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Lawson
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EVERYTHING I REMEMBERED from when I was young was still there, like it had been trapped in a time capsule. Walking into those streets of town blocked off for the festival was like going back in time and becoming a teenager again. The smell of the fried foods and fresh lemonade wafted through the air along with the hot cocoa and peppermint. The chill in the air made me bundle up tightly, but once I was walking the streets, I remembered how easy it was to warm up under the heat lamps lined along the sidewalks and bonfires in various corners.
“How late does this go?” Holly asked, looking up at a stand that sold exclusively deep-fried desserts.
“Until about ten I think,” I said. “Usually by the time it’s closed, I’m so full of cocoa and sandwiches that I’ve lost the ability to tell time.”
“Sure it’s not the beer booth?” she asked, pointing her head toward the craft brewery station.
“No, that’s new actually,” I said. “When I was a kid, the whole thing was officially dry.”
“You say officially like it wasn’t actually,” she laughed.
“Well, Old Man Ogg always had his moonshine station, so it wasn’t really dry,” I said.
“Old Man Ogg?” she asked. “Moonshine?”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “Sold a drink he called ‘scumble’. No one was sure exactly what it was, but it seemed like whisky. Either way, he made it and snuck it in. According to the booth he ran, he sold glass jars. Just glass jars. But if you bought a glass jar from Old Man Ogg, he would fill your glass for free with some scumble.”
“I take it these were not cheap glass jars,” she said, giggling.
“No they were not. But worth every penny,” I said. “People used to say scumble could cure the common cold. Mostly because it was doing so much damage to your liver, everything else just kind of gave up.”
“That sounds awful,” she said.
“I know. I wonder if he’s still here,” I said.
Holly laughed and wrapped her arm around mine, tightening herself against me as we walked casually along the street. I felt a chill go down my spine that had nothing to do with the weather and for a moment, I felt like I was on top of the world.
“Hey buddy, you going to carry her purse too?” came a voice with a thick New York accent. It was so big, so comical, it had to be fake.
“What was that?” I asked, turning around.
“You heard me, pal,” the voice said again, and when I saw who was making it, I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, laugh at me, but the real joke here is you, Tex. I bet you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a bazooka.”
“A clown dunk? In winter?” Holly asked, thoroughly confused.
“It’s tradition,” I said. “Ever since the town was founded, anyone locked up for non-violent offenses was eligible for a random drawing. If they won, they could volunteer to be a clown and get dunked during the festival for a day, and in exchange they’d get released early.”
“That’s right,” the portly man in an ill-fitting clown costume said. “Easiest way out of a dummied-up charge is to sit here and heckle you nobodies and your weak, spindly arms.”
“I’m going to dunk him,” I said.
“No,” Holly said. “That’s mean. It’s too cold to get wet.”
“Hey, listen here, honey,” the man in the smeared clown makeup said, “he’s just going to spend money that gets donated to the children’s hospital. He doesn’t have the arm to even get to the target, much less the aim to hit it. Unless we let him throw underhand like a girl.”
“Okay,” Holly said. “Dunk him.”
I laughed and shook my head.
I didn’t recognize the clown, which wasn’t much of a surprise. I had been gone for a while, and the town, as small as it was, had grown a bit. People from nearby towns tended to filter in as they realized how nice it was. That meant he probably didn’t recognize me, or know that I had pitched for a long time. Still did during the summer months, joining whatever adult league I could find, so long as it was casual.
I paid the attendant by the desk and got the three balls I was allotted. There was a red line that people were supposed to stand behind, but as I got to it, I made eye contact with the clown and smirked. Then I took five big steps backward.
“Oh, ho, ho,” the clown said. “Somebody thinks they’re a big shot. Kid, I am going to laugh so hard when you miss...”
I wound up and tossed hard, forming the shape of a fastball on the seams without effort and nailing the center of the target with what I guessed was roughly around an eighty-mile-an-hour pitch. Not bad for no warming up.
There was a ding and the seat fell mid-sentence. The expression on the clown’s face as he dropped three feet below his feet to the water below was priceless. Holly squealed in surprise before shouting a joyous exclamation and wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek.
“That was amazing,” she said.
“I’ve got two more,” I said.
“Oh no,” she laughed. “You won’t really...”
The clown was already almost back on his perch, smacking the side of his head as he got water out of his ear. A shake of his head later and his eyes floated back to me as I stood, bent over with the ball twirling in my fingers, resting on my back. I was in the stretch, visualizing Holly like she was standing on first base. My first heater was accurate, but not the speed I wanted.
I wound up, giving a high leg kick like I was known for, and pressed hard off my back foot, leaving the ground for a split second before my front foot hit hard on the concrete.
“Ah, shit,” the clown muttered as the next pitch zoomed through the air, striking the center of the target with a thud.
The clown dunked again and his right hand stayed above him as his left grabbed at his hat, holding it down on his head. When he got back to his feet, I was twirling the third ball, watching him as he muttered and stomped his way back up the steps to the platform. He sat down with a squishy sound that couldn’t have been comfortable and looked absolutely miserable.
“I don’t have to throw this one,” I said. “All you have to do is say you’re sorry.”
The clown looked like he was mulling the idea, but pride took over.
“You throw like a girl.”
The windup was shorter than the one before, more like a shotgun blast. I felt the familiar pain in my elbow, the reason I didn’t pursue baseball after school, but I ignored it. It always showed up after a handful of fastballs at top speed but didn’t get bad unless I threw a curve. No need for that today.
The sound of the clown hitting the water for the third time as I turned my back on him was gratifying. I held my hand out for Holly and walked away, not even looking back at him as Holly laughed and looked over her shoulder. I was pulling a James Bond moment and I knew it. As long as it impressed Holly, I was going to roll with it.
“That was incredible,” she exclaimed. “You never said anything about being able to throw like that.”
“I can only hit a target like that with a fastball,” I said. “And I can only throw so many pitches before my elbow gives out. But three strikes to dunk a clown I can do.”
“You sure are full of surprises,” Holly said.
Grinning, I reached for her and pulled her tight, dipping her a bit as I crushed my lips to hers.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I said. I righted her and reveled in the blushing on her cheeks. “Now, I don’t know about you, but the booth over there with the maple bacon donut is calling my name.”
“Sure,” she said, seemingly catching her breath. I tugged her hand and we jogged over to the stand, Holly occasionally looking over her shoulder back at the dunk tank.
“Hey, it’s Lawson,” said the man behind the booth’s counter. “Long time no see.”
“Hey Carter,” I said, recognizing a neighbor that had lived near Mom for years. “Is this your booth? I didn’t know you made donuts.”
“Just started last year,” he said. “I got stuck inside with a kidney thing and decided to spend the time I was home learning how to cook something. Turns out I love making donuts. Started a shop in September.”
“Wow. That’s great, Carter.”
“Yeah, sure beats the heck out of doing power washing. Who’s this young lady?” he said.
“Holly White,” I said. “Holly, meet Carter. Holly owns the bed-and-breakfast in the old mansion.”
“Oh no kidding,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Holly.”
“Nice to meet you too, Carter,” she said. “These donuts smell amazing.”
“They aren’t too bad if I do say so myself,” he said. “If I might suggest, my maple bacon one is the top seller and makes for a damn fine breakfast with a good strong coffee.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said. “We’ll take two of each, the donut and the coffee.”
“Coming right up,” Carter said.
As we walked around afterward, devouring our donuts and sipping coffee, I was happy to see the sun peeking out overhead. It was still going to be a cold day, but the sun would warm us up a little and maybe make it so I didn’t need so many layers. There were other games to play, mostly carnival-style games that were intentionally hard to win, but I knew the secret of a couple of them.
The ring toss netted us a giant stuffed bee, which Holly picked out when I won. Unfortunately, it was too large for her to lug around, so I ended up carrying it until I found myself choosing another large stuffed animal from a different game. Holly ended up with three smaller ones as well, and we made our way back to toss them safely in the car before continuing on.
Every chance I got, I stole a kiss, pulling her deep into me and loving the feeling of her warm breath on my skin. Holly kept applying a cherry-flavored ChapStick, which I proceeded to kiss off her, garnering a suggestion that if I needed lip balm so much, I should just put some on. I replied that my way was more fun.
Lunchtime came, and we found ourselves in front of a booth with the largest, most egregiously delicious-looking pork sandwiches I had ever seen. Topped with onion rings and bacon and drizzled with a barbecue sauce, it looked and smelled like heaven. It was also almost the size of Holly’s head.
We ordered one to share, along with a mountain of fries, and sat down at a bench erected in a heated tent area. I split the sandwich in half, knowing there was no way she could even eat that much. Hell, I wasn’t sure I could take down half of it in one go.
There were still a few more things we wanted to do during the daytime, but with the dunking of the clown, winning some stuffed animals, and eating myself absolutely silly, I had accomplished everything I had set out to do that didn’t involve locking lips with Holly. Though I planned to do a lot more of that too. Starting with moments after we both tapped out and boxed up the rest of the sandwich for later.
She tasted like barbecue sauce and cherry lip balm, and as long as I could live, I didn’t think I would ever find a more delicious flavor.
