The Night Circus(33)

“No, nothing like that. Only curiosity.” She takes her sister by the arm. “Let us go and seek out other mysteries to explore for the moment.”

Arm in arm they navigate the crowd, circling around the glowing bonfire that many patrons are still gazing at, mesmerized by the dancing white flames.





THE HANGED MAN




In this tent, suspended high above you, there are people. Acrobats, trapeze artists, aerialists. Illuminated by dozens of round glowing lamps hanging from the top of the tent like planets or stars.

There are no nets.

You watch the performance from this precarious vantage point, directly below the performers with nothing in between.

There are girls in feathered costumes who spin at various heights, suspended by ribbons that they can manipulate. Marionettes that control their own strings.

Normal chairs with legs and backs act as trapezes.

Round spheres that resemble birdcages rise and descend while one or more aerialists move from within the sphere to without, standing on the top or hanging from the bars on the bottom.

In the center of the tent there is a man in a tuxedo, suspended by one leg that is tied with a silver cord, hands clasped behind his back.

He begins to move, extremely slowly. His arms reach out from his sides, first one and then the other, until they hang below his head.

He starts to spin. Faster and faster, until he is only a blur at the end of a rope.

He stops, suddenly, and he falls.

The audience dives out of the way below him, clearing a space of bare, hard ground below.

You cannot bear to watch. You cannot look away.

Then he stops at eye level with the crowd. Suspended by the silver rope that now seems endlessly long. Top hat undisturbed on his head, arms calmly by his sides.

As the crowd regains its composure, he lifts a gloved hand and removes his hat.

Bending at the waist, he takes a dramatic, inverted bow.





Oneiromancy

CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS, OCTOBER 1902




Bailey spends the entire day willing the sun to set, but it defies him and keeps its usual pace across the sky, a pace that Bailey has never really thought about before but today finds excruciatingly slow. He almost wishes it were a school day so he would have something to help pass the hours. He wonders if he should take a nap, but he is far too excited about the sudden appearance of the circus to possibly sleep.

Dinner passes the same way it has for months, stretches of silence broken by his mother’s attempts at polite conversation and Caroline’s occasional sighs.

His mother mentions the circus, or more specifically, the influx of people it will bring.

Bailey expects the silence to fall again, but instead Caroline turns to him.

“Didn’t we dare you to sneak into the circus the last time it was here, Bailey?” Her tone is curious and light, as though she truly does not remember whether or not such a thing occurred.

“What, during the day?” his mother asks. Caroline nods, vaguely.

“Yes,” Bailey says quietly, willing the uncomfortable silence to return.

“Bailey,” his mother says, managing to turn his name into a disappointment-laced admonishment. Bailey is not certain how it is his fault, being the daree and not the darer, but Caroline responds before he can protest.

“Oh, he didn’t do it,” she says, as though she now recalls the incident clearly.

Bailey only shrugs.

“Well, I would hope not,” his mother says.

The silence resumes, and Bailey stares out the window, wondering what exactly constitutes nightfall. He thinks perhaps it would be best to get to the gates as soon as it could even remotely be considered dusk and wait if necessary. His feet feel itchy beneath the table, and he wonders how soon he will be able to escape.

It takes ages to clear the table, an eternity to help his mother with the dishes. Caroline disappears to her room and his father pulls out the newspaper.

“Where are you going?” his mother asks as he puts on his scarf.

“I’m going to the circus,” Bailey says.

“Don’t be too late,” she says. “You have work to do.”

“I won’t,” Bailey says, relieved that she has neglected to specify a time, leaving “too late” up to interpretation.

“Take your sister,” she adds.

Only because there is no way to leave the house without his mother watching to see whether or not he stops at Caroline’s room, Bailey knocks at the half-closed door.

“Go away,” his sister says.

“I’m going to the circus, if you would care to join me,” Bailey says, his voice dull. He already knows what her answer will be.

“No,” she says, as predictable as the dinnertime silence. “How childish,” she adds, shooting him a disdainful glare.

Bailey leaves without another word, letting the wind slam the front door behind him.

The sun is just beginning to set, and there are more people out than usual at this time of day, all walking in the same direction.

As he walks, his excitement begins to wane. Perhaps it is childish. Perhaps it will not be the same.

When he reaches the field there is already a crowd gathered, and he is relieved that there are plenty of patrons his own age or much older, and only a few have children with them. A pair of girls around his age giggles as he passes them, trying to catch his eye. He cannot tell if it is meant to be flattering or not.