Wonder When You’ll Miss Me (20 page)

“You just need makeup,” she said. “And maybe a wig. Then you're all set.”

I sat down and she fit a bobbed pink wig tightly over my scalp, tucking away wisps of my own bright hair. I tried not to blink while she glued long silver lashes to my lids and painted my face with a palette of bright colors and glitter. Her brushes were soft and her strokes tickled, but when I stood again and looked in the mirror I had disappeared. In my place stood a strange pale sparkly creature. And she was beautiful.

 

The fat girl walked me to the elephant truck tossing popcorn in my path to announce my arrival.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” she hollered. “Step right up.”

I ignored her as best I could. When we reached the elephants, Jim gave me an appreciative whistle and I blushed and made a clumsy curtsy.

“You look lovely, Annabelle. That Wilma,” Jim said. “She does perform magic.”

He looked pretty good himself. He wore a broad white top hat and a sequined light blue tuxedo that shimmered as he moved. His shirt was silver and ruffled, and even his shoes sparkled. But he smelled very strongly of sweat.

“Come on,” he said. “We have plenty to do.”

We dressed Olivia in a silver-and-white clown collar and Bluebell in a blue-and-white one. Then Jim urged them each down on their front knees and I helped him secure their headpieces—red diamond-shaped patches that were centered on each of their foreheads by thick, draping gold chains.

“Very elegant,” Jim said when we were done. And then, “Up, girls.”

“We have to crap them out now,” he told me, and gave a signal. The elephants obediently stood on their hind legs. They were unbelievably
huge. I asked what “crap them out” meant, though I thought knew: more work for me.

“Well, we don't want them to let loose in the ring, right? So gravity's going to give us a little hand right now. Down! Now let's take care of this little business. Luv, would you grab the shovel?”

I teetered over to the wheelbarrow in my heels, which were beginning to pinch. Jim led the elephants away from our entrance, one by one, and commanded each to stand on her back legs again for a count of ten.

“Now shit, Livvy, shit,” he coaxed. “Come on, Olivia, honey, let it go, let it go…”

Behind him a colorful trio of clowns strolled by arguing about baseball.

“Come on, Blue, a big one for Papa, now, come on, girl…”

And so on, until each had released a huge heap of manure.

“Annabelle?” He gestured towards the pile and my heart sank a little to be shoveling shit in costume, but I smiled and got the wheelbarrow.

“Good girls,” he said to the bulls, patting their trunks, and offered each an orange.

 

“We're nearly ready,” Jim said a few minutes later, as he gathered a few props from the truck. He gave me a big red ball and a black bull hook to carry and took one of each himself. Then he told me to take Bluebell's lead and follow him.

I looked up at Bluebell and tried not to think about how easily she could crush me or kick me or pick me up in her enormous trunk and smash me repeatedly into the ground. Instead I thought about us walking calmly into a tent of strangers.

I am Annabelle,
I thought.
I can do anything
. And I felt it, at that moment, more than I ever had.

Bluebell and I followed behind Jim and Olivia to the tent entrance, which was a flap in the side wall, a hidden door that had been tied off so you could see inside, through a wide aisle in the bleachers, and into the ring.

As we approached I heard the band playing something zippy and fun. The ringmaster's voice tumbled down from above: “
The fantastic frolicking Equine glories of the Thomasettes!
”

Out here in the night, it was hard to make out faces. Figures moved back and forth, their features hidden by costumes, by makeup, by darkness. A clip light attached to a post was aimed away from the entrance
toward the ground to ensure that no one tripped, but it did nothing for identification.

In the ring, two glittering women rode in a circle standing on the backs of Uno and Billy with Dos close behind. They didn't hold on at all, these Thomasettes, just stood with their arms out as the horses rounded the ring. And then they flipped, both at the same time, so that the one who'd been on Uno, in the front, was now on Billy, and the one on Billy was now on Dos. The crowd loved it, but that was just the beginning, they did handstands, they leapt off and on the horses. At one point they cartwheeled back and forth, passing each other. Then one leapt off and the horses stopped running in a circle.

I turned to Jim, but he wasn't watching. He was whispering in Olivia's ear. We were surrounded by clowns in enormous shoes and white faces, their red noses held in their hands. Some were tall, some short. One was very short and looked suspiciously like Sam, but he was watching the show so I couldn't see his face.

Now, in the ring, one girl balanced on the shoulders of another. The horses circled again.

At the edge of the tent, I saw five shapes huddled together, four large, one small, and wondered if they were the Genershes. People looked ghostly, their faces disappearing into shadow unless the spill from the show caught a cheek, a chin, the curve of a forehead, the shine of a costume. I felt that I had plunged into the underbelly of a fantastic dream, and at the same time was more awake than I'd ever been before.

But I missed something. All at once the clowns pushed past, and from the darkness emerged a little car, which they chased into the ring. I hadn't seen the horse act finish and I hadn't seen where they'd gone, though I could hear their
clop clop clop
now, coming around the side of the tent.

“Annabelle, you do whatever I call out,” Jim said softly. I turned to him and there were more performers walking behind the tent. Some I thought I recognized, some I couldn't make out.

“I mostly need you to stand by the edge of the ring and smile.” He leaned under Bluebell's chin towards me. “I'll lead them through the show and then you'll let me pass with Olivia and you take Bluebell and we'll walk out to the right. The girls know the way, don't worry about that. I'll need you to hold the balls, the extra hook. Just stand there and look gorgeous, okay?”

I was glad he couldn't see me blush again. I nodded.

“Great.”

Silence fell and the ringmaster instructed the audience to direct their attention upwards”…
Appreciate the danger being embraced for your benefit, ladies and gentlemen! At any moment she could plummet to her death, but she has a talent like no other! Ladies and gentlemen, the amazing Rapunzel Finelli hangs by her hair!”

I stood on my toes, then crouched down to try and catch a glimpse of Rapunzel through the crowd, but Bluebell shifted and it occurred to me what a bad idea it was to crouch by an elephant.

Standing, I could make out hundreds of upturned faces.

“You ready?” Jim whispered, trading me the other red ball for the second bull hook. I told him I was.

We moved towards the opening, Jim and Olivia first, then Bluebell and me. Everyone parted to let us pass.

The aisle was dark, the ring was dark. The only light shone on a woman spinning and twirling from the ceiling by her long red hair. Beneath her there was nothing but sawdust and cement. She twisted her body into a series of shapes and smiled brightly, though the skin around her scalp was stretched taut.

Jim saw me wincing. “Looks like it hurts, doesn't it?” he whispered. “They start training for it when they're tots. By now they don't feel a thing. Step lively.” He moved forward and smoothed his tuxedo. I took a deep breath and tugged at the seat of my leotard, moving aside the itchy blue tulle.

Jim looked back at me, then in moments we were moving again, through the thunder of applause.

“…Ladies and gentlemen, in the center ring, the stylings of Professor Pachyderm, a man whose best friends weigh nearly six tons apiece!”

It was loud inside. We stopped at the edge of the ring. In one graceful move, Olivia bent her head, Jim stepped up on her trunk, and she lifted him into the air, then began to walk again and Bluebell followed. I let go of her harness and stayed at the edge of the ring and did my best to smile, but I felt the heat of the lights and the people all around us, looking, their eyes like tiny hot bullets thumping me from all sides. I couldn't focus on anything, not even what Jim was doing. The sawdust made me want to sneeze, and trying not to made my eyes water. There was a strange soupiness to it all. My heart hammered away and everything sparkled. The band played tinny music so loud it seemed to echo in and out of every crevice, bouncing wildly around the enormous tent. I grinned until my jaw ached.

To my right the front row was visible. All along the ring sat a string of
retarded adults in various poses of crippled excitement. One man's body seemed to twist without his control. Another drooped, held in a wheelchair by thick white straps. Several men and women with wide empty eyes stared at the ring without moving, their faces contorted but blank, or elastic with joy. Behind them rows of children and adults, children and adults, all riveted by us, by Bluebell and Olivia and Jim. By me.

And then, across from me, wearing a huge green-and-silver leotard and a matted pink wig, I saw the fat girl. She waved.

“Balls!” Jim called and I snapped to attention. He held his hand out as he came around, and I tossed him the first red ball, which he caught. My second throw wasn't as accurate and the ball rolled off to the side. People laughed. Hundreds and hundreds of people.

The fat girl shouted something I couldn't hear. She stepped to the side and her enormous body shook and rolled. I told myself not to look at her, to watch Jim and Olivia and Bluebell, but I couldn't stop. The fat girl offered popcorn to the front row, who were rapt with Jim's every move, with the elephants standing on tiny red platforms, with the shine of Jim's suit.

The fat girl pranced across the ring. Her whole body jiggled—she was cake batter, jelly, the rumble of water. Olivia and Jim whirled past and just missed stomping her. Bluebell came within inches, but the fat girl reached me unharmed.

“Look what I do for you,” she said with a smile, and grabbed my arm, taking her place by my side, beaming, her eyes moist. “See how we belong together?”

 

After the show, I changed into jeans and a T-shirt and sat outside with Wilma, drinking whiskey and listening to the late-night sounds of the circus. The lights in the costume trailer were off and we were quiet. Wilma seemed sad and far away. At Berrybrook I'd been good at listening, but I'd never learned to ask questions or start conversations. If someone was upset, I didn't know what else to do besides be there quietly.

There were lights on in most trailers and in the distance someone strummed a guitar, someone sang. Every once in a while I heard laughter rise up from one direction or another.

I had an exhilarating pulse in my chest and, at the same time, a peaceful, floaty sense of calm. The unfamiliar understanding that I'd just been a part of something. Wilma shifted and refilled my glass. And then I remembered my promise to Sam.

I took a sip of the burning drink and when I felt it in my stomach I cleared my throat.

“You know the other day, when Sam asked to speak with me?”

“Shit,” Wilma muttered, and poured herself another drink. She sighed. “Let me guess,” she said. “He told you what good friends we were and how much he wants to make everything right again.”

I nodded. “Sort of.”

“Well, he can kiss my ass,” she said, and stood. “Don't worry, Annabelle. I'm sure he threatened you or made all sorts of promises to you that he won't keep so that you felt you had to say something. You're only the fifth person who felt like they had to say something. He's such an ass.”

She climbed a few steps and turned back.

“With him, everything is a dance,” she said. “He's pulling you in, he's pushing you away. He's choreographing moves you're not even aware of. I'm sure his vision of what happened to Yael makes him sound like a saint. But believe me, he's not.”

She tossed back the rest of her drink and opened the creaky door. It slammed behind her. In the darkness, with the whiskey and the laughter, her exit seemed to echo.

I sat still for a while and rubbed my arms to keep warm. I rewound the conversation we'd had and tried to find another way to have broached the subject, but I was pretty sure I'd done the best I could.

And then I thought about calling my mom again. It was late and she was probably asleep. I thought about the shine of her dark hair and the sweet way she smelled when she hugged me.

I wanted to tell her I was alive and okay. That I'd done something brave and new tonight, something I was proud of. That I missed her.

But then I remembered the ways I'd been a terrible disappointment and my throat caught.

The fat girl sat down beside me and put her arm over my shoulder. But I didn't want that. I didn't want her. I swallowed and pushed her away and we sat facing each other for a minute. Then I dried my tears on my sleeve, rose, and went to bed.

While I slept, Tony Giobambera took my hand and traced my heart line with his finger. He looked at me with unmistakable regret. I adjusted the skirt of my flouncy floor-length white gown. My pale blue sash matched his pale blue tuxedo.

He led me to the center of a crowded dance floor. All around us girls rocked slowly, their heads on the shoulders of their partners. Tony's hands
slid along my back and he pulled me to him, so that I could rest my head like everyone else. The music thrummed, slow and gentle, but something cold was trickling down my back. I tried to step away a little, but Tony pulled me tightly, wrapping his arms around my waist and whispering things I couldn't quite make out. I heard the rush of water and as we turned I looked down at the floor and saw red, a puddle of red spreading across the black-and-white-checkered floor, creeping up the edge of my dress.