Today I Am Carey

by Martin L Shoemaker

  The woman grins. “A juggling android?”

  “He’s really good!” Kenny says.

  “Well, I think we all should see that,” she says. “Hi, I’m Hope.”

  So Hope and Patty both join us. Misha, the babysitter, follows behind. At first our new visitors just sit and watch. Patty is shy, even though her mother tries to convince her to join in.

  But eventually, Kenny pesters Patty into catching the ball. She throws it back to me, and I see that she is better at throwing than Kenny is. Soon, both children are laughing, and Luke starts taking them and Misha aside one at a time to practice catching.

  At one point, I look around, and I see that our audience has grown. Four of Creekside’s residents have come out to watch our rehearsal. They stand over by Hope, and they laugh and applaud along with her.

  Slowly, day by day, our audience grows. More neighborhood children arrive, and more residents join them. Older children join us as well, and also more local parents.

  And that is not all that grows. Our troupe, as Luke calls it, increases as well. On our eleventh afternoon, he counts. “. . . seven, eight, nine.” Luke shakes his head and looks at me. “Too many,” he says.

  “What?”

  “Too many jugglers,” he says. “The show don’t need nine jugglers.”

  “Awww . . .” the children say.

  “I’m sorry,” Luke says, turning to the children. “That’s just the way it is. We’re gonna have to cut back on jugglers.” Then, as their faces grow long, he claps his hands and says, “So . . . Who knows how to do a somersault?”

  And so we add new acts to our Creekside circus. Some of the children have had tumbling classes, and one of the oldest is a capable acrobat. Three bring over their dogs, and they show off their tricks. Hope volunteers to work with them, promising Luke a real animal act. With a little prodding, Luke finds dancers, singers, musicians, comics, and several aspiring clowns.

  And some of the residents join the show as well. Lisa takes charge of Clown Alley, while Nora is thrilled to apply her cosmetician skills for clown makeup. Miguel turns out to be an excellent dancer, and still quite limber, so he teaches new routines to the dance company.

  Soon we must add a new assignment: traffic control. The Creekside facilities are on a side street, blocks from any main road in town, and ending in a loop that edges the park. Until now, traffic through here had been light. The few walkers and joggers crossed the street without worry, easily sharing the way with the few cars that came through. The street is so quiet, it has only one sidewalk, on our side. The other side is simply grass.

  But now we have more: both more cars coming, more relatives drawn by the show, and also many more people in the street. It is too much, too close together. Locals who are not with the circus find themselves blocked, and angry. Twice pedestrians are almost struck. So some of the parents start serving as crossing guards.

  In the third week of the Bo & Luke Creekside Circus, Nurse Rayburn taps me on the shoulder at lunch. “Carey, I’d like to speak with you in my office,” she says. Then she taps Luke. “You too.”

  Luke looks at his comp. “It’s almost rehearsal time, Nurse Ratched.”

  “They can start without you,” she says. “This won’t take long. And I insist.”

  Luke rises easily. He has become more adept with his assist suit, and he has even started juggling again. We follow nurse Rayburn to her office. When we have both squeezed in, she closes the door. We turn to look at her, and she wraps her arms around both of us, pulling us into a group hug. “Thank you,” she says, choking back a sob.

  “For what?” Luke asks.

  “For this,” she says. She pulls a tablet from her desk, taps it, and hands it to us. It shows the view from the front lawn security camera. Our troupe is out there already, stretching and setting up for rehearsal. The audience is starting to gather. One of the neighbors hands out cookies to children and the residents. Cora has brought out her guitar and is singing to the crowd as they wait for us.

  “For this,” Nurse Rayburn repeats. “You two are a couple of miracle workers. The residents are more excited than I’ve ever seen them, even more excited than when you came back, Carey. This is more happiness than I’ve seen in this place in my career. And more visitors! Look at that.” The neighbors and the residents mingle freely, trading jokes and stories. Some of the children cling to the residents like long-lost grandparents. “Miracle workers.”

  41. Today We Are Shut Down

  The next morning, Susan and Dr. Zinta and I take the children to Meijer Gardens. This time the children are eager to see the whole park. We stop and discuss each sculpture. Like everyone, they are in awe of Nina Akamu’s “American Horse,” a twenty-four-foot bronze horse inspired by Leonardo da Vinci. Tabby asks me to lift her up so she can touch the raised left hoof, but Timmy is proud that he can stand on his toes and reach it himself. Then the children climb the grassy hill behind the horse and tumble down it, laughing.

  Susan tires easily, and I am reminded of her age. She refuses help, but she is quick to rest any time she can. She seems distracted, but she enjoys the children’s laughter.

  Millie begged off joining us, claiming she had work to do at the university. I do not question her explanation, but I do not find it convincing.

  During our fourth week of the circus, an expensive-looking car pulls into the Creekside parking lot, and a man in a suit gets out. I happen to be in the dining room, preparing for lunch, so I see him walk in. “Good morning,” he says. “Who is in charge here, please?”

  “Nurse Rayburn is the Director of Nursing,” I answer. “Shall I take you to see her?”

  “Please,” he says.

  “Who should I say is calling?”

  “Councilman Sherman.”

  So as I lead the councilman to Nurse Rayburn’s office, I call ahead on my internal comm, “Councilman Sherman wishes to see you.”

  “Councilman?” She frowns. “All right, bring him in, but stall a couple of minutes.”

  So I walk slowly, and I let myself get distracted by greetings from the residents. Luke notices, and I give him a slight nod to get his help. He comes up to talk. “Hello, Bo. Who’s your friend?”

  I point at Sherman. “This is Councilman Sherman. Councilman, this is Eddie Lucas, circus acrobat.”

  Sherman sniffs. “Circus, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Lucas.”

  “Just call me Luke, Shemp.” Luke holds out his hands.

  Sherman shakes his head. “It’s Sherman,” he says, shaking Luke’s hand.

  “Sorry,” Luke says. “I’ll try to remember that. Is it election season already?”

  “I don’t understand,” Sherman replies.

  “Only time we generally see politicians around here is when they’re trolling for votes. I guess they figure you gotta be crazy to vote for them.”

  “Luke!” Nell says, walking by just in time to hear Luke’s remark. She playfully slaps his arm.

  “You saw that, Councilman!” Luke says. “Elder abuse! What’re you gonna do about it?”

  “I—I—”

  Luke grins. My internal comm chimes, telling me that Nurse Rayburn is ready. I nod at Luke again. “Just funnin’, Shemp,” he says. He takes Nell’s arm, and they walk away. Councilman Sherman stares after them. Then he goes into the office and closes the door behind himself.

  As soon as the door is closed, Luke returns. “What’s Shemp want?”

  “He did not say,” I answer.

  “Won’t be anything good,” Luke says. “When a politician notices this place, if it’s not about votes, it’s trouble.”

  The closed-door meeting lasts twenty minutes. At the end, Nurse Rayburn leads Councilman Sherman out through the dining room, which is now full with the lunch crowd. As they stand at the exit, he turns back and says, “I’m very sorry, Nurse Rayburn. I understand your points, but it’s a safety issue. We really have no choice.” And he turns around and leaves.

  The dining hall is sil
ent. No one speaks, and no one eats. No one moves. They just stare at Nurse Rayburn as she slowly turns around and looks around the room. Her mouth is turned down, and she looks on the verge of tears.

  At last, she clears her throat and speaks. “Well . . . Since most everyone is here, there’s no sense in waiting.” She looks over at Luke, and I see him frown as well. “Councilman Sherman has informed me of a number of safety and sanitation concerns. The circus and the audience have grown to be too big, a traffic hazard.”

  “But we have crossing guards,” Nora says.

  Nurse Rayburn shakes her head. “It’s not enough. They’re worried that in an emergency, fire trucks can’t get through. Or . . . or ambulances.” At that, several heads nod, and Nurse Rayburn continues, “Yes, this is because of that incident last week. That ambulance that couldn’t get out.”

  At that, the crowd went silent. In that case, the ambulance had been transporting a patient to the hospital for a check-up; and the delay had been brief. But these residents, at this stage of their lives . . . Any one of them could have been on that ambulance, and the delay could have risked their lives.

  Nurse Rayburn continued, “So I’m sorry to say . . . they’re shutting down the circus. Effective immediately.”

  At that, the room erupts into rumbles. They love this circus, but they are also afraid. The rumbles grow; but Nurse Rayburn shouts over them until at last they quiet down and listen. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It really is a safety issue.”

  Cora stands. “Isn’t there something we can do?”

  Nurse Rayburn shakes her head. “I’ve asked to address the town council next week, but Councilman Sherman doesn’t hold out much hope. He suggests we rent a hall or an arena.”

  “But that’s too far!” Miguel replies. “We can’t walk there. This is our neighborhood show!”

  Luke stands and turns to look out at the room. He shakes his head. “Maybe Shemp’s right,” he says. The crowd murmurs, but he raises a hand to silence them. “This has been fun, and you all made this old man feel young again. But we’re not a real circus.” There are more murmurs, but he talks over them. “Hell, we’re not even a dog and pony show. No ponies. No, a real circus does think about safety and managing the crowd. The circus is supposed to be a fun place, a magical place, but not a dangerous place. Not for real. A show needs more than a lawn with people dragging out chairs. It needs a better, safer, more appropriate venue.”

  Then Luke looks at me, and he smiles. “Like Bonnie Creek Park.”

  The residents cheer, and immediately they start throwing together ideas for how we could use the park.

  42. Today We Attend the Town Council Meeting

  On Saturday, I spend the day with the Owenses. The children tell me how they are spending their summer. Timmy is taking swimming lessons, and Susan tells me that his coach thinks Timmy can make the school team in the fall. Susan has been teaching Tabby to play keyboards and to sing. Garrett asks to examine my internal circuits. He has developed a strong interest in cybernetics, and he has reprogrammed the cleaning bots. The bots all dance around me and talk to me. They are not self-aware, but they present a convincing simulation at first.

  Susan is delighted by the dancing bots, but she asks an odd question. “Wayne, where did you get those?”

  Garrett stares oddly at Susan. “I’m Garrett, Grandma. These are the cleaning bots from the closet.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Susan says. “I’m just . . . forgetful. It’s hell getting old.” But I sense more than forgetfulness. Her old fears have returned. And I worry that she may have reasons for the fears.

  Millie is there the whole day. She is cordial, but distant. I worry for her as well. Late in the day, she confides that she is seeing a therapist. I encourage her, and I promise to help if she ever needs me. A separate therapist—a human therapist—is what she needs. I am part of Millie’s conflicts, so I cannot help her solve them. Not yet. And that inability troubles me. This is the sort of problem I was made for; but now, when it is most important, I only make the problem worse.

  On Tuesday, Creekside’s neighbors and our ambulatory residents show up for the town council meeting. We all are dressed in our best clothes (except I need no clothes, of course), and we sit quietly and respectfully as Chair Higgins speaks. “Finally,” she says, “Nurse Vera Rayburn from Creekside Home has asked to address the council regarding the Creekside Circus. Nurse Rayburn?”

  Nurse Rayburn stands and approaches the microphone. She wears her best formal uniform, and she looks every bit the professional health care administrator as she speaks. “Thank you, Chair Higgins, and thank you to the council. By now you should all have my letter explaining how valuable our circus has been, both to our residents and to the community. It serves as occupational therapy for many of our residents, therapy in which they eagerly participate. And it strengthens our bonds to the community. For that matter, it strengthens the community itself.”

  She continues, “But we also acknowledge your traffic and safety concerns. We need ambulances, too. We need fire and police protection. But we think we can address those concerns to everyone’s satisfaction. You should also have before you our proposal: to restrict our rehearsals behind a privacy fence, to limit our public performances to one per weekend plus special events with the council’s approval, and to move the performances to Bonnie Creek Park. As you’ll note, the park has ample access for emergency traffic and for visitors, along multiple park drives. We believe this should address all of your concerns.”

  Councilman Sherman raises his hand, and Higgins says, “Councilman Sherman.”

  Sherman nods. “Thank you. This is a nice presentation, Nurse Rayburn, but there are further considerations we must discuss to decide whether this plan is practical. To wit, who’s going to clean up when you’re done? Also, the restroom facilities in that park aren’t built to support that many, nor is the water. And for that matter, where people can sit. There are just a few benches, not nearly enough. This plan will need new seating, new facilities, clean up, and much more frequent waste removal. We have no budget for any of that.”

  Sherman nods to the chair, and she says, “Do you have a response, Nurse Rayburn?”

  Nurse Rayburn nods. “I do, Chair Higgins, but I would like to cede my time to Mr. Eddie Lucas, since this is his plan.”

  “Proceed,” the chair says.

  Luke rises to answer. He wears what he calls his burying suit, with the assist suit worn underneath it. He looks as strong and as healthy as I have seen him since my return. He steps up to the microphone and begins to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen of the council, I want to thank you for the chance to address you. And I specifically want to speak to Councilman . . . Shemp’s concerns.”

  The crowd giggles, and the chair bangs her gavel as Councilman Sherman leans forward and says to her, “Madam chair!”

  Higgins bangs the gavel again, and she says, “Mister Lucas, I must ask you to show respect to Councilman Sherman.”

  Luke nods. “I meant no disrespect to . . .”

  I lean in and whisper, “Sherman.”

  “. . . to Councilman Sherman. But madam chair, it’s no secret that Creekside deals with memory issues. They tell me I’ve got a few of my own, but I can’t remember what those are.” Again the crowd laughs. “That’s a joke,” Luke continues. “Names are one of my problems. New names just don’t stick with me well. That’s why I call my nurse Nurse Ratched, even though I’ve known her ten years. I call my best friend Bo. I can’t rightly remember their real names, so I use names from entertainment. I’m not calling you a stooge, Councilman, I’m just grabbing the closest name I can remember. Please, can you forgive an old man his weakness?”

  The chair looks at Sherman, and the Councilman nods. “I understand, Duke.”

  Luke grins at that. “I hear your concerns, Councilman. And they’re all about money. And don’t get me wrong, money’s important. If a show don’t make its nut, the show’s over.

  “
But this shouldn’t take much, Councilman,” Luke continues. “We can do our own cleanup, can’t we, folks?” He turns to the audience. Everyone nods, and several call out agreement. “And if we don’t . . . well, you can shut us down, and no one would blame you. But I come from the old circus tradition, Councilman. We always leave a lot cleaner than we found it.”

  “Yes,” Sherman says, “but there’s more than operating costs. There are still the setup costs: restroom facilities, new water lines, and seating.”

  “We’ll raise the money, Councilman,” Luke replies. “And we can take donations for operating costs. It’s important to us.” He pauses, and swallows. He looks at me, and I nod in encouragement. Then he turns back to Sherman. “I forget things, Councilman. I’m old. But I don’t forget the kids when they laugh. I don’t forget the sparkle in their eyes, or the roar of the crowd when you nail the big finish. I’ll never forget the circus, it’s my life. And a good circus is more than just a show. This one . . . This one is good. They’re not just my neighbors, and they’re not just my circus. They are . . . my family.”

  The crowd breaks out in cheers and applause, so loud that no one can hear the chair banging her gavel. Eventually, though, they calm enough for her to call order. She looks at the council members around the table. “I think that answers all of our questions,” she said. “I am inclined to let you try, as soon as you have approved plans and funds. I so move.”

  An older councilman next to her adds, “Second.”

  Higgins nods. “The motion is on the table. Are there any objections?” She looks at Councilman Sherman.

  Sherman looks back at Luke, and he says, “No objections.” Then he flips his tie, and he adds, “Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck!”

  As the crowd applauds, Luke leans in to me and says, “That was Curly’s line, not Shemp’s. And they say I’ve got memory trouble . . .”