TV Dinners from Hell

by Amber Fallon

  Mary heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs. Her eyebrows shot up, the look of disgust on her cherubic little face momentarily replaced with one of surprise and dismay. Her mother had sent her to her room to get ready, and she would not be pleased to come upstairs and find Mary still in her jammies. Mary’s blue eyes darted to the door, the cogs in her little brain already turning, struggling to come up with a good excuse. She could say she felt sick! Yes, that was it! She was too sick to go to the circus with everyone else! But, wait, that would mean no cake, and she loved the white cake her mother made for their birthdays, all pretty and perfect with white iced designs and little frosting roses, pink for her and yellow for Daniel. She heaved a sigh and stuck her thumb in her mouth to help her concentrate.

  Madeline Spencer came around the corner at the top of the stairs, knowing full well what she would find when she entered her daughter’s room. The sigh was already on her lips even before she saw Mary, still in her footed pajamas, looking plaintive and a little defiant as she perched on the wooden toy box at the foot of her bed. Madeline put her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side and rounding out her shoulders in her best authoritative stance.

  “Mary Claudette Spencer!” she exclaimed, psyching herself up already for the tears that were mere moments away from running down her child’s face. Mary looked stricken as she scooted to the edge of the toy box and put her small feet on the floor, teddy dangling from one pudgy pink hand. She had pulled her thumb free of her mouth moments before her mother had entered, but the telltale glistening of her saliva remained. Mary knew how much her mother hated it when she sucked her thumb. She held her hand behind her back and wiped her thumb discreetly on the back of her fuzzy pink PJs. She twisted left and right, not making eye contact with her mother.

  “You get dressed this instant!” Madeline chided, taking a step into the room. Mary’s eyes met hers, and, for a moment, Madeline’s heart broke at the sight of the tears shining in them. Then she remembered how juvenile her little girl was being, and how Doctor Donald had warned her through his many books and his daytime talk show about the dangers of coddling your children. Mary’s lower lip quivered.

  “But Mommy!” she said, her pretty little face screwing up just a little at first, when she still believed there was a chance she could get her way. “I don’t want to go to the circus!”

  Madeline looked down at the girl who, 27 years earlier, could’ve been her twin. “And why, pray tell, is that?” She knelt down. Mary looked at the floor, mumbling. Yet another of her less endearing habits.

  Madeline frowned. “Mary, speak up. You know I can’t understand you when you mumble like that.”

  “I just don’t wanna!” Mary said, louder than she had intended. Madeline crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, that’s just too bad now, isn’t it? It’s your brother’s birthday, and we’re all going together as a family. Now stop fussing and put your party dress on.” Mary stomped across her room in an exaggerated show of anger. She yanked the bottom drawer of her little pink and white dresser so hard it shook. Tears were streaming down her face, but she refused to look at her mother, denying her the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She dug fussily through her clothing, pulling out a green and white gingham jumper.

  “No, Mary. Your party dress.” Madeline sighed, pointing to the closet. More tears from Mary as she stomped across the room, utterly dejected. She clutched her bear to her side as she pulled open the closet door, exercising a bit more restraint this time. She sorted through her nicer clothes until she got to the pretty pink party dress her mother had bought for her that spring. She carefully took it down, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before picking it up. Mary slowly crossed the room to her bed.

  Madeline stopped her halfway, kneeling next to her and turning her face up so she could see it. “What is so bad about the circus, Mary?” she asked, motherly concern creeping into her voice.

  “It’s the clowns, Mommy.” Mary sniffed. “I don’t like the clowns.” Her little face dissolved once more into sobs that twisted her features, pinkened her cheeks, and made her nose run. Madeline bit her lip and hugged Mary close for a moment before holding her at arm’s length so she could look at her. She wiped away the tears that had sprung up since their embrace and tried to soothe her obviously frightened child.

  “Honey,” she said, “clowns are supposed to be funny. They make you laugh. There’s nothing wrong with clowns.”

  Mary shook her head, clutching her bear tighter. “Mommy, I don’t want to go. Can’t I stay home? Please?”

  Madeline’s face hardened in response to her child’s cries. She stood up and resumed her previous stance of authority. “Mary, get dressed. You are going, and that’s final.” Her No Arguments Will Be Tolerated voice silenced Mary, at last. The little girl hung her head, resigned to her fate. She dragged her teddy bear slowly along the floor as she marched despondently to her bed, not lagging, per se, but not exactly rushing, either. She didn’t want to get her mother’s ire up any more than she already had.

  In a matter of minutes, Mary’s dress was on and she had brushed her hair. Her eyes were still red-rimmed and shining with unshed tears, but there was little that could be done to help that. Madeline took her daughter by the hand and led her into the master bedroom where her vanity was.

  Ordinarily, the sight of her mother’s vanity would’ve made young Mary squeal with glee, but today she managed only a weak half-smile—which was better, Madeline supposed, than no smile at all. She took out the phonebook she kept in the kneehole and put it on the stool before picking Mary up and setting her on the improvised booster seat. Mary looked at her reflection in the big mirror, watching the way the lights reflected in her eyes. Her mother brushed her hair out into pigtails and secured them with pretty pink ribbons before touching Mary’s cheeks with just a hint of rose petal blush, and, finally a dab of lipstick.

  “Don’t you look pretty?” she asked, forcing herself to smile a bit more enthusiastically than she really felt. Mary stared with haunted eyes at the little girl in the mirror. All she could think about was the paint on her face looking like a clown’s.

  * * *

  Mary stared gloomily out the window of the Spencer Family’s red minivan. She had her ankles crossed daintily in front of her, her small feet encased in frilly white socks with pink-edged ruffles and polished pink Mary Janes. Her teddy bear, a deeper brown than most bears, sat on the seat next to her, buckled in with his own seatbelt. Daniel sat on the other side of the van, watching cartoons on his new, portable DVD player. Mary’s socks itched. She hated these shoes, too. She did love her dress, though, and, usually, she loved when mommy applied makeup to her small face. Except that, today, makeup just made her think of those horrible clowns.

  She really wished she didn’t have to go. Daniel wouldn’t even care. It was her parents who’d insisted they all go together because it was her brother’s birthday. Mary watched the scenery roll by outside. Off in the distance, dark clouds peaked over the horizon.

  Mary hoped that maybe it would rain and the circus would be closed, but it looked to her like the clouds were rolling in the opposite direction. She knew there was nothing she could do to avoid what awaited her. She only hoped it would be over soon, and she could go back to sitting at her little desk with her toys and games and coloring books. Sighing, she picked up her bear and looked him in the shiny black button eyes.

  “We’ll be okay. Right, Teddy?” she asked. Her little face grew concerned as she playacted her response to the toy’s reply. “Right.” She nodded. “That’s what I thought.” Mary returned to glumly looking out the window, watching her brother’s cartoons in its reflective surface to help the time pass.

  After a while, Mary nodded off. She began to dream of a nightmare circus, filled with oversized funhouse mirrors, dark and foreboding shadows, and milky white lights that made everything look creepy and weird. In the nightmare, Mary was looking for her family. She searched thr
ough long, twisting passageways and dimly lit corridors, clutching her teddy bear the whole time. At last, she spied her parents and her brother, their backs to her as they watched a pair of clowns performing in a three-ring circus. She raced toward them, relief flooding through her like water from a burst dam. When she reached her family, they turned to greet her and she saw that their faces were all painted like clowns, rouge-red smiles over teeth like sharks. Mary gasped and sat up with a start, cold sweat trickling down her face. She was breathing hard as if she had been running, and she couldn’t stop shaking.

  She looked at the backs of her parents’ heads as they sat in the front seat, too afraid to call out to them in case they turned to face her and her nightmare became real. Instead, she timidly prodded Daniel’s arm until he turned and snapped at her.

  “What do you want, dork face?” he sneered. At least his face wasn’t monstrous. It was the same mean old Daniel face it had always been.

  “Don’t call me dork face!” Mary pouted, crossing her arms.

  “You are a dork face!” Daniel stuck out his tongue, daring Mary to retort.

  “Mom! Make him stop!” she whined instead, raising her voice to the level of shrillness that she knew from experience would get her mother’s attention.

  “Both of you, stop it!” Madeline chided, turning in her seat. Once again, Mary was relieved to find a member of her family looking normal.

  “But he’s calling me names!” Mary sniveled, doing her best to look wounded. In secret, Mary hoped that if she made Daniel look like The Bad Guy, her parents would turn the car around and cancel the trip to the circus altogether. She dared not say anything aloud, however. She had to be clever if her ploy was going to work.

  Unfortunately for Mary, moments later, her father pulled into a large, dirt parking lot, parked the car, and got out. Madeline followed, opening the door for her children. Doug swung his son up onto his shoulders, both boys crowing in ruckus delight. Mary watched them, an expression of doubt on her cherubic face. She clutched Teddy tighter and reached for her mother’s hand, resisting the urge to suck on her thumb.

  The circus was crowded, which was to be expected on such a beautiful spring Saturday. The sky was blue, the air was warm, and a gentle breeze ruffled the hair of the crowd. Strains of music, seeming to ebb and flow like something alive, surged through the standard cacophony of the chattering crowd. Mary’s mother had told her that the music came from something called a “ka-lie-oh-pee,” but Mary didn’t like it one bit. To her small ears, it sounded haunting and evil.

  As the young family made their way through the vendors selling hotdogs, popcorn, and cotton candy, Mary clung closely to her mother. She watched as her father and brother raced ahead, ducking into tents and trailers covered with colorful posters advertising everything from “The World’s Largest Horse” to “The World’s Smallest Elephant.” Mary and her mother waited outside. After a while, the boys would emerge, looking the same as ever, and each and every time, Mary sighed with relief. It frazzled her nerves after a little while.

  Eventually, Doug stopped at one of the red and white carts and ordered hotdogs for everyone. The boys ate hungrily, smearing ketchup all over their faces in a way that reminded Mary of the painted-on clown grins. She shuddered inwardly and picked at the bun.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” her mother asked, taking a dainty bite out of her own hotdog. Mary shook her head, staring into the crowd. Movement caught her eye between the people rushing past. Mary watched in horror as a short, wiry little clown did somersaults and backflips as a crowd began forming around him. She clutched her teddy bear close and pulled her legs up onto the bench, tucking herself into a ball. After a while, the crowd dispersed and the clown continued on his way, but Mary could swear she saw him looking right at her before he went.

  After they finished their lunch, the family headed to the big top to see the main event—the world-famous Harvey the Clown was performing with his Troop of Tramps. Mary protested, begged not to be forced to enter, but, of course, she was dragged in against her will.

  Madeline allowed Mary to sit on her lap during the show, hoping it would help calm her daughter. She was starting to worry about just how serious this fear of clowns was getting. She could feel Mary’s small form shivering as the clowns danced and played with balls and hoops in the center ring of the arena. How could she show her child that there was nothing to be scared of?

  After the show ended and the crowd was filing out, Mary pulled Doug aside and voiced her concerns. At first, Mary’s aversion to the circus had seemed like a normal childhood game, maybe even some sort of sibling rivalry, but as the day wore on, and Mary grew more and more frightened, she began having serious doubts. Maybe her little one needed therapy.

  Doug laughed his wife’s concerns off and shook his head. He took Daniel to the restroom, leaving his wife and daughter to wait for them in the hallway. On the way there, Doug caught sight of Harvey himself, signing autographs for laughing, smiling children. He set Daniel down and approached him.

  “Hey, Harvey!” He smiled warmly. “Great show!”

  Harvey the Clown wasn’t as tall or brawny as Doug. He was thin, almost bony. Better to be dexterous for all those nimble antics, thought Doug. Harvey’s wig was curly and red beneath an oversized blue beret. He wore a long, yellow dress coat, complete with cummerbund and tails, fancy-looking fringed epaulets, and shiny brass buttons. A comically oversized green and orange polka-dotted tie hung down his chest between the coat’s wide blue lapels.

  Harvey looked up as Doug spoke, eyes bright, and the exaggerated grin, heightened by the oversized red mouth drawn over his actual one, fixed in place. “Gee, thanks, partner!” he chuckled.

  “Say, would you mind doing some fans a really big favor?” Doug asked, a spectacularly brilliant idea popping into his head.

  “Why, sure!” Harvey extricated himself from the crowd of mostly satisfied children. “Anything for a fan! What can I do for you?”

  Doug explained the situation with Mary and her fear of clowns. He asked if it would be possible for her to go backstage and see firsthand that underneath all the makeup, Harvey the clown was just another person like her. Harvey agreed enthusiastically and handed Doug and Daniel passes to get them backstage.

  Mary and Madeline were waiting in the hallway, Madeline growing more impatient by the minute. Doug really was immature, she thought. As soon as he got the opportunity, he acted just like a little boy himself! Sometimes, she felt more like a babysitter than his wife. She glanced down at Mary, who was fidgeting nervously and tucked against her mother’s side. She sighed. Poor Mary had been through enough, she thought. Doug had better hurry up so they could all go home and enjoy some of her special birthday cake.

  When Doug and Daniel finally returned, Madeline’s scowl made it apparent that she hadn’t been happy about the unexpected delay. Doug looked sheepish as he approached his wife and daughter. He smiled apologetically and told them that he had a surprise. Mary looked up at her mother, her eyes pleading. Please, couldn’t they just leave? Hadn’t they been here long enough? they seemed to say.

  Madeline put her hand on her hip. “Doug,” she said, “this is the last thing we do here before we take the kids home. Agreed?”

  Doug nodded, assuring his wife that this would be worth it. He led them down the hall towards the dressing rooms. Mary’s grip on her mother’s hand grew tighter and tighter as they progressed. Madeline picked up her daughter and balanced her on her hip. She was getting too big to be carried, but Madeline struggled through it, hoping it would comfort her little girl. Mary’s thumb was in her mouth now, and her eyes were as round as saucers as costumed performers rushed past them. Madeline was so proud of her little girl for being brave and strong and not crying. She hadn’t believed her, at first, but now she was starting to regret it. The fear in Mary’s eyes wasn’t a joke, and it wasn’t an act.

  The family arrived at a door marked with a big gold star and fancy
red lettering marking it as the dressing room of HARVEY THE CLOWN. Mary wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and buried her head against her chest. Madeline sighed loudly as Doug knocked on the door.

  “Come in, come in! Welcome, friends!” Harvey was too cheerful, Madeline thought. Sure, it was his job, but it was almost sort of creepy. She could almost understand what Mary found so horrible about clowns. What was it she had said? Oh, yes, like they were hiding something. Madeline looked closely at Harvey. Yes, she thought. He could definitely be hiding something under that cheery disguise. He opened the door wide and ushered them inside, closing it behind them.

  “I hear somebody’s afraid of clowns!” he said, mock sadness in his voice. “Is it you?” He nudged Mary’s arm.

  Tears rolled down Mary’s cheeks as she clung tighter to her mother.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Madeline said, wrapping her arms around her little girl protectively and turning to put herself between Mary and the clown. “Thank you very much, er, Harvey, but I think we’ll be going.”

  Doug stood in front of the door, blocking his wife’s retreat. “Come on, Mad, you’re being silly. Old Harvey here is going to take off his makeup and show us all what’s underneath. Then we can all go home and have cake and ice cream. Okay?”

  Madeline frowned, untangling Mary’s arms from around her neck. “Okay, Doug, Fine.” She set Mary down and took her hand. Mary clutched her teddy bear tightly to her chest and clung to her mother’s leg. She was afraid to look away in case Harvey did something, but, at the same time, she wanted to bury her face in the warm, familiar scent of her mother.