The tent had filled with more of the performers, tired, hard faced, waiting to be impressed.
When my brothers and I were lost, we took to standing in the saddle to check the horizon to see where we were. But it was so much fun to do, we were always checking. One time our old bay became impatient and began walking while my brother was still standing, and as we laughed, he stayed standing up and gradually got the horse to a canter. This became our new favorite trick, and so, of course, we soon learned to race at it, our mother usually catching us and screaming in fear.
I gave my new audience a long look as they watched expectantly and then reined Mela back so he reared as I swung him into the track of the ring. We started off at a run. My audience screamed with laughter and I felt it please the horse.
After three laps to get him warm to me and to figure out his timing, I swung in the saddle, rolling onto my back, my legs up as I did a half circle, sitting down again backward.
I heard a cheer and waved to the crowd.
He was a good circus horse and kept steady on his pace. I would later miss him, but for now, I rolled myself back around to face front again. I did it once more and then prepared for the real trick, the one I was sure they’d like.
I did not know how to understand the way life was lived here, but this much I knew.
My eyes moved to Ernesto, who was nodding with pride as if we were already friends.
I took one foot and lifted it slightly up Mela’s reddish sides, then the other, until my feet balanced, knees bent, on either side of the center of the horse’s back. My audience cheered. I lifted one hand in the air in a salute and then whipped off my hat, shaking my hair loose. Then I pulled the reins in and drew the horse to a stop in a sawdust cloud. From my place on his back I turned to face them.
They were silent as they watched me, except Flambeau, who still clapped sharp, barking claps.
I steadied myself and raised my arm in a salute. I needed them to feed me, to take me with them. I needed to get to Europe. If they did not take me, I was not sure what there was for me.
I cleared my throat and found my voice then, like a coin suddenly in your pocket that’d been missing when last you looked for it. Ernesto’s eyes went wide with surprise, almost as wide as mine.
The song was, in fact, the one song my mother had taught me that wasn’t a hymn. This was true. I chose it that night as I was homesick and missing her, so it seemed right to sing it now.
Rose, Rose, Rose, Red.
When will I see thee wed?
I will wed at thy will, sire,
At thy will.
Rose, Rose, Rose, Red.
When will I see thee wed?
I will wed as I will, sire,
As I will.
I’d fiddled with the lyrics, and I guess they knew, for they laughed at my second verse.
I sang it slowly and clearly, steadily stronger, thrilling to the moment. I then sang it again, continuing, repeating it until the other performers joined in the round. Soon they were dancing with each other, and I held my hand out to Ernesto, who came to where I stood on the back of the horse, finally taking my hand and holding it up in the air. Standing on that horse, I was only a little taller than he was. As I finished the lyric that time, he lifted me off and held me there.
Can’t speak but you can sing, then, is it? he asked.
The rest of the circus sang around us.
I looked at him, all the terror I’d felt close but not as close, while he held me, and I enjoyed the sensation, new and thrilling, to be up in the air in his arms.
It’s nothin’ to me, he said. We’re none of us made right for this world. But we’re still here, aren’t we? And then he set me down.
§
Any relations, then? the boss asked, as we sat with my contract and he named my terms.
I shook my head no, the grief again, like a low bell knocking. I bit my lip.
None at all? I shook my head again. Well, every circus story begins by someone’s grave. Welcome, he said. You’re a natural. Sign here.
Even if you weren’t an orphan, Ernesto said to me, as he led me to the food tent, you’d probably pretend to be one anyway.
When you joined, you were always asked if you had family. If you said yes and the family wasn’t a circus family, they usually didn’t take you. And if it was a family that had rivalries or blood vengeance with another circus family, the answer would be no also.
If the boss still has it somewhere, the contract reads, in careful script, Lilliet Berne.
§
Later that night, after I’d been fed and shown to a cot in Priscilla’s tent, I lay awake, unable to sleep. I took my hands out and touched my throat, as if that could tell me what had happened.
My throat felt the same. But as I lay there, I tried to speak again and could not.
There was only the same low sound, a scratchy whisper.
It was as if I had two voices now, the one strong and clear, the other turned to ash. As if the voice that could speak had been punished for the pride of the one that could sing.