Circus Solace

by Chris Castle

  “What about the magic?” He looked from Lucas to Marcus. “In the photos, from what you tell us, there’s this…magic, like sorcery. Where did you get that?” Marcus walked over to him and put his hand on Matt’s shoulder.

  “You don’t ever bring that with you,” he said quietly. Matt saw him glance up to Pa, so he was talking to both of them. “That’s what comes from people being together and sharing all of this.”

  “You’ll know it on the day, when it happens,” Lucas added, putting his own hand on Pa’s shoulder. “It’ll break, like summer rain and then you won’t be able to miss it, trust me.”

  “So this…” Pa said, looking from Lucas, to Marcus and finally down to Matt. “This is really happening.”

  “Yes, it is,” Marcus said. Matt nodded in agreement. Last of all was Lucas, whose grin grew even broader.

  “Get ready,” he said and brought them all together.

  *

  The next few days and weeks were a blur and a rush for Matt. On Marcus’ instructions, they trimmed back the grasses and cut back overhanging branches. At first it had felt like they had left it too late. Yet, when they began, the grass cut easily and the branches fell without any give. It was almost as if they had been waiting, Matt thought. Within days, the lovely, unruly mess of the back gardens was a rough square and something like a space where people could spend an afternoon. The bigger trees tilted just enough to offer shade from the sun or respite from the rain and the smaller ones seemed just the right size for children to play by or adults to rest upon.

  Over that time, the people came to stop by. First up was Stunt-man Steve, who wore a silver flying jacket and carried a scar that went from his ear to his jaw. He looked quite intimidating to Matt until he laughed and then his whole face broke with a smile and even the scar looked as if it might have come from having too much of a good time. He told stories all afternoon, most involving film stars-some Matt knew, others Pa had told him about-and when he left, Steve stopped once at the house and shook his head, as if seeing it for the first time. He drove away in a vintage car that ran so smoothly, the engine didn’t even send the birds out of the trees.

  After that first visit, someone stopped by every other day. Most of them were happy, some of them were sad but all of them stopped in the shadow of the old house and looked at it as if seeing it for the first time, all over again. Matt found a dozen paper boats left in the kitchen by Florence and a t-shirt he had been looking for since the day they arrived hung on the back gate after Tracker Willis’ visit. Each of them told stories, some for hours, and others for just a few minutes, but all of them spoke as if all of it had happened only days, or hours before. Matt also noticed that while they were older people, none of them seemed old. If they carried illness, they hid it. Once, Matt wondered if they were the same outside in real life or if the house was an antidote that offered brief respite. It seemed ridiculous but a part of him believed it; as if the house, just for a short while, made them young again, healthy again, whole again.

  The four people they had come into contact with arrived over time. The twins arrived early-Sara was full of boundless energy and cart-wheeled around the grass as if she were warming up for the big day. Bobby kept her in check and accepted Matt’s offer of looking around the house and the photographs they had put on the wall. He stopped at each one and spent what seemed like a long time to Matt just studying them. Once or twice, he reached out and almost put a fingertip to the picture and then stopped himself.

  “It’s like they’re still here,” he whispered and then looked over to Matt, embarrassed. “I mean, when I see the photos.” Matt nodded and knew exactly what he meant. It was the same for Matt, seeing small pieces of his ma dotted around the house, almost everywhere he looked.

  “I understand,” Matt said and the honesty in his voice made Bobby stopped blushing.

  “Yes, I think you do,” he said and they both smiled.

  Ms. Solstice blew through like a jittery whirlwind, pointing out the exact spot where she wanted her stand and then insisting on a cup of tea, to be drunk, in a circle, in the garden. After three exactly three sips, she tossed the rest of the cup into the grass and peered into her cup, almost wearing the mug like an eye-patch. She hummed, looked at Pa and then handed him her cup.

  “I’ll be here before midday,” she said and walked off.

  “Ahem,” Mr. Stopper stepped out to where Matt and Pa were working later in that same afternoon and coughed loudly to get their attention.

  “I’m looking to meet my partner, this other fella, who you’re looking to team me up with,” he said. His voice was gruff but Matt was surprised that under that, the tough old guy sounded nervous.

  “Sure, Mr. Stopper. We could walk you down there now, if you’d like,” Pa said.

  The three of them walked down to the clearing and then began the mazy walk through the caves to where Max lived. Matt had not seen them since that first day, though he had often looked for him from his window. He cleared his throat.

  “Mr. Everheart? Max?” he called out. The three of them listened to his voice echo down the tunnels and into the dark.

  “Welcome,” he answered, though it was hard to decide if he was close-by or far away. The sound of shuffling footsteps grew and grew until Max finally appeared at the mouth of the cave. He appeared bigger but leaner; Matt thought he looked less ravaged, as if something in him had been restored.

  “Mr. Everheart,” Matt began. “This is Mr. Stopper. I’m sure Lucas mentioned the idea of working as a pair of strongmen?”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Mr. Stopper whispered under his breath and for a moment, Matt worried that the man would be frightened, or worse, offended by whom he was meeting.

  “Mr. Stopper, this is Mr. Everheart,” Pa said.

  “Son, are you a zombie?” Mr. Stopper said, though there was no malice in his voice. It reminded Matt of the time Lucas asked him if he was a Capricorn.

  “Yes,” Max drawled and it seemed as if everyone was holding their breath. “And you are?”

  “Well,” the old man said and Matt looked at Pa, who was looking anxiously from one to the other. “I guess you could call me surprised, but mostly you can call me Tom. Tommy.” He stepped forward and stuck out a hand, which Max took. The two shook and in the next moment everyone let out a deep breath that seemed to whistle all the way down to the end of the cave.

  The four of them walked back to the gardens and Max set up in the long shade of the trees. Mr. Stopper stood in the sunlight and the two began to practise their routine together. For a while, Matt and Pa just watched as the two of them pulled trees marked with a chalk ‘x’ by Lucas, clean out of the ground down to their roots. Within an hour, the two of them had cleared every part of the garden. Next up, they casually chucked steel tent poles and acrobatic equipment from one to the other and set up the pitch for Sara’s act and Helter-Skelter-Sally’s high wire performance. By the time they stopped for drinks, Mr. Stopper was talking away and Max nodded, sometimes speaking and always smiling. Even as they sipped their drinks, neither of them appeared to have broken sweat. For a moment, Mr. Stopper talked to Pa about foundations and Matt spoke to Max.

  “Is everything okay with Mr. Stopper?” Matt asked, pouring more lemonade for Max and handing it over.

  “He likes books,” he smiled and sipped his drink for a moment. “He’s always telling stories… like a book…the way he talks.” Mr. Stopper overheard and ma’s wink appeared as he raised his glass.

  “You live a life, you earn the right to tell stories,” Mr. Stopper said coming over to them. He brushed his glass against all the others.

  “You look bigger,” Pa said to Max, unable to hide his interest. It was true. The shape of his bones was covered and his skin had sheen to it, like spring leaves.

  “Been eating,” he said after a while and Matt tried to stop his mouth fall into a perfect ‘o’ but failed.

  “Plants…not people,” he added and grinned. “I’m a…vegetar
ian zombie.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Mr. Stopper said at last and everyone laughed, Max loudest of all.

  *

  Matt and Pa worked so hard that days blurred and were lost, until it only became about finishing the work. The two of them were covered in sweat and blisters, so the idea of hosting an event, a circus for a town full of strangers, no less, became secondary to the mission of getting it done. It was only at the end of each day, when they sat looking back to the grasses and the trees that reality returned to them. Sometimes, as they talked, watching the sun go down, they would laugh and other times be quiet, thinking about what had been made and what was still lost.

  The gang stayed some evenings and other nights it was just the two of them. Matt enjoyed both; the other men were great fun, telling stories and teasing each other in that harmless way that only friend’s can pull off. Yet, Matt held the other times closer to his heart when it was just Pa, talking about the day or what was still to do. It was simple but it was everything. Sometimes it would lead Pa into talking about other things, ma and their life together starting out. On all of these nights, Matt would join in but mostly he would listen. It wasn’t that he was shy but more that it seemed a waste not to sit back and listen to all these good stories being passed around and offered up to his ears.

  “What about the house?” Matt said, on one of those nights when everyone was together. The other men looked at him and waited. It was only Max, on one of his rare stays, who seemed to nod and started gazing around the walls.

  “I mean the photos on the walls. Should we have the house open for people to walk through? Did they do that, too?” Matt looked to Marcus and Lucas.

  “I guess they did,” Lucas said, “but it was a different time then. Do you want people walking through your house? People would understand if you kept it behind closed doors.”

  “If that’s what they did then, it’s what we’ll do now,” Pa said, glancing over and nodding to Matt.

  “It won’t be like a museum,” Marcus said, looking around. “It will be more like a place restored.”

  “Where the good memories… live,” Max added and each of them nodded in agreement.

  “What else, Matty?” Pa asked, sensing there was more to it. He could always tell when Matt had more to say.

  “What about posters?” He said and looked around.

  “It could be dangerous to advertise what we’re doing,” Marcus said, the old fear in him rising at the thought of the clown.

  “Come on now,” Lucas said. “He must know what we’re doing by now.”

  “He’s waiting,” Matt said quietly and thought of an electrical storm, on the horizon and clear to see, slowly coming closer.

  “We’ll deal with him as and when it happens,” Pa said, looking around to each of them. He said it with a conviction that seemed to push all the fear in the room out the door.

  “Even so, I think posters would be a step in the wrong direction,” Marcus said, regaining his composure.

  “What about fliers?” Matt said. “We just slip them under the door and make people aware.”

  “I think that’s a smart move,” Pa replied and the others nodded in agreement.

  “I think that’s a smart kid,” Lucas added, making everyone laugh and dispelling the last of the tension.

  For a while they talked about what could go on the advert. In the end, Matt took out a pencil and a notepad and drew the best ideas to take to Bobby the next day. Eventually, the three of them wandered to the door, making their plans for the next day and readying to walk out under the stars. As they stepped out onto the porch, Max hesitated, slowing everyone down.

  “If the clown comes…” he said. “I’ll protect… all of you.” He nodded and didn’t wait for anyone to answer. Instead, he lifted his hand in a wave and began walking back to the clearing, all of him illuminated by the stars and the full moon, so he almost looked as if he were made of silver.

  *

  The next day, Matt and Pa visited Bobby and within an hour, he had managed to cut together the best parts of the designs and fashion it into one image. Another hour later, Matt’s satchel was full of the ticket stub sized adverts, as was Pa’s work bag. Matt was pleased with the design and liked the idea that no one person’s idea had been picked over the other; that it was something they had made together, as a group.

  For the rest of the morning and the afternoon, the two of them wandered the streets and drove to the farms and slowly but surely emptied their bags. For a while, Matt couldn’t shake the idea that the clown and his goons were going to come around the corner and pin them up against the wall. When he got so nervous that his hands shook, he looked over to Pa and saw how steady his fingers were and how much colour was in his cheeks. If he was scared, he wasn’t letting it show. Or maybe it wasn’t that; maybe, Pa had stronger feelings, like hope and determination that kept his fears at bay. Matt began to think like that and soon enough, his hands no longer trembled.

  *

  The day before the performance, Mr. Stopper and Max visited to secure the last minute ropes and bindings, while Lucas and Marcus added the finishing touches to the stalls. Matt went about, adjusting the seating while Pa fixed a problem with the high wire. Bobby crouched in the background, as he had done on previous days, quietly taking photos of everyone at work, occasionally setting down the camera to help out when needed. No-one spoke unless it was about the work and everyone seemed to know what needed to be done to push in the right direction.

  Everyone sat together around the lunch table and Marcus brought out a feast from the back seat of his car. He laid out the food in the centre of the table and gestured with his hands for everyone to get stuck in. Matt handed out paper plates and Pa poured coffee and pop. After everyone’s plate was full and glasses were brimming, Lucas began calling out ‘speech.’ At first, everyone laughed but soon after they all joined in until Pa reluctantly got up off his chair.

  “I just want to say,” he began and Matt watched, seeing Pa for the first time look uncomfortable, uncertain. He was blushing and somehow it made him looked far, far younger.

  “I just want to say thank you for all your help,” he went on. “Not just with this,” he said, waving at the fields. “You’ve helped me and Matty a lot, so thank you.” In the next moment, he put his hand on Matt’s shoulder and then he was up, standing side by side with Pa.

  “Thank you,” Matt managed to say, feeling his throat tighten. In the next moment there was a flash of clapping, that swelled into thunderous applause, led by Lucas and echoed by Mr. Stopper and then all of them were cheering and hollering, as Matt and Pa slipped back into their seats, in amongst the noise. Finally, they began to eat.

  “Now, back to business,” Lucas said, as the eating finally slowed down. “I’d like to do the final checklist, if I may. Okay, so front and centre, we have the stage for Sara and her acrobatics, Stuntman Steve, Helter-skelter Sally on the high wire, Cannonball, Tumblers, Walkin’ and of course these two strong fellows right here,” he said, pointing to Max and Mr. Stopper.

  “Then,” Marcus picked up, as Lucas paused to chomp on a chicken leg. “We have the booths to the left and right for Ms. Solstice, Hammy and Florence.”

  “Tracker can just wander,” Lucas picked up, wiping his fingers. “We’ll have the far left for the music with Belle, Aquarius and Jingles. All that leaves is Slinky…and well, Slinky goes where Slinky goes.”

  “The house will just have the back door open for anyone who wants to look at the photos,” Marcus added.

  “Folks bring their own picnics, Marcus will have a food tent for everyone else, we’ll leave a few jugs of water out for anyone who wants it and that, is pretty much that,” Lucas said. Marcus rolled his eyes and shook his head to Matt.

  “How about you, Lucas,” he asked with a theatrical sigh. “What will you be doing?”

  “Me?” Lucas pointed to himself and grinned. “Well, I guess I could be the Master of Ceremonies, the Ringmaster, th
at sort of thing, if you think it would be necessary.” Matt couldn’t help but laugh and he noticed Marcus and the others were, too.

  “That would be fine,” Marcus said. “Anything else?” After a moment’s silence where everyone looked to each other, Max coughed and shuffled in his seat a little. All eyes went over to him

  “Could I…still juggle?” He asked quietly and for a moment, all his manners and movements mirrored Pa from a few minutes before. Lucas looked over to Marcus and they both smiled.

  “Come with us, Max,” Lucas said and wiped his fingers on a napkin.

  “Max, after you are done the strong-arm business, we’ve made a special little booth just over there in the shade of the Cyprus tree,” Marcus said, as all of them wandered over to the small booth. It had a drape over the top of it, like a handkerchief. Marcus and Lucas stood either side and slowly pulled it down. A bright, gleaming sign dazzled out from the shade of the branches. It read:

  ‘Master Max’s House of Manual Dexterity, Skills and Perplexity.’

  “How do you like that?” Lucas said, as Max slowly walked over to the booth. He reached up and put his hand to the sign.

  “I like it…just fine,” he said and his mouth curved out into a long, perfect smile.

  *

  The others left at dusk and left Matt and Pa alone for the evening. Still full from their impossibly big lunch, they decided to go up on the roof with drinks and wait for the moon. Matt set himself down on the slates next to Pa and looked out to the fields and the grasses that were now something else entirely. The trimmed grass seemed to shimmer and the tidy trees sparkled. The high wire and the ropes looked like a ladder all the ways to the stars. Matt imagined taking the trapeze and swinging up to the moon and knew if he did the house and the land would offer him safe passage all the way up to the night sky.

  “Looks like something, doesn’t it, Matty?” Pa said, staring out to the land.

  “It does,” he answered. By his palm, the arrows his ma carved into the slates years ago gently pressed into his skin.