole family is.”
>”Yeah. You mention it often.”
>”Well, the truth is I hate potatoes. I think they killed my grandad.” I said. Nancy looked at me and for a brief second looked like she expected this to be a joke.  She smacked right into the coldest, hardest stare a farm boy can give.
>”Oh.” She replied. After a second she asked, “How? Why?”
>”You know that big series of draughts we had a few years back? The one that devastated so many crops?”
>”I-I… No, I'm sorry. I don't think I ever heard about that.”
>”Yeah, most people don't. A giant sinkhole can gobble the corn belt and the most the news will say is a five second blurb.  No one wants to know why food prices go up because they couldn't handle knowing it. They don't know how skilled and determined farmers have to be to keep people feed and the GDP flowing.”
>”What does that have to do with you? If you'll excuse my asking.” Nancy said delicately. It was a bit of a change for her.  It made me wonder how I sounded to her right now.
>”My grandad couldn't take it. The crops were dried up to hell. The best government aid could do was get us enough water to keep our fields from outright turning to dust and blowing away, which would have caused another dustbowl, incidentally.” I said, I was veering off topic.  I had to say it straight or not at all.
>”My grandad hung himself.  The farm was on the verge of ruin and he was declining in age. He decided it was better to go than stay.” I said. My chest felt like two gears caught on something. The harder they turned the more whatever it was was mangled.
>”Oh God, that's horrible.” she said.  She was about to say more but my story didn't end there.
>”We looked at his will. He had instructions, precise instructions. We were to sell off every possession he had to help the farm.  He had itemized list and appraisals. He even had plans to bump the price of unused plots of land he had in other parts of the country.  He even had a life insurance plan and instructions to us to use proof he had acquired to argue how his suicide was because of depression and how it would still entitle us to his funds. It was like some grand strategy he planned to win a war.” I said.
>”I don't know how to respond to that.  He killed himself to help save your farm?” She said.  I couldn't hear her anymore, though, as I replayed the events.
>”We followed everything to a ‘T’ and it got us enough to keep the farm.  The next season had a renewed rainfall.” I said.
>”So, it was for nothing?”
>”No, never. He gave everything for us so that our farm could live to see the good times. It was bad, worse than you'll ever know. He saved us.” I kept repeating.
>”So then why do you hate potatoes?” She said.
>I couldn't give her a good answer. I replied, “I don't know.  Every harvest something dark and hard kept creeping in my chest. It kept saying to me to run away from the farm. No plans, no ideas, just run.  Every year it kept getting bigger and bigger in me until I either couldn't move or do what it said.” I paused, “I suppose that's why I joined the circus.  I wanted a job that would take me far away from there and live a life that was day to day.  No more grand schemes that ask us to give our lives that no one will know. No more high level machinations to get some goddamn tubers from seed to the plate, just live and breath.” I said. I felt better telling Nancy this.
>There was a silence between us now.  It was not the silence I was used to, where someone was irritated or prepping to say something awful, but silence like listening to rain on the roof. Dust blowing against the roof in this case.
>”I understand. I joined the circus to be myself, too.” Nancy started.
>”My mother was a drug addict. CPS took me away to live with my uncle and his wife when I was just three.” She said somberly.
>”Oh dear…” Was all I could utter.  I had no idea which way her story was going.
>”My uncle and his wife didn’t like my mother for being an addict.  They told me my mother was putting food on rug for me to crawl up to and eat while she ran off to do who knows what.  My mom was the black sheep of the family. We were from a long line of lawyers, you see.  Yale boys everytime.”
>”That sounds pretty upper crust.”
>”Oh yeah. We spent so much time at boarding schools we wore our uniforms when we were still on home. It was like a PBS drama.”
She said.  I had a question.
>”Who is 'we’? You had siblings?” I asked.
>”My uncle and his wife had a son named Incog. He used to look out for me back then. He was really was a great big brother.”
>”What were they like, outside of your younger uncle? We're the tough?”
>”Tough?” She repeated.
>”Kind of cold?”
>”Cold.”
>”Yeah, something like that?”
>”They were monsters.  To me they were monsters, at least.   They loved implying that I might have been brain damaged because of my mother.  If I got bad grades then it was because of that or if I upset then some other way.” She said with growing irritation. True irritation.  It made whatever foul tone she took with me seem like petty jesting.
>”Did they ever have you examined? I mean if you had a problem then it could be treated.”
>”Oh they did. Every stage of my childhood they had me screened and tested. They found nothing.  I was perfectly fucking normal! I am normal! I will always be normal!”
>”They weren't really the hugging sort, huh?”
>”They weren't.  Incog was.”
>”I’m sorry.” I said.
>”It all came to a head when I graduated.  The worst part was that they gave me a shoe box full of cash. It was payment from my mother to take care of me.”
>”Oh, well, that was nice to save it for you.” I said.
>”They had been telling me up to that point that she had died. They didn't do anything with the money because they thought the money was 'dirty’ because it came from my mother. I applied to Yale and Brown to get in their ballet programs but Yale didn't take me and I only learned later that my parents rejected an offer from Brown. That was it for me, I wanted away from them and their messed up shit. I headed west without any real plan.  Incog helped me now and then until I settled in the Circus.”
>”Have you contacted your real mom? That's an awful thing to keep secret.” I asked.
>”No.  After finding out it was a lie I just wanted to get away. I just keep thinking that if my mom really cared how I was doing then why not try to contact me, you know? There was never any letters and that money she sent means she knew where I was.  I just don't want to think about it now.”
>”Wait, what was that about ballet?”
>”Ah, that. My uncle was so possessed on me having an inferior brain that he thought athletics must be my true talent.  On an unrelated note I turned out to be good at it. My instructors said I had the Achilles' of Atlas and an inner ear of Achilles.”
>”So ballet was good?”
>”Oh God no. Everyone was turning the bitch-nozzle to full. Although dancing helped me feel good. I feel completely independent when I can dance and move.” She said. She didn't add more to that.
>”So your family constantly belittled you? For all my talk about farming taking alot of brains it was never an issue for us, really.  I think our family always considered intelligence more of a time and planning issue than an ability.”
>”For my family, intelligence means how you can cheat and succeed doing it.  I had to prove I was worth something and the only thing worth anything was intelligence.  If I got into a fight they would berate me for getting caught rather than it being good or bad. It wasn't until I ran away did I get to clear my head of all their crap...  I really think they were punishing me for my mom, but I think that's giving them too much credit.” She said.
>We both were quiet now.  The winds eventually died down to just dist devil's crawling along the ground.
>”So where do we go from here?” I asked.
>”We can head back to the station now, I think.”
>”I mean, are we a couple?”
>”Sure, why not.” She said with a shrug. “If only because you tried to rescue me.”
>”Technically I did!”
>”Sure, Jethro.” She said with a laugh.
>Together we left the vehicle and headed back to the station. I felt our relationship was salvaged but I remember I hadn't given Nancy a gift.  Still, I had an idea.