CIRCO

by Tara Ellis

“Oh my god everyone thinks I’m a whore now,” thought Vanessa as she walked towards the stadium. A few colleagues gave her a few awkward glances over the shoulder. And the costume designers were pointing and laughing as if they were in middle school. Before she made her way through the doors she heard her name—well her alias, which was being mingled with words such as “fast”, “easy”, “whore,” and “slut.” Vanessa is far from being a slut, and I’m talking miles; growing up she was more of a recluse than anything. Her family worried as she would give excuses why she wouldn’t make friends outside the clock tower. But that didn’t matter to these people who were giving this young woman a whore’s welcome. The reputation of a slut defies the laws of physics because it travels faster than the speed of light.

  She sat in the control room and became the little girl she tried to forget. She thought maybe her mom wasn’t so bad after all. The blows of theirs words made her realize how tender her emotions truly are. Hurt, anger and that awkward feeling that comes when you realize everybody is talking about you, and they have nothing nice to say.

  Vanessa figured that Artemis and Timsley probably told the crew how they found her sleeping with Freddy. Even though they didn’t do anything, the way she fell asleep in Freddy’s arms would make any onlooker suggest otherwise. Freddy held her gently in his sleep like an infant clutching a blanket. And when Timsley voice startled him awake he pulled Vanessa in towards him even more. Even though she didn’t like the outcome, she was… she was very comfortable slumbering in the young man’s presence.

  Little did she know how his eyes studied the contours of her face with the fascination of a school boy. It was like he had won a prize and this woman was his trophy. Her essence kept him up for hours into the night. He took the time in the moonlight and counted one hundred, thirty eyelashes on both of her eyes. He gently stroked her plump lips with his fingers. Their natural color reminded him of peaches, peaches he wanted to taste. He did what any rational man would have done, he stole a kiss. And no taste ever hit his palette that was sweeter than her lips.

  In the control room Vanessa was figuring how every knob and button correlated with the stage. It didn’t take her long; she had an aptitude to retain new information. She sort of played with every instrument on the board to see how the stage would be affected and then Timsley came in through the door. After the initial shock of him being there, came the sound of the creaking door slamming shut behind him, and that let her know nothing good can come from this moment.

  He said something to her but she’d rather go blind then look in his direction. Vanessa heard the weak floorboards scream under his feet right before the pressure hit her left shoulder. Timsley’s rugged and filthy hand was clutching her.

  “Well how is your first day turning out?”

  He took a seat right in front of her.

  “It’s moving along,” she said as her voice cracked. Timsley saw her lips quiver, he couldn’t figure exactly why but it excited him nonetheless. He slowly repeated the words that came out of Vanessa’s mouth.

  “Lucky for you seven times out of ten when we’re dealing with a stadium venue, the control room will be set up quite the same as this.”

  “That is good to know.” Timsley slowly mimicked her words again.

  For a moment Timsley went on asking questions and Vanessa would be giving short answers. He kept repeating every answer she said slowly and softly. Vanessa grew more unsteady as the conversation started to stray off the job. She told him she had to visit the rest room. Vanessa’s distressed face was in the mirror pondering how to get through this moment. That was when he walked in. She saw his heavyset form come towards her in the mirror, but how the mirror was positioned his head was cut off. She asked him why was he in the girls bathroom, she spoke loud enough for someone outside the closing door could hear.

  He started out by saying: “You know Selena.” He walked towards her and put both hands on her shoulders. He moved on to say “like I said before, you have to show me a little more enthusiasm, if you would like to stay here.”

  After his words a long silence followed; they both stared at each other for a moment.

  “How bad do you want to be here?” His right hand went from her shoulder to the depth of her cleavage.

  “Show me how much this means to you.”

  The anger erupted in her—she was the type to never let another disrespect her in such a manner. There was strength summoned within her she didn’t even know she had, she swung her foot and ruined his testicles. He thumped when he hit the ground. She watched that pathetic lump of man moan, rolling on the floor calling out obscenities: “you bitch!” That was her chance. She ran out the door leaving Timsley holding himself in agony.

  She rushed down the stairwell trying to leave that demented scenario. She lost her balance and fell over but still kept her grasp on the railing.

  She didn’t want to do it, she tried to prevent it from happening, she tried to suppress the flooding emotion like a damn-- but it came anyway. The tears came out of her eyes, her voice cracked out in a shriek; Vanessa was subdued in her own emotion. Vanessa spent a good deal of time in the stairwell trying to put herself back together. Minutes later there were voices coming from above; she didn’t want anyone to see her like that, so she wiped all her tears away and straightened her voice from a grunt of the throat. She was headed straight for the exit, she had enough, she needed to get away. The circus was taking too much out of her. Her hands were tied; if she reported the sexual harassment she would inevitably be in court. Then everyone will know the truth about her, and maybe the court will order her back home to her parents. But if she tried to lie about herself in court then she would be thrown in jail. She didn’t care for any of that, so she thought about looking for something else. She was in Atlanta after all, probably could find a job out there. But no telling when she would get hired, what she would be paid, how long it would take to get into housing. Vanessa knew she was stuck. Her only hope was for him to never touch her again, even that wasn’t promising.

  Her mind was filled with conflicting thoughts. She now was in the hallway heading for the door; someone shouted “Selena,” but she kept for the door because she couldn’t register that name.

  Moments before the incident, within the changing room, was Joyce in all her fineness. Joyce was admiring her bedazzled self in the mirror. She thought it was a little skimpy, even for leotard standards but she was in love with the scheme of the outfit. The wardrobe designer matched the fabric with Joyce’s skin tone and sequenced it with rhinestones.

  There were only five people in Joyce’s wardrobe room: Joyce herself, Britney, Malik the costume designer, Joan the makeup specialist, and Arnie, as he would like to consider himself an artist of the scalp.

  Malik, Joan and Arnie were all gazing at Joyce with self satisfaction. They all thought of themselves as artists in some way, Joyce was their canvas and they painted a very articulate picture.

  “When the lights go off,” said Britney as she gotten out the chair. “The only thing that will still be shining,” she said as she flicked the lights. “Is you my dear.”

  In the dark room Joyce lit up like the constellations of the night. Even in her hair there were little sparkling gems. She twirled about, and then faced Britney. “Oh I love it.”

  “You look amazing,” gushed Joan.

  “Even when the sun goes down,” Arnie said. “You can make their world light up.”

  Within the hallway Scarlett overheard the praises that was given to Joyce. She glared into the space of the cracked open door. As soon as she saw the smile on her nemeses, her insides began to boil. Question and thoughts arose within her mind: “Why is she getting all this attention? She has no talent, so why do they adore her? She so plain, there is nothing special about her whatsoever. She needs to go. I need to get her out of here. How can I get her to leave?” />
  “Scarlett?” said Artemis. She looked at her stepfather who was standing behind her in the hallway.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She didn’t reply, only walked away. Artemis was well aware his stepdaughter was wayward-- so he was not at all surprised. He just shook his head. “Ok whatever.”

  Three knocks came on the door.

  “Who is it,” asked Britney.

  “It’s just me Artemis, I was curious to know what our little gymnast will be performing next.”

  Britney swung open the door and the first thing Artemis noticed was Britney’s cleavage, which was as wide as an outdoor pool and Artemis wanted to dive in and get wet.

  “Please Artemis stay focused and put those eyes on your talent,” said Britney as she placed a hand to cover herself.

  “Oh I’m sorry I was just admiring your talents,” he whispered to Britney.

  “Wow you three did an amazing job,” complemented Artemis. The sparkles from Joyce were reflecting in the old man’s eyes. Britney hit the light switch and Artemis asked his young talent what she will perform for the spectators. Joyce was going to answer but Britney spoke before she could: “that is a secret.”

  “Of course, you love to tease me.”

  “I do.”

  “Well here is a bit of advice Joyce, get to know your theater technicians. It’s the stage that makes you god in the eyes of the audience.”

  “Who does my lights?” asked Joyce.

  “I’ll introduce you to her.”

  Joyce and Britney followed Artemis out into the hallway; they were headed for the stairwell until they seen the very person they were searching for.

  “That’s her.” Artemis pointed her out. He shouted her name once but she kept walking. He tried once more: “Hey Selena.” She turned around and compelled a smile.

  “Selena let me introduce you to…”

  “Joyce. I know her, we’ve met.”

  “Well it’s good to meet you again,” said Joyce. This time Vanessa’s smile was more genuine.

  “You two should get to know each other real well. You’re going to be partners in crime until the tour ends. Your make up and wardrobe is great Joyce but great lighting will make you ten pounds lighter and five years younger.”

  Even though Artemis meant well, his words didn’t come across as such; Britney gazed at Artemis in disgust, then Vanessa saw a look of unease settle on Joyce’s face. So she wanted to say something that will break the awkwardness set in by Artemis’s comment: “You look great to me, and you’re standing under florescent bulbs so when you get under my lights you’ll be something to behold.”

  “Wow big talk for a newbie. I’m still trying to break you in myself,” said Artemis.

  “Artemis,” started Britney. “You have no idea how to talk to young girls do you?”

  “What do you mean? I was trying to introduce them.”

  Britney and the old man bickered at each other like kid brother and sister whilst the young women tried to get to know each other.

  “I’m sure you’ll do just fine Selena,” said Joyce.

  “Thanks.”

  Vanessa saw the limping Timsley head outside the back exit doors. She figured it’s best to stay in now since he is outside.

  “How about I try the lights on you to see what best fits,” Vanessa said.

  Joyce looked at Britney seeing she had hands full with Artemis, so she figured to venture off with Vanessa.

  “Sounds good,” said Joyce.

  “You head over to the arena, and I’ll go to the control room.”

  Joyce lifts the curtains and walks over to the center of the stage. A little something in her shifted as she saw all the desolate seats that were going to be filled with more than twenty thousand people in forty-eight hours. From her point of view, being from a small town in Michigan, this was the largest closed space she had ever stepped foot in to throughout her entire life. The number of empty seats invigorated her drive; she aimed to give them one hell of a show. She could already hear the cheers of the audience as she anticipated for her own performance.

  Vanessa stepped in to the control room, shutting the door and locking it. After hearing the click it registered to her that she was safe. She went up to the microphone and asked if Joyce could hear her. Joyce put up her handheld microphone and told her so.

  “Let’s start off with the basics; this is the shade your audience will be in when you’re performing.”

  Joyce then saw the sitting area succumb to a dim light.

  “I can barely see out there.”

  “All the better for them to see you,” replied Vanessa. “This light here really accentuates you on the stage.”

  A cascade of illumination falls on her petite frame.

  “From here you look like a cluster of diamonds in a mine shaft. This is how you look to your audience.”

  Joyce saw herself on a big screen that was floating in the middle of the room. At that moment she succumbed to her own vanity. She fell in love with her own image. Vanessa saw those big dark eyes widen and she heard the faintest whisper floating out of the gymnast’s mouth: “I look…I… I look.” Vanessa finished her thought by saying “amazing” in the microphone. The performer smiled showcasing to Vanessa how simply she is flattered.

  If you haven’t noticed by now it takes little to no effort whatsoever to flatter Joyce; she is easily swayed even from the most general of compliments. Once in the first grade during an introduction to multiplications a boy with long blonde hair, blue eyes and a tie dye shirt told her: “I like you very much because you’re really pretty.” That sent her in a tickled rage; little joyous Joyce was lost in a fit of hysterical laughter. She laughed to the point her cheeks went purple. The rest of the children stared at her and the teacher was displeased. During recess she went up to the boy and asked: “Do you want to marry me?” The boy shrugged his shoulders and said he would. He stepped off the monkey bars and gave her an unexpected kiss on the lips. The other kids dropped their jaws at this scandalous event. Little Joyce hit the ground like she was shot with anesthesia. Later that day, after the girls stapled little blank sheets of paper all over Joyce’s blouse and gave it a train that followed. After she carried a little corsage made of toilet paper, she approached her groom with five little witnesses. Then she was married in the girl’s bathroom.

  “Okay, now I want to see how this color looks on you as you’re in motion.”

  Joyce then twirled about like a ballerina as a cascade of purples fell on her. She danced in the softest of shades to the richest of color.

  Vanessa brought her lips to the microphone: “this is your color.” Joyce stopped as the voice coming from every direction said “You were made to be in purple.”

 

  Conspiracy