Burlap

13 - Scream

“Tell me about the circus.”

I smirked, licking the tomato juice from my fingers as I pondered that question. Which side did he want to hear? The good times? Performing, practicing, and dining with Robbie? Or the bad times? Broken bones that kept me out of commission for weeks on end? Bruises stage makeup couldn’t disguise? Facing my ultimate fear every night as I was forced to feed and wash the mammoth elephants?

“What do you want to know?” I settled for, instead of taking the guess.

John leaned back on his hands, his bare feet dangling in the frigid water of the trickling stream. “What was it like to travel all the time?”

“I can’t say. It’s all I ever knew, so I have nothing to compare it to. Every week was a routine of arriving, setting up, practicing, performing, taking it all down, packing up, and hitting the road again,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. The sequins of the leotard I still wore sent tiny beams of light shooting off every surface of the cave with each movement I made, transforming the dark torch lit cavern into a faerie-like wonderland.

“Were the other performers as good as you?”

Heat rose to my cheeks, but I found I couldn’t lie to him, even for the sake of humility.

“No,” I answered, saving my embarrassment by choosing not to elaborate. Bragging only reaps a temporary reward. Showing you skill and impressing people by making them believe the impossible reaps a permanent reward without ever saying a word, Power had told me over and over throughout the years. Of course, how was I to know she wasn’t speaking of just my performance, but my ability to kill and maim as well? She had followed her own advice, never telling me how dangerous she was until after the fact. And then she never once let me forget it. Sure, she’d always defended me and protected me, but the defensive stance and the offensive strike proved to be two vastly different worlds.

His head bobbed up and down in understanding. “That makes sense, I guess. I can’t imagine anyone being able to show you up. I’ve never seen anything like what you just did. You’re even better than you were ten years ago.”

Another tomato made its way to my mouth and I bit into it, savoring the rich flavor as more juice seeped out and ran down my fingers. I bent over and dipped my hands in the water, letting the stream wash away the juice after I’d finished the whole thing.

“What about you?” I asked, dragging my hand back and forth through the water. I shifted to lay on my stomach on top of the blanket, watching the dancing waves of light on the wall. “Tell me about growing up on the farm.”

“Again?”

I grinned back up at him to see his own mirroring mine. “Again,” I confirmed.

He shook his head. “I’ve told you about my childhood dozens of times. If you think baiting me to talk about my life will keep you from talking to me about yours will work, you’re sadly mistaken, sweetheart.”

I tossed my head back as high pitched laughter rang out from my throat and I folded my arms under me to rest my head on them. “I don’t know what to say. Your life is so much better than mine. You have a mother and sister who love you. Nieces and nephews. Memories of your father. You know so much about everything and anything. I like hearing your stories, even if it’s over and over again.”

The blanket shifted beneath me as he moved to copy my position laying down. We’d long ago given up the idea of returning to Rosenton until morning. Cherishing and savoring the night of freedom we had in the cave tempted us beyond what we could handle for our own goods. Consequences be danged, we would spend the night together in my own private circus arena.