by Mav Skye
“About what, hon?”
“About the clown?”
“Sure, I do.” Chloe gave her a squeeze. “Absolutely.”
“Because I’ve seen him before, but nobody believes me.”
Chloe felt her heart start thundering again. If it weren’t for her skin, it would beat right out of her ribs. “When have you seen him, honey?”
“Sometimes, late at night, I see him watching through my window.”
“Does your mom know?”
“I told her, but she thinks it’s my imitation.”
Chloe said, “Do you mean imagination?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Okay.”
Sharon shook her head. “I only see him when you’re here, Chloe.”
Spider legs crept up Chloe’s spine. “Why did you take the balloon from him today if you are scared of him?”
“Because,” she paused to think, then said, “if I took the balloon, I knew nothing bad would happen to Erin. But,” Her voice wavered and she began to cry. “I’m afraid something bad might happen to me now.”
“Shhh…” Chloe wrapped her arms around the girl. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“Pinky swear?” Sharon held out her pinky.
“Pinky swear.” They hooked pinkies and shook them.
“Has Erin seen him?”
“I don’t know,” Sharon said. “I’m scared.”
Chloe held the girl. “I’ve got you. And your mom and sister are right beside us. We are all safe here tonight.”
After a while, Sharon stopped crying from mere exhaustion. Her eyelids fell as she nestled in closer to Chloe like a duckling.
Chloe stayed awake through the late night local news and then through infomercials that followed. She watched the smiley faces and two–for-one deals, but she wasn’t paying attention to it. Her mind was busy putting pieces of the puzzle together, much like when Joey was trying to piece the jack-in-the-box back together. She thought about the red balloon the clown had given Sharon at the park and the red balloon she’d found in Mama Nola’s kitchen. Had the clown given Mama Nola the balloon directly? Was that why she had been crying? Or had Mr. Jingles left it while Mama Nola was sleeping for Chloe to find later. And if so, why?
Perhaps Sharon was right. By accepting the balloon, she had formed a sort of contract with the clown. She had thought she was saving Erin’s life and offering her own by accepting the balloon. But what if it was a trick? The clown had nothing to do with Erin coming back to life.
Chloe bit her lip in concentration and touched the monster on her earlobe. What if he only made Sharon believe that she was giving up her life to save Erin’s, but really, the clown wanted something else.
Or someone else.
She heard the slight shake of rattlesnake tail, and Chloe startled.
Sharon’s eyes opened. She mumbled, “I don’t want to go to school.”
Chloe smiled warmly at her, and stroked her hair until the girl’s eyelids collapsed once more. She felt a fierce love in her heart for Sharon—for both the twins and Shirley. This was her family. Mr. Jingles was her clown. And if he thought about touching even a single hair on the twins' head… But, hadn’t he already gotten that close?
The thoughts swirled around and around, chasing each other like a dog chasing its tail. On the TV a woman was trying to make a choice, an angel with a halo sat on one shoulder, the devil with a pitchfork sat on the other. The concept of good and evil, right and wrong, angels and devils, were often the butt of jokes in society. Even in her Native American history, the concept of devils and angels did not exist. Her people believed in the cycle of life—sunrise and sunset. Chloe thought the truth laid somewhere between the Anglo-Christian faith and the belief of her people. Every life had its seasons of spring, summer, fall and winter, life and death. But watching the twins at play, observing their simple innocence and pure joy, Chloe had to believe in goodness. And if there was goodness, by the laws of nature, there was also evil.
And if one followed that concept, perhaps there was a world that they couldn’t see constantly at battle for human souls. Perhaps it was possible for a soul to be blessed or damned. In the movies, a deal with the devil included a cartoony devil with a pitchfork sitting beside someone as they scribbled their soul away on a contract, but what if…What if all it took to damn yourself was accepting a red balloon?
If it were that simple, they were all damned. Not just Chloe or Sharon, but all of mankind.
Sharon moaned as if Chloe had voiced the thoughts out loud. She stroked the girl’s face, and Sharon quieted.
Chloe wasn’t sure if she believed in angels or devils, but she believed in clowns. If she were to believe that behind every miracle was an angel, then she’d have to believe that behind every temptation was a devil, and behind every red balloon was a clown, a clown with a hatchet.
After hours of contemplating life and while nestled down on the couch in the company of her most favorite family in the world, Chloe slept.
It was the best night of rest she’d had in ages, but it wouldn’t have been if Chloe had seen the clown with bunny ears watching her through the living room window.
14
The Thing in the Clown’s Suit
It was the worst night of sleep Joey could remember. Every muscle ached, and his head pounded as if it’d been beaten in by a hammer. He’d been up with Mama Nola until the wee morning hours. He was physically as well as emotionally drained. Chloe had never returned, and could he blame her? He hadn’t meant to be a jackass, but he had needed to calm Mama Nola before she had gotten out of control, and by the time Chloe had left for the Pratts, it was too late.
Daylight poured around the living room curtains. Prisms played upon the ceiling and promised another warm summer day in the often cloudy Pacific Northwest. Joey fluffed up the couch pillow, then turned over.
Pictures of a younger Chloe hung on the wall. The first was taken before she was five. She had Indian war paint on her cheeks, and she wore Mama Nola’s moccasins that were way too big for her. Her dark eyes sparkled playfully, reminding him of the twins. Life was so simple at that age.
In the next photograph on the wall, Chloe was older. Her hair was brushed up into a side pony tail, and she wore all neon. She held a seashell in her hands and held it up for the photographer to see. Behind her, a smaller version of himself was giving Chloe bunny ears. He was watching Chloe’s face and laughing. Joey remembered that day well—when Mama Nola had loaded them on to the city bus, and they had gone to the beach. Joey had searched and searched for the perfect seashell to give to Chloe that day. And when he had found it, and given it to her, she had beamed then ran to show it to Mama Nola. He lived for that single smile back then, just like he did now.
He wondered if Chloe still had the seashell, then realized it didn’t matter. What mattered was the happy memory. It was a moment in time he could look back on and enjoy. He tried to hold on to the memory, but it faded into darkness, into an obsession that Joey couldn’t kick.
Instead of resisting, he followed the darkness all the way down, where masked demons with his grandfather’s voice rattled the bars of his small cage, and the voice of an angel sang, “Dance! Dance! Dance!”
Joey could tell it was Chloe in the kitchen by the sound of her quick footsteps, the way she turned the tap on and waited a few seconds before filling the kettle and whisking it to the stove.
He stood and stretched, then walked to the bathroom and closed the door.
“Joey? Is that you?” Chloe had moved from the kitchen to the hall.
He flipped the toilet ring up and relieved himself. “Hold on, and I’ll ask him.”
Chloe was hustling about too much to hear him because now she was knocking on the bathroom door.
He flushed, put the toilet seat down—Mama Nola had taught him that, not his grandfather—and rinsed his hands. He said, “Knock, knock.”
He inspected his face in the mirror, then rinsed it a
s well, feeling a tad more refreshed.
“I’m not playing your games this morning, Joey.”
“You’re supposed to say, who’s there?”
“No, I just told you—”
Joey grinned at himself in the mirror; he loved annoying her in the morning. In fact, he wasn’t sure if there was anything better in life—well, maybe there was something better, a lot better—but this was pretty close. “Say it or I won’t come out.”
“Who’s there.” She spat it out rather than spoke it. It wasn’t a question; it was a command. Good ol’ Chloe.
“King Tut.”
Her voice was pure evil now. “King. Tut. Who.”
“King Tut-key fried chicken!”
Joey flung open the door, intending to bounce out, but instead smacked straight into Chloe. She had her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.
He said, “Am I in trouble or what?”
“You know what.” She spun and marched back to the kitchen.
He followed. “About last night, Chloe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jack—”
“Shush.” She pointed at the dining table and said, “Sit.”
He obeyed. “I have to admit. I kinda like this bossy, sassy thing you’ve got going today. It’s…sexy.”
Chloe ignored him and walked to the kitchen, then returned and set a steaming cup of tea in front of him. “Why thank you, dear lady.” Joey picked up the mug and sipped it tentatively, then made a face and pointed at his tea. “This tea is almost as hot as you are.” Joey winked at her.
Chloe rolled her eyes and sat down across from him with her mug. “Where is she now?”
“Who?”
“Don’t be dumb.”
“Don’t be ugly.”
“You just said I was hot.”
“I lied.”
“Dang it, Joey Parker!” Chloe slapped the table. “This is serious. Can you be serious for once in your life?”
He opened his mouth to say no and she said, “Don’t. You. Dare.”
So, he closed it.
“Where is she?
He said, “Mama Nola is in her room, sleeping.”
“You’ve checked on her? You know this for a fact?”
“Basically.”
“What does basically mean, Joey?”
Mama Nola had been exhausted when she finally fell asleep. Joey would have heard her if she’d gotten up early this morning. “Pretty sure. I slept on the couch. I would have heard her if she’d gotten up.”
“Yeah? Because I just checked her bedroom.”
“And?”
“She’s gone, Joey.”
He jumped up from the table. “No, no! She couldn’t be.”
He leapt from the dining room, through the kitchen, and down the hall. He could hear Chloe behind him. Mama Nola’s door was open just a crack. He flung it all the way open.
Mama Nola wasn’t in bed. The window beside her bed was wide open. He was speechless.
Chloe walked in and fingered her jewelry box left open on the dresser, then picked up a tube of lipstick beside it.
She removed the jeweled lid and twisted the lip stain up. It was a dark, deep red. She flipped the tube upside down and read the name of it. “Dead Sunset Red.” She glanced at Joey.
Joey said, “Why are we playing with lipstick and drinking tea? We need to go find her.”
Chloe set her jaw and dropped the lipstick back on the dresser. “I already have.”
“Where?”
She turned and walked out of the room, and once again he followed. He knew she was justified in her anger. But on the flip side, she hadn’t come home last night. What if he had decided to go home at ten o’clock or—midnight—assuming Chloe would return home eventually.
That would have left the old woman alone in a dark trailer, scared of her own shadow and mad whispers. Instead, he had stayed and cared for her like a devoted son. He cared for Mama Nola in ways Chloe would never be able to do. He and Mama Nola shared a special bond that no one would ever take away.
Chloe marched from the hall into the laundry room and raised the blinds in the small window. Mama Nola was on her knees in her night dress. Her long peppered gray hair braided to the side, working in the small vegetable garden, yanking out tiny weeds that had sprouted.
She didn’t look like a full grown woman, but more like a girl. Her nightdress clung to her thin ribs and bony hips.
Chloe lifted herself onto the dryer to watch her.
Joey walked up to the window and leaned against the wall. The space was cramped and tiny. Chloe’s bare foot touched his thigh.
Mama Nola sat back on her knees and placed her hands in her lap and looked up at the sun. Her skin stretched tightly over her cheekbones and jaw, and the way the light reflected on her skin turned her a pale white, erasing the deep dark tan of her heritage.
Chloe said, “She doesn’t look like my mother anymore. She looks more like a skeleton.”
Joey said, “Or a young girl.”
“Nah, I’ve seen pictures of her when she was young.”
“You have?” Joey said a little too quickly.
Chloe turned to him. “Of course, of when she was five or so. She had her hair braided to the side, just as it is now. And she wore a dress made of buffalo skins. She held a bouquet of forget-me-nots, daisies and baby’s breath. Her skin? Her skin was this glowing bronze. Her eyes were so shiny; you’d think the gods had put diamonds in them.”
Joey shook his head relieved. He wasn’t sure if he had seen that one, but he had seen others. Others that would have turned Chloe’s world upside down even more than it already was. It was a secret he and Mama Nola kept.
Chloe said, “Listen, about last night. I’m sorry I left you alone.”
“I’m sorry I was an ass.”
“Did she calm down after I left?”
“Eh.”
“Define eh.”
Joey didn’t reply.
“Do you think Mr. Jingles threatened her?”
“No,” Joey said, “She was sleeping, and you scared her.”
Chloe said, “But why did she ask if she had hurt someone? She never talks like that.”
Joey sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It was a nightmare.”
Chloe said, “She’s not well, Joey.”
That was something he could agree with her on. Mama Nola had been more irrational, her obsessions overtaking her to the point he couldn’t bring her to sanity. “I agree. I just don’t know what to do about it. Taking her away from her home, from you? I think that would be the final straw for her. And even more to the point, what would happen to you?” He drew small circles on the bottom of her foot with his finger. He could sense that this small act comforted her.
She said, “I have an aunt in California. She’d take me in.”
“But is that what you want? To move away from Shirley and the girls? To move away from your home, from your mother? From me?”
Chloe swallowed hard, and wiped a tear from her eye. “No,” she said quietly. “That’s not what I want.”
Joey said, “Come here.”
She leaned over and let him wrap his arms around her, they both watched the old woman out the window. The woman that had raised them, loved them, and meant the world to both of them.
He said, “I know she’s loosing track of time, acting a little irrational, but this is her home. She hasn’t done anything that would hurt anybody. I think between the both of us, Shirley and Dan. It’ll be okay.”
“But what about when I go back to school?”
He said, “I don’t think we should worry that far in the future. Let’s just focus on today, on the here and now.”
“You’re starting to sound like Kelly.”
“Shocker: maybe I am Kelly.”
“Shut up.”
“’kay.”
Joey had the same worries as Chloe—plus some—but standing this close to her, he could almost pretend that everything was going to be okay. H
e brushed his lips against Chloe’s ear, breathing in the scent of her. Wildflowers. She’d always had a distinctive wildflower scent.
Chloe let him draw close for a just a moment before she pushed him back, scooted over to the washer and hopped off. “I’m going to finish my tea. Then you can help me get Mama Nola inside, and we can clean her up. She must be starved.”
Joey followed her to the kitchen. The night before, Mama Nola had eaten a bowl of soup after he had calmed her down a little, but she’d thrown it all up later after she had gone to the circus. He didn’t think Chloe needed to know any of that. It would just upset her more.
Later, right before they went out the front door to fetch Mama Nola, Chloe asked, “How do you think the red balloon got in the kitchen?”
He shrugged.
She said, “This isn’t just about Mama Nola losing her mind. It’s also about keeping her safe from…from… that thing in the clown’s suit.”
Joey said, “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.”
“How?”
He shook his head, unable to answer her. There were things she didn’t know, couldn’t know.
She said, “Someone wants to hurt us, Joey, can’t you see that?”
Joey frowned. “You don’t know that.”
She put her hand on the door handle, then turned and looked at him. “Yes, I do.”
He didn’t have an answer for her, and finally, they walked out to the garden, where Mama Nola was happy to see them.
Part III
A day passed, a week, a whole two weeks without a single clown sighting.
But then, in late August…
Her Fear Diary
August 15th, 1990
How can everything be wonderful and terrible at the same time? Joey and I are getting along. Dan and Shirley have pitched in wonderfully with Mama Nola. (Did I mention they are dating?!?) And the girls have been delightfully gruesome to everyone’s amusement. Sharon hasn’t brought up the clown once since the day Erin almost drowned, but I have noticed she has an extreme repulsion to clowns and balloons, even on the TV. And Erin won’t go close to water. We haven’t been to the pool since that day.