The Benefit of Mr. Kite

14

YEAR: 1980

•Michelle's POV•

"Oh my god, look at you! You are doing so well!" I cheered.

I was holding onto Sean's waist as he shakily walked across a practice tightrope. I had brought the kids home to France several months ago; I'm honestly surprised that John hasn't come after us. Since my return, papa had me get back into the cirque—this time, he brought my boys in too. Papa's having me train Sean on the tightrope while Julian's trying to become a fire breather.

Things have be going relatively well at the cirque. Julian's been picking up on his tricks rather quickly while Sean hardly ever falls. Papa put me back on the tightrope, despite not practicing at all for several years. He tells me that I'll be fine; as much as I hate to admit it, I think I will be too.

"Mum, my feet hurt," Sean whined.
"Do you want to stop?" He nodded. "Okay, get down," I said as I helped him off the rope.
"Hey mum," Julian smiled.
"Hey, bub," I beamed. "What's up?"
"Uncle Henry said he's gonna teach me how to swallow swords!"
"He's what?" I yelled. "Henry!" I scolded.
"Oui?"
"Pourquoi diable voulez-vous enseigner à mon fils à avaler des épées?" (Why on earth are you trying to teach my son to swallow swords?)
"Oh, allez, Michelle, c'est complètement sûr." (Oh, come on, Michelle, it's completely safe.)
"Je m'en fous! Mon fils ne déglutit pas des épées!" (I don't care! My son is not swallowing swords!)
"Vous lui laissez respirer le feu!" (You let him breathe fire!)
"C'est différent..." (That's different...)
"Comment?" (How?)
"Il ne met pas d'objets tranchants dans sa gorge!" (He's not shoving sharp objects down his throat!)
"Bien, je ne le ferai pas. Content?" (Fine, I won't. Happy?)
"Oui... merci..."
"Puis-je revenir à la répétition maintenant?" (May I go back to rehearsing now?)
"Oui," I grumbled. "Mon Dieu, he's a handful," I giggled.
"So can I do it?" Julian asked.
"It's still no, bub." I pinched his cheeks and flashed him a smile.
"Oh mon Dieu!" (Oh my god!) my sister yelled. "Michelle!"
"Oui?"
"Ton mari... John?" (Your husband... John?)
"Qu'en est-il de lui?" (What about him?)
"Il est mort..." (He's dead...)
"Il est quoi?" (He's what?) I cried. "Non... non, ce n'est pas juste... il ne peut pas être mort..." (No... no, that's not right... he can't be dead...)
"Il l'a dit dans les journaux." (It said so in the papers.)
"Comment ça s'est passé?" (How'd it happen?) I sobbed.
"Il a été abbatu." (He was shot.)
"Oh mon Dieu!" I sobbed as I collapsed on the floor.
"Mum?" Julian raised a brow. "Mum, what's wrong? What happened?" I didn't answer.
"Mum?" Sean joined in.
"Mum, please answer us," Julian pleaded.
"Huh? Oh, um..." I dried my eyes. "Ce n'est rien..."
"What?" Julian asked.
"Oh," I sighed, "it's nothing."
"It's obviously something."
"No, it's not. Drop it." I got up from the floor and started walking away.
"Why won't you tell me? You never just collapse like that," Julian said as he followed me; Sean ran after him.
"Julian-"
"Mum, just tell me. I'm not three—I can take whatever it is."
"I said that it was nothing!" I scolded.
"Why are you yelling at me? I'm just asking you a simple question."
"You're being disrespectful! I'm telling you that it's nothing, yet you keep badgering me to tell you. Drop it, Julian!"
"Jeez, fine," he huffed. "Come on, Sean."

Julian grabbed his younger brother's hand and walked out of the cirque tent. As soon as the left, I burst into tear again.

"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, chérie?" (What's wrong, darling?) mama asked.
"John a été abattu," (John was shot) I sobbed.
"Oh, chérie."

She pulled me in for a hug as I cried. Once she pulled away, she set her hands on my cheeks and dried my eyes. She flashed me a weak smile and started pushing my hair out of my face.

"You deserved so much better than him," she whispered.
"But mama-"
"Écouter," (Listen) she demanded. "You were such a loyal wife to him. You are a wonderful mother to his children. You did all these things for that man, yet he had to nerve to cheat on you."
"Mama-"
"Michelle!" she snapped. "You didn't really love him and you know it. You shouldn't be wasting tears for such a man. So, dry your eyes... they shouldn't be staining such pretty face." She continued fixing my hair. "D'accord?"
"D'accord..."
"That's my girl," she beamed. She gave me a hug and lightly rubbed my back. "Je t'aime."
"I love you too..."

***

"Introduction, notre étoile pour la nuit! Le spectaculaire, le beau, le magnifique Michelle!" (Introducing, our star for the night! The spectacular, the beautiful, the magnificent Michelle!) papa announced.

The spotlight flickered on to me as I stood on top of my tightrope. I smiled and waved to the audience as they cheered for me. It was good to be home.

I started walking across the rope as I began contemplating why I left. I was a household name at the cirque; it was idiotic to leave. As I thought about the last five years of my life, I started remembering John. My headed started getting foggy with all the memories of him. My eyes started to well up with tears as my legs began to shake.

Then my foot slipped.