Circo

“So,” Frank asked, leaning back in the passenger seat of Mikeys car. A seat he’d become very much accustomed to. “Where’re we off too?”

“We’re going to Washington.”

“And how many nights do we have there?”

“Only one. Dad said we may as well do a show there before heading off to the airport.”

“Airport?”

“Mm, no-one tell you? We’re heading off to Europe.”

Frank almost choked. “Europe?”

“Yeah, we get a really good reception there. Better than out here, and Dad figures that we need all of the attention that we can get right now. You may have noticed that we don’t exactly have much money right now.”

“That’s because you spend it all on booze.”

Mikey laughed. “Of course we do. Frank, this job, it’s so routine. I’ve never been in one place for more than a couple of weeks. We need something to entertain us, something to distract us. Booze does just that.”

“And the drugs?”

“We need less food when we have the drugs.” Mikey sighed then, all thoughts of distractions and entertainment gone.

Because wasn’t that what the circus was to an everyday person? They go there, for one night, pay their money and get taken into this magical world where anything is possible; a woman bending into impossible shapes, and a man dangling from the scaffolding structure by pieces of silk. In that hour and a half, nothing matters outside the tent. War, famine, poverty. It’s just not important anymore.

So what entertainment is left for the circus people? What distractions?

I realised I was beginning to understand this place a lot more with each passing day.

My train of thought moved on then, to linger over the journey I was about to take. I was going all the way to Europe, and I’m pretty sure that my parents barely missed me. It’s not like they’ve called to find out where I am. I pulled my phone from my pocket, and slid the screen up to find I had a text message. My phone had practically full battery because I charged it at every opportunity we got.

My heart pounded in my chest in the hopes of it being one of my parents asking where I was, where I’ve been. I could’ve cried when I saw that it was only from my service provider.

“Why do you care so much about your folks? I mean, you ran away, right?” Mikey said, looking over at me for a second.

“I know, but mostly it was a test. I wanted to see if they actually noticed me or anything...wanted to see if they actually realised I was gone. Cared enough to find out where I was.” I whimpered pathetically.

“What do you think they’d say if they knew you were here?”

“They’d freak! My Dad wanted me to be a doctor or some shit. Something that got me a lot of money.”

“The opposite of this then,” Mikey laughed. “I often wonder if my mum ever thinks about Gerard and me. Whether she misses us or cares where we are.”

“What do you think she’d say?”

“She knows we work in a circus.”

“What about the alcohol? The drugs,” I paused. “What’d she think about Gerard?”

Mikey hesitated and bit at his lip. “She’d be heartbroken,” and that was all he said before sighing. He looked at me for a minute while we were stopped at a red light and I could see the hurt in his eyes. I knew he was worried about his brother, but there was nothing I could do.

Mikey smiled then, and I could see him re-building the wall he kept around him. He wasn’t one to hide, but he also wasn’t one to put a downer on things and keep it there.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Gerard?”

“Nothing.” I chocked a little too quickly. I could have played that so cool, but I was never very good in this kind of situation.

Mikey smirked knowingly at me, and made a humming noise in the back of his throat. “Gerard may be an asshole, but he’s still my brother and we’re pretty close. Tell each other everything.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I muttered, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window.

“Sure.” Mikey laughed, sounding highly unconvinced and giving me a look that showed he totally didn’t believe that I wouldn’t know what he was talking about.

“It’s weird,” I whisper. “It’s just...It was...fuck. I don’t know what it was.”

“Gerard has that effect on most people,” he paused. “Dad calls it a gift. But that basically just means money-maker.”

I cringed. Gerard did have the ability to turn any human being to jelly by just looking at them, and the idea of a man being okay with his son actually doing that to make him money made me sick to my stomach.

“I think he wanted me to get into it,” Mikey continued, not taking his eyes of the road. “But I’m not down for that shit.”

My eyes almost bugged out of my head. “You’re kidding? Your dad was actually okay with you doing that?”

“It’s not like he forced me, Frankie, Jesus. He just kind of mentioned it...”

That’s not the point, I almost wanted to say, but I didn’t. I didn’t say anything in response. There wasn’t anything that could be said in response to that.

So instead, I just rested my head against the glass of the window, and slept all the way to Washington