The Wild in her Eyes

by Karina Giörtz

  She’d have liked very much to show him her backside as she marched out of the ring, but she fought the urge to flee. She wasn’t a child anymore. This was no time for a tantrum, and pouting would get her nothing but a poor reputation.

  “I’m waiting,” Hugh reminded her when she still stood there, minutes later, with her eyes closed.

  “I’m getting to it!” she snapped, letting her frustration and anger at being forced to perform on the spot to take root and fuel her. She took a breath. Another one. Deeper. Longer. The third breath she held in, and then slowly let it out. On the exhale, she raised both arms above her head and, keeping her eyes closed, began to dance. In that moment she allowed the ballet she’d spent years studying to collide with every emotion she’d denied herself since that night in the river. How many days had passed since? She’d lost track. Seven? Maybe more? It seemed an eternity ago now, she thought. A different life entirely. Every feeling flooded her, the heart crushing pain of her grief, the raging anger of betrayal and the gut-wrenching loss of faith all flowed out through her limbs. She kept rhythm with the manic pounding of her own heart.

  Tears streaked her face as she spun in a perfect pirouette, over and over again until all the images inside her head blurred and she became too dizzy to remain upright. Even as she crashed to the ground, her body folding like a ragdoll, she kept moving, crawling, reaching, climbing back to her feet, all part of this dramatic dance performed to the music of her heartache—music no one could ever hear unless she showed them. Unless she played it for them with her dancing body, the way she did now.

  The tide of her hurt began to wash away, and her movements shrank into subtler motions, signaling the end was near. Gliding down onto her knees, with her hands reaching for the sky, she dropped her head between her shoulder blades, arched her back, and finished to roaring applause. She wondered where everyone had come from. The last time she’d looked at Hugh, he’d been alone. Now he was surrounded by at least a dozen other faces she recognized, faces that bore a distinct expression of excitement and unexpected pride.

  “There she is,” Hugh called out over the clapping. “There’s the brazen girl I knew was hiding inside.” He stepped toward her. “Don’t you feel better now, having let her out to peek at the world a bit?”

  Annis’s eyes were like saucers and her mouth stuck in a single line. The all too familiar feeling of having temporarily left her body returned, only it was different this time. She hadn’t been escaping life. She’d been escaping the numbness, breaking free of the self-made prison of her pain, and it had been liberating. But now the moment had passed, leaving her to feel disconnected somehow as she remained hanging in limbo, unsure of how to fully return to the safe confines of herself without returning to the prison as well. Hugh was right about one thing: It was freeing to dance that way. Freeing in an utterly terrifying way. She’d turned herself inside out, allowed all of her vulnerabilities to be wrung from her. And now there would be no reeling them back in —not when half of the circus had witnessed it all.

  “Why did you make them all watch?” she hissed, arms crossing over her chest as though she could shield her heart from their knowing eyes.

  Hugh shrugged. “Didn’t. They were just passing by, getting ready for tonight, and stopped.” He leaned in close. “If that’s not a girl who’s got the makings of a future ringleader, I don’t know what is.” Not bothering to wait for an answer, he straightened up to his full height. “Right then. Now we’ve got that sorted out, let’s get on with it. You and me’s still got a lot of work to do before the good people of Jackson start to arrive.” Hugh started walking toward the tent’s exit. Annis glanced over her shoulder only to catch the last of her surprise audience dispersing, and then she turned back toward Hugh, who was already nearly halfway through the small ring to her left.

  “All’s well in hell tonight,” she grumbled under her breath as she hurried to catch up. It was an expression she’d heard from her housekeeper anytime things were going about as bad as they could be. She’d never repeated it until now. Annis spent the next hour half running from one place to the next to keep in step with Hugh’s long legs. It seemed as ringleader, he had a hand in nearly every aspect of the show. Helping set up props, feeding animals and occasionally approving last minute additions to an act or two. Annis found it all terribly fascinating, even if it did keep her on the move so much that she felt it hard to catch her breath at times. Then, before she knew it, the tent was full. People were cheering and the show had finally begun. Annis sat on the sidelines to watch the event unfold. Hugh burst onto the scene to open the show and drew everyone in with his booming, charismatic voice. Annis had never felt so riveted as by the way he weaved fantastical tales of all the circus-goers were about to behold. Her state of awe grew stronger as the people she’d met earlier that day stepped into the ring to perform. Each act revealed sides of the performers she’d not recognized in them before.

  Their diverse talents often had nothing to do with the ways in which they were so extraordinarily different from the society’s norms. Oscar and Margaret were notable at first sight for their exceptional size, but their costumes alone intrigued beyond those first impressions. Oscar was dressed to the nines and looked dashing in his sleek black tailcoat and top hat, while Margaret looked divine in a scarlet gown of chiffon and lace, with her strawberry blonde locks swept up in an elegant braid that encircled her head like a crown.

  Annis watched in anticipation as they took the ring, wondering just what they would deliver. Oscar stood at the center, under a single spotlight, his hand held out to the dark where Margaret stood hidden in the shadows. Then the soft tones of a waltz began to play, bringing a statuesque Oscar to life. With a graceful twirl into his arms, Margaret joined him. Together they began to glide around the ring as if moving on air. Every move, every step, in perfect rhythm, flawlessly in tune with each other and the music.

  The spotlight traced their dance, a beautiful tale of love and hope with every step. Every so often, when they moved closest to the audience, Annis caught the expressions of those watching, briefly lit up by the spotlight. Their faces all reflected the same captivation that Annis felt.

  Oscar’s powerful command of the floor as he guided his partner. The grace and tenderness with which Margaret responded. The abounding love that flowed between them, expressed more loudly and more clearly than Annis had ever heard between two people who hadn’t so much as whispered a single word.

  As the song began to wind down, the couple moved back toward the center. The final chords played as Oscar dipped Margaret for a dramatic kiss just before the lights went out and silence struck. Annis clapped with an enthusiasm equal to that of the audience as the couple hurried past her out of the ring, making room for the next performer.

  It was Sawyer. While he might have seemed an obvious choice for circus clown at first glance, he did all but draw a laugh as he came onto the scene with two large lions at his command. The tent fell silent as people watched Sawyer Smalls take on the most royal of savanna beasts. Sawyer and the lions bowed to each other before the ferocious looking cats took turns jumping through hoops, rolling over, prancing around the ring, and, for the grand finale, opening their jaws as wide as possible for Sawyer to stick his head in between their massive fangs. What began as horrified gasps from the crowd erupted into explosive applause as Sawyer retrieved his head, completely unharmed.

  As she stood in the shadows watching her new colleagues perform, Annis witnessed more talent and skill than she ever had in her entire life.

  It wasn’t until Babe appeared in the ring that Annis felt nervous. She held her breath, fearing how the audience would respond to her. Babe had traded her flowing robes for a magnificent gown of sage green silk. Her hair was curled and pulled into an updo and flowers nestled around her head like a tiara. Now she looked like a bearded woman rather than a man in a dress. The enigma of Babe left Annis worried she might be too much for some of the audience to comprehend, and that the
ir confusion would distract them from her performance, or worse yet, the fear of being faced with something unknown would trigger emotions of anger or even hate.

  And perhaps they would have felt all of those things, had it not been for the way Babe played the harp. No sooner had Babe taken a seat at her instrument and strummed the first note that every hushed comment, hissed insult, and rude question subsided. The crowd’s confusion vanished. There was no man or woman. There was simply music, music that stirred emotions, which spilled over as tears that were free to express their truth. Just like Babe. And then it was over. Babe was gone. All anyone remembered was the way she’d made them feel. Unlike the others, there was no immediate applause for her. Too raw were the audience’s emotions to react. Annis craned her neck, trying to see why people weren’t clapping, just before a thunderous ovation overthrew the quiet and lasted longer than any before it.

  Eventually, a new calm settled over the audience and Annis thought for a moment the show had come to an end. Then a familiar pounding of hooves drew her attention to the back of the tent. The team of horses bounded in, galloping from ring to ring, with Sequoyah mounted on the same jet-black stallion Annis had seen him on earlier. This time, though, there was no sign of the gentle mannered man she’d met. He’d been replaced by a warrior who chanted and howled at the top of his lungs as he raced his horses in and out of the rings. War paint decorated his body as well as the horses, who seemed to move in complete unison. Sequoyah began to jump from one horse to another. He hung from their sides. He stood on their backs. He somersaulted off their rear ends. No matter what he did, they kept picking up speed, entirely unfazed by his movements—much unlike the people of the crowd, who were coming out of their seats and cheering and screaming for more. It was the grandest finale Annis could ever have imagined. She felt a rush of adrenaline from watching Sequoyah in action. One look at the audience around her confirmed she wasn’t alone in her experience.

  Hugh and Babe most definitely understood how to please a crowd. If Hugh had seen in each of his performers the heights they could reach even when they’d shown up to his circus no different from her—broken, lost, and unacceptable by society’s strict standards—then perhaps he was right about her too. Maybe she really could create an act of her own. She imagined how she might cast magic upon the audience to captivate them long enough to see something that made them feel as enchanted as everyone else had made them feel tonight. At the very least, she was willing to find out if she could.

  “So, what did you think, love?” Hugh asked, his sly grin creeping over his thin mouth as if to say he already knew the answer.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said. Her breath and her thoughts were tied together, racing and struggling to find some equilibrium within her again after watching the whirlwind of vibrant life unfurl before her for the last two hours. While she’d been watching, it had seemed like she’d spent an eternity inside a timeless space of impossible possibilities. Now it felt as though everything had passed in a matter of seconds, like a flash of magic she couldn’t wait to see again. One taste was all she’d needed to realize she’d been starving for that magic all along.

  Hugh laughed. “Well, I think we all expected that much, at least.” One arm swung out toward her, shielding the back of her shoulders and smoothly ushering her out of the way as two elephants, both adorned in delicate headgear and silk blankets, passed by them. The elephants moved with more grace than Annis thought possible. They could easily maneuver a china shop better than she. “Any other insight?” Hugh continued. “Critique from a fresh set of eyes is nothing to plunder away. Give me your thoughts, love. Raw. Honest. Brutal. I can take it.”

  Annis couldn’t tell if he was being serious anymore. “My thoughts? I’m not sure I’ve any left.” She tripped over a stray piece of rope and nearly tumbled face first to meet it. Hugh snatched her elbow just in time.

  “No thoughts. No coordination.” He chuckled. “Perhaps it’s time to call it a day then, love. Get a proper rest from all the adventure you’ve seen as of late.” He turned over his shoulder, scanning the area with his bright blue eyes. “Maude! Mabel!” he called, getting the twins’ attentions. “You girls think Annis could bunk with you tonight? Just until we sort out a more permanent space for her?”

  Both women clapped in unison. “We’d love to have her,” chirped Maude. Or was it Mabel? Annis couldn’t tell them apart. Reaching a level of exhaustion at which being polite in her inner dialogue ceased to matter, Annis decided it seemed easier to refer to them as the left one and the right one. Regardless of the name of the talkative one, both twins swooped in with their arms outstretched until Annis was within their grasp. Huddled at the center of both women in an embrace that reminded her of a hug but wasn’t, Annis was accompanied from the tent and toward the train cars that surrounded their camp.

  During the show, Annis nearly forgot that the twins shared the same torso. Edi and Millie, the two elephant divas who’d given Francis a run for his money earlier, were part of a four-sister act alongside Mabel and Maude. Each woman spent her portion of the act interacting only with her elephant and standing in such a way that created the illusion Mabel and Maude were standing back-to-back instead of attached. Now their conjoined nature was undeniable to Annis, but in the most welcoming way. Being fully cocooned at the center of their twinship was a warm, inviting place to be, especially as the exhaustion spread and turned Annis’s legs to lead. She began to drag her feet rather than lift them with each step. Mabel and Maude sensed her weight growing heavier and fully supported her elbows as the three continued to their destination.

  The cart was cozy, just like both women. Each twin, however, had her own hand in the decor, proving that they could be as opposite as they were identical. Each side of their sweet and humble home had been claimed by one twin and furnished to her specific likings, down to the color of her designated wall.

  “Mabel’s always had a fondness for green,” Maude muttered in Annis’s ear. “Ghastly color, if you ask me, but she didn’t. Clearly.”

  “Maude would hardly know ghastly if it jumped in her face and kissed her,” her sister countered. “How else do you explain those window treatments?”

  Annis glanced back and forth over her shoulders in time to catch both sisters smirking. They’d been teasing. It did make Annis wonder, though, if these two ever had serious fights. She thought it must be unbearable to be furious with someone and be unable to stomp from the room without them. She also took note of how frustrating it would be to be the mirror image of someone you were angry at. And they were absolute mirror images. If they hadn’t been stuck always on one side of the other, it would be impossible to tell them apart. She knew she’d likely forget which was which come morning. She giggled at the silliness of her thoughts and realized sleep was necessary and imminent. “Perhaps a full tour, complete with taste discussions shall wait until morning?” Mabel suggested, as though reading Annis’s mind.

  “Probably best. Poor dear can hardly keep her eyes open,” her sister agreed. They began to move again, Annis still between them. “It’s not much, I’m afraid,” Maude went on, “but it’s quite comfortable. Or so we’ve been told. Our sister Maeve stays here when she visits. Always seems quite pleased with the accommodations.”

  “Sure, that’s what she enjoys,” Mabel said with a wink and a giggle.

  “I think she’s also rather fond of August,” Maude explained to a silent, somewhat dumbstruck Annis as the three moved toward the small seating area in the far-right corner.

  Placing Annis down in the center of the cushions, both sisters began to clear most of the throw pillows that had accumulated there and, before long, a reasonably sized sleeping space revealed itself. Annis clutched the last of the pillows to her, slid it under the side of her head, and sunk down. Her body melted into the soft surface. She felt a blanket being pulled tenderly over her worn body only seconds before she felt nothing at all. Sleep had finally come for her and, this time
, she surrendered.

  Chapter Six

  MABEL AND MAUDE

  When Annis awoke, pitch black drenched everything. Panic struck within her when she was unable to place herself. After several deep breaths, she calmed long enough to remember that stumbling upon the Brooks and Bennet Circus hadn’t been a dream. It had all really happened.

  Sitting up carefully, she placed her feet on the ground beneath her makeshift bunk in the corner of Maude and Mabel’s train car, feeling the vibration of the moving train. The sensation coursed its way up through her soles and into her calves, tingling almost to the point of discomfort. Still, Annis kept her feet in place, thoroughly pleased with the ability to feel connected to the world around her again. She was regaining her presence and feeling more and more at home in her own skin. There was comfort in the sense of home that came no longer from some outside source, from some house-shaped structure. Now, home was inside of her. And it was a place no one could ever rip from her.

  “Annis?” a voice whispered in the dark. “Annis, is that you?”

  “Sorry,” Annis mumbled under her breath. “Did I wake you?” Now that her eyes had begun to adjust to the dark, she was able to make out an outline of one of the sisters, sitting half-upright, half-attached to the other sleeping sibling.

  “Not at all,” the voice said with a hushed and airy lightness. “I don’t sleep nearly as much as everyone else around here. I find my dreaming is a great deal more enjoyable when I’m awake to do it.” She fluffed her pillow into a more upright position. “But I noticed a figure sitting across from me when I turned my head and thought I better check and be sure it was you.”

  “Who else could it be?” The train was in motion, after all. It seemed unlikely they’d have any surprise visitors in the middle of the night here.

  The woman across from her swirled her hand dismissively. Annis sincerely wished she’d identify herself. It was maddening not knowing which of the twins she was speaking to, mostly because she was disappointed in herself for being unable to tell on her own. Surely there were distinguishing markers between the two, telltale signs that spoke to their individuality and made it possible for others to tell them apart. If they existed, though, Annis had yet to discover them.