Circus of the Grand Design

by Robert Freeman Wexler

  "My child, I will nourish you and make you strong," she said, and he cried, clutching her breast with his miniature fingers, filling his mouth with her nipple, drawing forth the vitality he needed.

  He awoke with his mouth clamped firmly over one of her nipples. He pulled away and felt a milky sweetness on his lips and in his mouth; he swallowed. The liquid flowed down his throat to settle in his stomach. He lay on his back and stared up at the white ceiling.

  Again he awoke with his mouth over a nipple. She stroked his head as though he were a pet, or a child.

  Not knowing if he was awake or dreaming, he watched a patch of sunlight move across the room. Particles of dust floated in its path, hovering and spinning. Wishing he were among them, he reached toward the dust, but couldn't grasp the particles. The sunlight made him think of his companions on the train, and he wondered what they might be doing. His mind wandered in a maze of rooms filled with Dawn's chirping voice, Bodyssia grunting as she exercised, Miss Linda reciting a poem, Gold juggling half a dozen red apples, but he couldn't see their faces. Each was a blur with a name, and later, even the names faded.

  Trying to picture his companions, he saw only Cybele's breasts and was unable to look away. He put his face between them. Then he was calm.

  Again and again, with his lips pressed to one of her nipples, he awoke. She stroked his head. He slept.

  Part Five

  Chapter 32: Everywhere Green

  Sunlight floated into Lewis's room, real sunlight, aglow with expectation. Cybele, a soft anchor beside him, her breath in his ear like wind pushing a sailing ship. Waves slapped the hull, a slow, rhythmic force that relaxed and invigorated him. He had traveled so long in this ship that it felt like the only home he had known, and the crew, his only family. But the captain drove them farther and farther out, past archipelagos covered in green, past jagged volcanic outcroppings that could tear out the hull, toward...Only the captain knew.

  Once, Lewis would have questioned everything, demanded to know the captain's plan, but now, he conserved energy for future encounters. Down in his cabin, the winds and reasons seemed far away, with his companion as his only care. She slept on, and her sleeping fortified him. But when the sunlight crossed his eyes, it awakened in him a desire to be away, among flowers, trees, and flowing water. Without looking out the window, without thinking of Cybele, he dressed and hurried to the caboose.

  The train stood on a ridge, above a river. No buildings in sight, only the steep slope falling to the water and across, a wave of subtle hills. Everywhere was green, ferns and shrubs and spiny-leafed trees with bare trunks and conical tops, a vivid green, like the first onslaught of spring, fighting its way back from the death of winter. The sweet, warm air intoxicated him. He sat, staring at the water a hundred or so feet below. The sheen of the river drew him. The hillside here was too steep to descend, but there would be time for that later. For now, all that mattered was the sun and surrounding green.

  He lay back in the grass and breathed, each breath a celebration. No cloud punctuated the sky, and the blue, wider than an ocean, touched all the distant, unseen worlds. He wanted to roll in the green, absorb the richness of the land into all his cells. Lying on his right side, he stared at the grass in front of his eyes. It was about three inches high, with several fronds extending from a smooth trunk, more like a miniature shrub than a grass, perhaps an annual that had recently sprouted and was just beginning its life cycle. This welcoming space was his, a reward for his trial in the sunless world of the train. Life begins here. All around him, the green echoed his thoughts, as though forming them was a group effort. And it must be true, for he had never felt this alive. It was the green—nowhere else existed green this vibrant. What culture bloomed here, what vigorous confederations inhabited the region? He looked forward to their next performance as he had to no previous one.

  But finding out about the performance could wait. He sat up. He had to touch the water.

  Farther on, the slope became more gradual, and at the riverside he found some of his companions. They had spread a blanket on a level patch near the water. Ferns and horsetails blanketed the opposite bank, and beyond, a forest of fern-like trees.

  Dawn embraced him. "Where have you been keeping yourself?" she asked.

  He said he had been ill, bedridden, but had now recovered fully. She told him that they had performed with Desmonica riding the horse, now that the child—a boy—had been born. Lewis sat on the blanket between Dawn and the redhead from the mall-town. Gold dug through a large wicker hamper, spreading paper-wrapped sandwiches out on the blanket. Leonora lay on her side, her shirt pulled up above the mound of her belly. Gold kept glancing at her, as though worried that labor was imminent.

  Leonora's size mystified Lewis—it didn't seem as though much time had elapsed since she became pregnant.

  The others began eating, but he felt a sudden aversion for the food. After so long without solid food, he would have to be cautious. Dawn opened a plastic container holding strips of raw vegetables, and he reached for a carrot, chewed it slowly.

  "Remember when Miss Linda and Barca were engaged?" Dawn asked. Everyone else nodded, even the redhead.

  "That must have been before I joined," Lewis said.

  "Hey guy, I don't think so," Gold said. "They broke it off right after our last show."

  "And she was mad at that man, for sure," the redhead said.

  "Barca was even willing to find someone else to be the clown, so she wouldn't have to perform anymore," Dawn said.

  When then? Why hadn't she told him? And Barca, surely he knew about what happened...sex in the pipe room—but that made no sense...Barca must have been later. Submerged and timeless with Cybele, life for the rest of the circus rushed by while Lewis slept.

  "Maybe this timid business is an act," the redhead said. "My older sister did things like that to get attention. She'd act real sweet around my parents, then we'd go out and she'd get drunk and hang out with sleazy guys. And my parents always thought I was the wild one."

  "Families can be a royal pain," Leonora said.

  Gold patted her leg. "That's why we're starting our own."

  Lewis tried to remember how long he and Cybele had been together, tried to gauge it by using the number of performances as a scale, but everything was murky. He recalled the time, soon after Desmonica announced her pregnancy, that the circus crew had erected the tent and performed at a crowded, outdoor festival with music, food and drink vendors, fencing matches. Lewis had gone out to explore but, missing her, soon returned. He had pulled the bed closer to the window so they could look out at the stars. That was when his dependence on her became complete. He shuddered, engulfed by a sudden hunger for her.

  "You're not getting cold, are you?" Dawn asked.

  "Just had a chill. It's nothing." Sweat tickled his underarms. At first the sun had been a glory, but now the heat and humidity smothered him. After all his frozen time with Cybele he wasn't used to raw elements.

  The redhead called out. "Hey, come look at this." She stood by the water, pointing.

  "I ain't moving till I know it's worth it," Leonora said. "It was too hard getting comfortable, and I feel like a whale."

  "A most attractive whale, my love," Gold said.

  Dawn got up and walked toward the redhead. Thinking he might splash his face, Lewis followed.

  "It's gone," the redhead said when they reached her. "Let's stand here a minute and see if it comes back."

  "There's nothing here," Dawn said.

  "You'll see. Be quiet." The surface rippled, and a flat, fish-like head emerged, followed by a sprawling, ungainly body. It reminded Lewis of a newt, a gigantic, poorly-designed newt. Its reddish body was about two feet in length, with a long tail that had a fringe-like fin. It moved in surges, as though its legs were too weak for support on land.

  Shouting sounded from farther up the bank, and the newt-thing slithered back into the water. The acrobats came tramping through the reeds, carrying f
ishing rods and a tackle box. Desmonica, followed by Lullaby, sat on the blanket; Desmonica rested her baby on her lap.

  "This is Jánoska's first picnic," Desmonica said. "I hope he's good."

  "He's an angel," Lullaby said.

  "Not if he's like his father." Desmonica looked toward the acrobats. "Just kidding, honey," she said.

  Lewis looked at baby Jánoska's wrinkled face. He couldn't imagine how he had missed such a momentous occasion as a birth, but no one seemed to have noticed his absence. What else had he missed? Watching the baby, he was engulfed by the same revulsion as from his dream of being suckled.

  Kneeling at the river's edge, he splashed his face and hair, letting the water drip down his back. It was cooler than he had expected. He sat on the bank with his back to the baby. The acrobats assembled their reels and selected lures; the Chala women picked reeds, wove them into a basket. The four acrobats spread along the sandy bank. He wondered if they would hook the newt thing. The Chalas built a fire, then one of them picked up a block of porous wood and carved it into a figure, which she placed beside the basket. Lewis leaned forward, staring at the carving. It had Cybele's face.

  One of the acrobats, Linusz, cried out. Fishing line whizzed through the water. János rushed to help, grasping the rod while Linusz worked the reel. The others dropped their rods and stood behind them, shouting encouragement. Linusz and János walked backwards, heaving their bodies against the weight of the fish. Its head emerged, then they flopped it onto the shore. It was at least six feet long, with a fat body and an oddly elongated head, which it raised and lowered as though its neck was hinged. Linusz stepped forward and clubbed it on the head, then held it up to show the Chala women.

  The Chala women seemed unimpressed with its strange appearance. One of them sliced it open to clean it, then hacked it into steaks; the other threaded poles through the steaks and hung them over the fire.

  The acrobats picked up their rods. "I'll catch something bigger than that," János said.

  ~

  Lewis passed his door without entering. He feared that if he did, he would never leave. Unable to participate in the feasting, he had left the shoreline picnic with its stench of roasting fish and made his way back to the train. Emptiness overwhelmed him; everything of his being had been focused on Cybele, and events—childbirth, Miss Linda's engagement with Barca—had elapsed without his knowledge, but what pained him the most, now, was not knowing how to change. At Perry's door he raised his hand to knock, but remembered the time he had mistaken it for his own. The dining car would be safer.

  And there, Perry and Dillon shared a booth. Lewis slid into the seat beside Dillon.

  "Have you been outside?" he asked. "It's amazing—the air, everything. Robust. I didn't see a town though, no place to perform."

  "We will not be performing," Dillon said. He clasped his hands on the table, and stared down at them.

  Lewis became aware of Dillon's appearance, pale, more haggard than the time in the dining car when he had talked about...what was it? The energy of conflict and mistrust? Stopping at a place like this should have relieved Dillon's tension. Lewis glanced at Perry, but the jockey's expression revealed nothing.

  Cinteotl brought three mugs of root tea. Cinteotl always knew when their needs were the greatest. They sipped tea in silence; after finishing his, Perry spoke.

  "If I understand correctly, it's a question of our ability to depart." Perry glanced at Dillon before continuing. "We've encountered something..."

  "Suction, you could call it," Dillon said, his voice a whisper, "has affixed us here until the proper combination of events can break us free."

  More riddles. "Events, what events?" Lewis asked.

  "Nothing that we have the capability of enacting," Perry said.

  Lewis looked from one to another. "How can there be nothing...has this ever happened?"

  "I must..." Dillon's voice held a frantic edge. He reached past Lewis and gripped the edge of the table. "My quarters...rest."

  Lewis moved out of the way.

  "I've never seen him so shaken," Perry said after Dillon had left.

  "What would get us out of here—what was that about no capability of enacting?"

  "It's a folktale actually, but then the whole train is like something from a folktale."

  Perry told Lewis a story that he recognized from the conversation between Perry and Jenkins during the mall-town banquet. But this time he knew that he was the one, the rider moving across the parched landscape. Perry didn't know, hadn't made the connections from Cybele to horse to Lewis. Lewis lowered his head to the table and closed his eyes. Perry touched his shoulder.

  "It's not such a bad situation in which to find ourselves. Think of our group as colonists, pioneers in a distant land. We already have the next generation underway."

  Had this been Cybele's plan, then? Impregnate the women in the circus to prepare the performers for their role as colonists? Well he wouldn't cooperate. No one could force him. She couldn't force him. The door on the far side opened. He hoped it would be Dillon, returning to tell them he had found a way to escape; instead, Barca and Miss Linda walked past holding hands, apparently reunited. Her face bore an expression of serenity he had never expected to see on her, and it soothed his ragged mood.

  Chapter 33: Cybele's Land

  The idyllic green world gave everyone a chance to break from their routine of rehearsal and performance. Lewis was sure that most of the others had no idea that this was more than a routine gap in their schedule. Some decided to take all their meals to the riverbank. Eventually, the redhead and Dawn began sleeping outside in the field by the train. Perry, seeing their situation as a chance for adventure, would ride off on his horse for days, far along the river and over the hills. The acrobats fished constantly, ranging the terrain with their poles. Barca kept the elephants inside most of the time, to avoid despoiling the area, though he allowed them occasional trips to the river and a nearby growth of tree ferns.

  Once, Lewis would have relished this break, would have joined in the excursions, but this was Cybele's land. He wanted nothing from it. Still refusing to return to his room, and her, he slept on the couch in the lounge. In the storage car he found enough clothes that fit him. Aside from Dillon, whom he never saw, the only other person avoiding the outside was Bodyssia, who spent most of her time with her animals and in the gym.

  Despite his longer and longer separation from Cybele, he remained averse to eating. Even the thought of food caused nausea, and he subsisted on Cinteotl's root tea and a few raw vegetables. He couldn't stop thinking about the tale Perry had related, couldn't hide from what he saw as his destiny. In the lounge, he searched for books with references to their situation, but found nothing. According to Perry, the Tale of Renewal involved the sacrifice of an individual to save the land, but this land didn't resemble the parched landscape of the story. Here, all was in bloom, alive and active as nothing he had ever seen, more like what one would expect after renewal. Maybe this place had nothing to do with that story. Dillon didn't know what he was talking about. The manager's ineptitude had trapped them here, not some stupid myth.

  Nevertheless, he would not rejoin Cybele. Even if she had nothing to do with their situation, she controlled him and he was tired of being controlled. She couldn't keep him in the room. Still, his lingering on the train despite the glories out there—that was her influence. He would leave, explore the green world.

  But he waited, and the days passed. Each time he went to the dining car for root tea, he felt her pull, and he feared that if he attempted to walk to the caboose alone, he wouldn't be able to pass his door without succumbing.

  Finally, the acrobats provided an opportunity. When they returned from one of their trips to feast on fish curry, he accepted an invitation from János to go back out with him and József. In their company, he could venture safely through the train.

  ~

  Lewis, with János and József, had been walking along the river an
d up a tributary for most of the morning when they reached the base of a waterfall. János squatted by the water, picking his teeth with a sliver of reed while Lewis and József stared up at the overhanging cliff. Lewis saw no way to reach the top. They would have to try fishing here, at the base. He liked the way the glittering spray from the waterfall filled the air. Leaving the train, at least for the day, was the best thing for him, a further affirmation of his independence.

  "We climb there," József said, pointing across the stream to the area beside the falling water, where there was more of a slope.

  "The best fishing will be there at the top," János said.

  Lewis shook his head. They could climb it. He would wait down here. János walked downstream about twenty yards, away from the spray, and took off his shoes. He and József waded to the other side. Lewis was about to tell them he couldn't make it, but János had already started climbing. Lewis removed his shoes and crossed.

  János had hung a rope from his belt; when he reached the top of the cliff, József attached their packs for János to pull up. József started climbing, making the top in little time. Lewis followed, concentrating on using his legs, as Miss Linda had instructed him when they were on the ladder in the pipe-room, but his arms and legs burned before he was halfway up.

  He couldn't make it, stupid, so stupid of him to try, to think he could do something the acrobats could do. Sweat dampened his forehead, ran into his eyes; he dipped his face to his shoulder to wipe the moisture from his upper lip. He drew even with a protruding slab of rock, the surface of which looked wide enough to sit on, and was about to stop and rest, when János called down.