“A very nice lady.” “I don’t look like a lady!” Joey said.
“No, no,” Conrad said quickly. “Of course you don’t. But you have her
dark eyes and hair. And there’s something in the lines of your face
.
. . You know, it’s just possible she could have a boy your age now.
Yes. Yes, it’s quite possible. Wouldn’t that be something–if you
were the son of my long-lost friend?” He leaned closer to Joey. The
whites of his eyes were yellowish.
There was dandruff on his shoulders. A single breadcrumb was stuck in
his mustache. His voice became even heartier than before when he said,
“What is your mother’s name?”
Suddenly Joey saw something in the stranger’s eyes that he liked even
less than what he had seen in the albino’s eyes. He stared into those
two crystalline blue dots, and it seemed to him that the man’s
friendliness was an act. Like on that TV show, “The Rockford Files,”
the way Jim Rockford, the private detective, could be so charming and
so friendly, but he was just putting it on in order to get some vital
information out of a stranger without the stranger knowing that he was
being pumped. All of a sudden Joey felt that this guy was putting on
the charm just like Jim Rockford did.
Joey felt as if he were being pumped for information. Except that
under his phony friendliness, Jim Rockford really was a nice guy. But
underneath Conrad’s smile, there wasn’t a nice guy at all. Deep down
in his blue eyes there wasn’t anything warm or friendly, there was
just. . . darkness.
“Joey?”
“Huh?”
“I asked you what your mother’s name is.”
“Leon”,” Joey lied, without really understanding why he must not tell
the truth. He sensed that telling the truth right now would be the
worst thing he could ever do in his whole life. Leon” was Tommy Culp’s
mother.
Conrad stared hard at him.
Joey wanted to look away but couldn’t. “Leon”?” Conrad asked.
“Yeah.” “Well . . . maybe my friend changed her name. She never did
like the one she was born with. Your mother might still be her. About
how old would you say your mother is?”
Twenty-nine,” Joey said quickly, remembering bhat Tommy Culp’s mother
had recently had a twenty-ninth birthday party at which, according to
Tommy, all the guests had gotten pissed.
“Twenty-nine?” Conrad asked. “You’re sure?”
“I know exactly,” Joey said, “because Mama’s ,birthday is one day
before my sister’s, so we always get two parties close together every
year.
This last time my sister was eight, and my mother was ienty-nine.”
He was surprised that he could lie o easily and smoothly. Usually he
was a lousy liar, he couldn’t fool anyone. But now he was different.
Now it was almost as if someone older and wiser were speaking through
him.
He didn’t know why he was so positive that he had to lie to this man.
Mama couldn’t be the woman that Conrad was looking for. Mama wouldn’t
ever have been friends with a carny, she thought they were all dirty
and crooked. Yet Joey lied to Conrad, and he had the feeling that
someone else was guiding his tongue, someone who was looking out for
him, someone like . . .
God. Of course that was a dumb thought. To please God, you always had
to tell the truth. Why would God take control of you just to make you
lie?
The carny’s blue eyes softened, and the tension went out of his voice
when Joey said his mother was twenty-nine. “Well,” the carny said, “I
guess your mother couldn’t be my old friend. The woman I’m thinking of
would have to be around forty-five.”
They looked at each other for a moment, the boy just standing there and
the man stooping down, and finally Joey said, “Well .
. . thanks a lot for the free passes.” “Sure, sure,” the man said,
standing up, obviously no longer the least bit interested in the boy.
“Enjoy them, son.” He turned and walked back to the funhouse.
Joey went across the midway to watch the workers erect the Octopus.