The Wild in her Eyes

by Karina Giörtz

“He’s a lot more active since his eyes have opened,” she said.

  “And who could blame him? Once you catch a glimpse of the world, it’s hard not to want to see every last inch of it.”

  Annis turned to look at the train behind them, and then back toward Babe beside her. “Is that why you do it? The circus, I mean. So you can see all there is to see?”

  Babe smiled. “It’s certainly one of the advantages. But no, it’s not why we do it.” She reached into the front of her dress and pulled out a locket that hung from a long chain around her neck. “Here, open it,” she said, handing it to Annis.

  Annis took the locket. She ran her fingertips gently over it and felt every detail of the engraved rose that bloomed in the center. It looked old, but it was well polished. Then, carefully, she opened it. Inside, she found two pictures. One was a woman who looked a great deal like Babe, only younger, and without any indication of a beard. The other was a man, tall and with familiar looking eyes. Annis noticed the woman was the less feminine-looking of the two.

  “Your parents?” she asked, peering back up at Babe.

  “My parents,” she said softly, taking the locket back and clasping it shut before placing it back over her heart. “I wear this locket every day but haven’t seen either one of them since I was fifteen years old. That’s when they told me to leave and never come back.”

  The harshness of their words cut Annis’s heart, slicing through it like a hot blade through butter. Babe was the kindest, most loving person she’d ever met. Annis couldn’t imagine anyone being so cruel and hateful to her. No, she could imagine it. She could imagine it well. She just didn’t want to because it was Babe, and that sort of behavior, that sort of hate, would crush Babe.

  “Sometimes our parents aren’t the people we wish them to be,” Annis offered.

  “Spoken by the voice of experience,” Babe said, tilting her head sideways to get a better look at Annis’s face. Annis turned her head to pay an unnecessary amount of attention to Finian, who was at her feet, attempting to catch his tail between his teeth.

  It didn’t take Babe long to determine Annis’s lack of interest in carrying on about how or when she’d earned such wisdom about parents, and so she went on with her story. “After I left, all I wanted to do was go back. I just always believed, deep in my heart, that they would change their minds. That they would regret what they’d said to me and hope for my return.” She patted the locket, which now hung beneath her clothing. “So, for the first few years, I kept going back. And every time, they sent me away. The seventh time I showed up, they refused to open the door. The eighth, I found a small gravestone sitting under my favorite tree with my name one it. And, at last, I understood. I was dead to them.”

  “Babe,” Annis said as she winced, wishing she had comforting words to offer her that could ease the sting of the pain she still felt after all this time.

  “Oh, it’s alright, Tulip. This was many, many years ago. I’ve found my peace with it.” Her eyes trailed down and straight ahead, following the endless tracks ahead. “But I never could quite give up the desire to return. So, here I am. Still going ‘round and ‘round in circles, passing through my hometown every so often. Just in case...”

  “My heart aches for your parents,” Annis said, her gaze following behind Babe’s. “They’ve been loved by you, by the person whose capacity for love reaches far beyond the capabilities of most, and they’ve deprived themselves of it all this time. They’ve lost out on so much, Babe. On so much wonderful you.”

  Babe turned until their eyes met. “Lucky for them, love knows no bounds.”

  Annis smiled. “Lucky for them, neither do you.”

  “Lucky for everyone.”

  Annis laughed. “Indeed.” The sound of a drumroll filled the air and both women turned their heads in the direction of the sound.

  “Annis, I do believe it’s showtime.”

  They hurried to their feet. Annis struggled for several seconds to hold Finian, who seemed far more interested in acting like an oversized roly-poly bug than being tucked back into his sling, but they finally made their way back around the train and into the camp.

  Toward the front of the tent, people were already pouring in, buying tickets and peanuts on their way inside. In the short time that Annis had been sitting just out of bounds of camp, the entire energy had changed. Where before everyone had been focused on preparation, calm and calculated, now the whole place was alive with anticipation, from the audience to the performers. This time before the show began was quickly becoming one of the best parts of Annis’s days.

  “Can I help you with anything before the show?” Annis asked Babe as they approached the back entrance.

  “Francis will already have seen to everything,” Babe answered. “Thank you, Tulip.” Babe gave one last smile before they parted ways inside the tent. Annis scurried off to find Bess again. Tracking her down turned out to be easy, as she was sitting just inside to the left, having a lively chat with Della and the twins.

  “Would you believe he actually said that to me?” Della was asking the girls as Annis walked up.

  “We all believe that part, Della,” Maude said dryly. “What we struggle with is your constant stream of disbelief over the whole thing.”

  “Really, Della,” Mabel added. “Even I’m only mildly entertained by Leo’s efforts tonight. The real star of this show is you acting as though the poor misguided soul has never suggested the two of you could be more than just trapeze partners before.”

  “Ah,” Annis had finally caught up to the topic. “The will-they-or-won’t-they saga. A brilliant, breathtaking tale which will never truly satisfy because, well, it will never end.”

  Bess and Maude laughed while Mabel snickered behind her hand.

  Della was less amused and resorted to scowling at them all. “Oh, it will end. In fact, it has already ended. No, forget that. It can’t end because it never even began!” she said before marching off.

  “Did I miss anything of more substance than Della’s obsession with hating the way she loves Leo?” Annis asked the remaining group.

  “Not much,” Mabel said, bouncing her shoulders. “The monkeys got loose from their new enclosure, but they’re all caught again. And Sawyer did say something about Roderick the lion having eaten something he shouldn’t have, but he was mostly muttering to himself, so I’m not really sure if he meant for anyone to hear that. For all I know, Harris is short a monkey and just doesn’t know it yet.” Annis stared back at Mabel, baffled by her casual tone.

  “Your idea of not much is not at all like mine.”

  “You also missed out on watching Oscar and August duke it out trying to prove who was really the strongest man alive. In the end, Oscar just sat down on the giant metal thing they were trying to bend and won by default. August refused to acknowledge it, claiming Oscar’s tactic disqualified him.” Maude said with a smirk. “Now we’re all waiting on Hugh to sort it out.”

  “I’m sure he’s thrilled.” It was just the sort of thing that would send Hugh grumbling obscenities under his breath as he pretended none of them existed. She’d seen him do it a time or two already, when the maturity levels dropped too low.

  “You should have seen him when both boys went running to him, demanding he referee. It was nearly as good a show as watching August and Oscar battle it out in weight versus muscle,” Bess said, stretching and lifting up onto her tiptoes to look over the commotion and people backstage and get a clear view of the line up near the curtain. “Oh, Annis. We’re up.” No sooner had she uttered Annis’s name had she grabbed her by the hand and dragged her off.

  “What do you need me to do?” Annis asked, realizing this was the first time today they’d even talked about the act itself. Bess’s was a one-woman show, after all. Annis hadn’t really expected to have a part in it.

  “I don’t need you to do anything,” Bess replied. She flashed her trademark smirk with a fierceness in her eyes. “But I do want you to come out there
with me.”

  “What?” Surely Annis had misunderstood. “You want me to come out where with you? Into the ring?” Annis wasn’t ready.

  “Absolutely,” Bess said, nodding. It was then Annis noticed her hand was still being held captive by Bess’s.

  “To do what?” She could feel the familiar vibrations of nerves start to spread behind her belly button and her feet began to tingle, as though threatening to go numb and render her useless.

  “First, hand that bundle of fur over to Goldilocks,” she demanded. Before either Annis or Goldilocks could protest, Bess reached for the sling around Annis’s neck and scooped it over her head to hand it over to Goldilocks, who very much seemed at the wrong place at the wrong time. “And second...You’re a dancer, right?” Bess said. When Annis didn’t react, she added, “Hugh told me.”

  It would hardly do to deny it now, Annis thought. “I am,” she said. “But we haven’t even rehearsed. I have no idea what you’ll be doing. I can’t possibly keep up.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’ll be following you,” Bess said, sounding exceptionally pleased with herself and as though the suggestion weren’t the horrible proposition destined for failure it was to Annis. Instead, Bess acted as though she’d presented a top-notch plan to top all schemes in the history of the Brooks and Bennet circus. Annis was betting on the first and couldn’t bring herself to hope for the latter.

  “I think I’ll need a bit more instruction prior to being pulled out into the ring by your chicken wire fingers and their tight and twisty grip.” Even as she said it, Annis tried to pry Bess’s hand from hers to no avail.

  “Annis,” Bess said with a calm that inexplicably spread to Annis. “I’ve not let you fall once today, and I’ve asked you to do task after task you deemed impossible, even potentially deadly. Haven’t I earned a bit more confidence from you yet?”

  Annis closed her eyes and forced away all rational thought, which was useless when dealing with Bess. “Alright. Tell me the plan, then.”

  “Plan? What plan?” It took Bess only a second to realize she’d pushed Annis too far this time. “Just kidding. Of course I have a plan. A good plan is the foundation required to keep from falling on your arse under any and all circumstances life brings upon you.” Bess delivered this line as though she were reading it from a secret handbook of rules for never falling, as though it were her mantra, her motto, her golden rule. The gravity with which Bess pronounced those words seared them permanently into Annis’s mind.

  “The plan is simple,” Bess continued, stepping up to the curtain and peeling it back a sliver. “When it’s our turn, we’ll walk out together, both of us climbing to the top and onto the platform. Then, I’ll walk out onto the tightrope and do a few basic moves before I cue you. When I do, I want you to take the lead, moving into a variety of ballet positions, whichever you like, and I’ll follow out on the tightrope. It’ll be fun and the audience will love it because neither they nor I will know which pose we’ll be doing next and whether or not I’ll be able to do it, see?”

  “Sure,” Annis said. It sounded easy enough—Annis’s part did, at least, as long as she didn’t consider the enormous responsibility that came with choosing their moves. She’d have to keep things daring enough to entertain the audience, but still attainable so that she didn’t cause Bess to falter. “Do you have a background in classical dance at all?”

  Bess shrugged. “How hard could it be?” Annis’s eyes and Bess laughed. “I’m just teasing, Annis. I was a dancer all of my previous life. There’s nothing you can throw my way I couldn’t do in my sleep. Promise.” She peeked out into the ring, and then back at Annis. “Ready?”

  “Not remotely.”

  “Perfect.”

  Seconds later, they were running into the center of the ring to roaring applause. From there, Bess climbed her way up to the top of the tent on the left side of the ring, while Annis made her way up to the platform using the ladder on the right. They found each other again only a few feet from the ceiling, where the tightrope was strung from one end of the ring to the other, separating the girls from each other.

  Annis stood still on her platform, waiting while her mind raced in circles attempting to conjure up a proper plan for their spontaneous act. Not until she glanced up to find Bess standing only feet from her out on the tightrope and staring straight at her did it all clicked inside her head, like magic. While she’d been searching Bess’s face for some sort of cue, Bess had stared back at Annis, the same clueless expression mingled with a hint of desperate hope. It had been like looking into the mirror.

  Annis began to move more deliberately. A curious touch of her cheek. A wave of her fingers, every motion made with a curious awe as though she couldn’t believe the reflection she was seeing was truly her. From there, her movements grew bolder, trying out each of her limbs. Soon, she was pirouetting and jumping, delighted by the new reflection she had found in Bess.

  Hearing the drumroll, which signaled the end of their act was near, Annis became ever daring, leading Bess into a sequence of moves that ended in a flying leap just as the lights cut out for their dramatic end. The next the audience saw of them, Bess and Annis were both firmly on the ground, hands held high as the spotlight lit them up for their bows.

  Seconds later, Bess was dragging Annis back through the curtains, howling with excitement over their success. Annis gasped for air, certain she’d been holding her breath since before they stepped into the ring. Now that it was over, the world around her slowly came back into focus, as did the notion that Annis already wanted to go back out there and do it all over again. One taste of it, one brief moment in the spotlight, feeding off the audience’s excitement and being fueled by the waves of adrenaline pounding through her veins, was by far the most exhilarating, most profound lesson of the day.

  She was an entertainer. She craved the ring and the way it made the flames within her dance to life. The feeling was unlike anything she’d ever found in all the years she’d been in the ballet. She felt free. She felt powerful.

  “Annis!” Bess exclaimed, both hands firmly on her shoulders and shaking Annis with overwhelming enthusiasm. “You were perfection! Absolute perfection! Did you feel it? Did you see how wildly magical you are? How fiercely destined you are to hold the light and cast it on the world around you?” She ceased shaking Annis to squeeze her tightly, hugging her as she began to jump up and down, still squealing with joy over their success.

  Meanwhile, Annis was still struggling to catch her breath. Even as Bess’s words were slowly seeping into her consciousness, people were coming from all around, clapping her shoulder, tousling her hair, and smacking kisses on every spare patch of her head to congratulate her on her first attempt at showmanship.

  The show was only just beginning, and so Annis and Bess had to hustle out of the way, cutting the celebration short as they hurried to assist the others wherever they could. It seemed to Annis this night flew by faster than any other before it.

  “I do believe this is yours,” Goldilocks mumbled, handing Finian to her. Both of Goldilocks’s hands were wrapped around Fin’s center, causing his limbs dangle awkwardly. “He soiled the sling,” he informed her, frowning. “And my shirt.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Annis offered, though she felt it was hardly enough of an apology. “I can wash it, if you like.”

  “It’s alright. Not the first animal to do that to me.” He grimaced, casting his eyes sideways toward Harris. “Hard not to take it personal sometimes.”

  “Oh, it’s definitely not personal,” Annis assured him. “He’s peed on Mabel and he adores her.”

  His brow lifted, turning his frown to a more curious expression. Then, after a moment’s thought, he grinned. “So, it’s a compliment, then.”

  Annis felt it was a bit of a stretch, but she was happy to go along with the notion that Finian’s bodily functions were also a sign of his affections. “It’s the only reasonable explanation, really.”

  Goldiloc
ks laughed. “Well, I appreciate you humoring me.”

  “Not nearly as much as I appreciate you watching Fin.”

  He nodded. “Was happy to. Wish I’d been able to see you out there. Heard you and Bess put on quite the show.”

  “Hard to make Bess walking around on a tightrope look bad,” Annis said, feeling a bit silly for all the attention she was getting.

  “True. Hard to make her look even better than she always does too. But you still managed, from the sounds of it.” Goldilocks reached out and gently pinched the top of Annis’s arm. “You’re going to have to get better at hearing people say nice things about you. No harm in believing them when they’re true.” He smiled and then started off in the opposite direction, heading for the now abandoned ring to prepare for breakdown.

  With Finian wiggling in her arms, Annis went in search of a new way to contain him. She made a beeline for the horse corral and Sequoyah. “I need help,” she pleaded, holding Fin as far away from her shirt as possible. “He’s ruined a shirt and his sling in the last two hours.”

  Sequoyah took one look at the two of them and laughed. “I think I have an idea. Come on.” He waved for her to follow, which she did, and happily. Together they rounded the backside of the corral to a stack of hay bales, each draped with several ropes and various horse supplies. Sequoyah examined them all quickly before selecting a sturdy stretch of tarp usually used for feed bags. In only a few quick flips of his hands he’d adjusted it, transforming it into a new sling. He secured it gently over Annis’s shoulder and chest. “There. It’s not as comfortable as the last one, but it should be more resistant to his messes.”

  “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver, really,” she gushed. “I was starting to think I’d be covered in pee from now until he’s old enough to use the grass.”

  “Glad I could help,” he began as the pair headed back toward the main tent where most of the commotion was centered on taking down the massive structure. “Though I think you would have managed just fine, if you’d had to. You have a way of working things out for yourself, Annis. You should trust yourself more.”