Fading, Like the Stars

Not all of my many questions found an answer that evening. Some because they were too complicated, others because I did not dare to ask yet. But I learned a lot, and sometimes I learned about things that I would never have thought I would learn about, and sometimes I even learned about things that maybe I would have wished not to learn about. The way I saw the world was altered that evening. It wasn’t all black and white, like I had often considered it to be. The world wasn’t just divided in two categories, like I had always thought it to be. There were not just the few, foolish ones, who thought that they could bring a change to the world and who were irremediably destined to fail what they tried, and then the vast majority of the people, who simply did nothing, just stood there and watched, like me.

There was more than that. The world was much more complex, and I had rushed into categorizing people. The circus had already taught me that solidarity existed, contrary to what I had believed. Now this play was teaching me that there could be another form of resistance, quite different from that of those who rushed in front of bullets to die as martyrs. There was also a silent form of resistance, that of people who, everyday, contradicted the leaders’ commands by the simplest of their actions. They weren’t shouting or protesting or fighting, they were just doing what their hearts told them was right, even if it did not go according to the Authorities’ precepts.

It wasn’t always easy to admit that I had been blind to the world as it really was, that I had only seen what I wanted to see, and that what I had wanted to see, for that matter, had always only been the worst of humanity.

Perhaps the circus’ influence was already acting on me, changing me. Perhaps it was because of Rufus – because I so desperately wanted to show him the best side of my personality. Perhaps it had nothing to do with that at all, in the end, and I was just, at last, growing up, becoming older and hopefully wiser. Whatever it was, I now found myself accepting the world’s complexity with more ease than I would have, only a few months ago, when I still believed that the world was rotten to the core and that there was nothing left to do to save it.

A good example of that complexity that I was only just starting to see in the world lay in the person of the High Judge.

His real name was Albert Stairs. I had not wanted to meet him, at first. I was weary of him, and whatever Rufus would say wasn’t going to be enough to make me change my mind. Albert Stairs represented everything that I feared in the world, he represented those whom I had always been scared of, and as such, Albert Stairs could not be trusted. So there was no way that I was ever going to meet him. There was no way I was ever going to stand in front of him, knowing that it was someone like him, someone doing the exact same job, who had signed the authorization for my mother’s execution.

I had no desire of meeting him, just like I had no desire of meeting anyone else in that room. I had seen the play, and I had been amazed by what I had seen, and I didn’t want anything to come on the way and spoil the evening for me. I would be happy enough to discuss the play with the people of the circus, once we had returned there, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.

And I told Rufus that. He nodded gravely, agreeing to leave. He didn’t seem to be feeling as uneasy as I was, surrounded by all the strangers, but he didn’t look like he particularly wanted to stay either. In fact, he smiled, when he agreed that we could return to the circus.

It was then that Albert Stairs came around, and didn’t leave us any chance of leaving the premises unnoticed, like we had planned on doing. One moment the old judge was at the end of the room, having an animated discussion with Félix, and the next he was standing right behind us with an interested look on his face.

“Rufus,” he said with a smile.

Rufus’ shoulders slumped a little, but he nodded politely in return. “Judge,” he replied quietly.

The judge smiled, but his eyes remained stern. “Rufus, Rufus,” he protested, placing a hand on my friend’s forearm, preventing him from walking off. “How many times will I have to tell you? How many times?” he threw his free hand in the air, “call me Albert, my boy, call me Albert.” All the drama and pathos of the play seemed to have rubbed off on the judge a little, because if there was one things that could be said about his behavior, it was that it was a little overdramatic – to say the least.

“Good evening, Albert,” Rufus conceded with a very brief smile. He leant his head to the left a little, and observed the judge for a moment, as if wondering what on earth he was going to have to do to humor him.

Physically, Albert Stairs looked exactly the part of the High Judge that he was. He was old but imposing, and despite the bright, genuine smile that adorned his face, there was a sternness in his eyes that never really disappeared, even when he was being particularly pleasant and charming. But if you were to consider only his behavior, or the way that he spoke, he seemed to me more like someone’s genial uncle than like a man who was in charge of applying the law. He was a puzzle, a walking contradiction, and, to me, one more proof that I had perhaps judged the world that I lived in a little too quickly.

“A wonderful evening, you mean,” Albert said, correcting Rufus. “An absolutely pleasurable evening, though, like I was just telling Félix, I am not a fan of Corneille and I would have much more preferred to see some post modernist work on the stage. Oh, those are always so delightfully staged. I dare say that Félix is a genius when it comes to the mise en scène… Not that I mean to say that he isn’t a good actor. He for sure is, but I think that his real talent lies more in the staging… Anyway, talking about the actors, my boy, I would like to see you up there again one day.”

“I am not that good when it comes to memorizing long texts,” Rufus said quietly, “and I would never pretend to have Félix or Pierre’s talent in that matter. I prefer to leave the acting to those who can do it properly, wouldn’t want to spoil an entire production. And anyway, I prefer to watch them…”

“You cheeky little liar,” the judge said, pinching Rufus’ cheek. I cringed at the gesture.

I had hoped that Rufus would be able to rid us of the judge very quickly, but it didn’t seem to be the case.

“You are right on one point, though,” said the judge, speaking again when I had hoped that we would finally be able to escape him, “it was a lovely thing to watch, that play. Very inspiring. And that young lady who played Chimène was particularly charming. I was hoping to compliment her myself, but it seems that I had been unable to find her in the crowded room.”

Rufus nodded again, passably embarrassed by the judge’s incessant talking now. The judge remained silent for half a second, approximately, then he frowned at Rufus. “Well, my boy, I am disappointed,” he said, and I could easily imagine that this was the tone that he used when he was in court, to reprimand someone, and I could easily imagine that people would have been afraid of him at that moment. Not Rufus though. He was completely unfazed by the judge’s comment, merely raised his eyebrows at him, and I was suddenly very proud of him.

“I am very disappointed,” the judge continued, “very disappointed indeed.”

“Is that so?” Rufus simply asked, stuffing his hands in his pocket in a nonchalant manner.

Albert Stairs stared at him, all stern and serious for a moment. “Of course, it is so,” he replied, raising his voice only just a little. “This is incredibly, absolutely, entirely rude of you.”

I don’t think that Rufus or I understood what he was talking about at that moment. Rufus had barely said a few words, and none of them could be considered rude or offensive.

“I have been standing here for quite a while now,” the High Judge said, talking with much animation, “and you haven’t even thought of introducing me to the young woman. This is incredibly rude of you, my dear boy, like I just said.”

There was a short moment of complete silence during which both Rufus and I stood wondering what the hell Albert Stairs could be talking about. How could he even expect of Rufus to have properly introduced him when he had never even let him talk for more than two seconds. Then the judge turned to face me, and smiled widely.

I had been standing a bit behind the two of them, not taking any part in the conversation and just sort of hoping that it would be ending soon. I had hoped that, so, I would be able to go unnoticed. Apparently that hadn’t been the case.

“Please forgive him for his rudeness,” Stairs said to me, extending a hand in my direction. “He is not always like that, so it tends to happen every once in a while that he forgets about manners… Must be sick or something today, even quieter than usual, though I didn’t thought it possible…”

I hesitantly took the hand that he offered me and shook it.

“Name’s Albert Stairs,” the high judge said, “but for all intents and purposes, you can call me Al. I always let lovely ladies call me Al.”

“Aimée,” I replied, still hesitant, and well determined to not tell him anything more about myself.

“How lovely,” he said. “Now tell me, is it your first time here? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. I would have remembered a face like yours…”

“She’s with me,” said Rufus, quickly.

Albert beamed. “Yes, of course, she is with you.” He still hadn’t let go of my hand, and when he eventually did it, it was to grab my arm soon after. “Now tell me, Aimée, dear – you don’t mind me calling you that, don’t you? – what did you really think of the play, then? I found it absolutely lovely. Absolutely lovely. So many feelings and emotion… But you should have seen them play Ionesco last year… A masterpiece!”

I stared at him for a moment, not really knowing how to react. This man was strange, unexpected, and many things about him were telling me not to trust him. I quickly glanced at Rufus, silently asking him what to do – and hoping that the judge wouldn’t tell me that this was incredibly rude like he had done with Rufus. The judge didn’t catch on that, but I wasn’t really lucky with Rufus’ answer. He raised his shoulders a little, and silently shook his head. ‘You’ll have to humor him yourself, now’ Rufus seemed to be thinking. ‘There’s nothing I can do to help’.

The judge was a little clingy, and he didn’t seem like he was going to let go, so my eyes left Rufus’ face, and I redirected my attention towards the judge.

“I’m ready to believe that it was something to see,” I said reluctantly, forcing a smile to my face. “I hope I get the chance to see it too, one day.”

“I hope you do,” the judge replied, and then he proceeded to detailing me all the plays that he had had the chance to see in his life, and rambled, and rambled and rambled on why they were so brilliant.

Around twenty minutes of this passed before he eventually excused himself and told us that he had to be on his way. Then we were finally allowed to leave. Once the judge had gone, there was no discussion whether or not we should wait for anyone else. One look at each other, and Rufus and I both knew that the only thing that the other wanted was to get out of there as soon as it was possible.

The play had been wonderful, and the judge, contrary to what I had believed, not too disagreeable, even though a little too talkative to my own taste. But now was time to leave.

We snuck out through the archway, waited until the passage was clear, and then we were back on the street, outside, heading to the camp. It was late. How late, I wouldn’t have been able to tell, but it was very late at night. Everything around was dark, of course, and it created in me a sensation of danger. The fact that we had just attended an event that was both secret and illegal contributed to my sensation of insecurity. I had the disagreeable feeling that they could be upon us at any moment, and that, if they were to find us, then I would never see the light of day again, but I also would never see Rufus again, which was, perhaps, even worse.

They, of course, designated the soldiers. I hadn’t seen any of them yet, but I was sure that they were there, silently patrolling down the streets.

I walked closer to Rufus, seeking protection from his tall frame. I took his hand without daring to speak a word. Rufus smiled softly, and accelerated his pace a little. All the time, I kept feeling just that little bit afraid, not safe, which stopped me from truly enjoying the moment like I usually did whenever I was spending time with Rufus. I was only completely relieved when we arrived in sight of the circus, and I could only breathe freely when we reached the first caravans. It was only at that moment that I dared to speak. Now that we were safe, there was no way I would be able to hold back the many things that were on my mind.

When we entered the camp, I let out a nervous laugh, one that I had been holding back for a long time. Rufus turned to shoot me an inquisitive look, surprised by my reaction.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s just… I had just sort of persuaded myself that we would never get here safe…” I mumbled, annoyed by what I now saw as sheer stupidity.

“I did not think that it would make you feel nervous,” Rufus said, clearly in the intention of apologizing. “I thought you would enjoy the play, I never thought – ”

“It’s not the play. I never used to… you know… I’ve been afraid a lot of times, I mean, wouldn’t have stayed alive for so long if I had not, but I never was nervous. Not like that, not with no particular reason to be nervous.”

“What changed then?” asked Rufus as he stopped a few feet away from his caravan.

“I don’t know,” I mused. “Never really… actually… honestly… I think it might be you. I – oh – I don’t want to lose you. Don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He seemed a little taken aback by my answer, and for a moment, did not react, just stared at me. It seemed that this was one answer that he had not quite expected. I watched him with a small, expectant smile. This did not especially call for an answer, even though he seemed to think that it did. Only that he did not look like he found an appropriate one. For a moment, all that there was to be heard was silence.

“Oh,” Rufus eventually said, quietly. He looked at me for a moment, and then opened his mouth to try and speak again, did not – again – seem to find the right words, and closed his mouth again.

I vaguely wondered how he had understood what I had said. What puzzled him, and embarrassed him so?

“Did you hear what he said?” I asked, quickly breaking the silence that was threatening to linger.

“He?” Rufus asked, clearly not understanding what I was referring to.

“Yes. The judge.”

Rufus looked at me with eyes a little wide, either wondering what the judge had to do with what was happening right now, or trying to remember what, among the many things that the judge had said, I could be referring to.

“What did he say?” he eventually asked. His trouble was all gone now, and he was only looking at me curiously.

“When I asked him how he could do the work he did, and still come to see the plays every time the circus,” I clarified.

The judge had talked to us – me, most of the time, as Rufus hadn’t seemed very keen on joining the conversation – for a long time, and he had mostly been doing all the talking. It seemed that having an audience was enough for him, he didn’t require anyone answering or anything, but was rather happy to remain… unchallenged. I’d listened to him all the time, but had all along one question on my mind. In the middle of that incessant talking, I had somehow managed to work up the courage to ask it. After, of course, I had eventually worked out that despite his important position, the judge was rather harmless.

So I had asked him how he could be so enthusiastic about the play, with the things that he did for the Authorities. His answer had been long, and complicated, but in the end, it could be summarized like this: “It’s not because I apply the laws, and make sure that others follow them, that I have to agree with them.”

It had left me with nothing to say, and the conversation had been cut short. I’d been pondering on what he said, for a while. It was sort of paradoxical. And it was kind of hard to fully understand it. the duality of his position was something that I had struggled to understand, and even now, when I had come to accept it as one more proof that the world was more complicated than I had thought it to be, I was still not sure that I could come to terms with it.

“Hmm. What did he say, then?” Rufus asked distractedly.

“You know, that whole thing about how he could make sure that the laws are applied, and still not agree with them.”

“Oh, yes,” Rufus mumbled but his eyes were drifting away, like he kept being distracted.

“Isn’t that being a hypocrite?” I insisted. Because that was how I perceived it, it was being both a hypocrite and a coward. Not that I was in a position to criticize much, but if I could perceive those traits about myself, then I could also point them out in others. It wasn’t even a critic, merely a statement.

“Isn’t that what we all do?” Rufus sighed. “Look. Don’t be bothered by what the judge said. It’s not important. You know… Right now. It’s not what’s important.”

“Yeah, right,” I conceded. “Especially since...” I stopped, feeling embarrassed because there was so much more that I wanted to know, so many questions that I would have liked to ask. But I was afraid to annoy him. He’d answered plenty of questions already. Hearing more would be considered as boring, quite rightfully.

“Since?” Rufus insisted gently.

I sighed. “Well I – I have other questions, if you don’t mind. About the plays, and how it works…”

“Of course, I don’t mind,” Rufus said, reacting as kindly as he had always done. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. If I know the answer, that is.”

“Good then.” I looked at the caravan. “Cause I have a lot of questions. But first… can we get inside? Night’s getting a bit chilly.”

There was a spark in Rufus’ eye as he nodded a yes. “Course, yes, let’s discuss it all inside.”