That Time I Joined the Circus

by J. J. Howard

  “Are we still on 27?” he asked, confused.

  “We’re still on 27,” said a flat voice out of the backseat.

  “Then we’re not lost.”

  “Really? That’s awesome! I’m so glad you’re awake, though, Jamie. I wouldn’t want to try to drive the rest of the way into Miami all by myself.”

  “What am I, chopped liver?” came the voice from the back.

  “Dude, did you really just say that? It’s like you’re eighty.” Jamie shot Eli a look.

  I was really starting to adore Jamie.

  I got out of the car and started to grab the gas pump, but Eli was right behind me, muttering that he would do it. Eli pumped and paid for the gas, then climbed back into the backseat.

  “I’ll drive,” Jamie said abruptly, unstrapping his seat belt and getting out. He was opening my door in another couple of seconds. I shrugged and walked around the front of the car to get back in the passenger side.

  “So why were you lurking in the backseat this whole time, exactly?” I decided to forgo my not-talking-to-Eli resolution for the moment, at least.

  “It’s my car,” Eli snapped. I looked back at him, but his face was already apologizing — I guess it took him a second to remember that he was actually trying to get back into my good graces. “I mean, I was sleeping in the backseat of my car. It’s where I sleep these days. I didn’t stow away or anything. You guys hijacked my apartment.”

  “Since when do you have a car?” I asked him.

  “Since I used my college money to buy one.”

  “How did you get around Stan on that one?” I asked. Nothing was more important to Eli’s dad than college.

  “He’s not really speaking to me right now — so, I guess I didn’t. The money was in my account, and I used it without asking. And my mom is on his team, so you have a lot of company in the not-talking-to-me club.”

  “Oh God, dra-ma, enough already.” Jamie sat up and switched on the radio. “Why don’t you two make up or whatever when we get to Miami, yeah? I’d rather not actually turn into a girl before we get there, if it’s all the same to you.”

  He was trying to flip through the stations, but he was making me nervous, so I took over. I snuck a look back at Eli. He had taken Jamie’s directive seriously, apparently, because he was sitting back all the way behind Jamie’s seat, his face turned toward the window. I tried to flip past a station playing “Jingle Bell Rock” by Hall & Oates, but Jamie called out, “Hey! Leave that one! I like it,” and began to sing, loud and completely off key.

  Yeah. It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

  Almost an hour’s worth of holiday favorites later, Jamie pulled the car into a pink roadside motel. It was one of those strip hotels, with all the rooms and doors facing the road and a big square pool in the parking lot. Because nothing says relaxation like swimming in a parking lot. “Seriously?” I asked him.

  “How much money you got?” he asked me. “Seriously?”

  Good point. “I mean, awesome!” I faux-chirped.

  “I’ll stay in the car,” said the martyr in the backseat.

  “I wouldn’t do that here, dude,” Jamie told him. “You can stay with us.”

  “He is not!” I glared at Eli.

  “I didn’t ask to!” Eli glared back.

  “Aw, Mom and Dad, don’t fight — it’s Christmas!” Jamie said in a mock little-boy voice, which struck me funnier than anything had since the return of Eli, and I laughed.

  “That’s the spirit!” Jamie cuffed me on the shoulder. He handed me twenty-one dollars and said, “Here’s my contribution. I’ll be in the pool.”

  “It’s December,” I called after him.

  “It’s heated,” he threw back over his shoulder. I shrugged and started toward the office. I walked forward a few paces, then stopped, remembering what Eli had said about Jamie and me hijacking his “apartment” — how he’d been sleeping in his car. “You coming?” I turned around to holler at him.

  Eli scrambled out and ran to catch up. I wondered how long this strange guilt-based power would last.

  We checked into a room with two double beds and got a foldaway cot, which of course martyr-boy piped up that he would take. Eli actually paid for the room, wouldn’t take Jamie’s or my cash, then grabbed the key from the front desk guy and walked a little ahead of me to unlock the door.

  “Do me one favor,” he said, pausing with his hand on the door handle, his eyes on the door. “Please.”

  I waited for him to say more, but then when it didn’t seem like he was going to speak, I reluctantly said, “Okay …”

  “Just hear me out, X? I know what I did is … I know you can’t forgive me. But I still need to tell you … I came a long way, and I’ve been waiting … Please, will you hear me out? Today?”

  I nodded, but he wasn’t looking at me, so I spoke, though my voice sounded strange. “Okay,” I said again.

  I followed him into the hotel room. The bedspreads had seascapes with seagulls all over them. Classy.

  I took the bed farthest from the door and threw my bag onto it. I sat on the side, pulled my legs up Indian-style, and waited.

  “Whew, okay. This is harder than I thought.” Eli paced in the small carpeted area in front of the two beds.

  “Maybe you should sit, too.” I was surprised to hear myself helping him, but he looked a little bit like he was going to hurl, and I couldn’t help it.

  “Good idea.” Eli took my advice and sat on the side of the other bed, but he didn’t relax; it was really more leaning than sitting. “Thanks,” he added, and took a deep breath. “So, the thing is, I came to find you because I had to tell you how sorry I am. I know I’m too late, and I know I can’t ever make up for what I said, and did …” He drew a ragged breath. His eyes looked bright, as though he might cry. “So I need to tell you I’m sorry about that. Sorry that I was so cold, that I said what I said, that I didn’t run after you, that I was such a coward … all of it.”

  I didn’t look back up at him. I couldn’t. It had been so nice to live in a world in which I could at least try to forget that horrible morning, where no one knew about it or remembered it. Eli showing back up had put an end to all that marvelous pretending. There was a loose thread on the seagull bedspread, and I pulled it, wrapping the thread tight around my index finger, cutting off the circulation.

  “And then you told Bailey,” I heard myself say in a very small voice.

  “Yes,” he admitted softly.

  “Why?”

  He drew another ragged breath. “I don’t know if it matters now. I don’t know if you’ll believe me. I broke up with her. I told her about us because I knew I could never go back to her, not after what I — we — had done. I wanted to come back to you with a clear conscience. But then you were gone.”

  “Of course I was gone!” My voice wasn’t so small anymore. “My father died. And you were so worried about hurting Bailey that you left me to deal with that alone, Eli. Completely and totally alone.”

  “X, I didn’t know about Gavin,” he said very quietly. He stood up and began to pace again. “I went to Bailey, I told her what we had done; I ended things. And then I went after you. I knew it was too late, but I had no idea then how late. You weren’t home; I left you messages — a hundred messages. And then I went to school on Monday and you weren’t there. I figured you didn’t want to talk to me. Nobody knew about your dad. I mean, I guess Dr. Cranston did, but she didn’t make an announcement or anything. I went by your place Monday night and saw you; I stood down in the street and looked up and saw your light on, and I saw you walk by the window. I wish I’d just gone up, right then … if only I’d known. But I couldn’t — after what I’d said — and you were still ignoring my phone calls. I thought maybe I owed you some time …”

  “I smashed my phone,” I whispered.

  Eli sat back down right across from me. “I figured something like that, later. On October 12, I stopped getting your voice mail and start
ed getting ‘This number is no longer in service,’” he explained. “That Wednesday afternoon, I heard about your dad at school. I don’t even know who told me. I left as soon as I heard it, ran all the way to your place. But you were already gone.”

  Neither of us spoke for a long moment and the silence grew between us. Suddenly Eli knelt on the carpet between the two beds at my feet. “I understand that you can’t ever forgive me for the way I acted, or for leaving you alone. But I needed you to know the rest, at least. That if I had known about your dad, that I would never, never have stayed away.”

  I pulled hard on the loose thread, making a giant snag. “That’s not what I thought,” I said carefully, and was surprised to find out I was crying. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “That’s not what it felt like.”

  “I know, X … Lexi … I know.” He pulled me to him, off the bed, and down onto the floor with him, into his arms. I went stiff at first, and then something unbent — or broke — in me. My best friend hadn’t completely abandoned me. Eli hugged me, hard, one large hand on the back of my head, pulling me to him.

  And that’s how Jamie found us. “Aw, I knew you two crazy kids would make up,” he said, rubbing his pool-wet hair with a towel.

  I extricated myself from my damp embrace with Eli. He sat back, his eyes on my face.

  Looking for a distraction, I glanced back at Jamie, who was just wearing a towel.

  “Um, Jamie. What did you wear to go swimming?” I asked him.

  “Wear?” He actually sounded confused. “Just gimme a second to put on some pants and then let’s grab dinner. I’m starving.”

  Eli stood up and extended a hand to me, then hoisted me up beside him.

  “Thank you for listening,” he said softly. “If you want me to go now, I will.”

  “Do you want to go?” I asked. “I mean, you should go. Back to your real life.”

  “You were my real life,” he said, leaning close to me. “As long as you’re speaking to me, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Come on,” Jamie said from the doorway. So the three of us went to Arby’s for dinner.

  Miami, Florida — Sunday, December 19

  “I got us a tree,” Jamie announced on his way back from his and Eli’s doughnut-and-coffee run the next morning. He triumphantly held up a small fake tree already decorated with lights; I could see the cord trailing out behind the thing.

  “More importantly, I got coffee,” Eli added, handing me a foam cup.

  All of a sudden, it occurred to me to wonder where Jamie usually spent Christmas.

  “Jamie,” I said, sitting my coffee on the nightstand and running a hand through my bed-head hair. “Where are you going to go for Christmas?” I tried to sound gentle and not pushy, but from the look on his face, maybe it was a sore subject and I shouldn’t have asked.

  “I would usually go to see my mom,” he said. “But I’m not going back there while she’s married to that creep. So, nowhere. That’s why I let some crazy girl kidnap me.” He grinned, though it was a lopsided one that didn’t quite reach the sadness in his eyes. “So are you gonna help me decorate this tree or what?”

  “With what? Coffee stirrers and sugar packets?” Eli asked.

  “O ye of little faith,” I told him, getting up and going to my bag to grab the jewelry I knew was stuck in the front compartment. I sat cross-legged next to Jamie and the little tree and handed him a jumble of necklaces to untangle. “Here — some of these are kinda sparkly.”

  “Some.” Jamie snorted, seeming glad for the distraction from his brief departure into serious land. “You like all that hippie stuff, Lexi. Everything you wear looks old. I don’t mean ugly,” he hurried to add. “Just antique-y.”

  “Most of it is,” Eli told him. “Xa — Lexi never met a thrift store she didn’t like.”

  “So what’s it like in New York City this time of year?” Jamie asked. Eli started describing the tree at Rockefeller Center and all the lights. Jamie looked rapt.

  “That’s where we should have taken him,” Eli observed. “You’ve never been to New York, have you?”

  When Jamie shook his head, Eli then informed him that he hadn’t yet truly lived.

  I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t ready to go home. In fact, I didn’t know if I ever would be.

  I half expected Eli to suggest we jump in the car and head north, but he let the moment pass. Jamie and I decorated the tree, which now looked either very festive or a lot like a weird window display in a vintage shop, as Eli said.

  “So when do we leave to find Nick?” Jamie asked as he plugged in the tree.

  “I don’t know where he lives,” I admitted.

  “That club of his cousin’s, the one he basically owns — it’s called Revenge,” Jamie said. “A couple of us went down there last summer.”

  “How did you know I wanted to look for Nick?” I asked him.

  Jamie snorted. “Have you met yourself?”

  Eli didn’t say anything, but he didn’t meet my eyes, either.

  “I don’t have any clothes for a nightclub,” I said. I looked down in dismay at my NINJAS HATE PIRATES T-shirt and holey denim skirt.

  “Good thing Stan sent you a Hanukkah present.” Eli held up a credit card and almost smiled.

  “Hey, I need some new threads, too.” Jamie vaulted over his tree, and I shoved my feet into my flip-flops and followed them out the door. This was shaping up to be the strangest Christmas ever.

  After a trip to a very large mall, and a surprising amount of difficulty for me in finding a new top, the three of us hit the food court and then Jamie drove us back to the motel.

  I kicked them out of the room for an hour so I could try to look like a girl for a change. They left, chatting like old friends. Weird, weird, weird.

  We got on the road a little after ten. Eli got directions for Revenge on his phone and guided Jamie, who was driving. Eli’s car looked like a sad orphan in the part of downtown near the club. I felt the same about my clothes, my hair, my existence. But I’d come this far.

  So there I was, standing in line to get into a club called Revenge, in Miami, where it was at least eighty-five degrees even though it was less than a week until Christmas. I stood beside my ex–best friend and the carnie guy I’d kissed once and then avoided. I played idly with my fake ID while I considered that this was actually my life.

  “It’s all-ages,” Eli told me, looking toward the ID in my hands. Both Eli and I had fake IDs — we’d gotten them to see bands back in New York.

  “Oh, that makes sense,” I said, realizing Nick would hardly hang out in his own building and risk getting the place shut down. I looked at Eli as he stood beside me and had one of those nanoseconds of recalibration. I always thought of him as a younger version of himself, the one who existed before he’d started going to the gym — which had to be one of the signs of the apocalypse.

  The line for Revenge was moderately long — by Manhattan standards, at least. Some loud guys walked toward us. I felt Eli grab my hand and step closer to me.

  Of course this had the effect of making one of the guys notice me, instead of the opposite. “Hey, mama.” He stepped away from the pack and closer to me, looking me up and down. I felt Eli stiffen beside me. I wasn’t really alarmed, just pondering how not-sexy it was to call someone who wasn’t your mother mama. Jamie woke up and got in the guy’s face. If you happen to feel compelled to go to a club in Miami to look for/stalk your crush, I’m telling you, two guys are better than one.

  “She’s with us,” Jamie growled.

  The guy grinned at me, apparently not up to no good. “‘With us,’ huh? You go, girl.” He winked lasciviously at me.

  “You have no idea,” I told him, using a slightly lascivious voice myself.

  He and the others walked off laughing, and Jamie turned around and gave me a surprised look. “You, Lexi Ryan, are not boring,” he told me.

  “I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” I responded. Eli was still
holding my hand, and I turned to him. His face was curiously distracted. I wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t ask because the line surged forward, and before I knew it we had made it past the bouncers and were walking into the club. Eli dropped my hand as we walked through the doorway.

  The club was all black inside — black booths, black floor, exposed ducts and wiring in the ceiling that was painted — you guessed it — black. There were sconces with lights that looked like old-fashioned gaslights. A woman on the small stage was singing a slow song in a minor key. It was still early; I guessed the music would be more up-tempo later.

  Jamie, Eli, and I looked at one another, not quite sure what to do or where to stand. This wasn’t really any of our scenes, and I felt suddenly really stupid for dragging them here with me, for coming at all. And then I spotted Nick across the room.

  He was surrounded by people, and a very tiny blond girl seemed to be doing her best to crawl into his pocket.

  I couldn’t breathe. Seeing him here, like this, was a punch to the stomach. He didn’t seem like my Nick from the circus.

  And then things got a whole lot worse.

  We were standing close to the stage. I don’t know how we got there; I think I was unconsciously walking toward Nick, even as he gave every evidence of not missing me or remembering my name. Jamie and Eli, bless them, had come along in my wake. I heard Eli clear his throat and say, “Um, X?” He elbowed me, a little too hard, making me think it hadn’t been the first signal, and gestured toward the stage.

  The woman up there was now singing an old Kate Bush song, “Running Up That Hill.” The voice was familiar, because a long time ago, it used to sing me to sleep.

  I stood there right in front of the stage and looked up at the very person I had come on this adventure to find.

  I looked up to see the woman performing up there on stage was my mom.

  The Nightmare That Is My Life — Sunday, December 19

  “Um, that lady looks just like you.” Jamie stood staring up at the stage, mouth open.