The fact that Evan had to hold on to a miracle – ask for one – was unheard of. He’s always been the kind of guy that never asked for help to anyone, sure that he himself could solve any problem and jump every obstacle that life would throw at him. He never liked team work. The boundary between his being stubborn and his determination has always been very fleeting ever since he was little. It’s hard to work together with Evan, Eean knows it better than anyone, but maybe someone up there is willing to make an exception for once, and help the enemy. Eean shouldn’t have been surprised to see Evan standing next to his car at the crossroad, all sweaty and gasping for air, slightly bent on his knees, and yet…
He screamed and then sworn, taken aback, and his car stopped, the engine died. When Evan sat on the passenger seat like nothing had happened, Eean started to patronize him as per usual, underlining how risky it was running after his car like he just did. How about a message, instead of running like an idiot in the middle of the road?
«No one could’ve seen you dressed like that!» Eean yelled, pointing at the black outfit his younger brother was wearing. Breath wasted, he knew already. Evan wasn’t paying attention.
He didn’t make a single noise throughout the trip, too busy in trying to convince himself that he didn’t join Eean because he managed to get through the walls he’d raised, but because he’s a fan of the circus and he’s curious to see what Finbar has brought to the new place his family moved to. It doesn’t really matter the fact that he knows the Finbar’s circus by heart, that when he was living in the old place he used to spend his whole day with Finbar and his artists. He knew already that Finbar was going to bring magic to that town, and sure as hell he wouldn’t miss it for the world.
He should’ve taken his mobile with him. But not because he could text Eean instead of appearing next to his car out of the blue.
It’s only when he takes a seat on one of the benches around the ring, the one with the better view, that Evan realises how much he actually missed that place. The smell of popcorn, the cotton candy, the caramelised apples and all the other sweet things that are welcoming him back is almost nauseating. It reminds him of a happy time, of many nights spent hanging uncertainly between illusion and reality. A place where Eean and him were sure they were invincible, immortals; shapes that have been crystallised in an instant that was about to disappear, unable to hold on more than a blink of the eyes. The memory is way too painful, it brings back a Evan that doesn’t exist anymore so he pushes it away, in the darkest side of his mind. Evan makes himself concentrate over the ambience around him.
The tent is gigantic, way more sumptuous than what he remembered. The colours are bright and sparkling, the children are laughing loudly—it comes from their heart—and the adults’ eyes are wide open in wonder and surprise. They’re looking around, trying to get the best seats; some of them are already sitting down and busying themselves to get ready to be amazed. It’s nice, Evan loves it; the anticipation that precedes the show it’s the best part of it all.
Sitting down on that wooden bench, looking around at the suspense and the joy that fills those strangers up, Evan feels safe, he feels at home. He listens to the creaking of the wood with a little smile on his face and thinks that Finbar should change those before they break and someone gets hurt, but then he gets distracted because someone just sat next to him.
Evan almost forgot he wasn’t at the circus alone and he’s ready to ask the person to move away, since the seat is technically taken, but then Eean holds out a wooden stick for him, around which there’s green cotton candy.
“Mint,” Evan thinks. His favourite.
«I know you don’t like the strawberry -flavoured one,» Eean is saying, almost as if he was trying to look for an excuse for bringing the cotton candy to Evan without being asked.
Evan has to count to ten before he can safely grab the stick; his fingers are trembling and a knot is rising up in his throat. He barely is able to thank his brother, because nostalgia and guilt are taking over.
Despite the silence, despite the rage Evan feels towards him, Eean won’t give up, he won’t step aside. He won’t forget about his little brother. The mere thought of how much love Eean feels towards Evan makes his heart hurt.
He nods a thank you and then focuses on the ring, where some men dressed in red are setting it up for the opening number. Evan squeezes his eyes whilst he eats absentmindedly, and tries to give some names to all those faces. He won’t admit it, but he’s looking for someone familiar, someone with whom he can eventually discuss that so many things have changed in the circus, but the fact that the strawberry-flavoured cotton candy is still disgusting if compared to the mint-flavoured one is still the same. It would feel like home, it would feel like something to hold on to when reality seems so distant and different from the one he remembers. In that moment it hits him with clarity: the circus is what he missed the most when he was secluded in the hospitals. He missed the freedom, he missed the magic, he missed Finbar and his weird family. Evan never told anyone, not even Joël.
«Don’t be nervous.» He’s speaking before he can decide to hold his tongue. Evan doesn’t need to look at his right to see that Eean’s leg is bouncing up and down as if it was possessed; he doesn’t need to look at his lap to see that his brother’s hands are closed in fists and are squeezing the fabric of his sweater. Evan doesn’t need to look at Eean in the face to see how set is jaw is and how his teeth are torturing the lower lips. He doesn’t need any confirmation to know that Eean is hiding the need to see Finbar, touch him and feel him. Apologise for disappearing, for leaving the man behind.
Eean would love to get back in the family and perform again, next to Finbar because that’s where Eean belongs. Evan understands that, he remembers. Evan is also conscious of the fact that his brother is occupying a seat that doesn’t belong to him, but he’s also aware of the fact that a lot has happened and neither of them belongs to the circus anymore.
«Oleg is still serving at the booth. He made the cotton candy for you. He recognised me and asked how are we, if you’re here too.» Eean laughs a little, a nervous laugh, then he looks away. Evan sighs but Eean doesn’t realise it.
«Would it be so bad to meet him?»
«Oleg?» Eean asks, looking away from the ring and favouring Evan’s profile. Evan doesn’t meet his eyes, though. He’s too busy regretting his choice, leaving the house and going to the circus. He doesn’t want to meet the old members. He doesn’t even want to talk to Eean, but yet again there he is. It must be true that the circus is capable of many incredible and impossible things. Turning the odds upside down seems to be the thing the ringmaster loves doing the most.
«Finbar,» Evan replies flatly, refusing to believe his brother so stupid.
Eean doesn’t say anything in return, he can’t actually because the lights dim and the tent turns dark. All around them people quieten and their mouths hang open in a silent o of surprise.
«You should, since you still can,» Evan whispers, before handing him what is left of the cotton candy. He just remembered something he should’ve kept locked away in the place where Evan keeps all the memories that hurt the most, so now he’s not hungry anymore. His jaw tightens and his eyes are now focussed on the activity in the ring. Evan needs a distraction, he decides. That night will erase all the pain and the frustration; Evan will fly with the acrobats in a place where the rage and the sadness won’t be able to reach him. Evan will be invincible and immortal, like in the past.
He’s totally sure of that until someone switches one of the spotlights on, breaking the silence and moving on the silhouette of a body hanging in the air. They’re wearing a purple body, their back is perfectly straight and the arms are open. The legs are stretched one in front of the other and the face is looking up, fierce and proud. It’s a boy. No, it’s a young man ready to break all the rules and the social conventions. He’s ready to let the magic in and the show begin.
When the music starts, one single deep and creepy note that resonates all around the tent, Evan feels like he’s somewhere in the ring, maybe under the rope the guy seems ready to walk onto. It’s completely dark, one red curl is slipping from the acrobat’s hair style. All Evan sees from that moment on is red.
Red that someone makes dirty with amber.
Evan knows that young man.
In the blink of the eyes, the minute his conscience registers the message, Evan’s mind bursts open like a box that has been filled up too much. It’s full of smiles and faces that Evan doesn’t recognise. The music is covered by voices that are calling his name loud and clear, different accents but coming mostly from one person only. His eyes can see red, and only red, and someone is running in front of him; their curls are bouncing up and down and his skin is porcelain. They stop to catch him in their strong arms, they lift Evan up in the air and his nostrils are now full of the smell of flowers and grass that’s just been cut. There’s the smell of rain, of bodies entwined, slowly, painfully rubbing one against the other.
Music is quiet and his name fiercely resonate in his ears. It’s a voice Evan can’t quite place, he doesn’t know who it belongs to, he doesn’t know who’s calling him, but when he lifts his gaze the young man is throwing himself in the nothingness below. His body twists in flips and turns Evan can’t bear to watch, afraid of the final result.
The acrobat is about to touch the ground, when another sound breaks the rhythm of the music. The audience bends further in their seats, everyone eager to see what happened to the acrobat, some of them hoping to see the first failure of the night and some other willing to see how good the artists of that circus actually are. And as if he was waiting for them, as if he planned everything in order to get that specific reaction, the acrobat lifts his body on a swing with a natural gesture. He goes around in circle and waves at the children who are pointing at him, shaking their mother’s skirts so that they won’t miss that show.
And finally the acrobat’s eyes land on Evan’s. If it’s a mistake or something the boy did willingly – did the acrobat do that because he was looking for Evan? – he doesn’t know. But for sure something clicks. It’s like a switch that blows up a den the minute it’s finally ready to be tested and Evan is taken aback by the flow of feelings that suddenly hit him.
“It’s a lie. You love strawberries.”
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