I do not own Carnival.
Still love Ben tho.
Ben and Sofie
The Wandering Path
Their path is wandering.
Taking them out of Nebraska. Back into Kansas. Oklahoma.
"God, I'm tired of all this dirt."
"Me too. Go east."
So he does.
Turning east.
The direction they discover when the sun rises and they head . . .
"Like it could get hotter and drier anyway-"
. . . straight into it.
Away from the insanity.
Away from the fear.
Away from the dust bowl.
A nail in a tire.
A thing that could happen on any road.
But the jack slipped, Sofie's hand is cut open.
And her blood is dripping down onto the dry, thirsty dirt of the road.
She's tough, ex-carnie Sofie.
She spits a curse, hisses between her teeth.
And grabs for a rag.
Ben instinctively reaches for her hand.
"Here-"
He hates to see her in pain.
Particularly knowing he can stop i-
"No!"
She jerks the wounded appendage away.
"No, don't touch it."
He flinches, eyes squinting.
Heart sinking with realization that it will always be this way, even with her.
"You gonna be scared of me now too?"
And Sofie shakes her head, wrapping the cloth around her hand.
"No, Ben, I didn't mean that."
He doesn't believe her.
It will always be this way.
And Sofie reaches for his face with her other hand.
Skin rough and calloused, touch gentle.
Brings his face back square with hers.
And speaks.
"It doesn't need it. It'll heal on its own. Save it for something big."
And she kisses him sweet.
"But thank you."
And he tries to believe.
Arkansas.
Hills begin to rise from the land, rolling up a little and down again.
Not mountains by any stretch of the fevered imagination but they are leaving the endless numbing flatlands behind.
"God, I hope the brakes hold out. I'm not used to this."
"Me too. Hold on."
They do.
Food runs low and they are hungry.
Empty bellies and blistering sun headaches.
In a dustspot of a town, Sofie sees a man staring at her, lust in his shifty eyes.
"I suppose I could-"
And Ben cuts her off.
"No. You cain't."
He steals.
Bread and canned beans from a local store shelf.
And Sofie worries.
"Ben, I don't want you to have to steal."
And Ben the thief shrugs it off.
"I don't want you to have to whore."
And they keep going, working odd pickup jobs where they can.
An hour here.
An afternoon there.
Sometimes stealing when there is no coin job.
Often going hungry when they can't.
"Ben, I'd still be yours."
"Yeah, I know. But you wouldn't be yours."
"Maybe I could just do a hand-"
"No."
And she loves him.
They keep going, like a tugline pulling them on 'til they find what they're looking for.
The dust is slowly being replaced by scratchy, brown grass.
Stubborn, hardy trees.
Shallow ponds of murky water.
"I want a bath. But I don't want to get snakebit."
He knows he could heal her . . .
"Me neither."
. . . but why take the risk?
Sometimes they sleep in the cab of the truck, arms and legs and sweat and smell and love and determination and stubborn life.
Sometimes they sleep in the bed of truck under the washed-out stars.
And sometimes they sleep on the ground near the smoldering remains of a dying campfire.
Sometimes they rock together, moaning and crying out like they did in the truck that first night.
But gnawing hunger has a way of taking the libido.
And sometimes . . .
"Ben-"
"Sofie-"
. . . it doesn't."
And Ben dreams.
Bad dreams.
Blood and death.
Smoke and moonlight.
Confusion and heartache.
He doesn't know who's dead.
He doesn't know who's alive.
And he awakes in a sweat, time after time.
And Sofie awakes with him.
"Ben? Ben, you okay? Ben?"
"I don't . . . I don't know . . . I . . ."
And he worries. He dreads.
He wonders if he got it wrong, if he damned them all.
If he damned Sofie.
If he damned himself.
If he will ever find peace.
And sleep.
Sometimes they talk about everything.
Sometimes they just remain in companionable silence.
She knows about Ruthie.
"God, Ben, everybody knew about Ruthie. You weren't exactly subtle, chasing after her like a little lost puppy."
He eyes her, a touch irritably.
"Thanks."
She doesn't say anything for a moment.
Then.
"Why'd you stop?"
He's embarrassed.
But he's decided to be honest.
They've come this far.
"Felt like a sin."
She's baffled.
"What? Sex?"
He fights it for a second, then nods.
"Yeah. My momma always read scripture to me. Got in my head."
Sofie chews her lip for a minute.
"So, what about us? Are we sinnin'?"
He doesn't think she's making fun of him.
Maybe just challenging.
Shakes his head.
"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know."
Another pause.
She's looking straight at him now, trying to work him out.
"So what's the difference?"
His hands grip the steering wheel.
Then he shrugs.
"It doesn't feel like a sin with you. It feels . . . right."
And she smiles.
Ben and Sofie, still on the move. Maybe they'll settle one day. Whaddya think?
Hoped you enjoyed, silent readers. I appreciate you giving this a try. :)