un-faire part 5

Larry wasn’t going to give up so easily on finding a new home for his faire but things were not looking good. He would either have to contend with largely paved over spaces which were decidedly inauthentic or lush natural settings that would cost to rent two to three times what he could expect in ticket sales. The Americana Mall in Glendale was more than generous in their offer but somehow he couldn’t see holding the faire in the middle of a mixed use shopping and residential complex. The dancing waters and constant Frank Sinatra standards wafting from speakers hidden in fake rocks and the very trees themselves would ruin the effect.

Larry made a desperate call to Bob Gunderman from the San Bernardino County Fairgrounds.
"What if I can guarantee parking above what Criss Angel’s people are promising?"
"Uh, how are you gonna do that?" Bob asked.
"Hypothetically speaking."
"I suppose. If you could guarantee it. I’d want it pre-paid."
Larry smiled. This small glimmer of hope at least offered some way for him to maintain his kingdom in its current domain.
Bob continued, "I’m signing a contract with Angel’s people next week. So you’d have to make it happen before Thursday."
"I can do that."
Larry listened to the silence on the other end. Every breath a patronization.
"Sure. I’ll, uh, expect your call. Say hi to Bonnie for me."

Larry ended the call somewhat frustrated by Bob’s request to say hi to Bonnie. Bonnie and Bob had become friendly over the years and would spend time together at the faire. They’d gone out to lunch a few times during operating hours and rather than partaking in any of the historically accurate foods offered they’d go to a nearby Macaroni Grill where extroverted college freshmen/waiters would sing arias to you while delivering plates of Sysco boil-in-a-bag chicken fettucini. Larry didn’t suspect infidelity – Bonnie loved him, of this he was certain.

What he didn’t understand was why Bonnie needed to take breaks from the fifteenth century. He didn’t get it that she needed to talk to a man about things other than flaming arrows and strategies for scaling defensive castle walls. Bob was corny but funny. He told jokes about celebrities she’d never heard of, watched American Idol and Dancing with the stars. He had a cellphone in a holster on his belt and drove a Sebring and had Clay Aiken’s CD in the stereo. Driving away from the faire he’d played it for her.
"Kid’s got an amazing voice. Listen to this part – always makes me cry."  And he did. He wiped a tear away from his eye, unashamedly so.
He lived in a house completely free of historical artifacts. Divorced with adult children, he’d taken up Tae-Kwon-Do recently and it was paying off. He looked great.
"Knowing you can defend yourself in almost any situation is a huge confidence boost." He said while attempting to teach Bonnie a round-house kick in the parking lot after one of their lunches.
When Larry told Bonnie that Bob was pulling the plug on the faire she was secretly relieved. She wanted Larry to either call it off or find a new location because the last five springs in a row she found herself having put a lock on disturbing feelings toward Bob. Last spring at the Macaroni Grill, over a shared plate of Tiramisu, choking on powdered sugar, she darted to the restroom to splash water on the urge to kiss Bob. The instructional Italian Language recording playing the the restroom ironically taught her the phrase, "Mi dirigereste verso l’hotel più vicino?" Would you direct me to the nearest hotel?

Larry proposed something absurd to Bonnie that night; they should draw from Carla’s college tuition fund to pre-pay the parking deposit on the fair ground rental. It was pretty much the worst fight they’d ever had in all the years of their marriage. Larry knew it was a bad idea. He just couldn’t stop himself. Bonnie was way more upset than he expected. Somehow in the car ride from the office to his home he had convinced himself that she’d be receptive to the idea.
"Get out."
"What?’
"I don’t want you in the house tonight, Larry. I want you to think about what you’ve just asked me."
"You don’t have to make a spectacle, I admit I was wrong."
"I don’t have to make a spectacle? You make spectacles for a living. Well, not exactly a living – a not-for-profit undertaking that’s increasingly unwanted."

This stung Larry a little harder than she had intended. But there it was, plain and unvarnished, the truth. Larry stormed out of the house to the back yard. He climbed up in Carla’s tower, now weathered and decayed. She’d not played there in years. On the cramped top level Larry couldn’t quite lay flat on the mat so he curled up to brood over what Bonnie’d said.

They had put aside nearly two hundred thousand dollars to pay for Carla’s tuition. Almost every penny of that had come from Bonnie’s work at AC Delco. Over the years she’d risen within the organization, made several well timed stock investments, pulled out of the market in 2000 just before the crash and had, during a republican administration, wisely invested in gold. Her investment acumen came from being a history major. During times of peace and prosperity; take a chance on commerce and innovation. During times of chaos and war; precious metals.

Bonnie resisted the urge to call Bob Gunderman and cuss him out for leading Larry on like this. What was he doing? Did Bob hope somehow Larry would come up with the money so he could see her again this spring? So they could wander from the Macaroni Grill to the bar at the nearby Raddison to perhaps a room he’d prepared upstairs? It didn’t matter. Larry wasn’t going to come up with the money. He wasn’t going to be able to pre-sale parking by next week. He wasn’t even going to find a new location to host the faire. It was over. She felt sorry for Larry. She felt responsible for letting him take it this far. She regretted her co-dependence. As she was getting ready for bed she swallowed a Xanax – something she’d been doing more and more lately – then turned out the light.

Larry stared out the window of his daughter’s playhouse at the sliver of waxing moon. Larry was the faire. It was his life. Unwanted. Unwanted?  He realized then, for the sake of their marriage, he had to prove her wrong.