When the fair closed on Sunday, I helped with the tear down of the same rides I put up just a few days before. It was dark and damp by the time we were finished, and I was exhausted. Once we got paid for our work, we broke camp and loaded up the Camaro's trunk. Our next stop was in Harwich, Massachusetts, on Cape Cod. We would set up at Harwich High School, and we would camp (i.e. the bunkhouse would be there) at a campground about five miles from the lot. Because it was being held on public property, the bunkhouse couldn't be on school grounds. Or so we thought.

It took us about six or seven hours to get to Cape Cod, then we got lost on the way to the campground. After stopping for pizza and directions (Sean had no problem admitting when he was lost and getting directions), we finally found the campground, but there was something odd about the place. For one thing, there was no one there to speak of. For another, we couldn't see the bunkhouse anywhere on the property. There was a small office off to our right, so I got out and knocked on the door. An older gentleman answered and I explained who we were and why we were there. He thought for a moment, then told me this; the reservation that the Show had had been cancelled, because the campground was closed after Labor Day, and whoever took the reservation originally wasn't aware of that fact. I told him that we weren't told this and that as recently as last night, we had been instructed to come here.

He said he'd call the Show and explain what he just told me, but we would have to make other arrangements for lodging.

I got back into the car and told the others what I'd been told, and there was a round of why didn't they tell us this and what do we do now? Sean suggested that we go find the high school where the carnival would be set up, and look for a motel or someplace near there.

Finding the high school wasn't hard. We also found where the rides and joints were being kept. It was in the parking lot of a Star Market. After a while, we went to find a motel.

We drove by one when Sean recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. It was the car belonging to Ken, the Show's paymaster. Sean made a U-turn and went into the motel lot.

Sean and I went into the office to ask if there were any vacancies, and we were told there were. Then Sean asked if a Ken Burrell was registered there, and he was. We were given Ken's room number, and we booked a room and got our key.

Sean knocked on the door of room 12. After a delay of about a minute, a very sleepy looking and pissed off Ken came to the door. "Aw, fuck, Scooby...what the hell are you doing here?"

Sean explained that we were given bogus information about the campground and we had seen his car here, so that's how we came to be at his door.

"I just took a call from the director at the campground, and he told me that a car full of people came inquiring about the setup the Show had arranged. I didn't learn of the mix up until I got that call," Ken said, clearly not pleased to be interrupted by Scooby, of all people.

"So what's the game plan?" I asked. "Where is the bunkhouse going to be set up and what do we do in the meantime?"

Ken looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "And who the fuck are you?" he asked me.

I told him who I was. All he said was, "Oh, you're Sara Cyr. Aren't you supposed to be with Val?"

"I went to Hebron with Scooby as part of Andy's group. Val knew I was going."

"Yeah, I kinda knew that."

Ken told us to book a room at the motel (which we'd already done) and the Show would pay us back for Sean's part of the bill. Unless Val paid for my half, I was on my own. I pointed out that Sean was being billed each payday for my room and board, so the Show should have to pay for my half as well.

"We'll have to see about that, Sara."

Sean and I apologized for waking him, then we went to our own room. We had Steve, Autumn and Doc come to our room so we could tell them what was what. Basically, if they were on the Show's payroll, the Show would reimburse them for the cost of their rooms. "But, check with Ken later, and see if that's still the case. He was pretty sleepy when I banged on his door," Sean said.

So they went off to the office to do just that. Steve and Autumn's room was right above ours, and Doc was a couple of doors down. Others from the Show soon arrived (some recognized the Camaro) and got rooms as well.

There were two beds in each room, and if need be, we could take one or two other people. We secretly hoped not, because we wanted a little time to ourselves.

Once we got settled, Sean flipped on the television. I lay on the bed, not really paying attention to the TV. I had almost dropped off to sleep when someone knocked on the door.

"Hey, Scoob..." someone said as Sean opened the door, "whatcha doin' bro?"

I knew that voice. It was Eric. I had spoken to him about a half-dozen times at Springfield. He was a tall, muscular African-American around my age (though he lied about his age all the time so he could date girls in their 20's) who was one of the group that ran the Flying Bobs. He was a nice guy, and he and Sean got along well.

He saw me and said, "Hey Sara! What you been up to, girl?"

"Hanging out with Scooby, what else?"

"Have fun in Hebron, guys?" Eric asked. "I wanted to go with y'all, but we were short-handed on the Bobs."

"We probably would have had more fun," I said, "if you had been able to come. Scooby really the only one who, when he spoke, the Unit One people listened."

"Shit, Sara..." Sean said; "I think they were all scared of my punk ass."

"I don't doubt that," Eric said, laughing; "I don't doubt that for one second! Man, Scooby, you scared me at first!"

"C'mon, bro..." Sean said. "Don't lie..."

"No, really...you're the only white guy who scared me silly, cuz you're such a big guy. Then I got to know you and it was all cool."

Sean laughed. He knew Eric was kidding. Eric was scared of no one. If anything, he got the same reactions that Sean got when people met him; they were either scared out of their wits, or just avoided him all together.

Eric left after a few minutes after Sean mentioned that he was going to take a nap. Sean knew that I had just fallen asleep when Eric knocked on the door. I was still laying on the bed and Sean joined me. He put his arms around me.

"You tired, my baby?"

I nodded sleepily. I cuddled up against Sean as he stroked my hair. "I love you, Saralinda," he whispered as I fell asleep.

It was Monday, and we were expecting to get to work the following day. Those plans hit a snag however when Show management found out they couldn't start setting up the midway until Thursday. Because the fair was at a school, we weren't allowed to interfere with the operation of a normal school day by setting up during school hours. Apparently, there was to be no school on Friday, so the only opportunity to set up everything would be Thursday after school. That wasn't until after four in the afternoon. We couldn't even bring the rides on the school grounds until Thursday, so they remained in the parking lot of the Star Market.

That meant we had nothing to do for three days! We could go anywhere (on Cape Cod anyway) and do anything, or we could hang out at the motel and watch TV. Things we couldn't do: drink, drugs, commit crimes, bother other motel patrons...

I wanted to see Cape Cod. I had heard about Cape Cod my whole life, and now that I was here, I wanted to see it. Fortunately for me, Eric had lived on Cape Cod for several years, and knew the area pretty well. So, a group of us piled into my car and we went on a tour. We just drove around for a couple of hours, then stopped at a Friendly's for lunch.

Returning to the motel around seven p.m., Sean and I wanted to spend some time alone together. That wasn't about to happen, however, because someone decided that our room was going to be party central. People came in and out all evening. I never saw so many empty beer cans in my life. Everyone who came in was in some state of intoxication. Autumn came in a couple of times without Steve (they fought again), and sat down on the bed and cried her eyes out. Most of what she said was indecipherable, and then as suddenly as she came in, she left and went into another room, though whose I wasn't sure.

I could smell pot smoke from another room. I didn't want that stuff in our room. I told Sean that I didn't want to get in trouble for someone else's shit, and he said that he'd keep it out, because he didn't want it in there either.

Finally, Sean couldn't take much more of our room being the party room, so he closed and locked the door and refused to answer it anymore. He even put the "DO NOT DISTURB" sign on the door, and people still didn't take the hint. They just kept on knockin'.

"Sara," he whispered, "we're not here, okay?" I nodded. Then we hid out in the bathroom and took a shower together.

So much for the rules.

Tuesday morning, we slept late. Sometime during the night, Sean had turned on the TV, and on it now was a news special about the events of September 11, 2001. I couldn't believe it had already been a year since that tragic day.

I had been at work that morning. I was listening to a radio someone had brought in, and heard a report of a plane hitting one of the World Trade Center towers. For some reason, I kept thinking it was a small plane, like someone had made a tragic error and crashed into the building by accident.

Soon, there was a report of a second plane hitting the other tower. Then it hit me: terrorists! It didn't stop there. The planes had taken off from Boston's Logan Airport, just down I-93 from where I was. Then, a plane hit the Pentagon; still another crashed in a field in Pennsylvania.

Everyone I worked with was crowded in the Café, our lunchroom, watching the events unfold on two large TVs. No one could believe what they were seeing...

Now, I sat up in bed, watching a replay of the events on TV. The actual anniversary was the following day, and the news would be focusing on this for the next two days.

Sean stirred awake. "Whatcha watchin', babe?"

"Something about the nine-eleven anniversary. I can't believe it's tomorrow."

"Where were you when that happened, Sara?" I told him my 9/11 story. He then told his:

He was working, too. He was painting a house in rural Wisconsin, standing on a ladder, painting the trim. He'd looked into a window, and saw the homeowner watching TV. He said he thought they were watching a movie, so Sean tapped on the window to ask what movie the lady was watching.

It was no movie, he was told. Two planes just crashed into the World Trade Center towers! Sean said he was so shaken he had to get off the ladder. His coworkers had just heard the news on the radio, and they sat and listened for quite a while.

We both watched the story on the news, but we wanted to watch something else after a while. Most of the channels had something about 9/11, but we did find a movie on another channel and we watched that.

Later, we went out to the market to get stuff for the cooler, so we could save money. We came back and learned that we might be able to start setting up the following day. That turned out to be bogus, so we would have another day of inactivity.

We had several people in our room throughout the day. Why everyone came to our room, I never did find out. It baffled Sean, too. I figured that the Show people who were staying there found that we were approachable, and came by mostly to talk. The talk was about the 9/11 anniversary and what different people were doing that day; kind of like the talk that followed other major events: JFK's assassination, the Columbia Tragedy, the Oklahoma City Bombing...

As the afternoon wore on, Sean and I found some time to be alone. We talked and watched TV, made love and sent out for Chinese. I hoped that someone else's room would be everyone's base for the evening. It had appeared that I had gotten my wish. We had wanted to spend some time alone. Around 9p.m., there was a knock at the door.

It was Autumn, and as Sean let her in, I see at once that she's drunk.

"Autumn, are you okay?" I asked her.

"I'm drunk..."

No kidding.

"I see that."

"Steve's a wimp, Sara..." She starts to cry.

I asked why she would say that, and she told me that someone had hit on her earlier in the afternoon, and Steve did nothing to stop the guy. She and Steve had argued about it all day, and as they both started drinking, a lot of hateful things were said.

Autumn said Steve kicked her out of their room, and could she stay with me and Sean.

Sean and I looked at each other briefly, then I said that of course she could stay.

"You're so lucky Sara," Autumn said. "Sean really cares for you, and I'll bet he wouldn't let some creep hit on you."

"Of course I wouldn't," Sean said. I was more surprised that Autumn used Sean's given name rather than his nickname.

"I didn't think so," Autumn said, her speech becoming more slurred the more she drank. Sean took her beer from her, and she didn't protest.

After about an hour, hour and a half, I walked Autumn back to her room. Steve was nowhere to be found, so I stayed with her until he returned about an hour later.

He looked like he'd been hit by a freight train. His lip was swelling and he had the beginnings of a black eye. He, too, was so drunk he could barely stand.

"Wha' the fuck are you doing here, you bitch?" he slurred. I didn't know whether he was talking to Autumn, or to me.

As if he'd somehow read my mind, he then said, "Yeah, you, bitch!"

"You are not going to talk to me like that, Steve," I said.

"An' why the fuck not? Your fuckin old man beat me up, and it's your fault."

How in the hell could his being beaten up be my fault, regardless of who hit him?

Steve got pissed off about something and started hurling expletives at me. I told him he was drunk and didn't know what he was saying. When he advanced at me as if to strike me, I slapped him in the face. He fell onto the bed, then turned over and asked, "Why'd ya hit me Sara?"

Before I could answer, he passed out.

I went to the door and yelled for Sean. He was up there in about two seconds.

"What's wrong, Sara?" he asked. I explained that I brought Autumn back up to go to bed, then Steve arrived and started talking shit to me. He acted like he was going to hit me, so I slapped him and he passed out.

"He said you beat him up and it was my fault."

Sean looked shocked. "I didn't even touch the bastard. He started talking shit about Autumn, saying she was a whore and a slut, and Eric smacked him. The only thing I did was stand there."

Sean said that he started talking to Steve about the way he treated Autumn, and Steve had gotten loud and rude. He not only was calling Autumn names, but he threw me into the mix as well. Sean had just raised his voice to him and Steve shut up. That's when he came upstairs to find me in his room with Autumn passed out on the bed.

We went back downstairs to our own room and locked ourselves inside. The night's events had shaken me. Sean said he understood why I didn't like to drink or hang out with those who do to the excesses we'd seen that night. He put his arms around me and held me tight.

"Both of them owe you an apology when they sober up," Sean said. "This shit is just stupid. You'll never see me so drunk that I can't control myself."

I certainly hoped not. That would not be a pretty picture.

In the morning, things looked a little better. There were several people who had bad hangovers, and the fact that it was September 11th didn't help things.

Sean and I were going to take Eric into town to do his laundry, so we gathered up our stuff and toted it along. It'd be nice to have clean clothes again.

The word got out that "Scooby, Sara and Eric were going to a laundromat" so naturally, everyone wanted a ride. We ended up taking Kristine and Diane with us, and several other cars were going to follow, since Eric was familiar with the area.

We finally found this strip mall in Dennisport that had a laundromat, so that is where we stopped. The place was small, but it was empty, so we all got to work stuffing our clothes into washers.

After we put our clothes into dryers, Sean and I wanted to see what else there was at the strip mall. Eric tagged along, and we made our way down towards a McDonald's. There really wasn't all that much to see.

We wandered in and out of a Rite Aid drug store, looked in the windows of a couple of other stores, then ended up standing outside a Petsmart while Eric smoked a cigarette. A lady came out of the Petsmart with a Chihuahua puppy in her arms, even though it was on a leash. Sean got to talking to her, and she let him hold her dog. I had to get a picture of that, it was so cute (Sean posing with the dog was cute, not the dog itself). He played with it and it began to bark. The woman was amazed, because in the short time she'd had the dog, she'd never heard it bark. She wasn't even sure it could bark.

She soon had to leave, so Sean returned her dog to her. Eric just sat off to one side with his cigarette and laughed his ass off. "Even little dogs love Scooby!"

We got food to go at the McDonald's, and then headed back up to the laundormat. Our clothes were just about dry. As we were folding them to put away, Kristine said, "ewww!"

"What's wrong, Kris?" I asked her when I saw the look on her face.

"I didn't even fuckin notice this!" she said in a rather disgusted tone of voice. What had happened is that Kristine had lent a pair of her jeans to another girl, named Tika (who wasn't well liked, and once I got to know her, I knew why), then returned the jeans to Kristine to be laundered. What Kristine didn't notice, and Tika didn't tell her, is that Tika had gotten her period, had an accident, and didn't clean it up. In the crotch of these jeans was a big brown stain, and Kristine had already washed and dried them, so the stain was set in. Kristine had a few choice words for Tika (who hadn't come with us to do laundry), then threw the jeans in the trash. As far as she was concerned, the pants were ruined and Tika now owed her for the price of the garment.

Still grumbling about it as she loaded her clothes into her laundry bad, Kristine waited for the rest of us to get done so we could go back to the motel.

Now, I understood why Kristine was so upset. I would be, too. However, it was just a pair of jeans that could be replaced. It's not like Tika killed her cat or something. Tika should have handled it better and at least gave Kristine a head's up as to what happened while she had someone else's clothing.

On the way back to the motel, Sean got lost when he didn't hear Eric say to take a turn and we ended up near the little Cape Cod airport. Commuter planes took off from there to take folks to and from Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard. We eventually got back to the motel.

We got some good news (for a change). We would definitely starting setting up the midway tomorrow afternoon. We couldn't start until four p.m., and had to be done by nine p.m.

"How in the hell are we going to get the whole friggin midway set up in five hours? Tell me that!" Sean said when he heard this.

All Ken, who had delivered this tidbit of news, said was, "That's what I was told. Something to do with the fair being held at the high school."

We also learned that the bunkhouse would be set up there as well, but behind one of the major rides so it couldn't be seen by the public. The Show had gotten the town's okay on that score, apparently.

Sean and I headed back to our room. We flipped the TV on and every channel had something about September 11, 2001 on. We watched for a few hours, then got tired of it. I found a cool movie about the 50's-60's R&B group The Temptations, and we watched that. Even that had a crawl at the bottom of the screen with September 11th-related items.

I really didn't want to go anywhere, but Sean wanted to hang out with the other ride jocks outside our room. I didn't have a problem with that, because he would be nearby in the event I needed him for anything.

I read some of my books, caught up with my journal, and took a shower (the only time I locked the outside door. Sean had a key if he needed to get in). I was feeling pretty tired, and I just wanted to relax. I didn't want to get sick, and from experience knew that lack of sleep lowered one's resistance (says she who is a chronic insomniac).

I unlocked the outside door when I was dressed again after my shower. I climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over me. If I fell asleep, then so be it. I had a feeling that wasn't going to happen.

Sure enough, it didn't. Sean came in and brought a group of people with him.

"Hey, babe," he said. "We're just going to get a few beers, then go back outside."

I nodded. Everyone took a can, then got out. Sean left the door ajar, and soon, Autumn came in.

"How ya feeling, Autumn?" I asked her.

"Like a complete idiot. I don't know why I drank so much last night."

"I don't either, but drinking does not solve any problems."

"Don't I know it."

I asked if she patched things up with Steve and she said she had. The fight they had was stupid, that if they had both remained sober could have been resolved easily. She asked me if she said anything stupid.

"Not that I recall, but you spent about an hour in here. You babbled on about Steve being a wimp, and crying your eyes out," I told her.

"Steve seems to think you hit him."

"Autumn, I won't lie," I said, noticing I was picking up some of Sean's speech patterns, "Steve is a rather violent drunk. He acted like he was going to hit me, so I just defended myself. He passed out shortly afterward. I felt really bad about that."

"Don't worry about it," Autumn said. "Steve knows he shouldn't drink. Maybe..." she winked, "you shoulda beat the shit outta him. No one would believe him when he tells people a girl cleaned his clock."

I had to laugh at that. As far as me hitting anyone, I do the same things that I had been telling my kids for years: you don't start the fight, but you can finish it.

Autumn and I talked for a while longer, then she went outside to smoke. I settled back into the bed sheets, and I wanted to sleep. The TV droned on in the background, and I was just about to drop off when Sean burst into the room.

He seemed agitated. "What's wrong, Sean?" I asked.

He muttered something under his breath, using profanity and throwing clothes about the room.

"Sean?"

"WHAT?"

I don't know what the look on my face was, but I was shocked that Sean would raise his voice to me. I knew I hadn't done anything to make him angry.

Sean sat down on the bed next to me. He apologized that he yelled at me. "It's not anything you've done, Sara, and I shouldn't have yelled at you. I know you were concerned."

"What happened?" I asked again.

"Some asshole accused me of stealing stuff out of his room. It's a guy who's not with the Show. He just looked over here and saw me, and decided I was the one. I think it's because we're with the carnival."

"Let them come and check our room, check my car. If they can't prove it, then they should say they're sorry."

"I told them that. The guy hemmed and hawed and said he was mistaken." (Hemmed and hawed? That's something I would say. Maybe we're picking up each other's speech patterns).

"End of story, then, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. But still he accused me without proof. That pisses me off to no end."

"You gotta calm down about that. Don't give 'em stuff to use against you. If you lose your temper, then they can think, 'hey, maybe he is the one.' If you're innocent, then you have nothing to worry about."

Sean said that he thought I was right, but also, he did do time in jail. "Maybe I'm a little touchy about that."

"You have to believe in yourself a little more," I said. "I know that can be hard, because even I have trouble with it sometimes."

I put my hand on the side of Sean's face. He turned his head and kissed my palm. I hoped he knew that no matter how tough things became, that I would be there for him.

He stayed in for the night. We talked, ordered in, and enjoyed being with each other. We then went to bed and watched TV until we fell asleep.

I woke up a couple of hours later and just sat there, watching Sean sleep. I couldn't get back to sleep right away, and the TV was still on. I had a lot on my mind. I had to pay my phone and gas bills, and that I could do over the phone.

I had gotten up and was pacing around the room. I hated not being able to sleep, but, I hated to take anything to help me sleep more. Watching television didn't help make me sleepy, nor did reading a book.

I went outside and sat on a chair just outside our door. I hoped that the salty night air would make me drowsy. We were near water; indeed, there was a marsh behind the motel. I was hoping this would help me. But, it didn't.

I went back inside the room, locking the door as I came in. I paced the floor a little more, then decided to get back under the covers and try to stop thinking.

I leaned up against Sean's sleeping form. He woke slightly and put his arm around me. I cuddled up to him and laid my head against his chest. He was snoring, but I had become used to it, so I knew that wasn't what was keeping me awake.

Eventually, I fell asleep. I awoke late the next morning, and Sean was in the shower.

It was Thursday. This was the day that we actually got to do something on the lot.

At the daily meeting that was held in Ken's motel room, we were told that we had to be ready to go to the lot at three p.m. We would start working right at four, and we had to stop at nine. Anything that wasn't done by nine had to be done the next afternoon before four. The fair would open to the public at six on Friday.

Sean said after the meeting he still didn't know how we were going to get an entire midway on site and set up in five hours. "It would be next to fuckin' impossible to get that done without a hell of a lot of help."

"Maybe the Show will hire a bunch of greenhelp to get this done," Eric said. "Maybe even some of those high school kids that go to that school we'll be at."

Sean thought that would be unlikely. "It'd be nice, but I don't think it's gonna happen."

I'll believe it when I see it, I thought.

After three days of inactivity and confusion, we were finally setting up. Getting it done by nine p.m. was still doubtful. It was five now.

There were rules to follow as well. The management was looking for any excuse to fire people, because those who made it to the end of the season would get a bonus, and the Show didn't want to pay out all those bonuses. So they set up these rules to keep people in line.

We couldn't swear. Not even a "damn". Couldn't smoke anywhere on school property (I had to admit that this one made sense, but I'm a non-smoker, so I might be biased slightly); and, the guys couldn't take off their shirts when they got hot and sweaty. That was fine with me because there just some guys I didn't want to see without shirts.

The edict on swearing would be hard for some of the crew to adhere to. Swearing was something one did without thinking, like breathing or blinking your eyes. The dominant word heard on any carnival lot was "fuck"; it was in everyone's vocabulary, including mine!

Val was there at four on the button. All she was going to do that day was put the joint in its assigned spot, then come back in the morning to hook everything up. The joint was scheduled for a health inspection by the town of Harwich at four Friday afternoon, two hours before opening. I helped Val get the joint into position, then I really had nothing more to do.

I asked Brian, the midway manager, if there was anything I could do to help with the set-up. He said, "Yeah, Sara. You can sit your ass in that fancy Camaro SS of yours and wait." Then he waved me away like a bothersome insect. Well fuck you, buddy.

In short, I would not be allowed to help in any way, shape or form. It was expected of me in Hebron to get down and dirty and help out. So, what was the point of getting a Show ID and filling out all that paperwork? Was it just for Hebron only?

So, I sat in the car, reading, writing, drinking Pepsi and sucking on hard candy. I was so bored.

However, I did have a good seat to watch the rides being assembled. As I watched the carousel being put together, I wondered, how hard could this be?

Shortly before six (three hours to go), the first firings occurred. Diane and Kristine had been thrown off the lot for smoking. They both asked me for rides into town so they could get a bus home (they both lived in Maine). Both were really upset, because each thought that their firings were unfair.

I agreed to take them wherever they wanted to go as long as I didn't leave the area. Kristine wanted to go to the bus station. Diane had a relative in the area, and just had me drop her off at a Pizza Hut and the relative would pick her up.

I was gone maybe an hour, but when I returned to the lot, Sean was livid. He told me that I'm not going to go anywhere else without him. He was concerned that I could get mugged or carjacked.

"Sara, when I saw that you were gone, I just freaked out. I knew that those girls got thrown off the lot, and it was nice that you took them where they needed to go, but a woman alone in a car like yours makes you an easy mark for thieves."

I admitted that I didn't realize that I was putting myself in danger. I drove long distances alone all the time in the Camaro, and had not had any trouble. Sean told me that was all well and good, but with his being an ex-con, he knew how the bad guys operated. I agreed not to go anywhere else that night.

Sean had to get back to work, and he'd try to check in with me later.

At some point, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was stiff and sore. Sleeping in my car was never a good idea. The Camaro was a show car, not a Pullman car.

By eleven o'clock, the four-to-nine p.m. plan was blown clear out of the water. Sean was still working on the Wheel, and where they were going to put all the rest of the rides? There were several "major" rides still waiting in the Star Market parking lot. Just where was everything going to fit?

It was going to be one long ass night.

We're going to sleep in the bunkhouse tonight (oh. joy.). Sean's bunkhouse roomie, Jimmy, has returned from his stint with Unit Two, and will be staying in the room for the foreseeable future.

After freezing my ass off in the car most of the evening, Sean came back to the car. It was (oh my God!) nearly one a.m.! He gets in the car with me and showed me where to park it so it is off the lot.

"I know you were waiting out here for such a long time, honey. I think it sucks that they wouldn't let you help out, because we coulda used the help," he said.

"I just want to go to bed."

"Me, too. We have a eleven a.m. work call in the morning."

"Val wants me at the Dough at noon."

We walked to where the bunkhouse was located, behind the Twister, the Gravitron, and the Apollo. There was a big crowd back there waiting for the power to be switched on. It was then that I met Jimmy, Sean's roommate. He was thinking of staying in another room because of the two girls who got canned earlier in the day. A kid named Chris would be our new roommate. Others had described Chris as a "demented leprechaun". I had met him briefly in Springfield, but he didn't remember meeting me. Sean said it was because he was drunk at the time.

Oh.

The power was finally on and we went into our room. Jimmy came and got his stuff, and Chris was staying with Meghan. We'd get at least one more night alone in the room.

Once we were on the bunk, Sean and I talked softly. He told me that he had been threatened with being thrown off the lot for roughhousing with another ride jock. He said what I had already found out from Kristine and Diane, that management was cracking down. They didn't want to pay those bonuses after the season ended in October.

Since I wasn't an "official" member of the Show, I wouldn't get a bonus. I told Sean that didn't matter because I was getting money from another source anyway. It had come in handy, because I could still pay my bills, buy gas for the car and anything else I may want or need. I had quite a balance in my account, so I could leave the Show tomorrow and not be hurting for cash. I still had the majority of the money I got for soldering in Hebron.

"You're a good person, Sara," Sean said. "I'm glad that Kris and Diane were able to get to where they needed to go."

"All I can do is try to be the best person I can, Sean," I said. "And, I know you're a good person, too."

Sean just smiled at me. Smiles didn't come easy for him. Sean was a tough customer, and didn't trust just anyone. I was glad that he felt that he could trust me with his heart. I would never betray that trust.

I got up early the next morning to make my weekly phone call to D.E.T. All I had to do to get my unemployment check was to answer a few questions and punch the appropriate number on the phone pad. It took all of about five minutes. The following Tuesday, there would be money in my bank account. It was too easy.

I came back to our room, and Sean was just waking up. "Babe?" he asked me, "You know if the cookshack's open yet?"

"I think Paul was just getting there when I came back from making my phone call," I said.

Sean said, "uh-huh", or something along those lines, then got his stuff together to take (or attempt to take) a shower. He was then out the door.

About ten minutes later, he was back. And he was not a happy camper.

"What happened?" I asked.

"The friggin water isn't hooked up yet. Didn't they say it would be by this morning?"

I honestly didn't know, and I told him that. "Well, they did." Sean insisted. I didn't know what else to say. Needless to say, Sean wasn't going to get a shower today.

Sean had a ten a.m. work call. He was working the Wheel part of the day, and breaking members of the Apollo crew part of the day. Even though the fair didn't open until later in the afternoon, there was still much work to do.

I had to be at the Dough at noon. There was a health department inspection before the fair opened, and we needed to get everything ship-shape.

I wandered over there at eleven-fifteen, and Val and Molly were already hard at work. That got me. If they needed me earlier, why didn't they tell me so? I jumped right in and got busy.

By two that afternoon, we were ready for the inspection, had all our supplies and utensils at the ready, and the joint was clean from top to bottom. It actually glistened in the mid-September sun. Val gave me and Molly some time off before the fair opened so we could take care of ourselves, because it was expected to busy from the get-go.

I went over to the Wheel, where Cliff and Sean were inspecting the tubs, or cars, to make sure they were securely attached to the Wheel. They then did several test runs, just to see if there were any grinding gears, or if anything needed to be oiled. Cliff wasn't satisfied with the Wheel's operation, but couldn't identify what the problem might be. He and Sean discussed this, so I went to the cookshack to get lunch. There was already quite a few people there, pretty much just waiting around for something to happen.

Sean joined me there a few minutes later. "What was wrong with the Wheel, Sean?" I asked as he sat down.

"We have no fuckin' clue what's wrong with it, exactly," Sean replied, "but Cliff doesn't feel it's not safe or anything. It'll still run at this spot."

"Well, the Dough is ready to go when we open."

"Good. I heard that Shell left. What happened to her?"

I explained that Shell had taken a job in her hometown to be close to her family, and that she'll be missed. "Val says that Shell may work with her next year, but just in Maine."

"She was a nice lady. I can see why Big Mike thought of her as a substitute mom. I wouldn't have minded having a mom like her."

I saw that sad look in Sean's eyes I had noticed shortly after we met whenever something came up about his mother. She had died when he was still a young boy, and that affected his whole life. I couldn't imagine losing my mother at such a young age, then my father shortly after that. My father had died just three years before, and that was hard enough!

Now, I was getting depressed!

I went back over to the Dough around four-thirty, and the inspection had been done. Val had hung the certificate where it could be easily seen by anyone interested in those kinds of things.

We were scheduled to open at six, and the donikers were put in place by the local company providing them (I had to laugh at their name, Bouse House. What the fuck is a Bouse?) They were right near the joint, which I thought was apropro, because we had a pregnant girl working with us who may need to use them more often than the rest of us.

Brian, the midway manager, came running around the whole lot, letting us know there was less than an hour to go until opening. There were more food and craft booths in tents behind the midway, but they were local folks, and they wouldn't be open until Saturday morning. So we were it for tonight. Fun and frolic on the midway on a Friday night.

We were open. Just like every other fair I'd been part of, the midway seemed to be packed solid within a matter of minutes. I'd been told that a lot of the people in this town were wealthy, and this being Cape Cod, I didn't doubt it for a second. Seemed like the entire student body of Harwich High was there, and then some. They all wore what I called the Three A's of Teen Fashion: Abercrombie and Fitch, Aeropostale', and American Eagle. Sheesh! I was never one to get into the prestige of wearing a particular label, so I was thinking how shallow some of these kids actually were. Those who purchased fried dough from us all paid with fifties and hundreds. Val was running around all night trying to get change, and I was asking them if they had something smaller, like a ten (hell, did they even carry small bills like that on them?).

Fortunately, the midway closed at eleven, and by eleven-thirty, we had cleaned up and put things away. I dumped the greywater (the waste water from things like washing utensils and empty powered sugar containers) behind the Bouse Houses (the donikers), and replaced the greywater reservoir back in its proper place. Val locked up everything and told me to be back at nine a.m., as we opened at ten on Saturday.

I was beat, and this had been a short night. Tomorrow is gonna kill me! I thought as I headed to the cookshack to wait for Sean. I bought a sandwich and a soda and sat down at a table with Steve and Autumn, who appeared to be getting along much better than they had at the motel. Autumn asked how my night went, and I told her it was busy, but not bad.

Sean soon joined us, but Steve and Autumn decided to leave and try and get to bed early. After they left, Sean asked, "What's with them?"

"Nothing personal, I'm sure," I said.

He apologized, saying he was tired and pissed off and really wanted to take a shower. I didn't blame him. I was jonesin' to take a shower, too. Since there were only two showers in the bunkhouse, it was whoever got there first who got their shower. Sean was determined to get a shower, so he left and went back to the room. He told me that he'd leave the door unlocked for me if he wasn't there when I got there.

I sat there for a few more minutes, then went to the bunkhouse. I climbed up the three steps to the door and opened it. Sean wasn't there, and neither was our supposed roomie, Chris. I got undressed and into my pseudo-jammies (sweatpants and my nightshirt), then climbed onto the bunk. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, as they say.

If there was a carnie hell, the second day at Harwich was it. It was non-stop insanity from 10:01a.m. on.

We had had almost no breaks, even with four people working. We were joined by a gal named Brittany who lived in the area and occasionally worked with Val. Brittany went to college in Maine, but was home for the weekend just to work at this spot.

Breaks were next to non-existent, and except for potty breaks, we weren't able to leave the joint. We could serve folks from two windows, and we had lines at least a mile long on both windows. We were able to keep up for the most part, but sometimes, because of fatigue, I lost count when I was counting back change, and not anticipating the number of fried doughs I'd need. This pissed Molly off to no end. Soon, she was making snide remarks about me under her breath and throwing the doughs on the drain screen.

I was trying not to lose my temper, and I was succeeding, but as soon as we served everyone and we closed for the night, Molly proceeded to tear me a new asshole. Then, I lost it.

Soon it escalated into a shouting match, and Val literally had to step between us because she was afraid Molly was going to slap me. Val took Molly outside and talked to her. I sat down on the floor and I was shaking so hard from anger that I couldn't talk straight.

Molly soon left and Val came in to talk to me. She told me that Molly has always had a short fuse, but since she'd been pregnant, Val thought she had calmed down some. It didn't take much for Molly to get mad. I gave my side of the story, and Val said we were all tired, and Molly let it get the best of her. She was proud that I didn't give in when Molly started running her mouth about me.

"Look, Sara," Val said, "I realize that you are a bit older than Molly and that you obviously handle yourself better in these kinds of confrontations. She doesn't have the same kind of control that you have. She gets her frustrations out by yelling at people. Just try not to take it personally."

"She had no right to scream at me like that," I said. "I'm not perfect. I'm not making excuses for the way I was doing things. I was tired and sometimes my brain just freezes up. She just made the situation worse by bitching me out under her breath."

"Sara," Val said, "I know. I know Molly, too. It will get better."

Val and I talked for a few more minutes, then I helped her and Brittany lock everything up. When we were done, I headed to the bunkhouse. I was in shock when I got there.

Apparently, word had gotten out that Molly and I had a fight. But, instead of the shouting match that actually happened, it was going around that Molly actually struck me, and that I wouldn't fight back because Molly was pregnant.

Sean saw me and grabbed my arm and pulled me behind the Twister. "What the fuck happened between you and Molly? Did she really hit you?"

I explained what actually happened, that no one hit me, that it was just pent up frustration, and for the moment, things had calmed down. Then I asked Sean how this wild rumor got started. He told me that someone had walked by the Dough as Molly and I were yelling at each other, saw Val come between us, and assumed Molly hit me.

"Who was this someone?" I asked. "They need to have their fuckin' eyes checked!" I was getting hot under the collar all over again.

"Chill out, babe," Sean said. "It doesn't matter now. Just remember it's all shit. Just flush it away."

Oh, I hate it when he uses my own words against me! But, I had to laugh. Sean put his arm around me and kissed my forehead. "Don't you feel better now, my baby?"

I nodded. I did feel better. I was just a bit apprehensive about going back to the Dough in the morning.

But, go back I did. It all seemed so trivial after getting some rather restless sleep. I reported to the Dough at the appointed time, and Molly was there to greet me. Val was out getting coffee.

Molly apologized for what happened. That totally floored me. She said that she was also getting frustrated about the long lines, and took her anger out on the nearest person: me. She said that she had also heard the rumor that was going around about the alleged fisticuffs between us, and needed Jimmy's help to calm her down (much in the same fashion Sean did for me). Then she hugged me and said that she wouldn't let that happen again, because she knows I won't take her bullshit.

"You're a pretty strong woman, Sara," Molly said. "I hope Scooby knows what he's got, cuz he'd be a fool to let you go."

I just said thanks, and we got to work.

This was Sunday, the last day of the fair at the high school. We'd close at seven that night, and go through our usual tear-down routine.

This day wasn't nearly as busy as the previous day had been (thank God!), so we were able to take breaks, get something to eat and walk around a bit. Standing for twelve hours a day really does a number on your feet and legs.

Molly was writing letters on her breaks. They were love letters, but I couldn't see (nor did I ask) who they were to. I just knew it was someone on the lot, and that it wasn't Sean.

On one of my breaks, I went over to the Wheel, but Cliff said that Sean was at the Apollo helping out that crew. Cliff was running the Wheel alone, but someone would come and give him breaks.

I walked over to the Apollo, and Sean was just standing around waiting for the ride to stop and latest batch of riders to disembark. The ride's operator was a guy named Doug, and Jimmy was part of the crew as well.

"Hey, babe," Sean said when he saw me, "things at the Dough better today?" I knew he was referring to what had happened with Molly, but I said,

"It's a lot more calm over there today. Oh, and Molly apologized."

Sean's eyebrows shot up. "She did?" I nodded yes and he said, "That totally surprises me because she's got a reputation for having a bad attitude."

"Maybe it's because she's pregnant that she's softened up."

"Could be."

Sean excused himself so he could help unload the passengers on the ride and put new riders on. After about five minutes or so, he was back. We talked for a bit longer, then I had to go get something to eat and get back to the Dough.

The rest of the day went smoothly, and we started teardown around eight p.m. We at the Dough cleaned up everything, got the joint ready to travel, disconnected the electricity and water, and were pretty much done within three hours. I knew that the rest of the midway would take much longer.

Val told me that at the next spot, in Bourne (also on the Cape), that the Dough would not be there because the whole fair was centered around scallops, and the organization didn't want any other food booths on the midway. Val was on the Show's payroll, so she would probably be working in a ticket booth in Bourne. Molly could do tickets as well, but I was pretty much on my own. Val did talk to Sharyn (who was married to Andy, the "go-to guy" in Hebron), and I could work in one of their game joints. I just had to talk to Sharyn in Bourne (because she'd already left Harwich) to see which game(s) she wanted me to work in. I told Val I'd definitely look her up in Bourne. Val then paid me, and said she'd see me there in a day or so.

By one a.m., the midway was pretty much torn down and packed away. Sean had been working on the Wheel to get it ready to travel, then went over to the Apollo to help them get it ready. I was to meet Sean at the car.

Shortly after one-thirty, Sean climbed into the car. He looked like I felt: exhausted. We were going to drive as far as we could to Bourne, then stop at a motel for the night, as we weren't supposed to on site in Bourne until Monday afternoon.

As we started the car, Jimmy came running up to us. Sean rolled down the window and Jimmy asked if he and Molly could get a ride with us. He explained that he thought that they already had a ride with someone else, but that person had already left.

Sean said sure, they could catch a ride with us, and he got out and opened the trunk for them to put their stuff inside, then they climbed into the back seat.

It had gotten cold as we were tearing down, and several people didn't have coats, so they pretty much were at the mercy of the elements. Molly was wearing two sweatshirts and two pairs of sweatpants, and Jimmy didn't have even that. He had lent Molly one of the two sweatshirts she wore.

"Thanks so much you guys," Molly was saying now. "We'd have caught a ride with Val and Danny, but they were going home to New Hampshire first. The people we were supposed to go with ditched us."

"That sucks," I said, knowing how that felt. "They left you out here in the cold and rain to fend for yourself. That's just low."

We drove west on Route 6. Sean and I were talking softly because Jimmy and Molly had fallen asleep. I knew that Molly wasn't seeing Jimmy before Sean and I went to Hebron, so this must have happened while we gone. Jimmy was the one that Molly was writing her love letters to on her breaks from the Dough.

There was a bad patch on the road as we got close to Buzzards Bay, and the tires briefly lost traction on the rain slick highway. That woke Molly up with a gasp. "What happened?" she asked.

"Road is wet. It's okay now," Sean said. He pulled into a motel he had just seen with a no vacancy sign. Molly and I got out to see if they had two rooms. After winding our way through the maze that was their entrance, we got inside out of the rain just to be told there weren't any rooms available.

"But your sign out there says there are vacancies," I protested.

"Sweetheart," the older woman clerk said, "I said there were no rooms."

"Then change your damned sign," Molly said testily. "That's false advertising."

"Girls, there are no rooms. I'll have to ask you to leave now."

Molly and I took our leave and went back to the car. "Maybe it's better that we went instead of the guys," I said. "That old bat would have taken one look at Scooby and had a heart attack."

"No shit, right?" Molly said, laughing.

We told the guys what happened, and Sean just started up the car and drove on. Just up the road was another motel, and he pulled in there. Once again, Molly and I got out and trudged to the office to inquire about rooms.

This time, there were plenty of rooms, to which Molly said to the older gentleman behind the counter, "We love you!"

We filled out registration cards, and then we were handed keys. We practically ran back out to the car, where we told the guys we had a place to stay for the night.

We parked the Camaro in front of the rooms we were assigned, as they were next door to one another, and got our stuff out of the trunk. Sean and I got into our room and promptly turned on the heater so we could thaw out our chilled bones.

I was taking off my wet clothes and draping them across chairs to dry. I opened my bag and got out dry ones, and decided to take a shower. Well, Sean had the same idea, and we just looked at each other. "Take a shower with me, Saralinda..." Sean asked. Since I was standing there naked, and Sean was as well, I let him lead me into the bathroom, and he ran the water.

I got in first, then Sean climbed in behind me. I got my hair wet and asked Sean to hand me the shampoo. He did, then he got the soap and started washing my skin, paying special attention to my breasts and the now excited flesh of my desire. I was quite aroused as he did this, and he whispered rather naughty things into my ear. When he said, "let me fuck you, baby," I replied, "well, what are you waiting for?"

He soon had me positioned and took me from behind. I felt his rhythm as he slid in and out of my wetness. His hands were busy playing with my nipples, and I climaxed several times on that alone. I felt his fingers on my clit, and that made my desire for him almost unbearable. "Sean...oh yes, baby...take me baby...take me hard..."

"One of these days, very soon, my sweet Sara," Sean moaned as he continued to take me, "I wanna fuck you on the hood of the Camaro...so I can check out your chassis and its chassis at the same time..."

I felt him coming close to release..."Yes, baby," I gasped as I rode another wave, "Rev up my engine, lover..." Actually, the idea of being fucked on (or in) my car was making me hotter...

"Awwwww, Shiiiiiiiit..." Sean cried out as he came. He slid out and held me around my waist. "Oh, God, Sara...you gonna fuckin kill me, girl. I was likin' the image I was getting of you naked on the hood of the car while I fuck you..."

"Mmmm, I'm glad, Sean," I said, and I felt his lips on the back of my neck, kissing and sucking my flesh. I was going to have some major hickeys back there, but at the moment, I frankly didn't give a fuck.