Infinity + One (40 page)

THE CARNIVAL CAME every year. It traveled through the Appalachians to small communities like Grassley, offering cheap entertainment and spun sugar to ease the summer doldrums. We looked forward to it like Christmas. The operators—we called them carnies—were usually as toothless and filthy as the worst hillbilly stereotype, but we didn’t mind as long as they came and brought the carnival with them. I got motion sick, but Minnie loved the rides, so I endured the spinning tilt-a-whirl and the rocking boat for Minnie’s sake, and though the mirrors always scared Minnie a little, she didn’t complain when I insisted on spending an hour in the fun house.

I was mesmerized by the fun house—the mirrors morphing me into someone different with each angle. A giant, a dwarf, a stick, or something worse. I would grow dizzy and a little disoriented looking at all the ways my body and face could be stretched and contorted, but it was funny, and Minnie and I would howl with laughter as we made our way through.

When Minnie lost her hair, and I shaved my head in support, it was August, we were fifteen, and the carnival was in town. Minnie was too nauseated for the rides, which was a relief to me, but she still wanted to go to the fun house. We bought a caramel apple and a bag of cotton candy that neither of us ate, as well as a couple of brightly colored bandanas to tie over our smooth heads so we wouldn’t “scare” the carnies—we thought we were so funny—and made our way into the ramshackle house of mirrors. It creaked as we walked through, and for the first time I felt the uneasy prickle of a hundred distorted images staring back at me and Minnie, as if we were surrounded by the very worst of ourselves, our fears, our faults, our ugliest features, in living incarnations.

“This is a depressing place,” Minnie said softly.

“Yeah. It is.” I said. I tried to poke fun at one of my reflections to scare away the gloom, but my humor fell flat, and we moved on quickly. Toward the final hallway, we found an attraction that hadn’t been there in previous years. Or maybe in other years we were more innocent and less observant, more eager to run to the next delight. Whatever the reason, as we neared the exit we were caught between two giant mirrors that faced each other, reflecting the image between them back and forth ad infinitum.

We had dressed alike as we often did, or as often as cheap clothing and Goodwill bags would allow. We had on pale colored shorts and plain pink T’s, our heads covered with the fluorescent green bandanas we’d purchased, and flip flops on our feet. I was browner and a little heavier than Minnie—the chemo made her more susceptible to sunburn and killed her appetite, but other than that, we were still identical.

Minnie and I stared at the rows of twins that had no end, one behind another in smaller and smaller replicas of the original. Bonnie and Minnie forever . . . and ever and ever. I reached for Minnie’s hand, and all our reflections joined hands as well, making the hair rise on my neck. Maybe it should have been comforting, the thought of the two of us going on forever, but it wasn’t.

“There are twins, triplets, quadruplets, quintuplets, right? But what do you call that?” Minnie said, her eyes glued to the mirror in front of us.

“Scary as hell,” I answered.

“Yeah. It is. It’s freaky. Let’s go.” Minnie let go of my hand and stepped out of the frame. She was closer to the exit, and she turned and hurried out into the sunlight that beat down beyond the flaps that covered the makeshift door. And I was alone between the mirrors. All by myself, into eternity. I spun, trying to find an angle that made the phenomenon disappear. Instead, all the Bonnies spun with me, looking for a way out.

The echoing mirror image was no longer scary. It was terrifying.

WE ARE LIVE at the red carpet at the Academy Awards, and we’ve seen everyone who is anyone make their way into the Kodak Theater for tonight’s big awards show. The dresses have been breathtaking, the stars stunning, but the big news tonight was the shocking attendance of country singer, Bonnie Rae Shelby, and her new husband, Infinity James Clyde.

About twenty minutes ago we received word that Bonnie Rae Shelby had just arrived at the theater. Some of our viewers might not be aware that Bonnie Rae was nominated for the Best Original Song category for “
Machine
,” the title track from last summer’s blockbuster movie of the same name. We all knew she had been nominated, but in light of recent events, no one expected her to be here.

The news started spreading through the assembled press, and the cameras were all trained on her, as she and Infinity Clyde, the ex-convict rumored at one time to have actually kidnapped Bonnie Rae Shelby, made their way to the entrance of the theater.

The whole nation has been riveted on this story. The young singer apparently walked off the stage at a concert just over a week ago, and her inner circle started putting out the story that she had disappeared. Her manager even claimed there had been a ransom demand. Then tonight, to see her walking the red carpet, glowing like a new bride, looking absolutely stunning and quite changed with a new hair color and style, was jaw dropping, to say the least. She and Clyde made a striking pair, and most people can see from the images captured tonight, America’s sweetheart is all grown up

When asked where she’s been and if she was aware of the national attention she’d been garnering, Bonnie Rae simply laughed, shook her head like it was all ridiculous, and then proceeded to smile and wave to the crowd all the while holding tightly to her new husband’s hand. As for Infinity Clyde, the man whom so many wanted to hate, he stayed by her side, a hand at her back, and didn’t answer any questions, as the two of them traversed the famed carpet.

The questions being directed at attendees before the surprising arrival of Bonnie Rae Shelby had all been about which designer an actress was wearing, or trivial questions about nerves or excitement over a nomination. When Bonnie and her infamous Clyde walked the carpet, those questions changed dramatically. We had fashion reporters and entertainment correspondents shouting questions about abduction and shot-gun weddings.

Regardless of the questions being asked, the only question that Bonnie answered was a question about her dress, an elegant white sheath that complemented her skin and figure beautifully. She informed the reporter that the dress she was wearing was her wedding dress. This drew quite a reaction from all those who heard her response, and more questions were raised, at which point Bonnie introduced Infinity Clyde as “her husband, Finn.”

The folks here tonight saw entertainment history in the making. The two newlyweds seemed very intent on one another, and though it is customary for attendees to pose for some pictures separately, the two did not do so, declining requests for such shots as they made their way through the throng. As a result, every shot taken has them with their arms around each other or holding hands, and it is quite apparent that the rumors of kidnapping are fiction. You can bet when word spread to news affiliates about the appearance of this wanted couple at the Academy Awards, law enforcement must have been scratching their heads, along with Bonnie Rae’s own management team, who has continuously floated rumors of ransom requests and tried to squash reports of crime sprees. The couple we saw tonight told a very different story.

Unlike most celebrities, these two were not escorted by a publicist. They exited their limo just like other attendees and walked hand in hand through security and up onto the carpet. They were a last minute arrival, which usually means less press time, since everyone is in a hurry to get into their seats, doors are getting ready to close, and people are being directed away from the event because it’s about to start. Most of your biggest celebrities come right at the end, like Bonnie Rae did, just to avoid waiting a long time for the show to begin inside. But I can guarantee, regardless of their arrival time, Bonnie Rae Shelby and Infinity Clyde will be getting all the press coverage tonight.

I WAS CONVINCED we’d done it.

We’d gone to the Oscars together, dressed in our wedding clothes, as Finn had called them. And the response had been perfect. Cameras flashed, and every camera and all the attention was riveted on us. I almost felt bad for the people who got there at the same time, because they were ignored, and Hollywood stars don’t spend hours getting glamorous, starving for days so they aren’t bloated, picking out the perfect dress, only to be upstaged by a hillbilly and an ex-con.

I certainly hadn’t meant to upstage. I had just wanted everyone to see Finn and to acknowledge him. Not Infinity James Clyde the ex-convict. Not Infinity Clyde, the villain who stole America’s country bumpkin, but beautiful, smart, innocent, Finn Clyde. My Finn.

And I was pretty sure they had. The women had gaped. The men had paled in comparison, and because I was with him, I felt like the most beautiful woman in the room.

The truth of it made me giggle. We’d been up all night, so we’d slept all day, and we’d had to rush a little to get ready. I got ready for the Oscars in an hour. I was sure that was also a record. I was bathed and shaved, moisturized and perfumed, made up and done up with very little fanfare. But even without a team of people making me look like a movie star, I felt amazing. And because I felt amazing, maybe I looked amazing. Finn certainly did. He looked so handsome that I had wondered how I would make it to the theatre and keep my dress on.

However, resisting the urge to seduce my husband in the limo didn’t turn out to be as difficult as I thought it would be. Finn was tense and ill at ease, and the closer we got to the venue, the more nervous we both became. Finn was vibrating, his left knee shaking up and down as I pressed my hand to his thigh and promised him it would be okay. He’d just looked at me and told me I was beautiful, but he didn’t relax.

“When this is over, we’re going to go back to the Bordeaux. We’re going to stay there for a week. Maybe two. I’ve already reserved our room, indefinitely. They know where to bill me. And we are going to have a true honeymoon. We’re going to make plans, make love, and make bacon.”

“Make bacon?”

“I’m hungry.” I shrugged. “When was the last time we ate?”

“Yesterday, in Las Vegas.”

“Holy cow! I’m a terrible wife. A man like you can’t go that long without nourishment. I’m used to starving. Gran watched every damn bite I put in my mouth.”

“All right then. We’ll order bacon and eggs and a pile of potatoes. We’ll eat when we’re done tonight. We’ll celebrate. And I promise you can eat as much as you want, whenever you want, and I won’t mind.”

I laughed, and Finn took a fortifying breath, and with meat on my mind and a man on my arm, Finn and I had stepped out of the limo and taken on the red carpet.

I didn’t win the Oscar and I was relieved. I made sure I was snuggled into Finn when the camera panned to me as my name was read, and I had smiled brightly and given America a little thumbs up. But I had been thrilled when the award went to someone else. I’d probably clapped a little too enthusiastically, but had I won I was liable to go up on stage and say something I would have regretted—something that wouldn’t have played well in the media. Something like, “I love Jesus and I love singin’, so I’m thankful for the voice He gave me to sing this song. But I hate all you fake-assed people with your plastic boobs and messed up priorities.” And then I would have looked into the camera and said. “And yes, Gran. I’m talkin’ to you.”