Freakshow (8 page)

And possibly run into Cairo, if I was being honest.

A couple of hours later, I’d spent some time with Cara in the staff concession, visited Alexi and his cats, and found myself in the performer’s tent.

I was watching a man and woman, husband and wife apparently, who could twist themselves into the most elaborate, inhuman shapes imaginable. Contortionists, I’d heard them called. I was sitting in the back, afraid to repeat the knocked chair incident of my previous visit. It was dark, I was alone, and it was vaguely disturbing to watch the things they could do with their bodies.

I couldn’t help but imagine how their positions would translate sexually. I couldn’t perform such acts myself; one of the detriments of being pain-free was not understanding your limits. I would end up hurting my body without even knowing it.

A lot of people with my condition ended up in wheelchairs early on, unable to feel the pain of arthritis or joint stress, and eventually unable to walk because their bodies broke down without them knowing it.

It was a constant fear for me, the idea that I might develop cancer and not know it until it was too late. Not being able to feel the body’s signal that it was betraying me and growing a deadly tumor until it killed me.

While pain seemed to be negotiable, death would not be denied.

Pregnancy also terrified me, not knowing if something was wrong until I was too far along to help myself or my child.

Although being impaled with a metal rod during a stupid dare as a teen meant I probably wouldn’t have to worry about pregnancy. Doctors had predicted my womb too fragile to carry anything to full term, even if my one remaining ovary still produced eggs.

Yeah, it was a stupid farm accident in an attempt to keep up with some boys down the road. That’s one major personality flaw of mine, never knowing when to back down or accept defeat.

That being said, it was also disturbing to think of the genetic implications of my condition. As much as I appreciated my life, I would hate to pass this along to a baby.

I would remain childless, and I’d become resigned to that fact over the years. So as much as I sometimes craved a child, it just wasn’t in the stars for me.

“Enjoying the show, Miss Normal?” Cai’s liquid, smooth voice whispered in my ear.

I hadn’t heard him approach and I jumped, turned to see him and said, “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied and climbed over the chair to sit next to me. “I’ll make more noise next time. Maybe knock over a couple more chairs. I’d like some applause.”

He grinned, but I still felt like he was mocking me. I blushed hot red again and said, “I told you I’m a klutz beyond redemption.”

“It’s a good thing you’re so beautiful then,” he whispered next to my ear and I flamed even hotter. God, what he could do to me with just a few words.

“That’s what they tell people when they’re stupid,” I replied, “I’ve heard that before, but I assure you, I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, “but I think you know that. You’re just trying to be controversial.” He smiled at me again, and I knew he was joking around, but I was feeling more vulnerable than I was used to.

I didn’t want to take my vulnerability out on him though, I knew he was just being playful, and I was falling into my usual, morose patterns of defensive behaviour. I forced myself to smile and change the subject. “They’re pretty twisty,” I said, indicating the people on stage.

“That they are,” he replied and caught my hint. We watched in silence for a few moments, while the couple folded and unfolded in rhythmic precision. He broke into our quiet space by saying, “Listen, I wasn’t being a jerk, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

I felt like an idiot, he was a nice guy and I was reactionary. I simply felt raw around him, exposed as though he knew my inner dialogue and was mocking me for feeling so obvious.

“I’m sorry for being an oversensitive idiot,” I said. “Let’s start this conversation over again, deal?” I stuck out my hand and he shook it. I loved his skin, it was so warm and dry, his hands were rough and strong. I craved his hands on my body.

“It’s all good,” he replied and gave me a lopsided grin. His beard gave him an almost menacing look in the dim light of the tent, and I liked it. As though he were about to devour me whole.

“I’ve had a hard time being...close...to people,” I said in the dark, “it makes me a little prickly, so I’ve been told.”

“I don’t find you prickly at all,” he said and leaned close to me. I could feel his breath on my ear as he continued, “I think intriguing, mysterious, alluring...but not prickly.”

I turned my head slightly, just enough to see the curve of his smile and the gleam in his eye. I believed him, right then with all my heart. I believed that he thought of me in that way.

This wasn’t my last boyfriend, saying just enough to string me along. This wasn’t any of the other men I’d been with, playing me and jerking me around just to get at my pussy.

He meant what he was saying, and I believed it. And it terrified and excited me to the point that I had to exhale slowly as to not betray my shaking breath.

“Thanks,” I said and smiled, turned away from him and watched the next performers practice. A woman dressed in an exotic belly dance costume began to gyrate and move until she appeared to be liquid energy, undulating across the stage.

“I thought there would be more...you know...unusual performers,” I leaned towards him and whispered.

“There are, they don’t generally perform. We have a special entrance section for people to interact with the real stars of the show. Without them, we’d just be another acrobatic company essentially.”

“How do people interact? Doesn’t that get a little overwhelming for the...” I trailed off, not sure what I was allowed to call the human oddities.

“Freaks. It’s okay to say freaks. And yes, it gets exhausting, which is why we make the performances the bulk of the public’s time with us, and the meet and greet short and sweet.”

“You’re a poet and–”

“Didn’t know it,” he laughed and finished my sentence. “But we are very careful with everyone’s health while traveling. We have a medical doctor and physiotherapist who come along with us to handle any emergencies or aches and pains our people go through. You might not know it, but most of the conditions our freaks have add stress to their bodies. We would hate for them to be hurt because of their work here.”

I did know about the added stress being a freak had on the human body, I suffered from it myself. I couldn’t tell him though, not yet. Maybe soon, but I was enjoying my role as Miss Normal a little too much. “That’s very good of you, I can’t imagine many other employers who would care so much about the people in their employ.”

“Some might say it’s just us thinking about the bottom line. Healthy freaks mean healthy ticket sales, but we’re family here and take care of each other. I want you to know that.”

“I do, which is part of the reason I’m staying.”

“I heard about that. You’re a permanent resident now?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s a small community, gossip spreads fast. Plus, I had money riding on it.”

“Money?”

He smiled sheepishly and stroked his beard as if in deep thought. “Well, I don’t know how to say this, but we bet on new hires. We see how long they’ll stick around, most people get hired in the city and decide to stay behind when we leave.”

“So which way did you bet?” I asked and laughed. I hadn’t realized how obvious, how completely transparent I’d been.

“I knew you’d stay,” he smiled, “especially after that day with the tigers. I saw how your face lit up when you saw them. You’ve got Cirque in your blood, and it showed.”

“Maybe I’ll be a performer someday,” I said and turned back to the belly dancer. She was now curved backwards, her head almost touching the floor. She produced a sword and started to work it down her throat. I gasped and added, “Then again, maybe not.”

“She’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?” Cairo said, his voice full of admiration. He was puffed up with pride. I felt a small stab of jealousy.

“That she is,” I said and watched the girl extract the sword with a flourish, straighten up and continue to dance.

“That’s Paris, my sister,” he said.

“She’s beautiful,” I replied and felt relief wash over me. I had never been the jealous type and couldn’t tell if my recent heartbreaking betrayal lead to my current state, or if it was the knee weakening attraction I felt to him that did it.

“Cairo,” a voice sounded in the dark behind them, “they need you in HR. Something about our visas.”

We turned quickly in our seats and found Orion standing behind us in full Ring Master regalia, his legs clad in tight white jodhpurs, his black jacket fitting him like a glove. He carried a riding crop and was wearing a top hat. He made me anxious though, his brand of handsome seemed to have a dangerous edge that wasn’t present in his son.

“I have to go,” he said quickly, leaned and kissed my cheek before he rushed past his father. The two of them exchanged a look, Cairo appeared guilty, Orion enraged. I didn’t understand why Cai’s presence in the performer’s practice tent would make Orion so angry.

I looked away, and forced myself to look back, to make eye contact. I caught his hooded gaze, dark and foreboding.

I watched as he left and turned back to the performers. I hunched in my seat, alone in the dark and tried to control the thoughts that were racing through my head.

Cairo was unbelievably attractive, and his danger was in the way I could fall for him. I risked my heart and soul if I decided to play that game.

His father was dangerous in another way. He was good looking, charming, and exuded ill will towards me at times.

Not that the thought of danger had ever made me back down. If he didn’t like me around his son, he’d have to get used to it. I couldn’t stop seeing Cai, even if I wanted to.

I
heard my phone buzz and rolled over to check the time. The Cirque was packing up and leaving for Seattle later today, so I resented whoever was waking me up early.

It was a text from Becs.

WTF where are you? Your apartment is empty!!!

I ignored the inquiry and flipped the phone upside down on the nightstand. There was categorically no way I wanted to engage in any kind of conversation with my former best friend.

Meeting new people had opened my eyes a little more and allowed me to see how selfish Becs had been all along. I had been little more than an accessory, somebody to make Becs look bright and shiny while I had hung on in the background.

I wondered if Becs had slept with any other boyfriends. Trevor from Moosejaw for example. I was sure of it now that I could look back. Maybe Dylan, the Irish guy I’d spent last summer with.

God, how could I have been so stupid? Jason and Becs deserved each other.

In a foul mood, I rolled over, punched my pillow to fluff it up and tried to fall back asleep.

I couldn’t help myself though, I thought about Cairo and imagined he’d be the kind of guy who would laugh at a girl like Becs. He would be faithful if you could get him to commit.

That was the key though, finding out what it took to have a relationship with him, not just a one night stand or playful fling.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I couldn’t handle friends with benefits when it came to Cairo.

Why did he have to be so fucking hot? And why was I getting to be so fucking moody these days? Why did it feel like my body was going through some sort of hormonal change, it couldn’t be menopause, could it? Something was happening though, something that was altering the way I thought, maybe even the energies that coursed through my body and my connection to the planet itself.

I gave up trying to tame my racing thoughts and shuffled out to the kitchen. The trailer was empty, but the coffee was still hot so I poured myself a cup and contemplated searching for Cairo. As if gambling with my heart, holding myself to the flame long enough to see if I could feel anything, to see if I would flinch.

It was ridiculous, setting myself up for heartbreak like that, but then again I’d always had that dangerous streak.

I finished up and headed off to find Carl. I had no idea what we were supposed to do on moving day, and I decided I might as well find out.

*****

T
here was an air of excitement surrounding the entire Cirque grounds as everyone prepared to move. I had to admit, there was something romantic about being homeless, having no fixed address. It felt very Great Depression era to me, traveling through the dust bowl looking for work.

Although of course, my travels came with a steady paycheque and a comfortable roof over my head. So it was convenience and a sense of freedom. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?

I found Carl in the midst of chaos where he reigned supreme. I almost didn’t recognize him out of costume, instead of looking like a half crazed clown he looked like a half crazed businessman.

“Oh this?” he said when he caught my look of surprise, “they don’t take kindly to full face make up at the border. Rather than get stopped and held for hours while they go through every nook and cranny of every truck and trailer, we all dress respectably and make sure we appear as normal as possible.”