The night was bright and clear. Bobby stared wide-eyed as the circus parade rumbled past the house, shaking mom’s china cabinet and dad’s bookshelf. He heard the lions roar and the elephants trumpet then he squealed with delight as a troop of colourful clowns half-skipped or trudged after the circus trailers.
Standing behind him, his mom Teresa grimaced and said, “What is that?”
“Look, mommy,” Bobby pointed his stubby finger at a sauntering old white horse and its lady rider bedecked in feathers and garish sequins, “a princess.”
His dad Peter said, “You’re right, sport. She is wearing a crown.” He turned to Teresa and asked, “Isn’t that the same circus that was here twenty years back?”
Teresa snorted. “No wonder everything looks so old.”
Bobby said with awe, “A circus.” Then he looked up. “Let’s go, mommy, please?”
“We’ll see, baby. It is long past bedtime. I am going to have to tuck you in again,” Teresa said and carried him up to bed.
After she had kissed him goodnight and switched off the lights, he crept under the covers and told his bear Cody about the elephants and the lions and the princess and the clowns before finally slumbering off while still mouthing the words.
The next morning on their way to church, they drove alongside the open field where the circus was putting up tents. Bobby pressed his nose against the glass, staring enchanted at the fluttering banners, striped tents and wrinkly elephants swishing their ears under the sun.
“Looks like they will open tonight,” Peter said after they had passed a few hand painted posters planted just outside the temporary fence.
“I don’t know about this,” Teresa said. “Everything looks so threadbare. You see that,” she pointed to the torn sides of a tent that was being hoisted up, “I don’t think there will be much to see.”
Bobby said, “But mommy, it’s a circus. They have magic to make everything right.”
“Baby, the place looks dirty and unkempt. The animals look old and tired. Let’s go see the animals at the zoo instead.”
“But zoo animals don’t do tricks,” Bobby pouted.
“That’s not true,” his dad said. “You saw a monkey ride a bicycle last time.” He slowed the car and pointed out a group of old half-dressed clowns struggling to heave up a maypole. “I bet those clowns can’t run anymore,” and he laughed.
Bobby gripped his seatbelt tight and stared out the window silently. He stared and stared until the tents disappeared behind a ridge. Sensing his disappointment, his parents began to talk about the things they would see and do in the zoo that afternoon to cheer him up. But as his father eased the car into a parking space across from the church, Bobby asked, “Is that why we don’t go to granddad? Because he can’t fish anymore?”
Neither parents responded to his question. Bobby remained silent and still throughout the Mass and when they left, Peter took his family to his son’s favorite diner for lunch. After that, they went to the nursing home. Bobby’s granddad couldn’t talk because of the tube in his throat, but his eyes lit up and he smiled at every story the boy told him about his new friends, his new toys and the circus that had just come into town.
On their way home, when they again drove by the field, Peter stopped the car and bought three tickets at the barely opened booth. Patiently he waited and took the time to chat with the old woman who shuffled through boxes to find tickets and more boxes to look for change. Then the family returned home to freshen up and eat, but Bobby could barely finish his dinner and when they lined up to get into the patch-worked circus tent, he clung to his mom's and dad’s hand so tight his knuckles showed white.
Inside was only a meagre crowd, mostly seniors with young grandkids and teenagers looking for a new place to hang out. But none of that mattered to Bobby. He laughed at each clown, cheered each elephant, gaped at each lion and was enthralled when the old woman with the crown gave him a lollipop. When it all ended, Bobby said, “Weren’t they magic, daddy?”
His dad picked him up and looked into his eyes. “Yes, they were. You were right and I was wrong. They still had the most important magic. They made you happy.”
Read more short stories.
