by L.H. Cosway
Something fizzy and delightful popped in my belly. Perhaps there had been something different about our encounter, compared to the countless other nights he performed the exact same stunt. Perhaps Jack wasn’t as indifferent towards me as I imagined. I delighted in the sense of excitement these thoughts gave me as I went about packing up my face paints and returning the table and chairs to Winnie and Antonio. They told me to keep them, that I’d be doing them a favour, since they had way too much stuff clogging up their small motor home as it was. I thanked them profusely and stored the table and chairs beneath Violet’s van until tomorrow, hoping nobody would steal them.
I was sitting in the living area, finishing off the ideas for my Jack painting, when Lola came in looking both tired and energised. She had that way about her. I thought of painting a picture of her, too, with tired grey patches under her eyes and contrasting colourful bolts of electricity spouting from her bobbed haircut.
“Hey, you! Everybody’s gathering in the gazebo tonight for a late dinner. Pedro and Luan are cooking feijoada. It’s a Brazilian stew. Absolutely delicious. Come on!” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me up. My sketchpad fell to the floor and she picked it up, taking her time to peruse what I’d been drawing before handing it back, an amused smirk on her face.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad.”
“Got what bad?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“You’re too good of an artist for me not to recognise who you’re drawing, Lille. Just take my advice — be careful. I’ve never seen him with a woman, well, other than casual hook-ups every once in a while. You don’t want to get hurt.”
Little did she know, I really did want to get hurt. It was irrational and probably stupid, but I wanted to feel the pain of having my emotions stomped all over. All of the best creative minds in the world had their hearts broken. It’s what made their art genuine, vital, human. It had the potential to elevate me from just a “good” artist into a great one.
After closing my sketchpad and setting it on the counter, I allowed her to pull me out and lead me to the gazebo, which I was learning was a sort of eating/drinking/general hang-out area for the circus performers and crew. Luan, Pedro, and the third man in their stunt group, Raphael, were standing by a portable gas cooker, dishing out bowls of stew to those patiently waiting in line. Once Lola and I had gotten ours, she led me over sit on the floor with Winnie and Antonio’s eleven- and thirteen-year-old girls, Carrie and Orla.
We chatted with them about their shared crushes on some boy-band star, while Lola braided their hair into identical French plaits. I felt like we were separate from the adults in that moment, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed being able to observe the interactions from my place on the floor. Jack and King sat by a table in the far corner of the gazebo, a bottle of liquor between them. They appeared to be having a deep conversation, and it surprised me. Judging from the way Jack had spoken to King this morning, I wouldn’t have thought they were friends. But it was clear now that they were. Jack listened intently as King spoke, and vice versa. I could have killed to know what they were talking about.
I had three glasses of wine with my stew and ended up feeling sleepy, so I went back to the camper and got into bed. It was only ten o’clock. I slept the whole night through and woke up at five-thirty feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day. It was a day for ticking an item off my list; I could just feel it. After I had a quick shower, this time thankfully within the confines of the van, I had tea and toast for breakfast. After that it was still only six-thirty, so I decided to stretch my legs. I walked twice around the campsite, stopping and admiring the lions in their cages for a time.
They were both sleeping soundly, their purring a deep, melodic rumble that soothed something inside me. I knew that technically these animals were predators, but still, I thought I could fall asleep every night to the peaceful sound of their purring. Their paws were huge and fluffy up close. It was at once frightening and totally adorable. Such beautiful creatures. You could tell they were well taken care of. Not like the lions you saw at the zoo or at one of those chain circuses that looked skinny and malnourished. Winnie and Antonio’s lions were clearly very much loved.
I continued my walk. I was just passing by Jack’s camper when I stopped mid-stride and hid behind a tree. The door opened, and somebody stepped out. I peeked around the tree to see it was Julie, one of the Ladies of the Sky. Her red hair was messy and her makeup smudged. My gut sank. It was clear that she’d spent the night. And it was even clearer when Jack came out behind her. He stood still as she turned back to him, reaching up and sliding an arm around his neck. She murmured something in his ear, gave him a light kiss on the lips, then sauntered away. My heart was thumping loudly now as it simultaneously sank to the bottom of my boots. It became very obvious to me that I was harbouring a crush on Jack, which was why seeing him with Julie was so disappointing. I bet if someone somewhere did a study on crushes, they’d find that a dishearteningly large proportion of them were unrequited.
I willed him to go back inside so that I could scurry away undiscovered, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat down on the deck chair outside his camper and began rolling a cigarette. Just my luck.
I was standing glued to the spot, eyes closed, breathing shallowly and waiting him out, when I heard him call, “I can hear you, you know.”
My eyes snapped open, but I remained frozen. Did he know it was me hiding here, or did he just think it was a person, any person? I didn’t want to show myself, but there was nothing else for it. He knew someone was here, and he was going to discover it was me sooner or later. Sighing, I came out from behind the tree, and his gaze seemed to sharpen when he saw me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was taking a walk when…God, this is ridiculous. I don’t even know why I was hiding. I just didn’t want to….”
Jack stood and walked towards me, lighting up and taking a drag of his smoke. If I was any other person, I’d probably advise him to quit, tell him it wasn’t good for his health. But I wasn’t. I didn’t nag people about their personal choices. That was my mother. I didn’t want to share any characteristics with her. Still, I worried for Jack. Worried about his lungs. Worried about what the fuel he used in his act was doing to his insides.
“You just didn’t want to what, Lille?” he asked. His mouth was a straight line, but there was some kind of amusement dancing in his eyes.
My belly did somersaults when he spoke my name. “I didn’t want you to think I was spying.”
One eyebrow went up. “You didn’t want me to think you were spying…by spying on me?”
“I wasn’t! I was just waiting for you to go back inside, that’s all.”
He blew out smoke, looked at the ground. His shoulder-length hair was down, and a few strands fell forward, shielding his face. When he looked up at me, he was so beautiful I almost couldn’t breathe for a second. “You’re a strange girl.”
“And you’re a strange boy,” I replied.
One side of his mouth went up, and my palms got a little clammy to have him almost smile at me again. I got the feeling that Jack McCabe didn’t almost smile very often.
“Boy,” he repeated, a statement, not a question.
There wasn’t much that was boy-like about him, but I liked how me calling him one seemed to rile him up some. I simply looked at him, not knowing how to reply.
“So, what brings you out here so early this morning? Taking another shower?” he asked, his gaze growing softer as he reached out and took a strand of my dark blonde hair in his fingers. “Damp,” he said, voice low.
“No, I woke up early, decided to explore the campsite. The lions are just beautiful.”
Jack nodded. “Pip and Skip.”
“Huh?”
He took another drag. “The lions. Those are their names.”
“Oh, right!” I laughed nervously. “Pip, like in Great Expectations. Do you think Winnie and Antonio named him after the character? It’s my favourite Dickens book.”
“I don’t know,” he said, withdrawing a little then. There was a moment of silence, during which I struggled with whether or not to go or stay. Yes, I wanted something to happen between Jack and me, however unlikely it was. The problem was that whenever I was around him, I got all antsy, like I was experiencing fight-or-flight syndrome and my brain wanted me to flee even though my body begged me to stay.
“Have you seen the elephants yet?” Jack asked, surprising me.
I shook my head, then jumped a little when he reached out and took my hand. His was big and warm, and I luxuriated in the feeling of his skin on mine, even in such a small way. I tried not to think of what he had just been doing with Julie. I wanted to live in a bubble of denial for a while. He led me to the far side of the campsite, where there was a large grassy field. This was my first experience of feeling not quite right about the way the circus used animals for entertainment. Yes, they were out in the open, the sun was shining, and there were huge pails of water for them to drink from and troughs of cabbage for them to eat.
But technically they weren’t free, were they? I couldn’t stop staring at the locks around their ankles. They reminded me far too much of the emotional chains my mother had been placing around me my whole life. Similar to the elephants, I was fed, provided with shelter, but I wasn’t free. Jack saw me frowning and gave me a questioning look.
“They’re prisoners,” I said, suddenly realising that although they had seemed peaceful and beautiful to me as they slept, the lions were prisoners, too.
“Not prisoners,” Jack replied. “More like property.”
“It doesn’t feel right.”
“No. Very little in this world is right, Lille. All we can hope for is to make it less not right. See these elephants? They might be chained up, but at least they aren’t in a cage all the time. At least Jan and Ricky only do the basic sort of stunts that don’t require so much cruelty in the training.”
I let out a long breath. One of the elephants was drinking water through its trunk. I wasn’t one of those overly righteous people who waxed lyrical about how all animals should live in the wild. I’d never been to an anti-fur protest, nor had I ever given much thought to the cruelty of animal testing. Yet being here, being forced to see their captivity with my own two eyes, made my heart pound. And I was certain it was far from the worst kind of captivity that was out there. I guess it’s easy to ignore things when they’re hidden from your view.
Jack was watching me intently, perhaps trying to figure out what I was thinking. And really, I didn’t want to be thinking about the lives of these elephants anymore. I didn’t want to feel sad wondering whether or not they were happy, so I changed the subject.
“Your girlfriend is so beautiful,” I said gently. “I’m completely in awe of her and her sisters. They must have been training to become acrobats ever since they were little.”
His eyebrows moved closer together, creating a broody sort of expression on his face. “Julie,” I said, and he stayed silent, so I clarified, “The woman I just saw leaving your camper?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he replied simply.
Oh, so it was a temporary thing. I can’t say I didn’t feel a small measure of relief. I should have known, though, since Lola did say she only ever saw Jack with casual hook-ups.
“Sorry. My mistake. So, where are you from? Originally, I mean? Dublin?” Christ, I was getting nervous now, thus the sentence of many questions. Jack nodded a yes to Dublin but didn’t give me any details. I decided his moment of chattiness was over, so I sat on a rock and watched the elephants. It was an interesting visual when Jack picked a stalk from their feed and approached one of them. He was wearing a T-shirt that looked like the sleeves had been carelessly cut off, underneath a worn dark brown waistcoat, his tanned, muscular arms showing. He was tall enough that he could reach up and run a hand along the elephant’s large body. Then he held out the stalk for it to eat.
Wow. The sight of such a strong, vital man feeding a strong, vital animal was kind of arousing in strange way. Then he started to walk away.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and called after him, “Where are you going?”
He turned around and shrugged. “For a walk.”
I knew it wasn’t an invitation to join him, but I followed anyway. I wasn’t beyond forcing my friendship on Jack. He was mysterious and intriguing enough for me to step out of my comfort zone and be the aggressor. To me, some people feel like the lives they’ve lived are novels. With Jack, I wanted to get my hands on the book and feverishly work my way through the pages until I got to the end.
The direction we walked was away from the campsite, where there were fields upon fields that bled out into the distance. A countryside landscape. Silently, I walked side by side with Jack through the grass. The weather was warm and the ground dry, which kept my shoes from getting muddy.
I breathed in the fresh, summery air and felt peaceful. Then a fly landed on my shoulder, and I could have been imagining things, but I thought it might have bitten me through my thin T-shirt. I slid my hand under the fabric and scratched at my skin, soothing the itch. I remembered that this was the exact spot I’d planned on getting my tattoo. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about my tattoo!
Determination formulated. I would find a parlour in the city and have my tattoo done today. I’d tick an item off my list. There were no Shay Cosgroves here in Caen to deny me what I wanted. Nobody knew who I was, nor were they afraid of inviting my mother’s wrath. I only realised Jack had been watching me as we walked when his voice broke through the quiet.
“What are you smiling so happily about?”
I was still smiling when I answered. “I just thought of something fun to do today. Want to join me?”
I’m not sure why I asked him that. In all honesty, this was one thing I wasn’t sure I wanted Jack to be around for. It would be scary enough letting a stranger repeatedly stick a needle in me. I didn’t need the added tension of having Jack in the room with his broody eyebrows and intense black eyes, the mask on his face that constantly shrouded his thoughts.
He stopped walking and turned to face me, reaching over my head and plucking a leaf from an overhanging tree. His attention was almost unnerving when he looked at me closely and ran the leaf down the side of my face to my neck. It tickled, and something tightened in the pit of my stomach.
“Fun?”
“You’re acquainted with the idea, yes?” I said, closing my eyes for a second and doing my best not to stammer. He was just so close now, close enough to smell. Close enough to feel his potent energy.
He tilted his head to the side. “Are you poking fun at me, Lille, insinuating I don’t know how to have fun?”
“Well,” I continued bravely, “generally, people who frown as often as you do don’t have a lot of it.”
“Shall I show you how I have it?” he asked, and stepped closer so that my chest was brushing off his. I wasn’t a short person, but Jack McCabe had a presence, a presence that could make someone feel positively tiny. I sidestepped away from him, putting some distance between us, and began walking again, practically tripping over my own feet. I could tell he was just behind me, following.
“I’m not in such dire straits that I need to be taught how to have fun by frowning Jack McCabe,” I said, trying for casual. “But if I ever run out of other options, I’ll give you a call. Like, say, if Angela Merkel isn’t available, you’ll be next on my list.”
I was pushing my luck now, and I knew it. I really didn’t know what had gotten into me, but I was in a teasing mood. There was a beat of silence, and then I heard him chuckle. It was scary to know how much his reaction relieved me. You just never quite knew with this guy which way he’d react, and there was still that lingering doubt in the back of my mind. The story of Vera and the fact that Jack could have been the one who killed her was unnerving. Ever since Lola told me the story, I’d been trying to convince myself it wasn’t anyone from the circus. T
hat the murderer being a stranger from a nearby town was much more plausible.
It was the only thing that allowed me to sleep at night and embrace this adventure of mine.
“I’m confused — do you want me to come with you or not?” Jack said. “I still don’t know what it is you have planned. So, you know, feel free to enlighten me any time.”
I looked back at him then. He was still holding the leaf, and he winked. My heart thudded. A wink from Jack McCabe. This morning was turning out to be one for the diary. If I had a diary, which I didn’t. I did, however, have a sketchpad, and I had a feeling I’d be sketching elephants and leaves and winking black eyes for many nights to come.
It was like masturbation for artists: draw the thing that turns you on.
Not that elephants turned me on….or leaves, for that matter.
“I’m going to get my first tattoo,” I told him finally, and he let out a little snicker.
“Is this an attempt to defy Mother, Lille dear?” he asked, and I didn’t like the touch of mockery in his tone.
“No, actually. I’ve been planning it for a long time. And I’ve just decided I don’t want you there.”
“Oh, no, but I want to come now,” he said flatly. Was that sarcasm?
I stopped and turned to face him. I didn’t think he was expecting it, because he faltered a little before halting. “Do you know what, Jack? You don’t always have to judge people just because they might have had it easier than you. We’re all struggling in our own way.”