The Fissure King

by Rachel Pollack

  And then Mister Green came out of his trailer, and instead of death he brought new life. Green's Midway was being taken up by an old-fashioned, balls-to-the-wall circus. Billington's Big Top, one of the last remaining touring circuses that actually played in a tent, had decided they needed a carnival sideshow. The circus could use the extra revenue from the rides and games, while the carnival would benefit from the larger crowds. "There might be some adjustment," Mr. Green said, and the nervous looks remained. "But we'll work it out," he promised. People walked away, bolstered by Green's confidence. When just about everyone had gone, Jack said to Abby "I'll see you back at your trailer, okay?"

  She kissed him lightly. "Sure."

  Jack went up to Green. "What about Xoltan?" he said. "Do you think the Billington Circus will like having a juggler fleecing their customers?"

  "Fleecing? When did you get to be such an old time carny man?"

  "I'm serious," Jack said. "I like what I do, I'd like to keep doing it."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Of course I'm sure. I just said so, didn't I?"

  Green sighed. "So you did. Don't worry, Jack. You may have to let a few more lambs keep their fleece, but you're good."

  "Thanks," Jack said. He stood there for a moment, with Green waiting for him to leave, then he said, "What about Abby? Will she be okay?"

  Green laughed. "don't worry about Edwina. She's a rock."

  Jack nodded. "Okay, then. Thanks." He turned to walk off.

  He was a few steps away when Green called, "Hey, Jack."

  Jack turned. "What?"

  "You know you don't belong here, right?"

  "What the fuck?" Jack said. "You just told me I was okay, now you're kicking me out?"

  "I didn't say that. As far as I'm concerned you can stay and fleece the rubes until we're both old and gray."

  "Then what are you talking about?" Jack thought how this was the first place he ever felt he belonged. Stupidly, his eyes got moist, and he hoped the lights from the trailer were dim enough that Green didn't see them. "This is my home," he said.

  "Well, that's okay, then," Green said. "See you tomorrow, Jack," and he stepped inside his trailer. Jack stood for a moment, letting his heart settle, then he walked—casually, he hoped—to where Abby was waiting for him.

  The first time Jack saw the Billington Big Top he thought how "Small Top" would have been more accurate. He remembered his parents taking him to Barnum & Bailey's at Madison Square Garden when he was nine, and this outfit could have fit in a corner of it. They had all the right acts, just on a small scale. A handful of clowns (none of them very funny), a husband and wife trapeze act that played it pretty safe, an actual juggler, the kind that tossed things in the air—Jack thought maybe they should meet, but when the Great Santini, whose real name was Sam Epcott, showed no interest, Jack let it go—a sequined woman who did simple dance steps on the back of a (slow) running horse, a top-hatted barker who somehow always seemed like he should be running a funeral home—and a lion tamer. There were no elephants, which Abby said was good, since circuses treated elephants like shit, but there was a hell of a lion tamer.

  Anastasia, she called herself, and for all Jack knew that was her real name, he never heard anyone call her anything else. A white woman nearly six feet tall, she performed in a one-piece purple outfit that clung to her from her toes to her neck, with no boots or shoes. Long waves of thick black hair would flow down her back then snap in the air as she turned to gesture to one of her cats. There were only three of them, two leopards and a lion. Like everything else in Billington's the act was small, but it never felt that way. Anastasia's proud stance, her struts and pirouettes, and above all her intimacy with her animals captivated the audience. The leopards looked like twins (they were, in fact, mother and daughter), and people loved it when they played together on the tent floor.

  But it was the lion who was clearly the star. A tawny gold body and face, with a thick black mane, Nero, as Anastasia called him, seemed the hugest creature Jack had ever seen. He found himself wishing the lion could have been there that night the dogs showed up at the back door. Years later he would realize that Sam and Lily could have torn Nero to pieces, but in the circus Nero seemed invincible.

  Though Anastasia had no private name, the way "Edwina" was really Abby, Jack was sure, though he couldn't say why, that "Nero" was not the lion's real name. In one of the rare moments when Jack dared speak to Anastasia one on one, he asked what Nero's "original" name had been. It was offstage and Jack had followed Anastasia to a hillside, where she sat on the grass and looked at the sky. She had changed to street clothes, jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie. Jack thought she looked just as amazing in a blue sweatshirt as in her purple suit. "Can I join you?" he said.

  She glanced up at him. "Sure," she said. Jack thought she looked amused, and wished he hadn't come.

  He sat for a moment, then said "What are you looking at?"

  "Oh, just the usual."

  Jack had no idea what that might be so he said nothing. When the silence became uncomfortable he said "Can I ask you something?"

  She turned to smile at him. "Sure," she said.

  "What's Nero's real name?"

  "What makes you think his name isn't Nero?"

  "I don't know, I guess because I'm Jack, not Xoltan, and Edwina is really Abby."

  "I see. Well in that case, Nero's name is—" Jack half expected something in Swahili, or a growl. Instead, she made a sound that Jack could not have imitated, or even remembered. All he knew was that it hurt his ears and the back of his head.

  "Wow," he said. She didn't answer. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." He laughed but she had already turned back to the sky. "I guess I should go," he said, and stood up. "Um, thanks. For answering my question." When she said nothing he turned and walked stiffly back to Abby's trailer.

  When he got there he found her sitting by her small metal table, leaning back with her arms folded. "Well," she said, "how was Mees Ah-na this evening?"

  "What?" Jack said. "If you think there's something going on between me and that lion tamer you don't know what you're talking about."

  "If there isn't it's only because she's not interested. You're not man enough for her."

  "That's bullshit," Jack said.

  "Is it? I don't know who you're lying to, Jack, me or yourself. Or which is worse. Either way, I think you should sleep in your own trailer tonight."

  "C'mon, Abby, you're making stuff up that isn't there." He would have said more, but she began to cry. "I'm sorry," he said softly. He thought of explaining that this thing he had about Anastasia was nothing at all like what he had with her, but he was pretty sure she didn't want to hear it. And even if she did, and asked him to explain it, he knew he couldn't have answered. So he left.

  Jack had not shared the trailer with Bernardo since he'd taken up with Abby. Bennie, as everyone called him, drank and snored, and rarely washed, and Jack had to brace himself to return there. When he stepped inside he was glad to see Bennie already asleep in the narrow bed built into one side of the trailer. But just as Jack sat down on his own bed and started to take off his shoes, Bennie opened his eyes and said, "Huh. Look who's here. What happen, Beard Girl kick you out?"

  Jack was about to make up some bullshit about needing space but instead said, "Yeah. I guess so."

  Bennie laughed softly and said, "You gotta keep away from lion chicks, kid. They'll fuck you up every time."

  Before Jack could say "It's not like that" Bennie turned on his side and went back to sleep.

  For a while Jack did his best to ignore Anastasia, hoping maybe Abby would take him back if he could show her nothing was going on. And then for a while he was distracted by an outsider. A college girl named Layla Nazeer came to the circus with a group of friends. But when the others went inside to the main show, Ms. Nazeer stayed to watch Xoltan the Youn
ger. The next night she came alone and invited him for coffee after he finished. The night after that she drove him back to her dorm room, where he stayed until it was time to go back to work.

  Soon it was Summer, and Layla was free to follow the circus, finding a motel near wherever the circus stopped for a few days. Some of the carny guys, especially the older ones, didn't like it. They would say how dangerous it was to fuck outsiders. Most, however, just looked once at him, smiled, shook their heads, and walked away. Jack didn't care. As far as he was concerned, he and Layla were just having fun.

  When Labor Day came she began to seem distracted, uncomfortable. It annoyed Jack at first, then he got it. "Classes starting soon?" he asked.

  "In a couple of weeks."

  He made a noise. "Then you better take off. Get yourself ready."

  "Jack—"

  "Hey, it's cool. We both knew this wasn't your life, right?" She began to cry. "It's okay," he said, "really it is." He kissed her, and they made love, and the next morning she drove him back to the circus, and then she was gone. He would not see her again for several years, and when he did he was a different person.

  With Layla gone, Jack discovered he hadn't lost his fascination with Anastasia, he'd just been distracting himself. He would close down his act to watch her perform, and if she happened to walk past him he would stare after her until he heard people laughing, and then he looked away.

  Then one night, when the circus was set up outside a town in southern Ohio, Jack couldn't seem to fall asleep. It was five in the morning and he was lying on his bunk, staring at the dull ceiling, and feeling like he used to feel in his parents' house, like he needed to go somewhere, do something. He thought of Mr. Green saying "You don't belong here," and it made him angry, but also scared. He liked it here. He liked his role as Xoltan the Younger. Maybe if he could get back with Abby—

  "Fuck," he whispered to himself, and swung out of bed to put on his shirt and jeans and sneakers and step outside.

  He took a deep breath. He could feel, rather than hear, a low hum in the air. Or was it the ground? The sky was just getting light, and as far as Jack could tell, everyone was asleep. He glanced over at Abby's trailer and surprised himself with the fear that she might not be alone. The hum grew stronger and he began to walk, certain somehow that it would guide him. The air was chillier and damper than he expected, and he almost went back for a jacket, but decided not to chance it. Chance what he couldn't exactly say. He left the camp to walk over a low hill, and then across a short meadow to the edge of a lake.

  Later he thought how he should have spotted the lion first. How could you miss a lion as big as a fucking house, sitting right there by the water? Or he should have noticed Anastasia. After all, he'd pretty much been stalking her for the past month. But instead, it was the guy. White, dressed in a tight-fitting black jacket that flared at the waist, with actual ruffles at the cuffs, black pants, and a white shirt with a lace collar, and shoes with gold buckles, and a tall black hat, he looked like he'd stepped out of some colonial re-enactment. Jack hoped the guy wasn't there to recruit a slave for his show. And then it was like something clicked, and he saw Anastasia, dressed in her usual offstage outfit of jeans and a hoodie, and next to her, sitting peaceful and quiet, Nero—or whatever his "true" name was.

  Jack realized suddenly that it was hard to see them. It was just like those women around the corner from his parents' house, they kind of flickered, and you had to concentrate, and fight the urge to turn around and forget you ever saw them. He didn't move.

  Anastasia and the man were squatting on the ground and playing some kind of game. Dice, he realized. They took turns tossing a handful of dice, five, Jack thought, but he wasn't sure. He thought of the antique dice on his Juggler's table. These looked even older. With each throw, they would stare at them, and maybe nod or make a noise, then the other would pick up the dice and throw them again.

  It made Jack dizzy to watch. It was like—like the sky re-arranged itself after each toss of the dice. I'm going nuts, Jack thought, and I better get out of here. But he didn't move. Underneath all those thoughts was a small voice saying, You have to stay. This is important.

  It was Nero who saw him first. The lion flicked its tail, looked at him, then growled. Fuck, Jack thought, but still he didn't leave. And then it was the man, who looked up at Jack, then said to Anastasia, "It appears we have a visitor." He rolled his r's in a way Jack would later recognize as Dutch.

  "Good heavens," Anastasia said, and laughed. "Johnnie Shade, what are you doing here?"

  "Um, it's Jack" Jack said.

  She ignored him. "Go back to bed, Johnnie Dream. In the morning you'll forget all about this."

  Jack swayed, and had to fight to keep his eyes open. But he stayed.

  Anastasia and the man looked at each other. "Oh my," Anastasia said. "The Old Ladies told me a natural might be coming my way. But I had no idea it would be such a boy."

  "I'm not a boy," Jack said.

  She inclined her head. "My apologies, Johnny Natural."

  Jack was about to say that that was not his name, but instead asked, "Who's your friend?"

  "Who indeed?" she said, then turned to the man and smiled.

  "My name," he said, "is Peter Midnight."

  Later, much later, Jack would know that the man he met that night was, in fact, long dead, buried in that unmarked grave in Inwood Hill Park. The grave was hidden, but everyone who mattered knew the area, if not the exact location. The area was, in fact, marked by a plaque, proudly set up by the New York Historical Society to immortalize the most famous and most misunderstood real estate deal in history, the sale of Mannahatta Island for a bag of beads. Those historians who like to reveal the "truth" behind commonly accepted stories sometimes point out that the Indians who made the trade did not actually live on the island, but were just traveling through, so that they did not give anything up in exchange for that handful of trinkets.

  But as Jack would later learn, the woman who sold Manhattan—there was only one, not a group—was indeed a Traveler, and she knew exactly what she was doing. For she was that rarest of Travelers, a Bead Woman, and with that pouch of colored glass, seed pods, and bits of stone, she could see the Hidden Lands, and open roads beyond even the range of Midnight himself. To this day, no one knows where—or when—Midnight acquired those beads. Some believe he'd gone All The Way Back, but no one actually knows. And how would they find out?

  And Jack Shade—he didn't know anything at all that night, except that a lion tamer sat huddled with a man in a weird outfit and a huge fucking lion who should have been asleep in his cage.

  Or was that really . . . the more Jack stared at Nero the less certain he became that the huge beast was actually there. It didn't move, just crouched like the goddamn sphinx, front legs out, body facing its mistress, but with the head slightly turned towards Jack. It too seemed to flicker, like those women, what did Anastasia call them, "the old ladies?" At times the lion's mane seemed to flow into the sky, blotting out the stars, and then the golden coat would come alive, like a burst of sun. Somehow it all made him want to do just what Anastasia had said, turn around and run back to his bunk to close his eyes, and in the morning wake up and say, out loud, "Wow. What a wild dream." But instead he stood there, and kept his eyes on the lion.

  Softly, Anastasia said "Come here, Johnnie. I want to show you something."

  The man said, "Stasia, what are you doing?"

  "It's all right, Peter," she said. "I suspect it's why we're here tonight."

  Jack took his eyes from Nero to look at the man and woman. What should he do, obey, leave? Somehow everything depended on what happened next, but if anyone had asked him what "everything" was, he'd have had no idea.

  In his harsh accent, Peter Midnight said, "Come, boy. This boon she is granting you is like no other."

  Jack wanted to say not to call
him "boy," but instead he moved forward. When he'd come to within a couple of feet of the lion, Anastasia said to him, "Now look at ____" She said that name that hurt Jack's ears. He turned his head just as the lion opened its mouth.

  At first all Jack could see was that wide pink tongue, and all around it a jagged mountain range of teeth. But then he looked deeper, and the mouth became a cave, the walls darker and darker, until darkness swallowed Jack, everything. It went on and on, then, slowly, Jack began to see tiny flickers of light, followed by swirls that came and vanished like brief glistening clouds. And still deeper he looked, so far that he could never find his way back, but it didn't matter, for he was seeing—seeing—an overwhelming flash of light hit him, and at last he staggered backwards, and would have fallen if Peter Midnight hadn't caught his shoulders and held him up.

  "It is good," Midnight said. "You saw, yes?"

  Jack said "That—was that—really—?"

  "Yes. I told you, a boon like no other."

  Jack looked at Anastasia, who was writing something on a small notepad with some sort of antique gold fountain pen. She tore off the paper and handed it to Jack. An address, he saw. He said "This is New York? Chinatown?"

  She smiled. "Yes. On the ground floor you will find a restaurant, the Lucky Star. Inside you will find the owner. Her name is Mrs. Shen. Tell her you have come to see Anatolie, and that you would like to bring a gift. Mrs. Shen will prepare two or three takeout dishes. When you have paid for them you will step outside and open the door to the left. It will not be locked. Not for you. There will be stairs in front of you. Five flights, I'm afraid, but you are young and strong. At the third floor you may feel dizzy, or even a desire to drop the food and run away, but keep going, it will pass. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Jack said.

  "Good. At the top of the stairs open the door. Inside you will find the largest woman you have ever seen. Go to her, do not be afraid—"

  "Why would I—"

  "—and tell her that Anastasia the lion tamer sends her greetings. She will nod, and then you will say ‘If you will grant it to me, I would like to serve you and become your student.'"