Carnival Read Free

never heard of any.”
    â€œWho was left to sue? Besides, dad told me the insurance company paid off the wives and kids of those killed and that was that. As far as I know. I read about it once, over at the newspaper offices, but all those accounts are gone. Destroyed by someone.”
    â€œNow why would anybody do that?”
    He shrugged his muscular shoulders. “I don’t know. To cover guilt, to bury the past, to kill the memory.” He had not told his wife about his hallucination that afternoon, or of his visit to Dr. Tressalt. He sipped his martini and asked, “Where are the kids?”
    â€œLinda’s over at Jeanne’s, with Susan Tressalt. Spending the night. Mark has a date.”
    â€œI thought he and what’s-her-name had broken up?”
    â€œBetty. Yes, they did. He’s out with Amy.”
    â€œAh! Who’s Amy? Never mind. He flits around so much I can’t keep up with him.”
    Friday evening. Most other kids and many of their parents would be all hyped up for The Big Game that night. But Holland didn’t have a football team or basketball team; hadn’t had either in years. The distances the teams would have had to travel were just too great and the school board wisely felt that money would better be served on education. But Holland did have a place for the young to congregate on weekend nights: a huge old warehouse that had been converted to a teen center. They could dance, play pool or ping-pong, have parties, or just sit and talk. And it was only loosely supervised by adults. The kids themselves kept order, and since its inception, the young people had done, for the most part, a damn good job of it.
    Martin glanced at his watch. “What’s for dinner?”
    Alicia smiled sweetly and smugly.
    â€œOh, no! I forgot.”
    â€œThat time again,” she reminded him.
    Martin drained his glass and headed to the bar for a refill. He took note of his wife’s disapproving look and set the glass on the bar, returning empty-handed to his chair.
    Been a lot of disapproving looks lately, he thought.
    On the third Friday of each month, a half dozen couples, all approximately the same age, gathered at a home for dinner and gossip. The women enjoyed it, the men professed to hate it. But they really didn’t.
    â€œWhere are we suffering tonight?” Martin asked.
    â€œEddie and Joyce’s. But cheer up: next month it’s here.”
    * * *
    â€œWhat’s goin’ down tonight?” Jeanne tossed out the question.
    Susan shrugged and Linda said, “I don’t want to go to the center, that’s for sure.”
    The three girls all had that sun-tanned and wind-fresh healthy look of typical country girls. Susan grinned and Jeanne said, “What’s the matter? You afraid that Robie might be there?”
    â€œNot afraid.” And she wasn’t. Like her father, Linda was self-assured and resourceful, and had a lot of raw nerve. “But I sure don’t want to see him. He makes me sick. He wants Suzanne, he can damn sure have her.”
    â€œI always thought you and Robie had an agreement?” Susan said.
    â€œYeah, so did I. You should have seen the expression on his face when I punched open the console and found those panties in there. And they sure weren’t mine. My butt is not that big.”
    The girls laughed, Jeanne asking, “Did you really hang them over his head?”
    â€œI sure did. Then I got out of the car and walked home.”
    â€œYou tell your folks?”
    â€œMother. She thought it was disgusting. But she’s been weird lately.” No one commented on that. They all knew what was going on. The grapevine of the young. “I didn’t tell daddy ’cause he never was thrilled about me seeing Robie. Thought he was a wise ass. I guess he was right.”
    Neither Susan nor Jeanne said: I told you so. But they both wanted to.
    Jeanne rolled off the bed and dangled keys in