At any rate, Leonid had left on amicable terms—Gideon had given him a handshake, a few hundred dollars, and wished him all the best. That’s why, despite Leonid’s sketchy history, Gideon had trusted his old friend’s postcard. Well, that and desperation.
“Just a second!” Leonid’s nasally, slightly high-pitched voice wafted through his door.
Moments later, the front door flew open, and Leonid was exactly as I remembered him. He towered half a foot over Gideon, who was quite tall in his own right, and Leonid had answered the door shirtless, so I could see every rib and bone protruding through his pale skin.
His skeletal frame had nothing to do with any alleged drug use—it was the reason he’d joined the carnival. No matter how much he ate, he’d never gained a pound. He’d worked as a contortionist, and I’d seen him dislocate all his joints and bend himself up into a shockingly small pretzel.
“Gideon!” Leonid exclaimed, and without warning, he threw his arms around Gideon in one of the most awkward embraces I’d ever seen.
Then his eyes drifted over to Luka and me, and I noticed his normally green eyes had gone muddy. The left one, in particular, looked glossed over, like glaucoma had set in, even though Leonid couldn’t have been more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight.
“Mara, Luka!” Leonid shouted, letting go of Gideon. “Oh gosh, the gang’s all here. It’s so great to see you all. I’m so glad you came.”
“Well, you did invite us,” Gideon told him, and he’d stepped back, leaning against the stair rail so he’d be a bit farther out from Leonid’s reach.
“I did. Of course, I did.” He moved back into the doorway, and motioned for us to come in. “Come on in. Welcome to my home.”
Since he was so tall, he had to hunch over to invite us in and he kept his long arms folded up so we could pass. He looked very much like a praying mantis, and suddenly, I heard Blossom’s voice in my head—as crisp and clear as if she were standing beside me—reading aloud from a book of poetry, “‘Will you walk into my parlor?’ said the Spider to the Fly.”
16. the hermit
Inside the stench was stronger, and I wanted to plug my nose, but I didn’t want to appear rude. Luka had to wipe his eyes, since they’d begun to water. The kitchen below must have had its own more appetizing scents strong enough to block out whatever Leonid had cooking up here.
Leonid’s apartment was small and cluttered, but not particularly dirty. Stacks of magazines, newspapers, VHS tapes, and records filled most of the space. A ratty old couch sat across from a massive floor television. The coffee table beside it was mostly cleared off, with only a few books and a small stack of papers on it.
The windows at the back of the apartment were open, but the air felt stale and musty. In the distance, a lone bird sang a mournful song.
“Sorry about the mess,” Leonid said, then pointed to the couch. “Y’all can have a seat. Take a rest.”
I took a seat in the middle, and the worn-out cushions felt like I was sitting on a blanket thrown across a two-by-four. Gideon and Luke sat on either side of me, and Leonid disappeared into the front room before returning with a plastic kitchen chair.
“Do you need anything? Want a drink? I think I have some sardines I could spread on crackers if you’re hungry,” Leonid offered.
“No,” Luka said too quickly.
“That’s quite all right,” Gideon replied more gently. “Thank you for offering, though.”
“Yeah, just let me know if you change your mind.” Leonid set the chair across from us, and he made like he was about to sit, but something occurred to him. “Oh, yeah, I should show you this. This is why I told you to come here.”
“Show me what?” Gideon asked.
“I’ll get it, I’ll get it.” Leonid went over to a pile of papers in the corner and began riffling through them. “I know it’s here. I was just looking at it, because I heard there was a carnival in town, and I thought it might be you. I hoped it was, anyway.”
“Yeah?” Gideon asked. “I thought you might stop by, if you were around.”
“I would’ve. I want to. I’ve just been so busy.” He shrugged his bony shoulders. “You know how life gets.”
I tried to imagine what Leonid could be busy with. I wanted to ask him if he had a job, but that sounded too forward.
“Ah-ha!” Leonid held up two pieces of paper, both of them yellowed with age. “Here it is.” He hurried back over and handed them to Gideon.
The first one was a black-and-white flier with a picture of Leonid on it. The headline read, Come See One of the Marvels of the World! Below, in smaller print, it read Leonid the Human Skeleton.
Below the picture was the day and time where people could see Leonid in the Caudry town square. It was dated only a few months ago, during a celebration the town was having for New Year’s. That made it all the more curious that the paper had gotten so yellow in such a short amount of time.
“That’s where I made all the money.” Leonid tapped the flier. “I know it doesn’t look like I’m living high on the hog, but you know how things go. I take the work where it comes, and I actually haven’t worked since then, and I’m still getting by just fine. It had quite the turnout, and people paid to take their picture with me.”
“Good on you,” Gideon said. “You always were a talented performer.”