Counterbalance

by Aidan Wayne

  “All right,” he said. “That’s cool. Thanks. I’m happy to get to know you too.”

  “That makes me very happy!”

  John was getting the idea that Bao didn’t know how not to speak in exclamation points. That or he really was just this chipper all the time. It was an overwhelming thought.

  “So how did you get into this?” John asked, after he’d given Bao a couple of minutes to eat his lunch. He was inhaling his food as fast as humanly possible. “Were you scouted or did you try out?”

  “A little of both of those things,” Bao said, between bites. “I was scouted very young. People came to my school to see which children had good balance, flexibility, strength. I was chosen to go train away from my family. But then, when I heard about Cirque, many of us in my troupe auditioned. We wanted an adventure and to see what was outside China. And also this way I can help to support my family even more.”

  John nodded. He’d heard a lot of similar stories in the past. “I hope it all works out well for you, and that you like it here.”

  “I do,” Bao said enthusiastically. “I have already met many interesting people. And it is a lot of training for my body, which I like. How were you come to work here?”

  John rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding the scarred parts instinctively. “I was the classic kid who ran away and joined the circus. Not too exciting. I traveled around working shows after high school, and a friend of a friend got my name in when Cirque was hiring. Worked my way up, and now I’m here.”

  “That is amazing,” Bao said. “You must be very brave.”

  “Brave?”

  “To run away to join the circus,” Bao clarified. “To leave your family. I did not want to when I left.”

  John swept a thumb over his right wrist, catching on the mottled skin. “Nah,” he said. “It wasn’t all that hard.”

  Bao came up to John during one of his breaks the next day, still panting and hair damp with sweat. He was carrying a water bottle and held up a hand when John looked over at him. “Hello! Just a moment please!” He drained the bottle before he took it away from his lips and grinned, asking, “Where are you from?”

  John didn’t let himself swallow or act affected, and he refused to glance over at Anastasia because he could feel her smug smile. “Me in particular?”

  Bao nodded. “Yes. Where? No one else I have spoken to yet talks the way you do.”

  John chuckled. Oh. That was easy. “I’m from Texas. It’s in the States. Way, way down south of Montreal.”

  “Oh.” Bao tilted his head, like he was thinking this over. “The United States is where our show is supposed to tour first, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe.” John shrugged. “It’s not set in stone yet. It’s that or Europe, but we usually hit the major cities in the US, yeah.”

  Bao rocked back and forth on his heels. “Do we go to Texas?”

  John exchanged a look with Anastasia, who shrugged helplessly, no longer grinning. “Sometimes, to Houston. I don’t know if we’re planning on going there or not.”

  Bao glanced uncertainly from John to Anastasia and back, obviously sensing the tension. “Did I say something wrong?”

  John was quick to shake his head. “Nah, it’s fine. I just don’t have a lot of good memories, that’s all. ’S’why I left.”

  “Oh. I am sorry. I did not mean to bring up bad memories.”

  John waved a hand. “It’s fine, Bao.”

  “I just wanted—”

  “Break’s over!” Constantine called. “Come on, guys, get back over here!”

  Bao shot John another apologetic look before nodding at Anastasia and running back to practice. John swallowed and watched as Constantine broke the performers up into groups and solo training, Bao in particular settling down in a corner to practice his hand-balancing. He turned away.

  And met Anastasia’s gaze.

  “Sooo,” she started, grinning at him.

  “Don’t,” John groaned. “Please? Will you stop if I say ‘please’?”

  “I was just going to say that he did not ask where I was from.”

  John rolled his eyes. “Like a fourth of the other performers are Russian. He was just curious about my accent. That’s all.”

  “Curious about you, you mean.”

  “Anastasia—”

  “You ask questions when you’re interested in someone,” she pointed out. “That is how to start conversations.”

  “Or he could be in a completely new country, surrounded by people from all over the world, and he’s interested in everyone different.” John shrugged, couldn’t help running his fingers over the scars on his right wrist. “I’m pretty different. That’s all it is.”

  Anastasia sighed heavily. “You won’t even consider the possibility that—”

  “That’s all it is,” John interrupted with finality.

  “Rigging! Can we get the triple lyra down?”

  “Will do,” John called, getting up. He’d been watching Bao and his team practice tumbling and could probably do with the distraction. He’d been . . . looking at Bao a lot, lately. The man didn’t exactly make himself scarce around John, and seemed thoroughly invested in pursuing a friendship. John didn’t mind, but it still took him by surprise every now and again. And made him keep noticing things. And Bao was an acrobat. There were plenty of things to notice.

  Probably John was in trouble. He got down the requested lyra hoops and tried not to think about it.

  Bao chose that moment to pause in doing incredible things with his body, look over, and wave, smiling brightly.

  John smiled—the close-mouthed movement he’d gotten used to because it pulled at his cheek less—and waved back.

  Matt, the other rigger on duty today, chose that moment to sidle up. “Oh, so that’s what Anastasia was talking about. It’s about time you got some, Phantom.”

  “It’s not like that,” John said quickly, if only to defend Bao. “He’s just real friendly.”

  “Oh?” Matt grinned. “How friendly are we talking here?”

  John sighed. “Not that kind, and shut up. He’s made friends with the whole staff. I’m just included.”

  “Uh-huh. I didn’t get a nice little smile and wave when I got up.”

  “That’s—” John shrugged. “He probably didn’t see you.”

  “Or probably he was busy looking at something else.” Matt nudged John’s shoulder. “Come on, you can’t tell me he doesn’t like you. Everyone on the team’s noticed.”

  “Dunno what they’ve noticed.” John turned and made his way back to his seat. “He likes me fine, along with everyone else.” He suddenly felt tired. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Bao was nice. Friendly. That was it. John refused to think about more because he wasn’t the kind of guy who got more. He’d learned that early on.

  “C’mon, what’s that face for? You should go for it! Let me tell you, tumblers are wicked in the sack—”

  “Screw off, Matt.” John wouldn’t know about tumblers either way, and this wasn’t fair to Bao.

  Matt held up his hands. “I’m not trying to touch a nerve, I’m just saying—”

  “Just leave it, okay?”

  Matt sighed heavily, but relented. John enjoyed the silence and tried not to think of Matt and Anastasia banding together somehow on this. He wasn’t sure he could handle that.

  “You’re back!” Bao said, running over to him when John stumbled into the main practice hall. He’d just come in from a thirty-six-hour trip wherein he’d had to fly to Florida to check over a new stage setup, then fly back, and he was beat. “Matt said you went away for work.”

  John nodded. “Yeah, they needed my eyes on the new rig for their rotation stage, since it’s getting an upgrade. The show there’s on hold until it’s finished, so they really wanted to get it done asap.”

  “A sap?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Oh, I see. That is why you were gone? I missed you!”

  J
ohn got stuck a little on that, feeling stupidly happy flutters over having been missed, but then he remembered: English wasn’t Bao’s first language. He spoke it well, but it was obvious a lot of nuances were lost on him. So he just . . . said what he felt, what he knew the words meant. Missing John didn’t mean anything. Aside from the obvious, anyway.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Bao added warmly. “But you look so tired!”

  John shrugged. “Two flights in two days’ll do that. I’m actually not working as a rigger today; I just needed to ask Constantine something. Didn’t realize y’all were on a break.”

  “I think he might be in the cafeteria? We have a half hour.”

  John held up a hand to cover his yawn. “It’s not super important. I’ll duck back into my office for a bit, then.”

  “Oh! I will walk you there.”

  “If that’s how you wanna spend your break.”

  “Do you mind?” Bao asked, drumming his hands on his thigh.

  “Nah, course not. Though I can’t promise to be all that entertaining.”

  “I don’t care,” Bao replied, as they started to walk. “I can tell you what you missed.”

  That startled a laugh out of John. “I was only gone a day and a half.”

  “Yes,” Bao said seriously. “Plenty of time to miss things.”

  Bao chatted happily all the way down to John’s office, and John let the sound wash over him. It was nice and easy, and he didn’t have to think too much. They were at his door in no time at all, and Bao followed him inside. He took one look at John’s desk—for once devoid of its usual mess of papers—and forwent the chairs, instead pulling himself up to sit on top, letting his feet dangle, legs splayed wide.

  John swallowed and quickly moved to the other side, pulling out his own chair and plopping down. The change in angle meant that Bao had to swivel around to face him, moving to practically straddle the corner.

  John very carefully kept his eyes to himself.

  “So now you are all caught up.” Bao smiled, leaning forward.

  “Right.” And god, his throat was so dry. “Thanks.” He managed a smile, because Bao deserved one. “I appreciate bein’ kept up-to-date.”

  “John! John, hello!” John turned from the cables he was winding up to see Bao bounding toward him. “It has been several days! How are you?”

  “Doing pretty good,” John said, finishing the cables and hefting the wheel. “How’ve you been?”

  “Very busy! We are starting to work on first routine! Why is it just Anastasia and Matt now, and you aren’t there?”

  John shrugged, carrying the wheel to storage as Bao followed. “You’ve got your new routine and I’ve got mine,” he explained. “I’m working on the rigging and layouts for it. Spending time holed up in my office at the moment.”

  “Oh.” Bao frowned. “But don’t you need to see what we are doing?”

  “Oh yeah, but I can wait until you guys get a better idea of how everything will work. And that’ll take a couple more weeks at least. Besides, I’m not just working on your act. I’m doing the whole show from the ground up, so it’s a lot to cover.”

  “Wow,” Bao said. “That is a lot. You work very hard!”

  “Heh, no harder than you guys, I promise.”

  “We all work very hard,” Bao compromised. “Oh! The team is going out tonight, to celebrate four weeks. Are you coming?”

  John’d gotten the invitation from Anastasia. She and the others always made sure to invite him, but he didn’t really like going out much. “Hadn’t planned on it. You know, lotta work to do.”

  “Oh, but! You can take a break? Everyone needs a break. It will be fun.”

  John tried for a smile. “Nah. I’m not really one for going out.”

  “Why not?” Bao asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  John sighed. He knew Bao didn’t mean any harm. “Not so good with strangers,” he said, waving a quick hand at his face. “Not when you look like me, you know?”

  Bao stopped bouncing and frowned hard, crossing his arms. “You will be with us, with friends. We will have fun. Don’t— You should not . . .” He stopped, seemingly searching for a word. “Avoid? Don’t avoid going out because strangers. They don’t know you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” John said.

  “Please,” Bao replied. “Oh! Oh!” The bouncing started again. “I had a question for you! I just remembered.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why is it that some of the coaches and riggers call you Phantom?”

  John chuckled. “Oh, that’s nothing. Just a little nickname. You ever heard of The Phantom of the Opera?” Bao shook his head. “It’s a musical. I don’t sing, but let’s just say there are some similarities. Someone started callin’ me that a while back and it stuck.”

  “What is it about? Can I see it?”

  “They made it into a movie, yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s in our library, if you wanted to check it out. Lots of singin’ though. Not sure if you like that sort of thing.”

  “I like most performance,” Bao said, but he looked slightly less happy at John’s suggestion to take out the movie. Did he prefer live shows to movies? “Do you not like it?”

  “Eh, it’s fine,” said John. “Not my favorite thing, but I don’t mind the nickname.”

  “Okay.” Bao nodded seriously. “I will see it.”

  “Uh, if you want to.”

  “I want to understand! So I will see it.” He smiled up at John. John, kinda helplessly, smiled back.

  “That was terrible movie!” was how Bao greeted John in his office the next morning. “He ends up alone. I did not like it.”

  John blearily looked up from his notes. He was only halfway into his first cup of coffee, and Bao was always . . . energetic. “Don’t like the what now? And g’morning to you too.”

  “I apologize,” Bao said. “Good morning.” He threw himself into a chair, sprawling all over it. Which was at least decidedly better than when he’d perched on John’s desk. “The movie. I watched it yesterday night.”

  “I thought you went out last night. How are you even this awake if you did that and a movie?”

  Bao waved a dismissive hand. “That is because I stayed in and watched it. It was very nice, the costumes, the singing. But I did not like the story. The Phantom did not get to be happy at all.” He crossed his arms, frowning hard. “I don’t like that as your nickname. It is mean-spirited.”

  “Aw, it’s okay, Bao,” John said. “They don’t mean nothing by it. Half of ’em probably haven’t even watched the musical, they just know about the face. That’s pretty much the reason. And I work on set doing rigging. You gotta be honest, we’ve got some stuff in common.”

  “Maybe,” Bao said, still frowning.

  It was real damn cute, to be honest. And having those thoughts, well, John was tired. It could be excused.

  “But you don’t, right?”

  “Don’t what?” John asked, taking a sip of coffee.

  Bao blushed, but resolutely looked John in the eye. “Don’t think of yourself as a monster. You don’t . . . right?”

  John forced out a chuckle for Bao’s sake. “Nah. I’m good.”

  “You are,” Bao replied, nodding decisively. “Okay. And next time, you will come out with me and everyone, right?”

  “I’ll think about it,” John allowed.

  “All right.” Bao turned his attention to John’s spread. “What is this for?”

  John sighed. “They want waterworks in this show,” he said, disgruntled. He’d been hoping they’d be canned. “It’s not definite yet, won’t be until a few more weeks in, after more of the base choreography is set, but I’ve got to start going over the logistics of it all now just in case. If they keep ’em, I need to get the stage built so we’ll be ready for full rehearsal in a couple months.”

  “Do you not like waterworks?”

  “Nah, they’re a lot of extra work and fuss. You’ve got to be really ca
reful with the lines of the stage, because if water overflows or gets somewhere it shouldn’t, that can be real dangerous. If a performer finds a puddle during their routine . . .” Bao winced. “Yeah. So it’s just a lot to think about. And between you and me, I never saw any show where I thought the added water looked good. I think it just looks messy. Takes away from the actual show.”

  “I understand,” Bao said, nodding seriously. “This is very important. I won’t distract you.”

  “It’s fine.” John didn’t want Bao to think that he was imposing. “I like it when you visit me. Gives me something else to think about for a while, besides schematics.”

  Bao beamed. “Then I will keep visiting!” He jumped up to give John a quick hug before running out the door. “I will see you at lunch!” he called over his shoulder.

  John swallowed, frozen where he sat. Bao was really touchy-feely; a lot of their performers were, coming from a world where physical contact was so important. But up till now it had been things like a touch on the shoulder or arm (and the first time had been John’s right arm, and John had nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise). Hugging was new.

  It was nice. And he kinda cursed himself for thinking that.

  “That is when I realized that I needed to get stronger in order to really get better,” Bao explained to John. They were having lunch together again. Bao kept seeking him out. “So I got weights to put on my legs and my back. It very hard at first, but it helped a lot!”

  “You really care about your craft, huh?”

  Bao nodded. “Yes! Now I love it very much.” His voice grew quieter. “At first I didn’t,” he admitted, looking at the floor. “It was very hard work, and our teachers were not very loving. I was young and I missed my family and my home. But I had to do it. I had no choice.”

  “That sounds really rough.” John had heard some similar origin stories from various performers over the years. The ones who saw it as a job they did because they couldn’t do anything else. Often those performers didn’t last long in Cirque; they simply couldn’t keep up. “What changed your mind about it? How did you keep from hating it?”