Circo

Dear Mum & Dad;

I’m sure that by the time that either of you are actually home or sober enough to read this, I’m going to be long gone, maybe even a couple of days gone. Who knows?

The chilly November air whipped through Franks hair as he walked swiftly through the now darkened streets. There was no doubt about it; winter was always a depressing time of year. The skies always darkened that little bit too soon, and the weather always set such a chill into your bones that you were almost certain that they were going to turn to ice only to melt away once the sun decided to show itself upon the land once more.

Frank began to question if he’d actually packed enough clothes to layer up in, he wasn’t sure when he’d next be in the comforting warmth that the four walls of a home gave.

Remember that day at the circus? When the Ringleader told me I could do whatever I wanted as long as I put my mind to it? Well, it’s almost as if he said those words so I could think back on them at this exact moment in time.

At the time I assumed that he was telling me that I could appear out of nowhere once a pyrotechnic has gone off, but I’m pretty sure now that he just meant I can do whatever I want in life. He meant that if things got too much, I could get out when I wanted.

I want to be free, away from the life I’m living now. A drunken mother, a practically nonexistent father and the worst school life it’s ever been possible to imagine...that’s not the life I want. I deserve more than that, I know I do. I can be whatever I want to be, and if I want to be free of it all, I will.

I know you’re going to bitch at me for leaving school this early, especially since I was doing ‘so well’, but to be honest, for the life I want, I don’t need maths or science. All I need is a guitar in my hand and an audience willing to listen.

For now, I don’t care if I become some super huge rock-star with teenagers passing out at the mere mention of my name or if I become one of those people on the side of the street that you can’t help but feel sorry for as they play for you the only thing in their heart with the crummiest guitar that they could afford after being forced to sell the better one for a place to stay or a cup of coffee. Either way, I’ll be doing what I love, and that’s all that should matter, right?

Ever since the day at the Circus, Frank had known he’d wanted to be an entertainer of some kind. The idea just excited him more than anything, knowing that whatever he was doing could inspire someone, the way that he was inspired.

He was doing really well at school and teachers often told him that he’d have a lot of options open to him in the future, but he didn’t care, as long as he had his guitar by his side. He was getting pretty good, but he was also well aware that there was a lot of room for improvement, especially because he’d had to mostly teach himself.

I used to look at all the other kids at school, especially on those nights when we had to go in with our parents and talk to our teachers about our progress. There’d be people there whose parents were telling them how disappointed they are in them, and others who couldn’t stop showing their pride.

You were never there.

I had to go in alone and have the teachers tell me I was doing well. You’d get a letter within two or three days about it, “Sorry you couldn’t attend, but we thought you should know how well your son is doing” blah – blah – blah. You wouldn’t end up opening it for a week or two anyway.

He could remember when he was in middle school on their ‘career day’, not long after he’d been to the circus for the first time, everyone had rushed off to the tables of careers that they were interested in where they were told about what kind of subjects they’d need to focus on and what the job involved. Frank had just stood in the middle of the room, turning in circles looking hopelessly at the names on the tables.

“What’s the matter, Frank?” his teacher had asked, seeing him standing alone, looking bewildered in the middle of the room.

“There’s no table for Circus,” he’d answered, his eyes wide as he looked up at his teacher who’d frowned and lead him over to the table where the children who wanted to be Doctors were standing.

That night Mrs Iero had received a phone call, alerting her that maybe she should teach her son about what kind of careers he should be thinking about and what kinds will get him nowhere. Mrs Iero had yelled down the phone that her baby could be whatever he wanted to be, but obviously that was just out of pride, not a moment after she'd dramatically hung up the phone she'd turned to Frank and told him that he could do so much more than just work in a circus.

Frank thought he understood. He thought that he wasn’t allowed to join the circus, so he wanted to do something in music. He never understood why his mother had frowned at him and told him that he had a long time to think about it.

I wonder how long it will take either of you to realise I’m gone.
I’m pretty sure I won’t miss you.
Thanks for nothing.
Frank
x

He was grateful that he didn’t have to wait obscene amounts of time for a train to New York; it would be just his luck that one of his parents decided to come home early today and send out a search party.

The train hummed as the engine remained on; passengers bustling around looking for their seats. Frank just picked one at random, next to a window, of course. The train journey wouldn’t be a long one, but not being able to see out of a window for any amount of time was sure to drive Frank insane.

Reaching in to his backpack as the train started to move along the track, he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper from his bag.

It’d been handed to him when he was in town doing the grocery shopping so he was ensured of something to eat that night. A small boy had handed it to him, a sly wink directed at Frank as if the pair were in on a secret.

Circo was printed in bold red letters that curled away becoming things that pictures of animals or performers could stand on our hang off.

Frank couldn’t work out what language the word was, but it was completely obvious what it translated to, even without the pictures on the poster.

Underneath the bold title, in block capitals were the words: ONE NIGHT ONLY! with the date printed next to them.

That date happens to be todays, and this, dear reader, is where Franks story really begins.