Sundance

2. The yellow house (Tobirama)

I yawned, stretched my arms above my head, the fabric of my black T-shirt stretching pleasantly over my chest. The summer evenings were warm now, almost hot, which entailed that my grey, open cardigan was slung on the back of my chair instead of draped over my shoulders, as it had been the entire spring.

I looked down on the simple wooden table in front of me, foldable as to make it easier to transport from place to place as the circus travelled. But despite the simpleness of the table, it was still strong, holding the entire weight of my equipment without hesitation. It was weighed down by mixing tables and boards with buttons for light adjustments. A million different cords went to and from each machine, and I needed to rig everything before every performance, and then take everything down afterwards. It took ages.

Not that I minded, though. The task was simple for me, but incredibly meditative. My favourite was when something went wrong, because then I had to try to figure out why and also find a way to solve it. More than once, I'd built something myself to make up for an error that I had found.

When I had joined the circus as their technician last year, I had expected a tacky show like I was used to from when I was a child. I hadn't watched the show, mind; I only heard it behind me but never placed my equipment so I could see it, just because it was easier to hide me that way and I wasn't interested enough to make my life harder than it already was just to see the show. But I could tell from the music and sound effects and lights alone that it was all but tacky. The music was quirky, a little indie with hints of slow metallic techno, and the lights varied from bright strobe lights to dull reds and purples. It all seemed fantastic.

I was certain that if more people found this very niched circus, it wouldn't have the economic problems it had.

I happened to know about them as I'd spoken to Madara the director about it at my job interview.

"Let me get this straight", he'd said, elbows on his table in his trailer (that was filled with so many teapots I felt watched), fingertips at his temples, eyes closed, trying to get a grip of what I was saying. "You're an engineer. You graduated top of your year at MIT. You've worked as engineer for..."

"Nine years. I'm thirty-three. I graduated at twenty-four."

"Nine years... Your annual salary is..."

I mentioned a figure that made Madara whistle.

"That's, like, my entire telephone number. I'm about your age but that's more money than I've ever had in my entire life if you put all of it together", he said.

"I'm sorry", I said, but Madara waved it away.

"I didn't mean it that way. You've earned it. MIT... My fucking God. And now you want to become a technician at a circus because... You need to try something else?"

"Yes", I said, looking straight at him so he wouldn't suspect I was lying.

Madara sighed.

"Look, Tobirama..." My glare deepened, daring him to make fun of my name. He didn't. I started to really respect him. "I want to help you. You're sickeningly overqualified, but I want to help you. Of course you'll get the job. But I want you to know..." Madara sighed. "We're doing badly. The circus. Don't get me wrong, we're amazing. But we have a bad year. If things don't make a one-eighty next year, you won't have a job."

"I don't care", I said, maybe a little too fast but not caring; man had told me I got the job so I didn't have to pretend I wasn't desperate. "If it's a year, then it's a year."

We shook hands.

But even if wanting to take time off my highly regarded job as an engineer wasn't the main reason for joining this circus, and this circus in particular, it wasn't entirely a lie, either.