Hurt Me Daddy, for I Have Blogged

Sleepy-eyed shifting and a push of the hand. “What the hell’re you doing, Jerry??” Mara mumbled. “Nothing, Kiddo. Nothing.” His voice sounded disappointed. It was starting to feel like jail. ** Mara pretended to be asleep until Jerry left the camper next morning, packed all her things and promptly moved back into Yana's and her old camper. Maybe she could just forget the past two weeks. “Wurrr you doing back here?” Yana mumbled. Mara expected to find her with a man but she wasn’t. “Some shit went down. I’m back. It was only temporary anyway.” That wasn’t her original intention, but it was now. “Ugggggggggggggh.” Mara could see that Yana’s depression had worsened. If she were really pregnant, the mood swings were certainly starting to show more profoundly than usual. “So…uh, you doing ok?” She really didn’t want to have this conversation but social lubricant if this was what she was stuck with was probably the best choice. “I prayed to the statue y...

“So, what would it take to get another person to be able to live in here?” Mara looked at Jerry inquisitively. “I don’t really think that’d work. Hernan isn’t all that comfortable when he comes out to visit.” “Fuck. Jerry, I don’t really want to live with Yana anymore. I’m just tired of it.” She didn’t want to get into detail. “And I guess with your medical stuff you probably can’t live alone, huh.” “Well…I could. I mean I’m used to it..I know what to do now.” Jerry looked around once again. “How about for three weeks or so, at first? That puts us like two-thirds into the run.” “Yay!!” Mara ran as fast as she could back to their camper to pack her suitcase. ** Yana’s eyes had started to look sunken, and all she was ever found doing lately was watching the tiny tv in their camper. “I’m still pregnant. I can’t get rid of this thing. I can’t afford an abortion.” “Maybe you should pray to the statue for a miscarriage. I’m serious.” Yana ha...

Mara graveled over to LaShawn’s office trailer in her cute shoes. She pushed open the creaky tin door. “You have an appointment, right?” “Yeah.” “Great! What’s up?” “So….how does one go about…you know, leaving here?” “Well that’s easy. All you have to do is give me two weeks’ notice. Honestly, though, we prefer that you don’t quit during the middle of the run, like it is now. But I’m not going to take it personally or anything.” Deep down, LaShawn was relieved that this problem was going to take care of itself. Maybe his strict attitude had worked. “Ok. I just, like, wanted to ask.” “Well, there you go.” Mara nodded slowly. LaShawn knew he wasn’t allowed to ask further about her medical condition. ** The trailer door banged violently behind her. The sun was setting, and she felt like a disappointed gunslinger.  She shuffled back to the trailer. “I think I might quit and get a regular job.” “Mara, I think I’m pregnant.” Yana carefully ...

Remember when we reviewed the colors? How I wheeled you through the garden? Cell degeneration is a strange thing. I am decaying, too. This man is in love with me. Fortyish. Always a foreigner. But then again, I have no country, either. Strangers fade in and out like tv test patterns. Who remembers those? Wraps, scarves, hands wrapped, face wrapped, head wrapped. A man gives me money. A woman showers it on me. Remote sadness in night’s quiet isolation. The streets are empty. Always home on time to feed the cats. You spoke and I didn’t remember you. Now I do my best to forget you. I always take it personally when men have a bad memory. So small I was then. To contract myself into a tiny point and then to disappear. I dreamt that I knew what it was like to be married, and also to give birth to a child. And then those things of this life were done, and I outdid what incredible fate gave me in honesty. I am not sorry for it. I am too stupid to know you or to talk ...

LaShawn knew that having a seizure sufferer on his cast was a huge liability. Though Mara was truly one of his best house people, he had to figure out a way to get rid of her right quickly. ** The metallic taste was becoming the worst. She didn’t visit the statue anymore. Mara was tired of the blackouts and the blood. She wanted life to go back to how it had been before. Her relationship with Yana became strained. In the meantime, Yana suspected herself pregnant. She drank and smoked and did aerobics out in the back courtyard more than usual just to make sure she wasn’t. Yana had no time to worry about Mara’s health now. Mara became less conversational, and she also suspected something was wrong with Yana. She didn’t ask. Silence erupted between the two on a regular basis. Mara decided that she wanted to ignore her health diagnosis and practice her contortion routine more regularly, believing she’d make it back into cast at the end of the run. “This is neve...

Jorge led the way as his cousin Tito wheeled over towards the statue. Most of them didn’t get days off during the run, but he had requested it and LaShawn hadn’t minded obliging for a one-off. Jorge didn’t remember how he’d found out about the statue, but he was pretty sure that one other time when he found Mara briefly passed out (and didn’t tell anyone, by her request) it had been in the same place. They arrived at the bumpy, grassy, slightly-raised mound that was the overgrown alcove behind the horticulture greenhouse. Strangely protected from the rain, though it didn’t rain much on those particular fairgrounds. Jorge helped Tito brake his wheels slightly inclined onto the grassy area. “This looks like those gardens that the Filipinos in the hood used to have. But more overgrown.” “Yeah. It kind of does.” “It looks like it’s a secret.” Jorge silently walked up close to the statue. He dipped his finger into the small rivulet of blood oozing from the Virgin’s ...

Mara hadn’t realized how serious this blackout had been until she saw medics walking towards her. The carnies never called anybody official, so there must’ve been something majorly wrong with her. They began to ask her all the usual things: what the day was, what her name was, what exactly she could recall from her episode. LaShawn attended to make sure he had all the info for his incident report. She wasn’t entirely sure how to answer as to whether or not she’d experienced an episode like this before. Never to this degree.  After some further conversation, the medic replied, “You seem like you probably don’t need a ride with us. But I would strongly recommend seeing a doctor as soon as possible. Keep track of what happens. If you know you’re having a trigger, try to be near somebody else. You probably want to avoid operating a vehicle until you get this checked out.” Mara nodded slowly. She felt completely lucid at this point, not at risk, entirely aware. ** “So...

Yana and Jorge stared out the window of the trailer at the torrents of rain. “I didn’t hear anything about a prediction earlier today. Did you?” “No…but since when are we paying attention?” Yana nodded, much more quiet and pensive than usual. “So, uh, what do you do again? I mean not during the run.” “I usually do roadie stuff for bands, but this past year and a half or so has been different. More office work. I really needed the money.” “I see.” She shifted uncomfortably. “You, uh, got any kids?” “Yeah, two. One’s eleven, the other’s twelve.” “Cool. Cool.” Yana fidgeted and cracked something of a smile. “I’m worried someone else will try to take refuge in here. Otherwise I’d light up.” Just then, LaShawn banged on the door. “Let me in! Is anyone in there!? Let me in!!” Yana grabbed the door handle and unlocked. “Oh, hi. Mara was found passed out near food court #3. She’s unconscious. The medics are on their way.” ** Mara’s blackou...

The picture of the Blessed Virgin with a prayer on the back was something that Mara always had tucked in the inside pocket of her purse. Show patrons had been as rowdy as always that evening, and drunk, but something felt off. The dry heat made her feel as if her eyeballs were searing out of her brain. Sinister drug dealers. Gangbangers. Those needing a cheap night out. Things felt more murderous that night. Yet her brain was more alert than usual, and at the same time she wanted to escape less. She was present, if only in order to hunt the night for places to take shelter. The dust was especially overwhelming that evening, and it wasn’t because there was a particularly increased amount of foot traffic. It overwhelmed her nostrils and throat. Suddenly a bolt of lightning sliced the sky. Everyone prickled. Patrons swaggered as the gates were closing. Mara decided that she didn’t want to let it overtake her this time. She didn’t want to stumble to the statue, afraid. She planted...

Jorge and Yana had ended up hooking up about three weeks into that year’s run. They’d both ended up at an afterhours bar near site. Jorge was just her type, and of course she made the move. She always did. He was understandably freaked out, but it had been at least a year and a half since he’d seen any action. The divorce had finalized recently. What the hell, he thought. It’s not like he was taking her home to the kids. At first they’d ended up in the hangout trailer that acted as the dressing room during run. Yana was a keyholder, as she was LaShawn’s second by default just because she’d known all of the cast the longest. They’d fooled around a bit, mostly making out. At some point Yana asked if Jorge wanted to go back to their camper. “Sure.” “I live with my sister. We do our act together when she’s in cast, but she’s only an understudy for the opening of this season. I need to check to make sure she’s not fucking home. It’s after 1:30, and I know that if it’s after 1...

LaShawn jolted awake as if someone had shaken him. At the moment just before he had awoken, the military base he’d lived on until he was seven flashed in front of his eyes. Camp was silent. It was an ungodly hour. “What the fuck,” he whispered to himself. ** Jorge the Ferris Wheel Operator lived nearby site, but in an actual house most of the time. Luckily he’d been able to keep it in the divorce, because he sure as hell didn’t get the time he’d wanted with the kids. They were almost teenagers now and that was terrifying enough. He roadied during most of the rest of the year and occasionally gave music lessons. Guitar and drums, but he hadn’t kept up with drums lately. They exhausted him more than usual and he just didn’t have the anger to fuel it like he used to. He remembered fondly when he’d run with the Sepultura guys, sometimes the RR Records festivals. He’d had to quit a lot of the concert festival season come circus season, but occasionally bands would still come ...

LaShawn fiddled with his new electronic tablet. Secretly, deliciously. He’d grown up with everything he needed but that chunk of years when he was flying free in the artist’s life were, of course, leaner. He’d been spending time enthusiastically downloading books. David Foster Wallace, Michael Chabon, Chinua Achebe. Catching up on some of the classics that he’d missed. Also fitness technique and safety manuals. Some business reading. Stored conveniently in one place. Most of the other carnies weren’t so with the times. A lot of his employees barely had smartphones. One of the strays wandered onto his entrance ramp to feed from the food bowl. “Hey there, big guy.” It was an older, heavier longhair with orange stripes. LaShawn sank into scrolling through a book about conflict management, NLP and sales. The hum of the refrigerator and lights sang him in and out of waking eventually. The feline wandered in through the cracked door and hopped up on the bed, subsequently curling int...

Mara moaned deeply, as the oozing apertures suddenly took on a searing pain. Suddenly she felt as if she were on fire, and her body was pouring sweat. She was making a sincere effort not to cry out and wake the entire camp. She ended up attracting Mala’s attention. “It’s the cunt. Ugh, what is your problem? What’s happening?” Mara suddenly could not speak. But that same iron taste welled up in the back of her throat. Mala shrieked. A cry to wake the dead, to shake the earth, to rattle everything breakable in camp. Mara heard glass shattering, but beyond that, nothing. An eerie lack of commotion. The blood bubbled up Mara’s esophagus, gushing forth in a blinding wave. ** Mara woke up in the fetal position in front of the statue. The drip from the statue’s hands was slight today, like a leaky roof after a light rain. Little Nick wandered in. “Are you ok? I thought I heard a scary noise.” “Yeah. I think I’m ok.” Mara recalled nothing. “Are you haun...

“Do you think God and Jesus love carnies?” The light flickered furtively, recessed into the ceiling. “I don’t know,” replied Yana neutrally. “Most people hate us. I don’t see why they would love us.” “Father Issa always said in church that we are forgiven, and that we are children of God and Jesus.” “I don’t know.” Yana gently did some upper body stretches in bed. Her arms were somehow sore from fucking, not from the usual workout. “Do you remember anything that Father Issa said in church when mom and dad were still around? I do.” “Not really. You’d better not start bugging me about reading the Bible again.” “It made me laugh when I tried. And they only talk about the Virgin a few times. They talked about Jesus a whole lot more. I don’t understand what’s so special about being a preacher and a carpenter. The Virgin got knocked up by God!!” Yana groaned and exhaled air from her lungs. Mara was such a simpleton sometimes. She wondered if she were menta...

Illustration by Karla Usagi Several days later, Mara emerged from Jerry’s camper. Mala’s children Alex, Nick and John were playing kickball nearby. Mara had managed to cover some of the bruises on her face with makeup. She didn’t care anymore. She thought that Mala might’ve been able to offer some insight into something, but she had been thoroughly thwarted. “What happened to you?” asked Alex, in true innocence. “Somebody hit me. We were playing a game.” “Ohhh…yeah, we play that game sometimes.” “Yeah. You should probably be careful or something.” That was as far as Mara’s maternal instinct went. She smiled at Alex weakly. Mala was one story, but her children were another. She was happy for it. Just then, Mara glimpsed Bao. Bao chuckled as they passed, but then cleared her throat. “Hey man, I’m sorry about that. I figured you weren’t prepared. I also know that you’re strong from the acro, so I wasn’t going easy. You didn’t seem prepared. All Mara could...

Illustration by Karla Usagi The pain in the center of her forehead throbbed. Mara came to, and found herself in Mala’s tent. “So we meet again, gadji cuntbag. Bet you didn’t know we were running a fight club in here.” Bao, Annie and Jen laughed. Jen peeled off her boxing gloves. “Mu wunneng wour enchomen rou training?” Mara’s mouth felt stuffed with cotton balls. “I can’t understand you, bitch. Ask the cards a question, pay me for joining the club or get out of my fucking tent.” Mala hated Mara with a fiery passion. People were always confusing the two of them, even though in her opinion they had nothing in common. The two had dark hair in the same haircut. That was about it. Mala had three children and Mara was a queer as far as she was concerned. She didn’t care. She was tired of white cunts telling her what to do or how to run her business. Mala had tried to smile and be kind at first. She’d had a soft spot for the lost and an instinct to take in strays that...