A Tale of Two Carnies

38 - More Than A Kiss

Concerned over Cozbi's previous suicide threat, I called her as soon as I got back to the trailer. She didn't pick up, probably still angry with me. I left a voice mail message. "I trust we both have cooler heads now. Call to let me know you're okay."

Several minutes later, she sent me a simple text message in all caps: I'M FINE.

Got it. She was still upset. I decided to leave the ball in her court. I wouldn't call again until she initiated contact.

She didn't, until two weeks later when I received an email from her. No message in the body of the email, just a link to a Hollywood Reporter article lifted from the entertainment section. The headline read: Famous graphic novelist and protégé take Hollywood by storm.

The article explained how Marcus Tolliver and talented newcomer Cozbi Miraslova were rebranding the Urban Urchin franchise with bold new graphic concepts and characters sure to be a hit with critics and fans. To my surprise, Tolliver didn't hold back giving Cozbi the lion's share of the credit and lavishing praise on her.

Had I misjudged him?

Since Cozbi didn't include a message, I couldn't tell whether she remained angry.

I was happy for her. She was succeeding and appeared to be thriving. I was happy for me too. I didn't have to worry as much about her.

I replied to her email: Way-2-go. I knew you would conquer the world!

After that, I didn't hear from her again.

Shelly and I continued our Saturday rendezvous and nightly phone calls. She told me how she had finally told her parents, in small bites, of my history. After the whole truth was out, they didn't react well. She eventually convinced them to trust her judgment. They wanted to meet me, to size me up, I guessed, to determine if I was worthy of "courting" their daughter. Who used that word anymore?

She scheduled our meeting for the following Sunday. I was invited to dinner. Worried about first impressions, I didn't want to show up driving the Beast. Shelly made up some excuse about picking me up since I didn't know the way.

As she pulled into the lane leading to her house, I confessed how nervous I was.

"Just be yourself," she advised. "Don't worry. If things get weird, I won't leave you twisting in the wind. I'll rescue you."

Her family lived in what looked like an older two story, brick farmhouse with a wide wraparound porch and white painted rail. The roof overhang was supported by six-by-six posts painted white with fancy gingerbread adorning the joints where the posts met the soffits.

"What a pretty house!" I exclaimed. "I would've loved growing up here."

"Thank you. I'm old enough now to appreciate it. As a kid, I took it all for granted."

A modern aluminum barn stood to the side of the house. A semi-truck sat parked in front of the barn. "Your dad's?" She had told me he was a long-haul trucker.

She nodded and parked next to the semi.

The whole meet-the-parents thing went better than I expected. I did a lot of talking, steering away from my time as a carnie and focusing on my job as an HVAC technician.

Shelly's dad approved. "The trades are where it's at, especially in this economy. People will always need good tradesmen to fix things when they break."

"Tradespeople, Dad, not tradesmen," Shelly interrupted with a smile.

He ignored her and went on to say "Healthcare workers too. People are always going to get sick, get injured, or have babies." He looked at his wife, likely acknowledging her job as a nurse.