The Christmas show put on by the performers that Saturday began at 6:00 sharp—while everyone was getting ready and warming up backstage, the seats in the audience became fuller by the minute as groups upon groups came in. The great tent, being heavily decorated with tinsel, garland, lights, fir sprigs, and even a large, trimmed tree settled on the outer left edge of the stage. The lights were on, and the tinsel sparkled as much as the garland did. Backstage, everyone was getting dressed in seasonal costumes—Dell dressed as Santa Claus, Desiree was in a provocative brown lingerie set and a headband with faux antlers that made her look like a reindeer, Pepper, Jyoti, Paul, Eve and Salty were dressed as elves in blue or green felt with faux leather belts and matching pointed hats. Jimmy and several other acts did not dress up, but he wore a dark green button-up shirt tucked into his blue jeans, a new pair which he had gotten especially for this occasion. Dot and Bette wore a burgundy velvet dress with a ruffle around the neckline and a red satin sash.
The most unique costume of the acts was Britta's—she did agree to sing, despite her nervousness, but she wore a long, virgin white tunic-like gown with a red sash around her petite waist that extended down the length of the gown. Her hair was loose and wavy and topped by a crown wreath. She found a compact on one of the makeup tables Eve had used before her, and she used the applicator to apply a simple peachy eyeshadow and the blusher to apply pink rouge to her cheeks. Elsa's style and way of doing her makeup had been way too bold and flamboyant, so Britta learned a little more about applying her own makeup. She bit her lips so that they looked like they had lipstick on them, but she licked them to make them look glossy. She stood up from the makeup desk as soon as the audience began to cheer on the coming of Dell dressed as Santa.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" he began, feigning a booming voice. "Merry Christmas! Welcome to Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet of Curiosities!"
The audience cheered and smiled up at the strongman dressed as Santa Claus; however, backstage it became a laughing matter. Jimmy laughed silently at how ridiculous he looked and sounded onstage, his dimply, charming smile catching the other acts' attention. Britta looked over at him and shook her head, smiling slightly.
"Featuring my elves!" Pepper, Salty, Jyoti, and Eve were illuminated by a spotlight, and upon seeing the sight, everyone in the audience laughed hysterically, especially since the towering Eve had no business being in an elf costume. Pepper and Salty waved their hands at the massive crowd, and Paul flapped his short arms to shock everyone and get them to stop laughing.
"But…! To open our show," Dell said, peering into the audience. "A peek into the long, dark winters of Northern Europe with a traditional music-and-flight number by the one! The only! Britta Nordlund!"
Even went to the piano and began to play a jingle as the curtain opened to the light of a candle being held and looked into by Britta's intense verdant gaze. The spotlight dimmed slightly to give a spiritual, serious feel—the audience was struck silent as Britta hesitated to hit the first note of Sankta Lucia:
"Natten går tunga fjät
rund gård och stuva;
kring jord, som sol förlät,
skuggorna ruva.
Då i vårt mörka hus,
stiger med tända ljus,
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia."
The audience was in awe, but the spotlight brightened as she moved on to the next verse of the song, holding out the lit white candle and focusing on it so it could levitate like it was supposed to. As she went further into the song, she put her hands together as if in prayer as it floated around her personal space. Jimmy watched the sight from backstage and was amazed at her abilities—it was already enough that she looked very beautiful in a traditional Swedish holiday costume, but levitating a candle without it falling and setting things on fire was truly a miracle. The crowd lost their awe when Britta levitated herself while singing the final verse. She went higher and higher as she sang each line and each note in a perfect soprano, making the audience cry of joy:
"Mörkret ska flykta snart
ur jordens dalar
så hon ett underbart
ord till oss talar.
Dagen ska åter ny
stiga ur rosig sky
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia"
When the number was over, the entire crowd starting from the front of the audience stood and applauded her as she focused on getting herself down safely and holding the candle that had been floating since she made it do so. Once she was back on her feet, she bowed her head gracefully and smiled gently, her lips closed as she conveyed her gratitude for them listening to her and not trying to throw things like the first time she had been on stage. Elsa, who had been watching from backstage, looked at the Swede in deep envy, but not resentment. Why can't I get applauded like that, she thought, I am a star. She grinned and bore it as the curtain closed, with Britta going backstage to meet the others. Elsa smiled at her and held her arms out for a hug, which was firm and tight.
"Wunderbar, my angel," she said with a tear in her eye both from sadness and joy. "You were wunderbar."
"Now, it is your time to be wunderbar," Britta replied with a slight smile. Elsa, dressed in a satin red gown, white feather boa and her usual heavy makeup, walked on the threshold of the stage and the wing as Dell called her out.
"And now, the matron of a dying era! Please welcome the chanteuse of pre-war Berlin, Elsa Mars!" he declared, clapping being heard from the audience. She walked out on the stage with Paul on drums, Eve on the piano, and another act on bass cello—the crowd looked up at her as the curtains opened and music began to play, her husky voice taking over the song:
"Sleigh bells ring, are you listening,
In the lane, snow is glistening
A beautiful sight,
We're happy tonight,
Walking in a winter wonderland…"
Unlike Britta's impeccable soprano, Elsa's husky contralto seemed totally out of it as she sang. The audience, much to her dismay, all watched her and didn't clap along or do anything to ensure Elsa that they were excited about her being there. Plus, the song made no sense because in Jupiter, it never snowed:
"In the meadow we can build a snowman,
Then pretend that he's a circus clown
We'll have lots of fun with mister snowman,
Until the other kiddies knock him down…"
When the song was only two lines away from being finished, the audience rushed Elsa off the stage by clapping and fake applauding—flattered for the wrong reason, she smiled and finished the song, bowing the audience. Dell kept calling up acts to perform their numbers—Paul and Eve performed an act with some acrobats on suspended silver rings all decked out in tinsel, Jimmy cracked some jokes while making gestures with his hands, Pepper and Salty simply amused the crowd by standing there talking nonsensewith their slurred speech and dancing to the Chicken Dance and other pieces. Desiree performed a half-assed striptease to a slow, jazzy version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer complete with tasseled pasties on her three nipples—the men in the audience, married or single, whistled and made cat calls to their heart's content; however, it was when she gave a show of her ding-a-ling that people really got scared.
"Ew!" they all called out.
"Gross! She's a man!" an older woman exclaimed.
All of the acts had finished by 9:30 that evening, and afterwards, there was the usual meet-and-greet of the performers. By this time, words had gotten around to all of the town's women who had been serviced by Jimmy, and there were not many people flocking around him except to get autographs or photos for the newspaper. Pepper and Salty continued to make people laugh as they walked around and smiled with their bucked teeth. Britta and Desiree were both the most popular for that evening; men surrounded Desiree, taking away from the attention the Swede would have gotten for her unique performance. Dell didn't like this, but he didn't want to get his temper riled with the heat of the moment. More pictures were taken for the town newspaper, especially of Britta holding her Saint Lucia candle and her ethereal Nordic beauty topped with the crown wreath she had worn onstage. Reporters came to her asking questions, the same ones over and over again; in the meantime, Jimmy had his eyes on Britta, who looked a bit intimidated although by now, she had been swarmed after every show for autographs, interviews, photos, and general questions about her life.
"What part of Scandinavia are you from?" one asked, holding a pen and paper.
"What is winter like up North?"
"Are you currently single?"
"The Jupiter Times would like to interview you. When are you free?"
Shaking his head, Jimmy intervened and held his deformed hands out to prevent them from coming any closer to Britta. He was right in front of her like a shield protecting something precious.
"Please, guys! Leave her alone," he commanded assertively.
"We need to know these things!" a reporter stated. "She's the latest sensation!"
"So ain't I. Ain't I in this show, too?" Jimmy asked sarcastically. "You can interview me anytime."
"We want to interview Britta Nordlund! Not you, Lobster Boy!" another reporter sneered.
"Hey!" Jimmy lunged at the person who said that, and felt like he was beginning to lose his temper. "Stop it! That's enough! Get away from her! I mean it!"
Britta, nervous and bewildered by the commotion, proceeded to run out of the great tent, making her way through the entrance. Before she could leave, a few reporters clocked the entrance; Dell, seeing them try to snap unflattering photos of Britta, walked over toward them and shouted.
"HEY! Away from the entrance unless you're gonna leave!" he said, waving his fists in the air. Knowing he was capable of breaking them as easily as toothpicks, they fled the freak show and approached their cars, driving away from the grounds. Britta then took the opportunity to leave the great tent and walk down the small avenue of tents, trailers and caravans. She heard rapid footsteps in the grass behind her, and when she looked back, she noticed it was Jimmy.
"Hey, you can't be out alone. What if someone snatches you up?" he asked hypothetically with a cynical tone in his voice. When he caught up to her, Britta replied with her accent thick but clear.
"Why would they do that?" she asked.
"C'mon, you didn't see them back there? They're crazy about you! All kudos to you, though, 'cause I wouldn't want that much attention," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder lightly and leading her toward his trailer. Britta, looking at him as he paced forward with her, lifted his arm off her—Jimmy stopped just before opening the door.
"What?" he asked in frustration.
"I…do not know if…I should," she admitted shyly, turning red.
"Really?" he asked with disbelief as he walked up to her and stared right down into her eyes. "We're friends, remember? Besides, if I wanted to do anything to you, I would have said it, you would've had to want it, too."
Britta stood there for a moment, staring at him blankly with a horrified look in her verdant eyes. He stared back at her, and realizing that what he said and how he said it was likely offensive, he rubbed his forehead roughly and opened the door, holding out his hand. She reluctantly took it and he led her into his small trailer, which was not entirely unkempt but it could've used some spring cleaning. There was a used blue over-shirt from two days ago thrown on the sofa, a small radio, mini kitchen with one counter, a stove and a fridge, and down the trailer was his large bed and the door to a bathroom complete with a bathtub. Suspended from the ceiling was a speed bag for when he was angry and needed to take it out on something or when he simply worked out. Jimmy reached and turned on the light but dimmed it slightly so that Britta could place her candle on the small table near the sofa.
"Sit down," he said.
Doing so, Britta looked up at him curiously, watching him take off his green button-up t-shirt and toss it aside to show his muscular body and broad, manly shoulder in his white wifebeater tank top. He opened the small cupboard and took out a glass bottle of liquor and two shot glasses, pouring an even amount in each before handing a glass to Britta, who took it and smelled it. It nauseated her.
"What is this stuff?" she asked.
"It's fine, drink it," Jimmy replied, sitting next to the Swede on his sofa as he took the whole shot down in one gulp, making a sour face afterwards. Remembering how bad of an alcoholic her foster father had been and the faces he made after gulping down shots in front of her young self, she placed the glass on the table and looked down, yawning.
"What?" he asked.
"Ja?"
"No, I meant to ask you what was wrong," Jimmy asked, looking at her. "If you don't want it, I'll drink it up."
"Go," she muttered. "I do not drink like this."
"Like what?" he asked, taking half her shot down his gullet.
"Well, I…I never drank…I mean, I was never given anything to drink like this," she explained briefly. Jimmy looked at her with a serious expression.
"Poor thing, you ain't never had a drink in your life," he joked—but Britta was not joking. After he gulped down the rest of her shot, he fanned himself with his deformed hand and looked at her.
"It is…" She sighed. "not what I would want to do. I have seen way too much drinking in my life to do it for myself."
"Oh."
Jimmy remembered that she had mentioned an alcoholic foster father before. Feeling embarrassed, he leaned back on the couch and looked at her, still dressed in her traditional Swedish Saint Lucia costume from the show. He watched as she took off the green wreath crown from her head, taking a hair ribbon she had hidden in it for tying it back after the show. Jimmy sighed and looked at her; he wanted to learn her deepest secrets so that he may protect her and guard over her for the remainder of his life, or at least for a time. He had been so concerned for Britta, looking out for her whenever he could because ever since seeing the deep scars inflicted on her wrists, he began to really wonder about the deeper pain she harbored within her that her eyes could not fully express. Every gaze he made into her eyes, he saw the pain as yet unexplained over and over again.
"Britta?" She glanced over at him—she looked rather sad, but didn't talk.
"I know I said I should mind my own business, but…" He took a breath before looking into her eyes; she paid full attention to him. "What happened to you? Why are you so shy? And…" He looked down, licking and biting his upper lip nervously. "Those scars…must have been so painful when they got there…" Britta felt tears in her eyes, and her voice cracked. No one had ever cared about her on this level before—she felt her heart breaking inside when the brutal memories of her foster family, her parent's death, and something even worse than being sent to Konradsberg played like a projector in a film hall. She closed her eyes, a single tear dropping as she remembered her excruciating pain when she took the kitchen knife to her wrists.
"They were," she muttered, nodding.
"Yeah?" Jimmy listened attentively to anything else she had to say. Britta sighed.
"This…is…well…" She shook her head, beginning to cry; Jimmy took her in his arms and held her close, allowing his tank top to be soaked by her salty, warm tears. His left, deformed hand ran over her head to console her.
"This is very hard to me to tell people," she cried. "A lot of…bad…bad things…happened to me in Sweden." She used the long sleeve of her gown to wipe her eyes, sniffling. "I may have…brought my…language and…" She looked at her costume. "traditions here…but…there were some things I wanted to leave behind and never go back to see them again." Jimmy sighed, staying silent so he could listen to her; normally her heavy accent was clear enough to understand, but when she was sobbing and crying in a moment like that, he had to try and listen to make out what she was saying.
"Elsa…the whole ride on the ship here, she asked me about myself. I could not…fully answer…her questions," she continued. "She was trying to…." She thought of a proper word in English. "She was trying to make me…open up to her…and tell her what I am about to tell you now."
"I'm listening, Britta," he said, trying to calm her down as he held her in his strong arms. Britta sighed, looking down; the tears seemed to stop.
"I…do not know…I do not know how to say it in English," she said. "But…this is what happened to me…."