At long last, the Circus Madrano arrived in town. Every year it went first to Tel Aviv, then to Jerusalem, and finally, to Haifa, even though Haifa is the most beautiful city in Israel.
It was the same as the military parade on Independence Day; first it went to Jerusalem, our capital city, then to Tel Aviv, before ending up in Haifa.
My sister and I wanted to wear the clothes we’d received from Fima and Sami’s last shipment from America to the circus. But Dad said he was very sorry, because the butcher who had promised him two tickets to the circus in return for the lovely sign he had painted over the door of his store hadn’t been able in the end to obtain the tickets that he was supposed to have received from his brother-in-law who worked for the municipality.
My sister was crestfallen, and I straightaway lied to my dad and said that I couldn’t care less about that stupid circus, so he shouldn’t get heartsick for not having the money to take his darling daughters to the circus. I looked him straight in the eyes, to stop him from feeling that I was really disappointed to death.
The next afternoon, as we were outside playing our usual game of hide-and-seek, Fila told me that we were going to the circus on our own.
“But we’re not dressed nicely,” I said.
“We can’t get in anyway. We’ll just walk around, maybe get a glimpse of the elephants,” my sister told me.
Back and forth we circled, until suddenly we saw a tiny hole in the fence.
A hole in the wall is an open invitation to a thief—that’s exactly what that hole looked like.
We couldn’t make up our minds what to do. Should we continue circling, or should we steal our way into the circus? Suddenly my sister grabbed my hand hard and dragged me after her through the hole in the fence.
I was horrified. Of the two of us, Fila was the coward. Where did she get the nerve to steal into the circus, when it’s obvious to everyone that the place is crawling with police all waiting just to nab kids who have stolen in illegally and take them back to their parents and make them ashamed of themselves? My sister ordered me to keep my back straight, the way she forced me to practice at home, walking with books on my head so I wouldn’t develop a hunchback like Avram from the grocery store. We walked through the circus like a couple of robots, taking tiny steps like Japanese ladies and pretending not to be looking from side to side in fear. When we reached a water faucet, we rinsed our faces and passed damp hands through our hair and clothing so as to smooth over the poverty, and continued walking straight-backed and trembling with fear, mingling with the happy crowds.
There was an intermission, so everyone was wandering around with cotton candy, balloons, nibbles, and red toffee apples, and all to the magical sound of the music that they always play in circuses.
Suddenly we saw Auntie Lika and Uncle Max looming up in front of us. Auntie Lika was Mom’s oldest sister, and they lived in a house in Givat Olga with a garden full of fruit trees. My sister made me swear not to reveal the fact that we had stolen in, so they wouldn’t tell on us, and when they asked us if we were enjoying ourselves so far, my sister exhibited amazing acumen and I nodded my head briskly, not uttering a word.
Then my wise sister told them she’d run out of patience and couldn’t wait to see the second half of the show, which was absolutely true.
Max took some money out of his pocket and gave it to us to buy ourselves some cotton candy or a lollipop.
I was over the moon with joy; not only were we getting to see the circus without its costing our dad any money, but we were also going to have some cotton candy. It was the absolute fulfillment of all our dreams.
We said good-bye to Auntie Lika and Uncle Max, and I made straight for the cotton candy stand. But Fila pulled me back hard—she was, after all, a year and eight months older and therefore stronger than me—and explained that we still weren’t out of danger, and anyway we looked suspicious in our faded clothes that came from the parcel Sami and Fima had received from their relatives in America, and any minute a policeman could turn up and catch us out as soon as he asked to see the tickets we didn’t have.
“So what are we going to do?” I asked my older sister who had stolen us into the circus, and she explained that with the money we had received from Uncle Max, we had to buy a shiny silver balloon, the kind of balloon that is very expensive and prestigious and only rich people can afford, and with a balloon like that in our possession, she believed, no one would ever suspect that we were underprivileged and had stolen into the circus.
Sadly I said good-bye to the cotton candy stand, and we went to buy a fancy silver balloon that would remove all suspicion from girls who steal into the circus. My sister immediately picked out a red balloon, and I, who preferred a blue one, didn’t dare argue with her this time. After all, it was thanks to her that we were here at all.
We entered the Big Top, two girls dressed in faded clothes with a large silvery red balloon, which later disappeared in the skies, with a grumbling stomach that dreamed of a sugar stick and sweet pink cotton candy. And really, no one suspected us. It was lovely, the other half of the circus show.