August 22nd, 1975. I’m sitting by the window, my dog, Moby, a very porky Lab, is burrowed against my side.

The screen door creaks open and Dad saunters in with a sneaky grin on his face.

“I’ve got a big surprise for you, Cathy.” He rummages through his pockets and pulls out two yellow tickets. “County fair pass! For the whole week, for you and a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” I mumble.

Dad frowns. “Aren’t you going to take someone? Maybe Pam Jones?”

He says it like it’s obvious, like I have friends just waiting around. I gulp hard, not wanting to confess that Pam had single-handedly turned me into a social leper by plopping two unwrapped chocolate bars under my seat in third-period history.  And when I got up, it looked like I pooped my white pants, a brown trail of diarrhea streaming down. Everyone was pointing at me, laughing, yacking, and chattering their teeth like baboons. From that day forward, my new name was Caca Cathy.

Every couple of weeks I can look forward to opening my locker, and a tsunami of toilet paper will unspool, a white avalanche burying me in the hallway. Laughter follows, a chorus of high-pitched squeals and pointed fingers. “ Look at her, she poops her pants and cries!” I stand there frozen, face fiery hot, and tears piling up behind my eyes. I tear off down the hall, ignoring the “kick me” sign stuck to my back and the mean looking stares. I shake my head to rid my brain of that reality.

“But Dad, aren’t you going to the fair too? It’d be fun if you, me, and Mom went.”

Since the age of nine, I’ve always gone solo to the fair. I gaze at my Dad, hopeful that maybe he’ll take a tiny spec of interest in my life. But no, he squints his eyes and scrunches his nose like Dr.Welby just shoved a giant needle in his butt.

“Cathy, I have the golf scramble all weekend. Then it’s off to Marv’s lake house with the guys on Monday and Tuesday. Then there’s tennis at the club. I can’t make it to the fair this year. Just too busy.”

Too Busy?  I can’t be alone at the fair this year. I refuse to hear the high-pitched giggles, and catcalls of “Caca Cathy” and see their ugly faces scrunched tight in repulsion at the sight of me. I simply can not feel like a total loser for one minute longer.

“But Dad, you’ve missed taking me for the last three years. Can’t you just make it one day? Please. Pretty please with sugar on top.” Desperate for a yes, I clasp my hands together in a silent plea.

Dad’s eyes narrow into slits, his lips a tight, thin line. “Look, Cathy, get off my case, alright? I slave all day at a job I hate, just so you can have nice things and a happy life. So why can’t I have a life too? Your mom and I give you a lot of freedom. So why don’t you return the favor by giving us some freedom too?”

My face flushes hot pink. I want to scream, “Don’t worry, Dad, I won’t ever, as long as I live, EVER ask you to do a thing with me ever again!”

But there’s no one there to hear me. Dad’s already left, leaving behind nothing but a whiff of his Brute aftershave. Blood boiling, I imagine Dad, mid-golf swing, getting zapped by a bolt of lightning. The only thing left of him is his Brillo pad mustache flopping around on the eighteenth green.

I wipe my eyes on the corner of my shirt and snort the snot dripping from my nose. You don’t want to be seen with me ? Fine! I’ll find somebody else like Mom, er Carol.

I walk into her home office, and it looks like a hurricane came blasting through. “Hey Mom, what’s going on?”

She scowls. “Cathy, we’ve discussed this. Mom is a label that reinforces traditional and sexist roles. Call me Carol.”

“OK, CAROL,” I yell. “Dad gave me two passes for the fair, and since my classmates all despise me and Dad’s allergic to me, would you go with me, Mo—I mean, Carol? Please? There’s fried Oreos, and, and the Octopus ride, and cotton candy, and I just… I don’t wanna go alone.” My legs shake like a wet dog when her snarly-looking eyes meet mine.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m flying out to Los Angeles in a couple of hours for a ten-day women’s rally and protest. Andrea Dworkin is one of the speakers”

Andrea Dworkin. She quotes her all the time. “Women are an enslaved population—the crop we harvest is childbirth.” Charming.

She takes a deep breath, her eyes bulging as she rants. “My dreams are more important than some stupid carnival. Keeping you entertained and happy isn’t my responsibility. I’m not holding your hand anymore. Go to the fair. Explore. Have fun.”  Her eyes are ice-cold as she waves me away.

I blink back tears and force myself to stand up straight as I creep out of the room without looking back. I vow that I will never ever need her for anything ever again. But right as I’m leaving, klutzy me, trips over her suitcase and knocks a glass of water onto her precious Andrea Dworkin book. I am an ice statue when Carol charges toward me, purple-faced and shrieking.

“Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Wipe that up!  This book is sacred and now you’ve ruined it.”

Terrified, I grab a pair of her underwear and swirl them across her book. A twisted grin spreads across her face.

“You destroy something special of mine, I destroy something special of yours.  You never know when that framed heart drawing might just accidentally fall into the toilet.”

My breath is trapped in my throat and my whole body goes numb. Carol wouldn’t dare, or would she? That heart Grandma drew and captioned for me, I’ll never forget—never. Your name is engraved on my heart, is the first thing I’d grab if our house went up in blazes.Whenever she squeezed me tight in a hug she’d always whisper,  “You’re my treasure.” This warm feeling like a sunbaked blanket would wrap itself around me. For a second I’d almost believe it was true that I wasn’t a complete failure.

Carol gives me one last scowl. “ Get out of my room. I’ll see you in ten days, God knows it’s not long enough.” She pauses, her eyes boring into my skull, “ Try not to disappoint me when I get back.”

I walk away, fantasizing about the flight crew tossing her out of the plane mid-air.  She shrieks as she plummets to the ground, “ I wish I was nicer to my daughter. Ahhhhh!”

After hearing the garage door close and the rumble of her car, I wander into the kitchen and see a note on the table from Dad.

“The key is under the mat. I won’t be home until midnight at the earliest." I wrap my arms around Moby’s barrel-like body, thankful that at least he loves me.

Ten minutes later I’m strolling down the Midway, when BAM, a carnie brawl breaks out right in front of the Whack-A-Mole. A greasy giant with watermelon-sized muscles is taking a swing at a shifty-eyed carnie who’s clutching a knife.

But before things go any further, a voice sounding like a Texan bullhorn cuts through the chaos, “Knock it off, Ernie. Drop the knife, Jake, before somebody gets killed!”

A tornado of a man storms toward them. His skin, leathery and tanned, looks like fried chicken. He’s wearing a far-out lavender western jumpsuit with a dark purple ascot looped around his neck.

“Cut the crap, you two yahoos. I’ll call your parole officers, and your sorry asses will get hauled right back to the slammer. This is a Christian carnival; we keep it clean here, no fucking around.”

My jaw practically detaches. The F-word before noon at a supposedly Christian fair—this place just got way more interesting!

The carnies mumble apologies and slither off in opposite directions. Lavender-jumpsuit-man turns toward me, his gold teeth glinting in the bright sun.

“Sugar, I sure do apologize for my, uh, French. Wasn’t very Christlike of me at all. Wouldn’t want to scare you off on opening day.”

“Hold on a sec, French?” I blink, confused. “You were speaking French?”

He throws his head back and laughs, a deep roar that seems to vibrate in his chest. “That’s right, Sugar, I’m fluent in French. Big Daddy Ray here, owner of this fine establishment. And you are way too young to be wandering around these fairgrounds all by yourself. You lost? Can I call for your Momma and Daddy over the loudspeaker?”

“I’m twelve,” I mumble, feeling a little insulted.

His eyes widen. “Twelve? Well, bless your heart, you’re just a tiny little skeeter. Come on, come on, I want Mama Sue to meet ya. She’s gonna eat you up. She’s my bride of 30 years and has a soft spot for strays, especially the human kind.”

He steers me toward a giant, orange pickup truck with gleaming longhorns jutting out the front. A large blur emerges from its camper—a woman who is a living cartoon. Her fiery red hair explodes in a messy bun and a Hawaiian print muumuu drapes over her body. A cosmetic factory must have detonated all over her face. But beneath the crazy makeup, her eyes flash with a warmth that melts away all the weirdness. As she steps closer, her smile is like sunshine breaking through storm clouds.

“Well, Daddy, it looks like you’ve snagged the cutest thing ever. What’s your name, darlin’?”

Before I can answer, Big Daddy Ray booms, “Mama Sue, this is Cathy. I caught her wandering around the midway all by herself. ”

“Well, you cute little firefly, we’ll make certain that you get a Texas-sized welcome at our carnival. We take care of people here, especially the ones who ain’t got anyone with them.”

Looking up at her, my heart warms, and I can’t help but show off my freak-show-sized big teeth in a ginormous smile. I usually cover my teeth up with my hand but I don’t care because Mama Sue is a big ball of wonderful.

She wraps her sweaty, fleshy arm around my shoulder. I love it, feeling like a baby chick under her mama’s wings. “You eat anything today, darlin’? I’ve got some biscuits and gravy in the camper. Might put some meat on your bones.”

I suddenly feel shy and fib, “Yes, ma’am.”

She eyeballs me suspiciously and digs into her knitting bag, yanking out the biggest, tastiest cinnamon roll I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Big Daddy wandered over to the bakery and bought a dozen of these. You better eat up, Punkin’, before the herd of pigs discover I’ve been hiding these puppies in my bag. They’d inhale ‘em faster than you could say, ‘Jesus forgive my sins,’ especially the sin of gluttony! Go on, darlin’, it ain’t poisoned.”

As soon as I sink my teeth into that gooey pile of amazingness, I know there has to be a God. There’s no way a universe without a God could make something this scrumptious.

“Okay, sweetie pie, you’re coming with me. I’m going to introduce you to our carnival family”

I follow behind her like a baby duck trailing its mother. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Big Daddy Ray crouched low. He’s leaning up against a giant sycamore tree along with three other scraggly, oily-looking men. They’re puffing on cigarettes, a cyclone of smoke swirling around them. They take turns gulping out of a paper bag. Mama Sue smiles and waves at them. “Whatcha doing over there, boys?”

Big Daddy Ray tosses the bag to the ground and stands up straight. “Just preaching the gospel, baby! Teddy, Mac, and Orville were taking the holy communion with me.” I notice him elbowing the doughy blonde dude in the ribs.

“That’s right, Mama Sue. We met Jesus today right here under this tree, boozing, cussing, and smokin’, and your wonderful husband told us all about him!”

The other two guys raise their arms sky-high and shout, “Hallelujah and pass the communion.”

Big Daddy Ray shouts, “The wine is in a paper bag, darlin’. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

Mama Sue’s face lights up like 4th of July fireworks and flashing Christmas lights all in one. She wipes a tear from her eye. “The Lord has been so good to me. I don’t deserve it, but I guess it wouldn’t be grace if I did. My Big Daddy is a walking angel. He’s always spreading the gospel. Like Jesus, he’s a friend to sinners.”

I glance back at him and this bitter acid taste rises in my throat. There’s this redhead big-butted girl hanging all over him like a cheap rug. He even grabs a hunk of her tush and kisses her neck.

Since I don’t want Mama Sue to find out that her husband is nothing but a lying sack of poop, I grab her hand and herd her through the midway. I want to imagine Big Daddy Ray and his posse of creeps suffering through a long, excruciating bone-crushing death, but after seeing how Mama Sue’s eyes glow brighter than a harvest moon whenever she looks at him, I just can’t do it. It would kill her if she could read my mind and discover the truth.

She waves at a short, stocky guy in front of the octopus ride. He has a waist-length black braid trailing down his back and small symbols tattooed on his knuckles.

“Come on, honey. I want you to meet Shaytu. Thanks to my God-fearing husband, Shaytu is walking with the Lord now.”

As we get closer to him, the first thing I notice are his eyes. They’re black and dead-looking, like his soul was sucked out of his eye sockets.

When Mama Sue reaches him, she pulls him into a humongous hug. Shaytu  opens his mouth, and sticks a finger down it, like the very sight of her makes him want to barf.  I glare at him, and the creep flips me the bird!

She gazes at this human scum with the sweetest, most tender look I’ve ever seen in my life. “Don’t you ever forget how much God loves you! I pray for you every day.”

He gives her a smile that looks like something only a lizard could flash. “Oh Mama Sue, you’re nothing but a big fat piece of shi..sugar.”

She beams, “ Oh you sweet boy! That reminds me, I have something for you.”

While she rifles through her bag, the cretin flips me a second bird. “Here it is, that money I promised you. I’m just sick about your poor mama being on dialysis  and your little brother shooting his eye out with a BB gun. My goodness. I hope this helps lighten their load a bit.”

He wipes a fake tear from his eye.  “It’s a small start Mama Sue, a very small start.”

She pulls him close into another hug and whispers, “ I’ve been saving up for cataract surgery but it will wait. That’s not two hundred dollars like I usually give you, it’s two thousand.You tell her that I love her and Jesus does too.”

As we walk away, I can hear his laughter echoing all over the place, shrill like a zoo monkey. “ I’m rich! I’m freakin’ rich. Whoo- hoo!”

Mama Sue is nothing but kind to him, and here he is crapping all over her. I start to imagine something awful for him, but this wave of shame rolls over me thinking how Mama Sue acts like the sun rises and sets in my eyes. If she knew the truth about me in what way would her gaze upon me change?

As I look back at Shaytu, dancing and hollering, a different feeling takes hold of me— a feeling that doesn’t feel like mine at all. He’s not a monster, he’s just a kid begging for love in the only way he knows how. I want to hate him, but I can’t. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s a mirror of me. We’re both just strays after all, and even a stray will do anything for a moment of kindness.

Mama Sue and I walk across the fairgrounds for the whole day, a hot trail of sweat dripping down our backs and legs. I cry a little, confessing how my parents and classmates all hate me. Tears well up in her eyes, her makeup running down her face, a river of red and blue. But I’ve never seen a river so pretty. She grips my hand, her voice soft like a mourning dove’s. “Forgive them, baby. They don’t know what they’re doing.”

The way she says it feels like a boulder has slammed right into my chest. I can’t stop crying, saying over and over, “I forgive you, I forgive you.”

Later that day we chomp on corn dogs and apple fritters, and for the first time, I smile big and wide, completely unafraid to show my teeth. By the end of the day, I feel lighter, like all the pressure has been let out of me. I start to believe that I am really okay, maybe even special.

We link arms, cackling like hens, strolling through the almost empty fairgrounds. We raid the cotton candy booth and snag two each, clutching them like sugary bouquets, our hands sticky and blue. A tingle crawls down my back; it’s creepishly still compared to the craziness from earlier in the day. There are no human sounds, just the groans of big machines and the clatter of metal scraping metal, like something out of a horror movie.

She frets, her voice a soft hum in the twilight. “Where’s Big Daddy gone off to? Couldn’t he just stay for a while? It seems like he’s always wandering off somewhere, and I have to track him down.”

I want to tell her, “Your husband is a jerk face who doesn’t deserve you.” But I don’t. It would hurt too much, seeing how shattered her face would look if I tell her the truth. I tuck the secret deep inside, a place that feels heavy and sharp.

Then, a cloud of weird, sweet-smelling smoke floats out from behind the merry-go-round, catching Mama Sue’s eye. Her gaze follows it, past the painted faces of the horses frozen in mocking smiles. Our eyes land on Big Daddy Ray and a small knot of familiar misfits huddled in the shadows. The redhead girl from earlier is draped across Big Daddy Ray’s lap. They are passing around a gurgling pipe, eyes flashing a spooky gargoyle red. They look up, faces all frozen in fear, in the glow of a small flame.

Mama Sue’s head tilts toward the dark sky, her mouth moving silently, as if she’s praying for something she knows she can’t have.  A single perfect tear cuts a clean line through her cheek, followed by a choked, rattling sob that shakes her whole body. She topples backward, her head striking the sharp metal edge of the merry-go-round with a loud thud. Blood pours out everywhere, her arms stretch wide like angel wings in flight.

Big Daddy Ray scrambles over, cradling her head and washing her face and body with his tears. He cries out, his shriek ripping the clouds in two. The others drop to their knees, one after another, like their strings have been cut.

I race over and clutch her hand, sobbing so hard my chest hurts. "I'll see you again. I'll see you again." I squeeze my eyes shut so tight that the darkness behind them explodes with a dizzying dance of white and yellow stars. I don’t want to open them, because I’m afraid I will forget the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. But then I realize that as long as I can see the stars, she is still with me. I open my eyes, and in the darkness, the stars remain. Today, for one brief, terrible moment, I saw God and she was beautiful.