THE ALLIGATOR LADY LESSON

Go on boy," the carnival rat hissed through his yellow teeth, "She won't feel it." I looked down at the object in his dirty, calloused hand. A Cat-of-Nine-Tails. I had seen one in an old Western on T.V. but never in real life. It was braided near the handle, like a little girls hair, and then nine straps of leather hung down singular a foot or so from the braids with a knot at each end. I could feel their eyes on me, the crowd of onlookers who had each paid their dollar to see the "Alligator Lady", a woman who suffered a horrible skin disease. Larry Borden, my brother's friend, nudged me with his elbow, "Do it, man." he half-whispered. The Alligator Lady turned to reassure me, "It's O.K. honey, I won't feel it." I looked around the crowd for someone's eyes that felt like I did, confused, and disgusted, but all I saw were smiles and nods of approval. "No, I can't." I said, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the crowd. "She won't feel it!" the Rat repeated sternly. "No, but I will" I said as I turned and pushed my way through the crowd, half running to the exit passed the "Wild Man of Borneo"s cage.

I felt nauseous and paranoid. The pot I had smoked earlier seemed amplified for those few minutes and I struggled to regain my composure. My brothers and Larry strolled over to where I was standing. "What a pussy!" Larry laughed, pushing me half-playfully. "No, but I will." he mocked with his best girly voice. "What's that supposed to mean?" My brother Steve, always the one to read me best, interrupted his fun. "Leave him alone, he just didn't want to hit a girl." I felt like a sissy. I had wanted to prove that I was older than my 11 years showed. They had been forced by my Mom to take "Little Brother" along. The pot I had smoked with them earlier and the hits off the passing wine bottle had made me feel accepted, and now, I felt the bond was broken. "Why didn't I just go ahead and do it?" I asked myself. "Well, we're going back for the rest of the show," my oldest brother Mike announced, "You can wait here where it's safe." They all laughed, heading back throught the doorway with it's painted, exaggerated portraits. "The Alligator Lady, The Wild Man of Borneo, The Two-Headed Cow, and The Bearded Lady."

I sat down on a bench, suddenly glad to be alone. "Freak Show" read the big neon sign over the propped up building. I mused over who they were talking about, the freaks, or the crowd. Feeling better, I congratulated myself on standing on my principles. I wouldn't hit a woman, not even one with alligator skin.

It had been a tough month. My Mom and Dad's marriage had been on the rocks for years, and had slowly gotten worse and worse. The beatings had gotten more severe and I had become scared to death that my Dad would kill my Mom on one of his drunken rampages. It all culminated on one horrific day, a flash of memories now like something out of a horror movie. Blood, screaming, begging, pleading, all blended together in away that defies time. Like a day that refused to end.

In a moment of sanity, my mother had decided to make a run for it. This was no small feat, my Dad had grown into a fearsome monster, capable of anything. With hardly more than the clothes on our backs, we made our way to my Aunt Mary's, the Patron Saint of abused mothers and scared children. The plan was to run and hide. She had arranged for us to rent a cabin on Houghton Lake in upper Michigan while my Dad was served the divorce papers. An act that was sure to send him into a fit of rage. The hope was that eventually he would calm down enough for something to be worked out. That, was an optimistic thought.

The cabin turned out to be a real refuge from the storm. Small and rustic, it sat right on the lake with a small boat and motor tethered to the dock. I was thinking of how I had spent the past few mornings and evenings sitting alone on that dock, reflecting on how our lives were changing and how life could be both chaotic and serene, depending only on where you were standing.

The sounds of shouting woke me from my daydream. The Yellow-Toothed Rat was pushing my brother's and Larry out of the Freak Show, a chorus of "Fuck you's" echoed off the passersby. Suddenly the "Wild Man of Borneo" appeared from out of the doorway swinging a chain and cursing in broken English and Spanish. Larry held his ground like a boxer squaring off for the fight, the Rat between them like a referee. After a few more profanities and threats, they made their way toward me laughing and slapping hands.

It seems the "Wild Man", who was in fact a muscular Hispanic guy with freakishly short legs, had a act beyond just jumping around in his cage and biting plastic lizards. After the Rat had lead all the paying customers through the different displays and freak acts, he would walk them pass the 'Wild Man of Borneo" who would swing his chain against the bars of his cage feigning ferociousness. When the crowd got close to the exit, he would suddenly kick his cage door open and chase the scared crowd out the door. Larry, never being one to lose his "cool" persona, turned and kicked the "Wild Man" right in the face, temporarily knocking him out cold. My moment of fame now forgotten, Larry recanted his victory blow by blow as we all roared in laughter at his becoming the "New Wild Man".

In the course of our lives, only a few of the thousands of days we live will really ever be remembered. Even fewer will stand out as a real life changing day, an epiphany moment. Because of that day, in a strange twist of events, I owe a good part of who I am to a sad women who God had chosen to curse with skin that was thick and discolored. Who had to live her life as a "freak" to be tormented and stared at. Inside of that propped-up building, I found pity inside myself while others found a reason to laugh. But most importantly, I found out something about myself that anyone who's parents aren't the best example needs to know. That while I can't escape the fact that I am my father's son, I don't have to be my father. Thank you "Alligator Lady" for that lesson. H.C.