The Circus in Me

by S.M. Bjarnson

  Part of me told the other pieces of my identity to quit playing dumb to run home and ask for the forgiveness I ached. In other thoughts, I’d done nothing wrong or out of ordinary. It was there the guilty conscious of how to be raised and be respectful to whom raised by.

  “I… am confused.” Stuttering out the basics of where my findings brought me. Briggs taking me in his wholesome rugged arms, reminding me of the safety he sheltered.

  “It’s going to be fine.” Frustrated that he thought there was a bright light showing us the way. Over the green meadows my eyes blank the variety of home I once knew. Troubling times colliding into what I called present tense. Water scribbles down the soft cheekbones of my cream colored face.

  “To be clear if you assume you resolved this issue for anyone you are more than mistaken. You are a fool!”

  “You will see her at the dinner party, make amends. Put this tragedy business behind you.” His grip loosened, for a minute I felt his annoyance for my overreaction, which in turn forced me to recoil.

  One foot away from the nearest step I found my feet stampeding toward the exit sign hanging above his head.

  “Trae, something else I should tell you, no you have to see to believe. About your brother Malachi…” Catching me as I tried to make my escape.

  “Do you think you could let me stew this for a while?” Words came out, and I cared not what they were.

  “Sure, Trae Lae. Sure.”

  We hugged tightly as a means to make a good impression on farewell. I envisioned my sister’s reaction as she walked in the room. Would she recognize the woman her sister converted?

  When the time comes to recalibrate the relationships with my past the tide will be high and I will soon drown in gloom. My mind preparing with every determination to achieve seclusion.

  Where would I begin with abandonment of my family?

  “So where are we going?” Briggs followed close behind me as I made great strides to the sidewalk.

  “Colorado Springs.” Peering over the unnecessary cargo, I made my way down the steps of the complex.

  “Sweet. Mind if I tag along?” His sincerity struck as odd. What was he thinking? This wasn’t about to become our honeymoon of any sort, especially not after the joy ride to the Amish Country.

  “Yes.” Made it to the sidewalk and dialed for private cab.

  “Come on.” Slugging me on my right arm.

  “Go see your aunt!” Dropping the distinguishable bags. I folded my arms in a square formation. His Aunt Macee spent her time and monetary value intimidating shop owners at the local boutique shops in downtown Salt Lake City.

  “I told her you invited me to go to the Annual Circus Dinner.” I didn’t believe this, why would he want to be around me when he had made it clear I wasn’t the specific one he longed.

  “I doubt it.” He took my bags and began to place them in the trunk of his car.

  “What do you think you are doing with my bags?” Demanding explanation.

  “Listen, I want to be with you!”

  Everybody heard it.

  His challenge wasn’t the fight I began letting up on. He made a confession, a guy like him never supposed to profess out loud, not in front of our student body.

  Others tried to look away and carry on with their last arrangements for break. I looked around us and people were staring, their breaths held for my next line. Their lives clinging to the next happenstance of my move. It was as though I was on a soap opera, one that finished well. These people loved those shows. Romance and drama so good you couldn’t look away from.

  “Why else would I go half way across the land of the free to visit a man I knew loathed me before I had spoken my given name?” His eyes never met mine. Briggs head never lifting to greet the eyes I so questionable held on him. Lips began a small quiver. He pursed them together. The weakness becoming as a facade. What remarks were there to make and even if he had meant for them to be true. I could not take this declaration and create it to be my own.

  He succeeded in putting the luggage in the back of the car. He got in the driver’s side door, slamming it shut. I wondered if I should put up a fight, take willingly what belonged to me. I couldn’t get away from this wreck. Staring me point blank in the face; a gun serving fate, not fatality.

  I opened the passenger side door. Climbing in, he began to start the engine and drove out of the parking lot. Everybody’s eyes still upon us, wishing they had fallen prey to the earlier scenes.

  As I looked back, I realized there were far fewer women distressed with the events than there were men. Briggs made them look indefinably hideous. Their masculinity dipping intense in low depths. My smirk in the distance was the shape of puckered clowns.

  We were heading off to yet another adventure.

  The blocks we drove were a cohesion of erotic syllables and tunes.

  “What is this?” Pointing to the dashboard where the radio buttons lite up.

  “This is a radio, the sound coming out of it is a song. A song is a collection of musical tones and lyrics. The people playing the instruments and singing are called a band.” His joking manner made it incredibly difficult to be angry with his gorgeous attire.

  “I know what music is idiot! I meant the song what is the song called?” My high pitched voice turning imaginary heads.

  “High Hopes.” He giggled in a mode of speaking.

  “Thank you!” Shifting the gaze on the open marked roads.

  “Where are we going?” Turning down the radio.

  “I told you I’m going to Colorado, my clan is performing their last show of the year. We all come together and have a big dinner for the last performance.” I turned my figure to face his.

  “Well, I need to go to my apartment and pack my tuxedo.” He turned on his blinking signal. Looking both ways he turned into his own apartment complex.

  Tag along as he wished too. Waited to see how far this ploy with me would go. I also just wanted to see inside his territory. He’d never brought me here. Why would he, we had no regulation of storing goods together. Loading up on secrets laying beneath us as we slept in the same bed.

  But, I had not gone stalking to find out where he resided either. I’m sure Ashlee noted where he slept and what on what side of the bed. The color of his toothbrush and so forth.

  Briggs opened his door before the car fully stopped or shut off. His keys dangled in the ignition and he hadn’t said a word about what he said back there.

  Walking up three flights of stairs, I realized he needed those very keys. I tugged on them for release. Exiting the vehicle I made my way through the zigzagging staircase. To an apartment door stained with the lettering of 13B.

  Briggs walked in first and set the keys in his pocket. I followed his footprints trying to collect every item into memory for kidnapping purposes. This was a man cave in one direction and a modern abode in the other. He shuffled in the background. My attention was on more clear things. An aquarium that contained not beer bottles, but a prestigious yellow lion fish. His ceiling fan wasn’t dangling by the cords of electricity as you might imagine. Instead it had been dusted new. I found him in the back far right bedroom, the largest of all bedrooms. Lingering throughout the hallway I peered in each room; empty except his.

  “Nice apartment, you have B.” He didn’t look up at me. He never looked into my pupils. I stared wildly into the back of his, I just wanted to feel a connection.

  “Thanks, I enjoy my own space, sometimes.” I heard someone come out of the bathroom, flushing the toilet. So he wasn’t alone after all.

  “Hey Sloan! This is Trae Lae.” Introductions already, you haven’t even seen me naked. Ha-ha, I giggled to myself at this oxymoron. I’ve become quite skilled in the division of trickery words and juxtapose connotations.

  “Hey, Trae. I’m Sloan.” He stepped over several articles of clothing. Placing a hand out in front of me, he seemed a reasonable man.

  “Nice to make your acquaintan
ce.” Him taken aback by my politeness. People rarely made introductions so apt.

  “I told you she was proper.” Briggs flinging underwear in every direction.

  “Oh, right!” He began to remember things Briggs had told him about me. What these frightened me and the fish?

  “Found it!” Stretching in-between both of his index fingers, a red thong; a silk one.

  Wait, a minute that is not right, what are they called?

  The horror from my face, bounced off of his.

  “You’re not going to wear that, in public, with people around you?” I cupped my hands around my mouth. Gasping like I’d never exposed to such immoral objects.

  “The ladies love a man in a speedo!” Sloan high-fived his buddy. Briggs broke out in laughter along with Sloan.

  “Ladies like when you wear lingerie?” Embarrassment shaking in my core.

  Their laughs ceased and things had gone from the best practical joke ever to being a little femme.

  Confused a thong to what men call a speedo. Still, I didn’t understand this banana hammock they ranted on about, in the eyes of my brothers your manliness had extracted equivalency.

  We talked for a while and he packed what snacks or goodies he was in need of for future cravings.

  We made our way back to his car. Waving back up to Sloan who had gone out for fresh air and tobacco smoke.

  Onward to the new visions of a better tomorrow.

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