Lekya's battered old Ford pick-up rattled along the dirt road,
stirring up clouds of dust as it passed and making an ungodly racket. He'd
missed the turnoff twice; par for the course in these parts, he supposed.
It had been many years since he'd driven these old roads, with their fading
"Alligator Wrestling" and "Seminole Antiques" signs and their ark's worth
of exotic roadkill. The dilapidated tackiness of it all felt good, felt
familiar. He was riding a highway into his past, and he hadn't realized
'til now how much he had missed it all.
"You okay back there, Sasha?" He'd put the cap on for the trip;
around town back home it wasn't necessary, everybody knew Sasha, and the
kids loved to see him being ferried about, even if none of them would dare
to come near him without an invite from Lekya. But there were a lot of
circus folk back in Beatty; out here in what his uncle called "Rubeville
USA", the sight of a lion in the back of a pickup could give some poor
tourist the screaming fits.
Sasha heard Lekya rapping on the window and answered with a low
grunt, quiet by lion standards but clearly audible over the roar of the
truck's engine and its straining shock absorbers. He was sitting in a
relaxed but observant pose, like a marble library lion, or a sphinx. The
ride was not uncomfortable, and he seemed to enjoy watching the scenery
breezing by, though he barely moved, even to blink. It was his way.
He had found the turn-off the third time by. Little Jake McCrae had
told him, "If you come to Mabel's Mini Mart, you've gone too far. Go back."
And he had. Twice. The third time he had seen the sign, "McCrae's Family
Circus", faded to the point of blending with the scenery and overgrown with
saw-grass. He took the turn and bounded across the earthen road.
It had been years. Decades, even. Steve McCrae had been a great
boss, Lekya would have stayed on forever if Steve hadn't had that heart
attack. It was those damn smelly cigars. Sasha hated them, used to give old
Steve a nasty cat glare every time he'd fire one up, then stomp off to the
far side of Lekya's trailer. Sasha wasn't much more than a cub back then;
even so, old Steve was the only man besides Lekya who trusted the big cat
enough to deliberately piss him off. Sasha liked him, was why; Sasha knew
good folks from bad, every time.
And Steve was Circus. McCrae's Mud Show was never the biggest,
never the best, never the most profitable (Steve would never complain,
though); but it was Circus. Every person, from the burliest roustabout to
the rowdiest Joey, knew that and respected it. Many had worked in other
circuses, and many would work at other circuses after MrCrae's rolled up
it's tents the final time (Lekya included), but no one would ever work for
a show that was more definitively, resolutely Circus.
Suddenly Sasha's ears perked up and his eyes widened. Lekya
strained to hear over the pick-up's groaning engine, but his ears were not
lion ears, not by a long shot. "What you hear, boy?" he shouted back to
Sasha. "What is it?"
Then Lekya heard it himself. There was no mistaking it, and he
grinned from ear to ear.
It was the trumpeting of an elephant.
A few moments more of driving and the scent hit his nose, the smell
of hay and animals, of canvas and sawdust. A look in the rear view mirror
showed Lekya that Sasha had smelled it too; the big cat's eyes were wide
and held a tone of curious interest, about as close to excitement as Sasha
ever got.
"Hokay, Sasha," Lekya shouted to the lion, "We're almost there!"
Sasha made no comment.
The truck bounded through a grove of trees and came upon a wide
clearing full of trucks and trailers. There was indeed hay spread out
across the dry ground, and a large female elephant being led by her
trainer. But the image that Lekya couldn't take his eyes off, that
dominated the field in a gloriously anachronous manifestation of a day long
vanished, that stood proudly as a tribute to the undying spirit of Circus,
was the mammoth tent that stood proudly in the center of the the clearing.
The Big Top.
Lekya slowed to give his eyes time to swallow the spectacle. It
wasn't big, as tents go, but it was authentic; this was the same tent that
he had worked in years and years before, he could tell by the patches.
"Look, Sasha," he said, almost whispering, "I think we've come home."
As he drove along the perimeter, heads began to turn as roustabouts
and animal-handlers gave him the once-over; right now, to them, he was an
outsider, a rube even, 'cause Circus is a tight family, tight almost as his
people, the Gypsies, but one look under the cap of his pick-up would change
that, for sure!
Lekya smiled. Some of them had gone back to their business. Old
hands, no doubt, able to tell with a look at his face and his truck that,
Circus or not, he was folks. He was someone who belonged here.
Lekya pulled up to a kid carrying a pole and leaned out the window.
"Hey, friend," he asked, jovially, "Which way to I find Jake McCrae?"
"He's over to the - Holy Christ, is that a lion?" The kid stared
into the widow of the cap.
"No. Is Golden Retriever," Lekya replied, with a good-natured smile.
The kid smiled back. "Well, mister, you and your dog can find Mr.
McCrae in the big blue trailer over by that backhoe there." He gestured to
a spot a couple hundred yards away. "Don't know if he's got any dog
biscuits, though."
"Ahhh, that's hokay, I just give him a rube's arm to gnaw, he gets
bored. Thanks!"
The kid gave him the working man's half wave then went about his
way. Lekya waved back and steered the truck toward Jake McCrae's trailer.
"Well, if it ain't old Lekya Vetrayna!" The gray haired, pot
bellied oversized leprechaun hopped down the stairs of the trailer and
strolled over toward Lekya's pickup with a rolling gait.
"Seamus Dooley! McCrae's boy drag you out for this flea show?"
"Sure did. Practically pulled me out of the coffin! Wait 'til you
see the line-up Jake's put together for this run; all of the old-timers he
could find. This show's got more fossils than Jurassic Park!"
"He tell me there'd be some familiar faces."
"Hell yes! Get this: Dietrich's doin' the packy-derms!"
"No! He said 'I kill myself before I work with zese stewpit beazts
again!' I was there. Heard him!"
"Aah, you know Dietrich. He loves those big babies. Just likes to
yell."
"Who else is here? Sky Mitchell?"
Seamus shook his head. "Had a stroke a few years back. Buck
Trumbull saw him last year, says he's doing okay, but he won't be walking
any more wires."
"Buck's here?"
"Sure! Old guy's spry as a stallion. His kids took over the act,
but he's along for the ride."
"Becky too?"
"Cancer. Two years ago. Buck's okay, though. Tough as GI toilet paper."
"Anybody doing trapeze?"
"No one I know, family by the name Kotyaza. Nice folks. Real circus."
"Ya, don't suppose the Musinsky's'd have it in 'em anymore."
"Hey, I saw big Vlad a few months back. Fit as a girdle. I wouldn't
put it past him to try a few somersaults for ol' times; but you know Anya
would have him fried."
"You say that again!"
"Hey, how's Tanya; oh, I see. I'm sorry."
"I see her soon enough. Hey! Look who's here too!"
Lekya ran around to the back of the pickup and popped open the
window. Sasha stuck his enormous head through the opening and looked around
disinterestedly.
"My god! It's Sasha! Good lord, he must be about 80!"
"He's twenty-five. Still damn old for lion!"
Seamus strolled up to the lion and tousled his mane with his hand.
"You goddam kitty cat! You remember old Seamus, hey, kitty?"
Sasha leaned out further and licked the tip of Seamus' nose with an
enormous sandpapery tongue.
"Hey! Leave some of my face!" Seamus chuckled.
"Big kitty cat! Look at little Irish mousie! Get the mousie!"
"Hey! Cut that out! Don't encourage the big guy!" Seamus reached an
arm around Sasha's head and gave his neck a squeeze, which the lion
ignored. "Hey, kitty-cat, that big Gypsy as mean to you as ever?"
"Oh, mean as hell. No TV after 2 A.M. Not even Discovery channel!"
"That is cruel! Watch out or those animal rights creeps'll get you!"
"Pffh! I'm 'animal rights creep'. No cruelty. Give cash to Humane
Society. When I have cash, ay! Ha! But when they come for Sasha, I kick
their heads!"
"You heard what happened with that movie star?"
"No. What movie star?"
"Rack MacNair, the 'Work Hard, Kill Hard' guy?"
"The guy jumps off building into swimming pool, comes up shooting
bazooka?"
"That's the guy. That crazy animal rights group kidnapped him,
dressed him up like a deer, and let him loose in the woods with all these
drunk hunters."
"No kidding! That's nuts. What is point of that?"
"I dunno! I think-" He was interrupted by a boisterous greeting
from the trailer door.
"Lekya! Hi! It's me, Jake! Come on in, bring Sasha, I've got a big
couch!" The thin man at the door of the trailer looked like somebody's kid
dressed up like Indiana Jones, right down to the hat; but, of course, he
was somebody's kid, he was Steve McCrae's kid, all grown up, mostly.
"Jakey-boy! You got tall! Look like father, stretched out!"
Jake grinned, bashfully; "Yeah, everyone says that, though no one
has your way with words, Lekya. Come on, I want to go over some stuff, talk
about the old days."
"Be right in!" Lekya waved, then turned toward Seamus. "Just like
old days. Boss says, 'Stop yakkin', step into the office'. You coming?"
"Gotta go practice some pratfalls. The King of the Clowns has been
sittin' on his throne too long. Hope I can remember the act!"
"You had act? Sasha thought you made it all up as you went. See you
in center ring!"
"Later, Lekya! Bye, kitty-cat!" Seamus gave Sasha's mane a tug on
his way past, did a somersault, and came up waving. The he hustled off
toward the tent.
Lekya touched Sasha on the back of the head and guided him up the
stairs into Jake McCrae's trailer.
"Lekya! Sit down," Jake said, gesturing to indicate the large
couch, "Get comfortable. I always like to be comfortable, it's such an
ill-fitting world. How was the trip, how'd Sasha like the ride, all that?"
"Me and Sasha have traveled harder."
"Oh yeah! Remember that hurricane in '72? Hell of a ride!"
"Yes! You had your head poked through the roof of your dad's rail
car, watching the trees bend. Stupid kid!"
"Well, kids are a little crazy. Especially circus kids. You have to
be."
"Crazy yes. Stupid no." Lekya reached over and gave Jake a playful
whack on the side of the head, like a cat batting at a ball of yarn. It
caused his Indiana Jones hat to tip slightly. Jake grinned.
"Stupid is a matter of opinion. You didn't see me sticking my head
in any lion's mouth, right?"
"Ay. Id've clouted you good, I see you try! My cats get special
diet, no junk food like you!"
Sasha was settling in on the couch. He looked at Jake and twitched
his tail, as if to say, "Head in lion's mouth? Come on, give it a try."
"Good old Sasha. I can't believe he's still around. How old is he now?"
"Pretty damn old! I'm not sure how old exactly... mid twenties.
Senior citizen, even for circus cat! Still frisky as a tabby though, eh,
Sasha?"
Sasha yawned. But he didn't look old at all; his mane was full, his
muscles tight, only a slight paunch when he walked. But his eyes gave him
away; they were deep, and etched with his years.
"Can he still go through the paces? I mean, he doesn't have to; you
can just walk him around at the start of the show, do the act with the new
cats."
"Sasha, not in the act? Try and stop him. Go ahead. I mean it." He
turned to Sasha. "The mean man says you too old to do the act Sasha, what
you think of that?"
Sasha responded with a roar that shook the trailer, rattling Jake's
desk and causing a framed picture on the wall to leap to the floor in
terror. Fortunately, it didn't break.
"Hold on there Sasha! " Jake said, holding up a calming hand. "I
want you to be in the show! I just don't want to make Lekya feel he has to
risk your health in order to do it."
Lekya scowled. "There is not a man or a dollar in the world that
will make me risk Sasha's health. Not a dollar! We may be broke,but we are
team! We look out for each other."
Jake smiled. "That's the kind of circus I want to run. The old way."
"You think the world has room for old-style circus anymore? You
think folks want wire-walkers, clowns, trapeze and tumblers? Want
elephants, horses, lions? Is world of digital dinosaurs now. Is 'X-Files'
world. Don't you think?"
"I hope not. Besides, it's far too late to talk me out of it. The
way I see it, there's a cycle to everything. Something is popular for a
while, then dies a slow death, only to be reborn when a new generation is
ready to discover lost glories."
"Like Disco?" Lekya grinned.
"I was thinking of 'The Broadway Musical', actually. But it's a
good analogy."
"So you think the time is right now?"
"That's what I tell my investors. But the fact is, it doesn't
really matter to me whether this mud show makes any money or not. I miss
the old days, Lekya. I've done pretty well for myself since my dad died; I
have enough in the bank and invested to live comfortably on for the next
few decades at least. I can afford to live my dreams."
"I can't afford NOT to live your dream." Lekya laughed.
"If it's any consolation, dad was broke when he died as well.
Fortunately I already had my degree by then."
"Am sorry your father is gone. He was a good man. Drove a hard
bargain with troupe, but paid us fair. Sasha miss Big Steve as well. Right,
Sasha?"
The lion looked at Lekya with a bored expression and twitched his
tail absently.
"See? He's sad. But tough! Doesn't want to show it. Big cats don't
cry!"
"I see it, Lekya. It's in his eyes." Jake McCrae sighed. "My father
ran a great little show. It was family, it was exhausting, it was
exhilarating. It was Circus. It was simply his misfortune to come into the
business at a time when the nature of the Show was changing; you either
glitzed up and moved into the arenas or you folded. Dad was stubborn. To
him, a circus without canvas wasn't a circus. 'That's goddam Vaudeville',
he'd say. He was right, although I never saw it at the time. Now I see it
clearly; those days, those dismal bankrupt days of half-full houses and
piled-up bills, that was just a lull, and all we had to do was ride it out.
He'd ridden out lulls before; he just didn't have the stamina this time."
Lekya looked at Jake McCrae, the boy, now man, he had known since
Jake's infancy. "I was there the day he collapsed," Lekya said, stoically.
Jake waited for Lekya to continue, as he knew the big man would.
"You don't remember that year, you away at school then. Tough year.
Bad year. End of Seventies, nearly end of all circuses. People buying
VCRs, cable TV, science fiction movies in multiplex... no one wants the old
things no more. Lots of people leave McCrae Circus for Ringling, for Vegas;
Dimitris, Falzones, Julie Sanborn; Lekya even get offer! I turn down. Sasha
don't want to play in hockey rink!
"Dark night. Cincinnati. Rain pours, winds whirl around. Good sized
crowd for a change, but we all tired, go through paces half-assed. Big
Steve come backstage - wet trailers, that's backstage! You remember!
'Lekya,' he say, 'Get out there and shake 'em up!'"Aye, aye,' sez I, but
he's right; we are Circus, we make show!
"My act goes well, things looking up, next acts take cues from me,
energy picks up, winds die down. Audience happy. Buy cotton candy. Then-
"You don't know Sakarna family, right? New tumblers from Russia.
Take over wire act from Sky Mitchell when he retired. They ride bike across
wire, with four-man human pyramid on balance pole. Great finish, very
scary. Audience holds breath. Then-
"Crash!" Lekya slapped his hands together to illustrate, startling
both Jake and Sasha. "Lightning strike outside tent! I'm outside, I see it!
Scared piss out of me. No lightning at all earlier! God making some kind
of statement. So I don't see what happened inside, but I hear the
screaming...
"The loud boom scares Sakarnas. They go flying! Two of them grab
wire, two go down; spotter catches one, breaks own arm, some ribs on
falling Sakarna; the other lands hard, breaks leg but survives. Walking
wire again in a year, so I hear. But that is later... right now we have two
men down, two dangling for their lives above the crowd. Band strikes up
'Stars and Stripes', people run back and forth, it's a panic. Someone backs
into the pole supporting tightrope! It shivers, but they hold on (one with
a broken arm, for cripes' sake! We learn this later.
"Then there's a Boom! like a cannon. Everyone turns. Steve stands
there with Dirty Harry gun, he's just fired it into air. Everyone quiets
down. He speaks."
Lekya gave a fair impression of Steve McCrae's deep voice.
"'Everyone stop. Stay still. We got to get those men down and we're not
gonna do it if you all jumping about like geese.' And everyone settled
down, just like that!" He snapped his fingers. "Like magic. Steve's the
Boss. He gives everybody jobs, sends some guys for ladder, others for net
used in clown fireman act., others for stretchers for injured men... he
gets the Sakarnas down safe. Audience applauds. Steve waves, 'Enjoy the
rest of the show,' he says, then walks back to his trailer and collapses.
Heart attack. Luckily someone sees him, gets ambulance guys to take him to
hospital too.They fix him up okay there, but we all knew it was end of line
for McCrae Circus." Lekya shook his head sadly.
"He lived for two more years after that," Jake said, "But without
the circus I think he really didn't have anything much to live for."
"Amen to that," Lekya replied, sadly. Then he grinned. "Let's make
him proud!"
Jake smiled back at him. "Like you said. Amen to that."