The Circus Freak - and the boy who was afraid of clowns

Second chapter

SECOND CHAPTER

RENATO, AT TWELVE, WAS DIFFERENT FROM HIS CLASSMATES at the school he went to, called Colégio Diocleciano. It wasn't because of his body or the color of his skin that the other kids avoided him or called him weirdo. It was because of the fact that he liked to talk to himself. At first, it was some type of habit he had developed from being constantly alone. His mother had separated from his father because he treated her badly and abused her. Renato would spend most of his time by himself, since he had no siblings to talk to.  

  "Those who speak to themselves are never alone!" The little one would say. However, his schoolmates thought differently:  

   "Check out the nut head talking with ghosts again!" A little girl said.  

   "Renato has an imaginary friend!" Another schoolmate reputed.  

   His mother, Jaciara, constantly worked overtime as a spinner at a company called Araraguape, a large Potiguar - which means originally from the state of Rio Grande do Norte - weaving factory. The continuous working and lack of money caused her to drown herself in alcohol. She used to drink cachaça, a Brazilian typical liquor, to relax after a wearisome working day. After the contentious separation, the bottle became her emotional crutch. She had dark skin and light brown eyes. Her long wavy hair, always so well arranged on the top of her head, made her look bossy, supercilious, militaristic, as well as sensual and divine. Her blue grayish work uniform was always so irreproachably stiff. Her drumming high heels were uncomfortable and mandatory. Her looks were her priority. The whitest teeth ever were the adornment of that large smile. The long eyelashes were indeed charming. That's why Jaciara was constantly being flirted with at the workplace. The chief of the department and all the other co-workers would flirt with her, even the security guard, who was the last man she would see before leaving the plant. She could never make ends meet. Every month, she would torture herself spinning those weaving machines, and the overtime seemed endless.  

   Renato had asthma and needed appropriate treatment. He had constant shortness of breath, and had gotten the flu twice in the last three months. It was distressing to take him in the middle of the night to the E.R. in a public hospital.  

   His mom had to ask her boss for an advance. He was the chief of the department, a textile engineer who was responsible for the group of employees on the night shift. She wanted Senhor Natécio, her supervisor, to act as mediator between her and her boss. She really wanted to get a promotion, and thought this would be the right moment to move into the Quality Control Department.  

   "Spinner to start with..." She would dream. "Later on, Controller. And one day, who knows, Production Manager."  

   At the end of her shift, on the tune of the bell that would end her daily suffering, Jaciara knocked on Natécio's door, wanting to be heard.  

   The supervisor dismissed the secretary, who touched Jaciara on her shoulder with the tips of her fingers that had long red nails, as she was passing by her. Her protruding eyes tried to reveal a secret message. The underlying truth was sad and weary.  

   "Go ahead and sit, beautiful!" He said. "Beautiful". That was how the big belly bold man, whose face was dull and shriveled, referred to women. He touched her on the shoulders with his thumbs pressing her shoulder blades. He wanted to find out if the brunette lady, wearing a stiff uniform, was willing to do just about anything for a promotion.  

   She said she was, and she needed the money urgently. She was hoping for some assistance. The unexpected punch came right after she was done talking. Her face slammed onto the mahogany table glass. Saliva and blood started to drip. The glass cracked just like her front tooth. Natécio held the back of Jaciara's neck, pressing it to a point where he was almost strangling her. His big and hairy belly meeting with her strong buttocks softened the discomfort that did not last long. Jaciara placed one of her hands on her forehead checking for wounds. Disoriented by the aggression, she took off her hairnet. She got rid of that part of her work uniform.  

   "Don't take off the hairnet, you bitch!" The filthy man bellowed. He then humiliated her by calling her names. He called her an inferior subordinate. "Leave the hairnet on!" He shouted once more, with one hand still strangulating; the other hand once in a while slapping Jaciara's hips.  

   His fat fingers left thick red marks on the lady's dark loin.  

   On her face, a tear of shame fell slowly. She felt fear and anger for the kind of life she had. But she reconsidered, because she needed the money.  

   Satisfied, the man walked towards the safe. He turned the dial from one side to the other, entering the combination he had memorized. He took from inside, a wad of valuable bills and threw them all over Jaci's naked breasts. The hurried ritual of buttoning up the crumpled uniform, with two or three buttons missing, was interrupted by the excitement of gathering all the money spread out on the waxed floor.  

   "Get out of here, Dona Jaciara. I don't want to see you in my office anymore, ma'am. If you by any chance run into me around this plant, just keep walking, do not wave. Use the money as you wish... It's yours, you deserve it... If you ever tell anyone what happened here, I will have you killed, do you hear me? Answer, Dona Jaciara!" 

   "I heard you alright, sir..." Jaci mumbled. Her breasts still exposed, she was on her knees looking down, gathering the money for Renato's treatment.  

   With the money, Jaciara bought a bottle of liquor, some cough syrup, and bread. When she arrived at home, Renato was asleep. She woke him up with a slap. She took it out on him: "Do you see this medicine, you little burden? That's how I got it, by being slapped on the face! But you will pay me back one day!" And once more she slapped the boy, this time, with the back of her hand. "Get up from there, you brat! Get up for dinner..." She hoisted the mute and passive boy up by the ear. She took him to the table, where they had supper quietly.  

   "Here, have some soup dear!" Jaciara was now calmly cooled down. "Mommy loves you, you know that?" He was astonished to learn how the same hands that had just hurt him, could surprisingly caress his hair now.  

   Confused, Renato didn't know why she had hit him. He remained quiet, he knew it better.  

   "Do you want some bread, darling?" Jaciara pressed her teeth together, and pinched the boy from under the dinner table. Her tong-like fingers left a purple bruise, a generous and violet ecchymosis.  

   But the teacher at school would know the origin of the injury: the good scholarship student had accidentally fallen down.