She put her hands up to her own belly. There had so recently been a sea creature evolving in there, trying its best to get its act together. It had perished under the deep, deep, deep sea.
McMahon had put the word out that he wanted Rose found. Someone tapped McMahon’s shoulder at a restaurant. It was a burlesque woman with a white fur coat and thick black liner surrounding her eyes. Her face was so overdone that he assumed it must be stage makeup.
“What?” he asked.
“I just saw Rose. I swear it’s her. She’s backstage across the street, talking to the clown.”
McMahon stood up from the table, grabbed his coat, hurried out of the restaurant, knocking over a chair on his way, and stomped across the street. He went through the lobby into the main hall and up onto the stage, then tossed aside the curtains and walked backstage. He pushed open the door that had Snoop the Magnificent written on it.
“Was a black-haired girl just in here?”
“Yup. You should be able to catch her.”
Her wet footprints hadn’t dried yet and they headed down the back hallway to the back exit that led to the street. McMahon ran, even though it made his lungs burn. He pushed open both doors. There was nothing in the alley but the wind. And a trembling fourteen-year-old girl with heart-shaped cookies she had made for a performer. She held one out for McMahon. He sneered like an enraged horse.
? ? ?
PIERROT WENT TO THE PUBLIC BATHS. There were dark brown and white square tiles, as if the floor of the pool were a chessboard. A tall, old, skinny man walked slowly, step by step, across the pool, as though he were a king piece. Pierrot took off his towel and walked to the edge of the pool, sat down on the ledge and lowered his feet in. The water was warm and melted his toes. He slipped into the water, closed his eyes and sank to the bottom, where he landed painlessly on his behind. He imagined Rose underneath the water with him. Why she would be there, he could not fathom. But it seemed as likely that she would be there as anywhere else.
He lay on his back, floating in the large bath, his penis like a lily pad.
42
ON THE SIXTH DAY
There was a theater all the way on top of the hill in the park, known as the Beaver Theater. Inside the theater, paintings of forests with deer galloping through them hung from the walls. The curtain was striped green and brown.
This clown was known for his animal acts. He would take off his top hat to reveal a duckling on his head. He had a legendary dog that had been with him for years. He was quite miserable, as it was hard to rent an apartment when he had such a ridiculous menagerie. He was kicked out of the Saint Martin’s Children’s Circus because one of his geese snapped at a child.
Rose watched his hectic show. He was an enormous clown. He wore a white skullcap. He had on a white one-piece suit with three large red pom-poms as buttons and a red ruffle around his belly, like icing surrounding a cake. He had on white silky pants. He had on large red shoes that must have been about size twenty-six.
He pulled a dove from out of his top hat, followed by a white rabbit and then a white kitten. A tiny goose maniacally drove a little mechanical car around the stage. A small white pony came out from behind the curtain, confused, as though it had just woken up, and the clown proceeded to climb on top of it. The small horse didn’t seem to mind, even though the clown was approximately three times its size.
His famous dog looked like it had seen better days. It looked as if a cigar had exploded in its face. That was the trouble with white poodles: they always looked older than they were. The little dog had on a tuxedo. It was able to walk on its hind legs with fantastic ease. It seemed to be as at ease on its hind legs as it was on all fours, quite possibly because it had been doing this for so many years. It walked across a low tightrope the clown had set up.
He was backstage with the dog in the dressing room. All the other animals were presumably in their cages. But he seemed to treat the dog like it was his equal and so it was allowed everywhere with him.
“I’ve worked with all kinds of animals. I had a great little lamb for a few years. The kids went crazy for him. They wanted to run their fingers through his wool.
“I usually can only afford to keep one exotic creature at a time. It stresses a person out. I’m never sure about them. I don’t know when one of them will turn on me. It was okay to put myself through that kind of excitement when I was a younger man. But now it’ll give me a heart attack.
“I had a lion for a few years. He had a nasty temperament. I sold him to a zoo when I was drinking and needed to pay the rent. You name the animal, I’ve worked with it. I’m a lot like Noah, you know.”
“Have you ever worked with a bear?”
“Ha-ha-ha! You have me there! I never have. Are you in the entertainment trade yourself?”
“When I was young, I had an act with an imaginary dancing bear. We would waltz around the room together.”