I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.
And I'm really trying to figure this one out.
Jimmy, Not Moses
No Man's Land
The night sky was dark and full of stars.
They stood quietly under it, the four of them, breathing deeply and calmingly.
Jimmy.
Bette.
Dot.
And Desiree Dupree.
Who sucked in the night air slowly, with her eyes closed, head tilted back, savoring it like a fine wine.
And opened her glittering dark eyes.
"Well, that's that, children. The show has come to an end."
They looked at her as if they'd never heard spoken words before.
"What do we do now?" Bette asked, sounding lost and childlike.
Nobody spoke for a long minute. Jimmy stared blindly at the ground.
Desiree seemed to square her shoulders before she answered.
"You do whatever you want. I'm going to clean out my trailer, call my man, and get the hell out of here."
She sucked in another deep, cleansing breath.
"If you children want to come with me, meet me back here in fifteen minutes. If not, I'm leaving without you."
With a slight flare, she flounced off, ever brave, ever confident.
Ever Desiree.
At least on the outside.
Jimmy and the girls watched her go.
Then it was just them.
Adrift and lost and suddenly tired.
Bette tried again.
"Jimmy, what do you think we should do?"
He stared vacantly at them, feeling just as helpless and alone as they themselves looked.
Finally he mustered a few half-hearted words.
"I don't know. Get whatever we need out of our trailers like she said, I guess. And leave."
He hadn't been away from the freak show for any length of time in years and years.
Not since he was a boy.
And during his recent stint in the slammer of course.
Bette and Dot looked as anxious as Jimmy himself felt. They nodded uncertainly.
"Would you . . . would you mind coming with me?" Jimmy asked tentatively, too numb to feel embarrassed. "I don't know if I can get everything by myself. And . . . I don't want to be alone right now."
Bette seemed as relieved as Dot.
"Of course, Jimmy. And then we'll stop by our tent."
And so they went.
The trailer was empty and hollow. Dark and humid. It reeked of disuse and alcohol.
The last time Jimmy had been here, Bette and Dot had been present as well. Making themselves vulnerable, offering themselves to him. He had stupidly rejected them out of some drunken notion that he could get Maggie to take him back.
Maggie, who had been so instrumental in the demise of his now dead fellow freaks.
He stood completely lost and defeated for a moment.
And then he heard the crying.
Behind him.
He turned and saw tears streaking down Bette and Dot's faces.
"Oh, Jimmy, can you ever forgive us?"
He stared at them, baffled.
"For what, for god's sakes?!"
They were holding hands, the girls. Holding each other's hands for comfort and reassurance.
Holding hands.
And begging him, him, for forgiveness.
"For not getting you help sooner."
And then they spoke, first Dot, then Bette. One another, then the other, continuing each other's phrases as seamlessly as if they were one being.
And by the heartbreaking sound of their anguish, they seemed to be united and grieving as one as well.
"We thought we tried . . ."
". . . gave Maggie our money . . ."
" . . . told her to help you. . ."
Hitching breathes and heaving sobs overtook them for a moment before they managed to continue.
"We sent her because she looked normal and wouldn't be stared at . . ."
". . . but that shouldn't have been important . . ."
". . . we shouldn't have trusted her . . ."
". . . we should have faced up to it ourselves . . ."
". . . because it was you who saved us in the first place . . ."
". . . from Dandy Mott when Elsa sold us . . ."
". . . and we should have come to help you . . ."
Jimmy couldn't take their tears, their pleadings anymore. He reached out for them, kissing each smooth forehead and making, meaningless soothing sounds deep as the dry wellpools of his eyes seemed to fill once more with bitter, burning tears.
"No. there's nothing to forgive. Nothing either of you could have done."
Which wasn't exactly true. They could have, any of them could have. And then he might have his hands still.
Or something might have gone even more wrong and they might all be dead.
Instead of just most of them.
But that was neither here nor there. Nothing to be done now.
All water under the bridge.
Or so Jimmy told himself as he held his crying friends.
It was just as she had left it, Ma's caravan.
Only darker and damper than when she'd been there.
An ancient, sagging, wooden thing.
It had been his home ever since he was little.
When Ma was straight and dependable and caring and his ma. And when she was on the sauce and belligerent and irrational and scary.
When she'd been locked up in the drunk tank, he'd been taken away from her. Weeks of scrawny, little him being picked on and beaten up by the older orphanage boys for his freakish lobster claw hands.
And then Elsa Mars had brought him back here to his Ma.
His Ma, dried out and in control and his Ma again.
Even when he'd got his own worn out trailer, a more modern metal thing with the words See the Lobster Boy! emblazoned on the side, this had still been Ma's caravan.
Her things, her smells, her life.
Even now, it was hers and it seemed her essence still hung in the air after months abandoned and unused.
Their voices seemed to echo from the worn walls themselves instead of in his own head.
Look, Ma! Watch me juggle!
Ah, now that's talent right there, son!
Yeah, I'm gonna wow 'em, Ma! Just like you said!
Ooooh, watch the bookshelf, Jimmy!
Whoops, sorry.
A gentle but not too gentle pat on his face, hers screwed up in a prideful smile, his beaming and excited.
You're gettin' there, son. No doubt about that. Uh, let's go outside in the sun where I can see you better.
'Kay, Ma.
The voices faded as the memory Jimmy and Ma went outside. He'd continued to practice, almost nailing a roustabout in the head. Ma'd smoked a cig, smiling and laughing, the afternoon sun warm and bright on her face.
Her face lingered in his mind's eye, almost superimposed on the real surroundings Jimmy found himself gazing blindly at now.
Her costumes, some knickknacks, a few pictures in tarnished frames.
All of her possessions right where she had left them.
Except for a messy stack of papers and bits and bobs in disarray in front of her jewelry box.
Wonder what had her in such a rush, Jimmy pondered aimlessly. She always took such good care of her stuff.
He wandered over and angled down a thin book from a shelf.
The Poems of Emily Dickenson.
One of Ma's favorites.
She used to read them aloud as he fell asleep in his bunk at night.
Some were happy but most were sad and forlorn.
Ma'd told him poetry could be like that.
He balanced the book in his wooden hand, insides quaking.
Being in here made him miss her even more, feel his loss even more heavily.
He crumpled into a chair, head hanging and despondent.
He pressed his weary forehead to the book.
As if it were Ma's warm, broad hand instead of just old paper and ink.
Oh, Ma, I'm sorry. I could have done so much more. I could have saved them. I could have saved you. Somehow.
At that moment, it would have been quite easy for Jimmy Darling to huddle here forever and just let the encroaching darkness inside take him down.
And he might have too.
All the way until the end.
If not for Bette and Dot.
They knelt before him, Bette laying a gentle hand on his knee.
"She loved you, Jimmy. She was proud of you."
Dot tenderly stroking his face.
"She would want you to survive. To live."
And he knew then he had to get up.
His friends wouldn't have it any other way.
They needed him to get up and keep going.
Even when all he wanted was to give up and quit.
So he took a deep breath.
Goodbye, Ma. I love you.
And got up.
And kept going.
But first he carefully wrapped the precious tome in a soft cloth and stowed it away in his duffle bag.
And took it with him as he exited the darkened caravan for the last time.
Hello, people!
Interested in spanning the gulf between weirdo popcorn drowning scene and Jimmy/Bette/Dot marital bliss? Promises to be fun and light (well, not this chapter) along with some darker fare as well. As is life. But trust me, some laughs along the way. :)
This won't be a daily update. But a coupla chaps a week, I think.
And the pic is a sorta 'path out of darkness thing'.
Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.