“I’m so glad,” my mother said. “I hope it’s a nice circus.”
“You’ve been kind, ma’am,” Harry said. He looked complete, as if he had moved into his own place in the world again. Then he stared at Ed Wadley. Harry was on the lawn and Ed on the porch, but he looked down at him. He slowly reached his big hand out and said, “I’ve never met your partner, Mr. Barret.” My father quickly mumbled an introduction.
Ed said, “Pleased to meet you.” He bobbed his head, and his voice was slightly squeaky.
Harry still held his hand out, patiently. It was the size of a side of bacon. “You’ll shake hands, won’t you, Mr. Wadley?” We all knew what Ed had called him. Ed’s face got white, and then redder than usual. But I must say that he made himself move gingerly to the porch steps and go down and stick his hand out. It disappeared into that grip like the hand of a little child. He stared up at Harry and Harry looked down at him somberly. There must have been strength in that grip because I saw Ed’s knees buckle and saw him bite his lip.
“Now,” Harry said, “you can go tell your friends you shook hands with a freak.”
“I... I... I didn’t mean to call...”
For the first time we saw Harry smile. It was a wide crooked smile that unveiled an expanse of huge yellow teeth. In that instant Harry seemed to grow even taller, and Ed dwindled. “I didn’t mind what you called me... Shorty,” Harry said.
He released the hand, nodded to us, and walked back across the yard, his hat higher than the eaves trough, and was gone.
Ed massaged his hand. His face looked purple. “That damn freak!” he said, not too loudly. “Try to bust my hand. I’ll get the law on him! I’ll...”
My father had been looking thoughtful, his head tilted to one side as though he was listening to something a long way off.
He interrupted Ed sharply, but he didn’t sound angry. “You’ll do one thing, Ed. You’ll watch your language.”
“I’ll talk as I please.”
“Then get off the place. Now!” The two partners stared at each other. I wanted to holler. My father was back the way he used to be, and I knew we’d never have another bad summer.
Ed was the first one to break the locked stare. He looked away, looked down the road toward the town and then looked back. “All right... Sam,” he said meekly. “Sorry, Sarah.” He lowered his eyes.
“How about some nice iced tea,” my mother said.
Three summers later, when I was thirteen, Davey’s father drove a bunch of us kids over to see a small circus in Elmira. And Harry was in the side show. I expected that he would know me right away, but he didn’t. It disappointed me a little, but I guess I’d changed a lot and he saw a lot of kids every day. I went over to him when the barker was taking the people around to the other parts of the show.
“It’s me, Harry,” I said. “Billy Barret.”
After slow seconds his eyes came alive and he said, “Well, hello, Billy. How are things with your folks?”
“Things are fine. The store is doing real good. My father bought out Ed Wadley over a year ago.”
He nodded his big slow head, and I thought I could see a change of expression, a look of both amusement and satisfaction, but I couldn’t be sure. Then the crowd came over in front of Harry and the barker started his spiel. I moved back away from all the others.
Harry stood up. The sun came golden through the canvas, and the black boots were shiny. He stood to his full height and the people stared at him there on his platform. He towered high, looking over their heads, a somber and golden giant, standing in pride over the pygmy world, fitting in only this one place, yet making me think then, as I watched him, that in that great slow head were long dreams of a world where all were as large as he. A world of the remote past, or the equally distant future.
