Page 5 of The Wonder of You

Tears find my eyes again as I admire the beauty of this place and how my body seems to be relaxing as I clear my mind. There is a lightness to my shoulders and I take a deep breath as I appreciate the weight I didn’t know I was carrying being gone. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Happy. Present. I don’t know how Lydia is going to react to the tears I can’t hide. Will she laugh? Will she give me sympathy? Her reactions are always so different. I turn around.

Lydia and Simon are gone.

Chapter 5

I walk toward one of the tents. There is a young, tall man dressed in black trousers and a long red jacket. He really looks the part as he glances at people’s tickets and invites them into the tent. I try not to let the disappointment of Lydia ditching me sink too far into my stomach. This place is really magical and I want to keep that alive in my mind.

The last person in the line walks into the tent and I smile at the man. He smiles, looks down at what appears to be a timesheet of events and then instantly looks back up at me.

He looks a little bewildered. I’m not sure why, but I decide it’s a good time to speak.

“Hey, do you need separate tickets to go in here?” I ask, awkwardly pointing at the tent as if the guy won’t know what I am referring to.

“Um, um…” He runs his hand through his hair and then smiles again, straightening himself as if trying to act professional. “No, not at all, everything is under the same price as the entrance ticket, other than the food and amusement stalls of course.”

He looks so flustered. I bite my lip wondering if I should leave him be. I’m so used to people making me uncomfortable but his pink cheeks and the way he keeps glancing around makes me wonder if I am making him uncomfortable. My hands begin to twitch and I’m almost tempted to call it a night, until he speaks again.

“Would you like to go in?”

I smile, relieved.

“Yes please. My sister ditched me so this should be nice.” The second the words slip out, my cheeks redden.Why on earth did I tell him that?

“Oh, well you are always welcome at the circus, we are one big family here!” He says it so softly that it warms my heart. My feet bounce as if the ground is cotton candy, ready to invite me into its safety and keep me there.

I walk into the tent and take a seat near the exit. It seems favourable for me to seek less attention than necessary by walking through the crowd of people. I also like to be near the exit in case I need to run. I have no idea why this is my thought process, but I am always looking out for trouble, always twitchy that something will go wrong. It feels important to me to know where the escape is, even somewhere as magical as this.

My heart skips as the men and ladies start their performance. They are amazing. One young lady swings around on a hanging loop and I wonder if the belt holding it in place is strong enough. Behind her, other women swing around effortlessly. I can tell by the way they hold back they are not meant to be the centre of attention of this performance. A loud bang startles me but I instantly relax when the crowd starts to clap. The colours of the rainbow shoot around the tent like fireworks. The girls swing in an endless loop until they slowly fade out altogether. Their presence is replaced by a man entering through the disappearing colours on hanging ribbons. The muscles in his arms make it look like an easy job for him as he grabs ribbon by ribbon.Slowly getting closer to the one remaining swinging woman, who has her back arched staring up at the top of the tent. When she readjusts herself into a position to sit up on the swing, she catches sight of the man and her eyes, even all the way from this distance, clearly sparkle. They stare at each other until the music drops a beat and becomes slow and steady. Then their dance truly begins. First slowly as they reach out to one another like lovers separated, and then quicker and more desperate as they attempt to grab one another. The remaining colours from the blast sprinkle around them like drops of rain. My heart beats as they slowly drop to the ground and the man gently places his hand on her cheek. Finally reunited. The performance ends but their eyes linger on each other. This is more than a performance. This a love story. The women who had been on the swings behind when the performance started make their entrance to receive well deserved applauds. The couple break their stare, as if reminded that they are here for a performance and a crowd of people are watching their every move. They smile and bow but my eyes lock on their joined hands. It is such a beautiful sight and I wish it never had to end. I wonder if my expression mirrors that of my grandad back when he visited all those years ago. The spark in his eyes, the pure childlike fascination.

The child clown from earlier comes out into the middle of the tent and chucks sweets and small toys into the crowd. Children lunge forward and the little clown scans around quickly, making sure each little person has received a gift. She waves, thanks everyone and runs off.

I see the older clown, her father I presume, watching from the side with a big grin.

“Thank you all, thank you!” a woman with a beard says to the crowd, extending her arms out to the crowd as though she might embrace us all. “We are doing another performance tonight so please come back if you liked this one!” She bends slightly and walks to as many children in the front line as she can. “And not just tonight, but we’re here much longer, so if you fancy coming tomorrow, then come tomorrow!” She laughs and so do the children that she playfully pokes as she says each word. Her voice is so powerful that it sounds like she’s speaking into a microphone, but I don’t see one on her person.

“Thank you again!” She raises her arms, bows, and then runs out of the tent. People start standing so I take that as my cue to leave. It’s like leaving the house for the first time all over again. As if my body doesn’t really want to leave, or the tent wants to keep me. My ears pop from the change of the noise. My hands feel that tension of wanting to be prepared to protect myself from lurking danger. I take a deep breath and remind myself I am alright. I am not a rabbit in headlights. I can keep going.

I am first out of the exit and I look around expecting to see Lydia, but I am still alone as people scoot past me. Children in their arms, lovers holding hands.

I see the young man who I spoke to before entering the tent, speaking to the clown. They both look over at me and I don’t know how it makes me feel. Normally, I would be afraid.

I don’t like being looked at for too long and perhaps it is wrong, but it makes me especially nervous when it’s men. I suppose my past will always linger somewhere in my mind. But this time, I don’t feel too worried. Am I naive or do I just feel safe here despite my occasional bursts of panic?

Why do I feel so… so at home in a place which is not home?

I shrug, trying to brush off the strange feeling, but before I know it, the little clown is standing in front of me. She looks about five, but the way she spoke in the circus tent made me think she was older. She smiles up at me.

“Hello pretty lady!”

I put my head down and almost choke out a laugh. “Well thank you, but not as pretty as you. I love your outfit and your hair!”

She claps her hands in excitement. “Thank you! Sometimes the other little girls call me ugly.”

I kneel to her level instantly as memories of my own bullying surface. “You don’t listen to them, okay? They’re just jealous.”

“Do you think so?”

“You called me pretty, didn’t you?”

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