Circo

Although I was somewhat terrified of Gerard, when I saw him that night through the flames of the campfire, when he’d returned from his ‘second job’, I made no hesitation in removing myself from the conversation with Lou and Kate that I wasn’t really involved with, and made my way over to him, sitting cautiously in the seat next to him.

He didn’t give any kind of reaction that he knew I was there, but somehow, I knew that he knew.

“How’s your wrist?” I asked, tentatively.

“It’s fine,” he murmured. “Why would anything be wrong with it?” He raised an eyebrow and took a sip out of the beer bottle in his hand.

“When you came out of the ring you looked like you’d hurt your wrist,”

I almost cowered away in humiliation as he scoffed at me. “I’d like to see you support your entire body weight in mid-air on a couple of pieces of silk,” he laughed. “It’s bound to leave a few pains here and there.”

“Well you have a harness most of the time,”

“Well I’m sorry if I’m not yet talented enough to do that without falling and breaking my neck,” he snapped, standing abruptly and storming over to the fencing that was confining the camp and keeping it separate from the tent which would remain up for the night to be taken down in the morning.

I don’t know what point he was trying to make by walking away, so I just followed him. He stared out at our pretty bland surroundings, more specifically, the make-shift car-park that he been set up. There were no cars left anymore, but tyre marks could be seen, and it was clear that a lot of people had turned up today.

“I’m in training at the minute,” he muttered. I sensed that he had more to say, so I remained quiet, studying his back in the darkness. “Dad wants me to start doing the aerial silks without the harness. I’ve fallen so many times...If I don’t improve...” he trailed off, and his head fell a little.

“What?” I questioned when he didn’t finish his sentence.

He turned and looked at me, and shrugged. “You know what,”

I scoffed a little, a small grin on my face. “If you haven’t noticed, Gerard...I’m not completely clued in on the whole Circo way of life. I don’t know what,”

To this day, I’m almost certain that he’ll deny it but I know for a fact that at that remark he gave a small smile.

“I’ll be out of the show,” he sighed, his smile definitely gone now. “And I’ll be homeless.”

“Your father wouldn’t do that to you,” I said quietly.

When I got no response...I realised that I really didn’t know anything about the Circo way of life.

I opened my mouth to attempt to speak some more words of reassurance, but was cut off as I heard a gruff voice shout “new boy” and could have only been referring to me.

When I turned, I saw Mr Way standing on the step that was used to get to the door to his caravan. He motioned at me with his hand, telling me to go over to him, which I did with no hesitation. It’s been said that I’m terrified of Gerard...but that’s nothing compared to my fear of Mr Way.

I didn’t look back at Gerard; I feared that doing so would rip some kind of hole in the fabric of reality. I hadn’t been here long, but for the entire time that I had Gerard had been this crazy upbeat guy who fucked anything and sang Abba. To see him so weak, so...scared...was something that I couldn’t come to terms with. It didn’t fit in with the way I knew things here.

“Mr Way,” I said shakily as I arrived at his caravan.

“Iero, isn’t it?” I frowned at this man’s lack of knowledge of his staff, but nodded anyway. “What’re you doing out here, boy? Get into the tent, clear up.”

I did so without hesitation. It’s weird, I’ve been here a little over a week now, and this is the first chance I’ve actually had to do my job. It seems almost unrealistic that my job would be this simple.

Or so I thought.

I stepped into the tent, which was now empty except for the old man, Terrance, who was shuffling around picking up some of the mess. And it wasn’t a small mess.

There were boxes of popcorn just carelessly dropped onto the grass, and empty cups and bottles were lying under chairs where they’d been left when the audience had left to go home; as if they don’t have bins there. Candy floss sticks, with remnants of the actual sticky pink or blue sugary substance still remaining on them were sticking to the grass, and were awkward to remove without getting children’s spit and dribble from the sticks all over your hands.

Believe it or not, but there were bins here, a couple of which were actually over-flowing; it’s almost shocking the amount of junk people will consume at a family outing.

“S’always like this,” Terrance croaked from next to me as he noticed my awe-stricken face. “But, four hands are better than two...” there was a brief moment where he coughed and chocked, before continuing. “...and I’m sure that we can get this done before the campfires out,”

I chuckled at his comment. If there was one thing I knew about the Circo, it was that the campfire was lit until the morning. He glanced at me, telling me with his eyes that yes what I’m thinking is correct...There have been times when he’s been working in the tent, cleaning up after people until morning.

I immediately regretted staying up all day. I probably should have slept, so that I could actually last the night...doing my job; which is the actual reason that I’m here.

“Why does it take so long?”

“I’m old,” he sighed. “I can’t move around as quickly as I used to...I can’t bend down to pick up the rubbish...”

I looked at the man and sighed, it didn’t seem fair that he was given this job, to do all by himself.

“Well,” I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ve got me to help, so we should be done a lot quicker,”

He started at me for a while, sadness written across his face, before his wrinkled cheeks lifted into a smile. “You are right my boy,” he said, forcing out a laugh, that didn’t seem to want to be. “Well, let’s get to work then,”

Before he did anything though, he lit another cigarette, and I wondered to myself how long he’d been smoking for, and how often he smoked.

From his appearance, it looked as if that answer was...a long time and a lot. His skin was yellow-ing, especially his fingertips. His teeth were not only covered in plaque, but stained with the nicotine he consumed.

It wasn’t only his physical appearance that gave it away. It was the rasp in his voice, and the fact that, even though he was all the way across the tent, I could still hear him breathing in deep chokes, oxygen trying to fill the lungs, but they’re too weighed down by tar.

From the inside of the tent, I could hear Gerard outside, singing again, his mood obviously lightened, and I briefly wondered if he’d look like this someday.

Almost every time I’d seen him since I’d been here, he’d had a cigarette in his hand or dangling from his lips...I wondered if the perfection of his features would soon yellow, fade, wrinkle and flake. I wondered if his singing voice; the one he loved and used so often...would soon turn to rasping chokes whenever he felt he wanted to sing along to Abba.

Because that was the way reality works.