Sawdust in his Shoes
Chapter 2 Bread and Circuses
"They're saying that the bleedin' is slowin' down." He looked up from his feet and took a deep breath. "But they're telling me that you might not recover. They tried to run me off for a bit, but I think I finally got 'em to understand that it wasn't happenin'. But that fuckin' ventilator creeps me the hell out. I hate how it sounds, so I'm gonna keep talkin'."
"Everyone's always surprised by this, but one of the things that I loved the most about the circus was how much routine there was. Most days were pretty much the same. It the first time I had somethin' like that."
"When we showed up at a new spot, the caravans, sorry, the campers and RV's would form up in what we called the backyard. Everyone always parked in the same spots. I mean, Ron was always next to Sally with her performin' birds, Madame Zanzibar was always next to Marcela, the Bearded Lady. Stuff like that. So even though we mighta drove a few hundred miles, it was like we were back in our own little town, you know?"
"The animal handlers would pull those trucks and trailers up into another separate area. Darko would get Marlene and Peanut, those were our elephants, out of their box truck. They'd go get the canvas for the big tent outta that truck and carry it in their trunks over to where it needed to be. Then the girls, sorry, the women, would spread it out on the ground. I dunno why it was always the women who did that…"
"So anyway, this was after I graduated from settin' up the animal fences to helpin' set up the big tent. About all I could do at set up was to fetch the stakes, and then I held 'em while Gary or Marconi pounded them in. They swung the hammer in huge circles behind and then up over their heads. They hit that stake perfect, right on the head every single time. Still scared the shit outta me for the longest time."
"First couple of times, I dropped the stake and backed up, kinda scramblin' backwards, you know what I mean? They got frustrated, then mad. Finally Carson came out and helped. I dunno if I told you this or not, but he was a small guy. Bigger than one of them, whaddya call 'em, little people? Bigger than that, but not by much. So yeah, here's this little guy, holdin' the stakes for Marconi, who was huge, and he never flinches, and Marconi never misses."
"So Carson pulls me over and says 'Courage doesn't mean you're never scared. Courage means doing what you have to, even when you're scared. Have you ever done what you needed to do, when you were scared?' I can't tell him 'bout Wilkerson, he'd hate me, right? But yeah, that was what I thought of. So I says 'Yeah.' And he smiles at me, and says 'Go be brave, and help.' So what could I do? I held that damned stake."
"This whole time, the rest of the performers would be settin' up a few smaller poles around one edge of the big tent. Darko would bring in one of the elephants, usually Marlene, with a large leather strap across her chest. I never knew why, but I loved watching those elephants. Marlene was bigger, like this movin' mountain, but she never got tangled in the chains. They'd get all up around her legs, but she'd just pick up a back foot, step over it just as smooth as you or me would do. Maybe that's why I liked her; she was so big and so strong, but so gentle."
Clint was lost in thought for a while, then shook his head and continued on.
"She'd move to the base of the tall pole. As soon as it was hooked to the chains, she'd walk forward, draggin' the bottom of the pole along the ground. The top was already attached to the canvas, so that pole just pushed itself and the canvas up into the air. Neatest trick you ever saw. Meanwhile Darko's daughter Svana would be doing the same with Peanut. It wouldn't take long for all four of the big poles to be set up."
"After that, they'd take the elephants off to help raise the other tents, for the animals, and the cook tent and stuff. The small poles would get set up around the edge, and Marconi and I would stake 'em down with these thick nylon straps. In a few hours, this empty field would be our circus, with the big tent and banners and the side show. It always made me feel like I was part of something important."
"But the best part of every set up was that Madame Zanzibar, our fortune teller, would bake bread. A few hours after we pulled into place, the smell of fresh bread would be spreadin' all over the site. You could even smell it over the manure."
"I was a dumb shit, so the first few times I tried to steal some bread. Somehow she would always know where I was, and she'd smack me with her cane. She was this tiny little thing, but man she could leave a bruise!" Clint chuckled at the memory.
"What I eventually figured out was that if I offered to help her set up her camp, or fetch water for her or somethin' like that, she'd give me a slice or two of the bread. And she had this homemade jam that she'd put on it. That bread and jam was, it like the best thing I'd ever eaten. I'd find a safe spot, up high, and just cram the bread into my mouth."
"If we stayed at a location more than a week, she'd bake again. Didn't take me long to learn her schedule, so I started hangin' around her RV. So one day, she invites me in, sayin' her arthritis was botherin' her somethin' fierce, and she can't knead the bread. I wasn't too sure 'bout getting' in the caravan with her, but she was this tiny, old woman whose hands hurt. It was probably safe…"
"I'm thinkin' 'bout what Carson told me 'bout courage, so slink into her caravan. It's small, a lot like the one me and Barney and our old man lived in."
"I lasted less than five minutes that day. But I tried again, and again, and eventually, I did it, with Madame Zanzibar always sitting at the table at the far end of the space at her table. I always worked at the kitchen counter. And I learned a lot from her."
"I learned how to measure the flour." Clint's voice changed, became higher pitched, with a touch of an Eastern European accent, "Use the spoon to put it in the cup, boy, don't just scoop it!" He grinned, then continued. "She taught me how to proof the yeast in water that was just the right temperature, and how to measure honey without it stickin' in the cup or spoon. I learned how to handle the dough right when I was kneadin' it, and how to stretch it and roll it. I learned that this was somethin' I could do. That she believed in me, when a whole lotta other people hadn't."
"The dough had to rise twice, and then bake, so there was a lot of time when I didn't need to be workin' directly on the dough. That was when she taught me how to sew sequins back onto costumes, or how to repaint faded sign boards. And…"
"I learned fractions and math by addin' and subtractin' and countin' cups and half cups and three-quarters of a cup. I learned to tell time on her clock by watchin' and waitin' and kneadin'. I learned biology and chemistry and…
His voice grew quiet. "I learned that there was somethin' nice in just being in the presence of another person. Someone who needed my help. When it was cold, those were the only times I was truly warm. Sometimes, neither one of us talked the whole time. It was a warm, comfortable, safe place."
"Madame Zanzibar would let me make two loaves, and take one for me. The bread usually lasted me three days; it would have lasted longer, but I always shared with Marlene and Peanut."
Bread and circuses; a sense of belonging and comfort. He'd found it again with her.
Damned if he was going to lose it.