I felt completely invisible, invincible, and free. I smiled at people on the street and they smiled back. I recognized a few of them from the show, although they didn't recognize me; they were looking at my face instead of my hands, which were beautifully concealed inside a pair of large wool mittens. So far no one had pointed out that it was strange for me to be wearing mittens in the Florida heat.
Oh, what luxury normal people had, to be entitled to their own privacy. There was a part of me that wanted so badly to rip the mittens off and shove my hands in their faces and scream, "Look! You treated me like a normal person! You didn't even know until I showed you!" However, previous experiences stopped me from causing a scene. If the gloves came off, so would my warm cloak of anonymity.
I opened the door to the small diner next to the barber shop. The smell of frying bacon and coffee greeted me, causing a wide smile to stretch across my face. I looked around the diner and was pleased to see that no one even looked up upon me entering. They all carried on eating as though a freak hadn't just waltzed into their midst. Had I been without gloves, their reaction would have been very different.
I noticed a pretty brunette waitress smiling at me to the right. I looked over my shoulder to see who she could have been smiling at. My heart fluttered when I realized it had to be me, since no one else was there. No matter how many girls I managed to flirt with when my disguise was on, the feeling I got when a pretty girl smiled at me was indescribable. Every time was like the first time.
I returned her smile and slid onto a stool in her section, removing my hat but not my gloves.
"What can I get ya?" She asked me, snapping her gum and twirling her pony tail around her finger.
I winked at her, "As long as you're my waitress, I've got everything I need." The blush that crept up her neck and inflamed her cheeks caused my smile to widen.
"I haven't seen you in here before." She pulled out an empty mug and a pot of coffee from under the counter.
"I just got into town." I told her as she poured me a cup. Technically, not a lie. We had been here only two months.
"Where were you previously?" She asked, giving me a wink that told me the coffee was on the house.
"I've been riding my motor bike across the country. I'm staying at a beautiful resort. Ocean views and everything. You'd love it." Okay, total lie. By "resort" I meant "dingy camp" and by "ocean views" I meant "swamp".
As if I had said the magic words, the waitress gasped, leaned in and put her chin in her hand. I had her undivided attention.
"I just love motor bikes!" She gushed.
I placed my gloved hand on the counter between us, amused that only a few inches and layer of wool separated her from her worst nightmare. "I can take you for a ride sometime." I lied and inched closer. She bit her lip and dropped her eyelids. Looking up at me from under her lashes, she purred.
"Or we could just skip the ride and you could take me back to your place."
Just as I opened my mouth to reply I felt a body slide onto the stool next to me. A familiar German accent asked, "Excuse me?" I groaned inwardly and turned to face Elsa, the proprietor of our little band of misfits. She pulled a lighter from the pocket of her coat and placed it in the palm of my gloved hand, "I can't seem to get this thing to work. Would you help?"
I glared at Elsa and then at the lighter in my hand. I couldn't light it with my mittens on, and I couldn't take them off. Elsa knew that. I was distinctly aware of the pretty waitress watching our exchange. I glowered at Elsa. All I wanted was one day where I could pretend I was a normal man, even if it was a lie. Was that too much to ask?
"Is this your mom?" The daft waitress asked me. Elsa looked deeply offended. If I hadn't been so tensed I would have laughed at the wounded look on Elsa's face. I turned to the waitress.
"Scram, toots." I dismissed the waitress. She gave me a stricken look before turning her nose up in the air and harrumphing away to poor coffee to the customers she ignored while she had been talking to me.
Elsa waited until she was out of earshot before hissing at me, "You ungrateful little shit." She swore, "I finally found a place where we can live and you want to risk it all for some random little tart." I dropped my eyes and stared at the counter, trying to swallow the biting words I so desperately wanted to say.
"Do you think that you with all your charm will be able to get her to look past your deformity?" Elsa continued. I half expected her to start foaming at the mouth, "What happens when she sees you?" She dropped her gaze to the mittens on my hands, "All of you?"
"Wake up, Elsa!" I snapped, "We're done. It's over! We can barely sell tickets anymore!" Elsa slammed her hand on the table, making the silverware clatter and causing the attention of the diner to be directly on us.
"No!" Her eyes were wild, "I have found a new act. One that will put us back on the map; make us a destination."
As I stared at her wild eyes and lined face, pity found its way to my heart. But it was not without disgust as well. There was something both endearing and pathetic about her desperation.
The clock on the wall read quarter to four. If I didn't move fast, I was going to be late.
"I gotta go, Elsa." I said as I stood, snatching my hat off the counter and shoving it onto my head, "I have a previous engagement. Someone has to bring in some money so we can eat." I strode passed her and stepped out onto the street. I cracked my neck, agitated. Damn Elsa! Damn her to hell. I had heard her conversation with the man who rented us his field earlier this morning. His wife didn't like having a band of freaks living behind her house. As much as it had stung to hear, I couldn't blame her. We were unwanted everywhere by everyone. If they could just see, we are just people, like them, our lives could be completely different.
I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding and swore. Now I had to make up for the time Elsa had cost me. Reluctantly, I started running.
I wiped my brow with the back of my disfigured hand and smiled at the woman writhing on the bed in front of me. This was my third party in two weeks.
One night, about a month ago, I was approached while having a cigarette by a house wife who had taken a wrong turn. The pretty blonde had walked up to me and asked to bum a smoke. Of course, I obliged. She looked funny standing beside me in front of a dirty circus tent in her heels and pearls, smoking a cigarette.
She looked at my hands while she smoked with a look in her eyes that told me she was after more than just a cigarette.
Coaxing her into my trailer had been much easier than I had expected and getting her to the bed even easier than that. She had opened her legs for me, her eyes everywhere but on my face.
When it was over she opened her purse and laid some bills on my night stand. She turned and asked me if I cared to 'entertain' at a party she was throwing, an "All ladies soaré" and wasn't I just the thing to relax all her high-strung friends?
She didn't see my jaw drop or my stricken expression because she still refused to meet my eyes.
"I'll pay you $25 per party, and I am sure the ladies will tip you as well."
I stared hard at her face, forcing her to look at me. My wounded pride struggled with our desperate need for money. If I could make enough from these house wives, I could save enough money to someday get me and my family out of this life for good. Money equaled freedom; everyone knew that.
"When and where, toots?"
When it was over the woman on the bed sighed with pleasure, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
"Oh my god." She whispered to herself, opening her balled fist and letting a few coins drop onto the bed spread. She couldn't even hand them to me. I looked away.
"I wonder," she asked, crossing the room and opening the door, "I am having a little get-together with some friends next Sunday. My husband is on a business trip and I could use a little fun."
"Leave your address and the date with the hostess. She will make sure I get it when she pays me. My fee is $25 per party. Make sure they know how to tip." I could hear the edge in my voice, but the woman didn't seem to notice.
"That's fine." She said before walking through the door and closing it behind her.
I turned and faced the full length mirror that stood next to the dresser. I let myself imagine that this was my house, that the next woman who would walk through that door was my wife, and that when she got here, she would touch me. I imagined that she loved me, that we had two kids sleeping in the room across the hall. I imagined that I was normal.
My eyes fell onto the reflection of my hideous 'claws' and I shook my head to dispel the silly fantasy. That life was never in the cards for me. The best I could hope for was to save up enough money to buy some land where I could live with my family of misfits. Growing what we needed far away from the cruelty of society.
I turned when I heard the door creak and came face to face with a pretty brunette in a yellow party dress, standing in the doorway. She looked terrified. Burying my feelings, I smiled at her.
"Don't worry, baby." I purred, "I don't bite."
