That night I fell asleep alone and the night passed without mending the wrongs and without granting me company. In the morning doctors told me I could leave the hospital which was great but they also said if I stumbled again I would break my ankle for good and I should rest for at least a month. They didn't understand why I didn't go head over heals out of joy. I didn't explain. They didn't know carny life. They probably never will and telling them anything close to what goes on at the carnival would only endanger our family. After I got my blood checked again, my parents picked me up in someone else's car because we only had the trailer that didn't just move like that. It had its place until we forced it elsewhere. Sometimes I wished I could just settle somewhere and stay like that. Grow my roots and never budge. What a wild imagination it was. To stay somewhere. No fear of getting left behind. No packing up every little thing you own to strap it to the trailer top and leave that place like you hadn't even been there. Like you hadn't existed.

That evening no one expected me to perform and I was grateful for this one evening of not worrying. I already counted the hours until I pressured myself into entering the stage again, way too early, way too scared. Fear was something that cursed your performance. There was barely a good kind of fear but being scared of making oneself useless in this life was the worst of them all. Useless people get left behind. Unless you're Alex Jane of course. Then you get dragged along for all eternity because your son earns the money this fair really needs.

Fear was mostly disarming and strangling for me. Unless it was this special kind of anguish of mine when it came to Patrick. The whole day I've been turning thoughts over in my mind. The whole point I always came to was that I needed to know. I needed him to say whatever he was keeping back. Even if it meant that I would have to get rid of the dreams I had of him, the hopes and the feelings. Because we both knew that he didn't expose everything that was going on. He just always seemed to run for his life when I asked too many questions. I needed to know.

My heart beat only thinking about looking him in the eyes and demanding an answer to the question that floated all around us every second we spent together.

In front of my eyes, my parents performed their trapeze act like they had for at least 20 years. It was nothing new, nothing that should spark excitement in my soul quite like it did. But it made me think back to the time when I was only just able to ride my bicycle and I used to tiptoe into every evening show. It was the greatest for me to watch them perform and I remember how I used to fantasize about what would be my big act. Me taming lions, riding a dozen white horses into the arena or hanging mid-air only clinging to a long scarf, from toes to hairline covered in glitter. There was a whole lot of stuff I dreamed about doing but never pursued.

My ma threw herself at my dad and he caught her with only one hand. People gasped. They swung a few times together until my ma pulled herself up to stand on the swing.

The fireworks they recently added to the show went off and the crowd cheered dutifully. My heart beat and somehow I knew now was the time. I made my way outside through the performer entrance and was greeted by warm rain. Even though it was the same rain from a few days ago, since it had never really stopped, it felt more pleasant now. I wrapped the big fringed scarf tightly around my shoulders anyway. I was already cold enough being barefoot because I didn't fit into any shoes with my bad foot and the fairground had turned into a mudslide after all. Every time someone had asked I joked about how the mud cooled my ankle best. No one ought to know that I only had one pair of shoes that I didn't want to ruin.

My heartbeat was dangerously irregular and I stopped to close my eyes. It will never get worse. It can't get worse than hoping but never knowing.

The raindrops caressed my skin and soaked through my scarf and dress. I held my breath. My feet sank into the mud and I heard the raindrops crash all around me. Everything seemed so clear. The lights were brighter and the cold icier. The music played louder and the tingles in my veins felt like an adrenaline rush, flushing my cheeks and rattling my fingers. I breathed.

My feet lead me to Patrick's tent before I could even think about it. He hadn't been at the performance so I suspected he hid there. His father had him perform in a small tent that assured only Patrick and his client would be able to attend. Fewer eyes helped keeping up the magic. There was no way to knock so I just stepped inside. It was dark inside with a strong smell of candles and only enough space for a small table and two chairs. Patrick was barely visible in the dark back of the tent. I suppose he leant back in a chair because I could only see his legs on the table, unbothered by the dirty shoes. I don't know why but it was terrible seeing him here. All the candles and the colourful tapestry, pillows and the fur on the floor didn't fit him. The lack of me seeing his face made it feel like I just entered his prison. It made it hard to talk. I didn't know what to say so I just sat down opposite to him. He inched his legs off the table. No words were spoken. It took an eternity for him to straighten himself and shift his chair closer so the light reached him. He put down an old book besides the candles and rested his bare elbows on the table surface. The shirt's sleeves rolled up. His hair messy. His eyes tried to read me but he couldn't because I didn't know what I was up to myself. There was still a faint yellow stain around his eye.

I put my hand palm upwards in front of him. He looked at it and his breathing turned erratic. I could feel the warmth of his arms from where my fingers rested but I didn't touch him. I stuck out his long pondering and he endured his skin so close to mine. None of us dared to save us from this tension.

"Why are you here?" he finally said faintly but with enough undertone to make me question what I did to him. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed or scared. It all seemed to be the same. But I had to know. I silence my pride because I needed this. No matter what he will think of me in the future. At least I was brave enough to pursue what I dreamed of this time.

"I want you to read my future." I was a little bit proud of my stern voice while my inner self was burned up and consumed by tingles.

Patrick leant back and hid himself in the shadows again without his arms leaving the closeness of my hand. "You know I can't do that." He didn't only sound offended but also disappointed in me and it made me blush involuntarily. I thanked god for the tent being only lit by a few candles.

"I think this time you can. After all you're a psychic, that's your job." My voice needed to get it together again. He sighed and roughly pulled my hand closer to him. But that was the only thing he managed to do indelicately. His fingers gently exposed my wrist to him and he remained a firm grasp with his thumb below the heel of my hand. Tingles raged under my skin.

Everything he is told me that he needed to force himself to look me in the eyes.

"What do you want to know?"

"I had a reoccurring dream for the last few weeks and I want to know if it will be my future." Only thinking about it made my heart beat and my mouth dry.

"The dream was about something that is very important to you." He didn't ask but stated facts. I did my best not to show any emotion and not to reassure anything he would say.

"About family." He pressed on. "And your future life."

He let his unoccupied fingers caress the lines on my palm. "You are restless and search for answers desperately. So desperately that you overlook the obvious truths."

He gave me a covert glance, obviously searching for a reaction.

"What truths?" My voice quavered because of his gentle touches.

"That the future is not meant to be seen and that some secrets are only there to protect and not to hurt you."

I clench my teeth and stopped breathing for a moment. My fingertips started to prickle from lack of blood because of his grip. He tried to hide the shaking of his hand with movement but he didn't fool me.

"But what if I need to know?"

He recollected himself and remembered the first question I had.

"You need to share the details of your dream if you need me to interpret it." Deflection is what he mastered with sublime skill.

"No." Sadness flooded me.

"Are we done here then?" His voice grew impatient but his eyes proved him a liar. He didn't leave our touch.

"No. I have a second question."

He avoided my glance but I didn't back up. This one time he can't run from answering a question.

"How do you know when someone is not really saying what they want to say?" I found my stern voice again somewhere in the fear.

He loosened his grip on my wrist and it felt like he wanted to let go. I could only just manage to not grab his hand to keep him here. He stayed with me in person and in thought. Although he resigned his palm reading act and retreated the hand that wasn't holding my wrist to rest the weight of his sorrows on his elbow again. He leaned in closer, more out of nervousness than for closeness sake.

"Their pulse increases and they watch their wording more carefully."

I reached out carefully to grab his wrist like he did with mine and mirrored the position on the table. He let it happen without any resistance but a lot of doubt on his face.

"Then tell me the truth, Patrick. Not the future but the truth of right now."

He stared at our hands. "What do you want to hear?" The first question he asked tonight.

"The truth about this." He didn't say anything.

"Your pulse is fast, your hands are sweaty. You don't say anything at all. What is it that you don't tell me?" For some reason I had thought it would work like this and I got angry when it didn't.

"I don't know what to tell you, Angela. I don't know what you want to hear." His voice was sharp and too loud for a small tent. "Is it about the kiss? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I know I can't take it back even though I wish I could."

The tingles subsided and left me shaking and cold. Of all the thinking I did, I never imagined what I would say if he rejected me again.