Six Hundred Corn Dogs on Opening Day

The Rest of the Week

I will tell you how the rest of fair week went, because people always want to know.

I fried on the burners every day. Not because I had to. The fryers worked fine. I just kept doing it, because people came to see it, and because it felt right.

The health inspector came by again on Wednesday and checked my thermometer and bought two more corn dogs. She did not write anything down that time.

Kayla’s line at the far end grew a little every day. On Thursday I saw her selling to a long line of carnival workers on their supper break. She waved at me across the whole midway, and I waved back.

The boy whose steer did not place came by every day that week. He always paid. On Friday he brought Lacey a ribbon he had won in the showmanship class, a pale green one, and asked her to hold it while he ate.

She held it like it was gold.

Trent came by on Saturday morning, before the gates opened, and walked my cord with me. He checked the plug and the power pole and the breaker, and tightened a connection I had not even known was loose.

“Just making sure,” he said.

“I know,” I said.

Sunday

The last day of the fair is always a Sunday. I go to early service at our church before the gates open, and I bring Lacey, and we sit in the back row so we can slip out fast.

That Sunday the pastor asked about the burners, and I told him I would have them back to the church by the end of the month.

“Keep them,” he said. “Use them at the fish fry in October. We can talk about who owns what after that.”

We sang “Bringing in the Sheaves” for the closing hymn. Lacey sang loud. She always sings loud. I sang along quieter, thinking about the six hundred corn dogs and the boy with the ribbon and Trent tightening my plug.

Afterward

Six summers I have run that trailer, and this was the best fair week I have ever had. I paid my rent, and I paid my bills through October, and I put a little aside for Lacey’s school clothes.

Trent and I are fine now. He came to Lacey’s birthday in September and gave her a card with twenty dollars in it and a note that said, “For the best window girl in Darcy County.” She put it on the refrigerator.

Kayla and Trent broke up around Thanksgiving. I heard Kayla got a better spot at the Johnson County Fair the next summer. I hope she did.

Hank still whistles when he walks the midway. He stops at my table every opening day now and says, “Plugged in, Josie?” and I say, “Plugged in, Hank,” and he buys a corn dog and goes on.

The orange cord is the same one. I could have bought a new one. I did not.

We were plugged back in by supper, but I kept frying on the burners anyway.