by L.H. Cosway
“I like you. You say what you think. I hope your hand heals up fast,” she said and patted me on the shoulder before following Jack out the door. I twisted in my seat and watched them say a few words to one another before walking down the hill away from the restaurant.
When I arrived home after my shift I wanted to run straight upstairs, take a shower, put on something nice and head out to the circus. Unfortunately, Mum was waiting for me when I got there, her arms crossed over her chest, face stern and an opened letter in her hand.
I narrowed my gaze when I saw the letter had my name on it. “Did you open my mail?” I questioned. I should have been more surprised, but I was used to her control freak behaviour at this stage.
“Yes, and I’m glad I did. These are your end of year exam results, and I have to say they leave a lot to be desired.”
She walked towards me and shoved the letter into my hand, her designer heels clicking on the hardwood floor. I unfolded it and took a look. I’d gotten mostly Cs, a D, and a couple of Bs. They certainly weren’t the worst results in the world, but Mum expected perfection.
“Considering I never wanted to do this degree, I think these results are pretty good,” I said bravely. Abruptly she turned, walked back to me and slapped me hard across the face. I gasped and clutched my cheek in my hand in shock. Mum wasn’t often physically violent, words were her weapon of choice, but every now and again she’d strike me. It usually meant something hadn’t gone right for her at work so she was taking that frustration out on me.
“You’re an ungrateful little bitch!” she shouted. “After all the money I’ve spent on your education you go and say something like that.”
I stood there, speechless, as she grabbed my hip, pinching her fingers into the fleshy part. “And look at this. You’re putting on weight. I’m going to have to start controlling your calorie intake again.”
Tears stung at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. There was nothing wrong with my weight. My mother simply possessed a talent for seeing flaws where there weren’t any. She was so miserable that she couldn’t see any of the beauty in the world. She wanted straight boring lines, and if anyone dared to veer away from them she would make their lives hell.
All my life I felt like I’d been living in quiet desperation. Following my mother’s rules and biding my time, waiting for the moment when I could finally break free. The thing was, I was twenty-one now, and my time still hadn’t come. I had a disturbing image of me still living under my mother’s roof at thirty, still keeping to her straight lines, never walking on the cracks and it made me feel like screaming.
But I didn’t. Instead, I turned away from her and walked quietly up the stairs to my bedroom. Once there, I sat down at my dressing table, stared into the mirror and took a calming breath. Then I opened a drawer and pulled out the folded piece of paper where I’d written my list, letting my eyes trail down the numbered items.
Dump Henry Jackson.
Get a tattoo.
Have sex with a stranger.
Do something dangerous.
Visit a place I’ve never been before.
Fall in love.
Make a new friend.
Quit my degree.
Become a real artist.
Move out of my mother’s house.
I felt a small stirring of pride that I’d already completed number one several weeks ago before college let out for the summer. Henry was the son of one of my mother’s business associates and had been enrolled in the same course as me. Mum set us up on a date during my second year of studying and we’d been conducting a dull, chemistry-free relationship for the last two years. Quite like the subject we were studying, the sex was all business. So, I’d decided it was finally time to put an end to it. Mum was furious when she found out, and I could tell she was already plotting a way in which to get us back together.
It wasn’t going to happen.
As I went to change out of my work clothes, the flyer for the circus slipped from my pocket. I picked it up and read the little section at the back that gave a snippet of its history. Apparently, the Circus Spektakulär was thirty years old and originally set up by a German named Konrad Eichel. When he died seven years ago, Marina Mitchell, who had previously been the circus’s fortune teller, took over as ringmaster. The circus was held not in a traditional circus tent, but in a Spiegeltent, which was a large, colourful structure dating from the late 19th century made from canvas and wood. Apparently, there were only a small number of Spiegeltents left in the world, which made the Circus Spektakulär something of a rare experience.
Already I was imagining what it might look like so that I could paint it.
Hurriedly, I pulled on a light summer dress and some boots, grabbed my coat and snuck out of the house as quietly as I could manage. A little rush of excitement ran through me when I got around the corner and speed walked toward the edge of town. I could see lights flashing up into the sky as I got closer, could hear distant music.
When I reached the usually vacant field where the circus was being held, I had to dodge some bits of mud where the grass had been trodden on too frequently. Old vaudevillian piano music played from speakers that had been set up all around, making you feel as though you were stepping through a portal back in time. I nodded hello to a few families I knew from town and stepped in line to buy a ticket. After I paid, I went to a stand that was selling popcorn and candyfloss. A girl with short brown hair wearing a t-shirt with a cat’s face on it smiled at me and asked what I’d like. I bought some popcorn in a paper cone and made my way inside the Spiegeltent.
On the outside, it was a circular structure with a dome-like roof and was painted in red, blue, and yellow. The primary colours. Mix red with yellow and you get orange. Mix red and blue and you get purple. Mix blue and yellow and you get green. I had always been interested in the very simple science of it all.
When I was painting, sometimes I liked to mix random colours together to see what would happen. Often I’d discover a wonderful new shade of pink or purple, other times I’d discover that mixing too many colours just gave you an ugly brown or grey.
I thought maybe that was a good philosophy for life. Experiment with your colours, but don’t experiment too much or you’ll destroy the natural beauty.
It’s like that saying – too many cooks spoil the broth.
The inside of the tent was circular in shape. The stage was a sturdy round platform in the centre with the seating surrounding it. Red and blue stripes lined the ceiling and gathered up towards the dome of the roof. I’d never been anywhere like this before and I was fascinated.
Sitting down on a seat three rows from the stage, I munched on my popcorn and waited for the place to fill up. Children’s excited laughter rang out over the chattering of adults and the vaudeville piano. I heard more mature giggling then, and turned my head to the side to see Delia and three of her friends looking in my direction. So much for her not wanting to go to the circus.
Obviously, they were mocking the fact that I was there alone. My mouth formed a straight line as my gut sank. I felt a momentary flicker of self-consciousness. Was it weird to go to stuff like this on your own? All around me people seemed to be in groups of family or friends. Perhaps it was weird. Still, my resolve hardened. Delia really wasn’t my friend at all, was she? I needed to add an eleventh item to my list.
Unfriend Delia.
I pretended I was unaware of their mocking and focused my attention straight ahead. After a few minutes I was almost out of popcorn and the lights started to dim. I immediately recognised Marina’s voice as she announced over the speakers that the show was about to begin. Then a drumroll started up as she walked out onto the stage wearing a top hat, a red coat with tails that matched her hair, tight black trousers, boots, and her trademark assortment of necklaces. Her lipstick was bright pink and her eyes were lined with silver and gold eye shadow. However, the most interesting thing about her was that there was a little capuchin monkey sitting on
her shoulder.
A monkey!
He had cream coloured fur on his head and brown fur on his body, and when he jumped off Marina’s shoulder and headed towards the audience I heard a number of children squeal with delight.
“Welcome everyone to the Spiegeltent and the Circus Spektakulär! My name is Marina Mitchell and I’ll be your master of ceremonies for the evening. The little guy currently running amok amid the audience is Pierre, my trusty capuchin sidekick. Please keep an eye on your belongings, he has habit for taking shiny things that don’t belong to him,” she paused to wink at a boy in the front row. “We are a small, independent circus and pride ourselves on giving audiences a unique and magical experience. We have been travelling around Europe, Ireland and the UK for the past thirty years. Tonight you will see wonders to delight, astound and thrill. You will see men tame beasts. You will see women dance in the sky. You will see bodies accomplish impossible feats. And yes, you will laugh until your bellies ache as our clowns act out the comical and ridiculous. But first, I give you our Elephant Men, Jan and Ricky.”
Applause rang out as Marina took a bow, clapped her hands and Pierre came running to climb back onto her shoulder. A moment later two short men with dark hair walked out onto the stage. They were bare chested and wore matching silk trousers with intricate designs. When one of them made a small gesture, two elephants came trotting out. I smiled widely, my eyes going big as I stared at the magnificent creatures. Playful music came on, “Pink Elephants on Parade” from Dumbo. They marched around the stage in a circle, lifting their legs gracefully when prompted or throwing their trunks high into the air.
During the act the men led the elephants to go up on their hind legs and at one point, Jan I think it was, climbed up onto one elephant and sat on its back. Once their act was over Marina was back out, introducing the Ladies of the Sky, three red haired acrobats who I thought must be sisters they resembled one another so closely.
They hung from silky coloured ribbons, twisting, twirling and diving. My hands itched for a paintbrush as the colours swirled above me. I could have sat there for hours detailing the orange glow of their hair and the lithe, graceful movements of their limbs. I was certain that my Gran, who had been the one who first taught me how to paint, would have loved to be here right now. Unfortunately, she died when I was ten, but I always remembered her teachings, always tried to live by her philosophies that were so opposite to my mother’s.
Make mistakes, Lille. Walk on the cracks. Break the rules that were made to be broken.
Somebody sat down in the empty seat beside me and I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see the girl from the popcorn stand. She was holding a stick on which was spun a massive cloud of pink candy floss. When she saw me looking at her she smiled wide, her bright blue eyes sparkling and asked, “Want some?”
I nodded and eagerly plucked off a wisp before sticking into my mouth. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’m Lola.”
“Lille.”
“Pleased to meet you, Lille. Are you enjoying the show?”
Again, I nodded, this time more fervently. “Absolutely.”
“I’m on my break. Thought I’d come in for the best part. Jack’s on next.”
Instantly, I recognised the name and something both nervous and excited squeezed in my gut. Still, I feigned ignorance and asked, “Jack?”
“He’s the fire breather. He also does knife throwing. I swear every time he throws a knife at someone I can’t be certain whether or not he means to hit or miss. There’s this air of danger about him, you know.”
I swallowed, more questions on the tip of my tongue but the low, thrumming rock music that came on interrupted me. The bass hit me right in the pit of my stomach and the crowd began to cheer. Marina made a passionate introduction and then Jack was walking out onto the stage, two long wooden torches in his hands, the tips blazing with fire. My skin prickled with awareness, and somehow I just knew I was in for something truly amazing.