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Ellie’s scream died in her throat as she watched Yusuf fall. From the third row where she sat, heads obscured her view. She leapt to her feet, covering her mouth with her hand and prayed for a miracle, though she was atheist and always had been. Yusuf’s body, usually taut and precise, had become a floppy, discarded piece of flesh that slammed into apparatus as it descended.
He’d never worked with a safety net during his performances. He’d never make it.
“Don’t look,” said her mother.
The two of them clutched each other, heads bent together.
Wild cheers erupted.
Ellie tensed, listening intently. She gathered her courage and lowered the hand from across her face. The air had thinned, and her legs became jelly. She unravelled herself from her mother’s grasp and inched forward as the crowd whooped.
There stood the folk dancers Amena, Aya and Aischa, resplendent in dresses, holding a vast expanse of blue silk. The fabric shimmered like the ocean and spanned the centre of the ring. It had been stretched taut between them.
In the middle, lay a man curled like a foetus.
Ellie released her pent-up breath and bolted for the ring. She didn’t care if she interrupted the show. She needed to know Yusuf had survived, that he’d live and they could talk again. The straggly old maestro sprang into action and struck up a joyous tune, as if there could be no doubt that Yusuf was fine. But Ellie had grown accustomed to the smoke and mirrors of the circus. Projections wouldn’t fool her; she needed to see Yusuf up close, to prove he was intact. Flesh and bone.
He stirred by the time she reached him, and Ellie’s body sagged in relief. The girls lowered him to the floor, these slight things who had saved him with their strength and quiet grace. He blinked, eyes detached, as if his mind was still on a different plane. Ellie soaked in the angles of his face, the pale sheen of his skin as Emir helped him to his feet and he stumbled over the folds of the fabric.
“Bow, son. Lean on me, but bow,” said Emir.
They bowed and the crowd cheered again, buoyed by the drama that had ended well after all.
There, underneath the spotlight, side by side with the circus folk, Ellie had never felt so vulnerable or so human. Her chest ached for these people and herself. She squirmed as the audience applauded, and ran off stage first. Emir and Yusuf followed at an agonisingly slow pace, the younger man’s breath still uneven.
Ellie peeked into the ring, where the atmosphere became euphoric. The band changed gear, and an exquisite melody drifted out of the sousaphone, with the fiddle, tambourine and lute intertwined so that the audience couldn’t help but tap their feet. Amena, Aya and Aischa worked as a team to whip up the silk, and weaved a magic all of their own, creating mesmerising waves, skies of infinite blue. They clicked their tongues in unison three times, and a thunderclap reverberated across the tent, bringing forth a phoenix with spiked feathers that soared ever higher and disappeared in a cloud of ash above, only to reappear and dive back into the skies again.
Emir’s top hat cast shadows over his face, but his eyes found hers, and they flickered with disquiet. “We could have lost him. I’ve seen enough death,” he said.
Yusuf slumped heavily on Emir’s arm, and could hear every syllable.
Regret soaked Emir’s voice. “I have to go back on stage. Look after him, will you?” He dipped his head to chest, as if drawing on reserves of energy. “Silberling’s assistant is here tonight, you know.” He strode away, leaving her alone with Yusuf.
Ellie guided Yusuf through heavy velvet curtains to the performer area, to protect him from prying eyes. There, she helped him sit on a crate. Shivers racked his body.
“Let me take you to the hospital.”
He shook his head.
“Let me see, then.” She tried to peel his costume down.
He flicked her away. “Water, please. Over there.”
She followed his gaze to a fridge. A moment later, she’d retrieved a lukewarm bottle of water. He accepted it with a murmur of thanks, broke the seal and gulped down its contents. Then he collapsed into himself, a wretch of a man, his concave body a shell that curled around his heart. Ellie didn’t know how to make him feel whole again. She perched next to him and placed an awkward hand on his knee, letting the heat from her palm seep into his skin through the thin material of his costume. He sank into her, his hard chest against her soft one.
In the main tent, the acts continued and performers scurried past, giving them a wide berth, as if the area around them had been cordoned off, as if they were lovers and not something as yet undefined.
Ellie stroked Yusuf’s back and felt the tension evaporate from his neck and shoulders. Too much pressure on his left shoulder caused him to flinch, and she realised his body would be covered in unholy splotches by the morning. He was foolish for not seeing a doctor, but who was she to insist? She couldn’t even be sure they were friends, so she continued soothing him with her touch, offering comfort but not demanding anything in return.
After a while, he drew back. His colour had returned to normal and his voice no longer quivered when he spoke. “I can’t believe I fell.”
“What happened?”
He grimaced. “I lost focus.”
“You must have been so scared.”
He evaded her eyes. “I felt relief.”
She scrutinised his face, puzzled. He’d fallen over fifteen metres. His escape had been miraculous, bruises or not. “I don’t understand.”
His voice was an empty vessel, his energy spent. “I’ve feared that moment for so long. Falling. Now the worst has happened.”
Ellie shook her head. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“I have the girls to thank for that.”
She looped her arms around his neck and leant her forehead on his. He didn’t resist her embrace and her heart leapt a notch. “I’m sorry we fought.”
“That doesn’t matter now. The circus is done for. Silberling told us not to mess up, and after all the chaos, the protests and violence, now I’ve fallen. What have I done? What if I’m the last straw? I’ve handed Silberling the excuse he needs to shut us down.” He crumpled into himself.
Ellie averted her gaze. Her feelings for him compromised her ability to herald the truth. The secret she’d held about Silberling’s duplicity weighed on her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Yusuf deserved to know, but she didn’t want to crush him, not after the knocks he’d sustained.
She strained to hear his words above the din of Zul’s clown act. His breath fanned her face. “Have you been watching the news? All that talk of citizen’s rights. Don’t refugees have rights? We jump through loop after loop and still the ground shifts. All these cycling highs and lows. How do some people have it so easy, or does everyone end up in the dirt and have to claw their way out?”
Ellie didn’t have an answer; she remained silent.
“I used to daydream as a child. I’d see my life mapped out in front of me in beautiful symmetry: a smooth road with only small deviations for adventures. I didn’t doubt that I’d be happy. That I’d have my family around me. In my dreams, my father worked elsewhere, but my brother and my mother sat around a table. We lived in a big house altogether, and I had a beautiful wife and a Jaguar the neighbours envied. I was important.” He shuddered. “I remember the child I was, and recall my dreams, and wonder, is it my fault I didn’t get there? Is there still time? Can I force the life I want to live or is it my job just to wait out the cycles? Somewhere, maybe there’s a version of me living that life. I can almost taste it. It’s just beyond my reach.”
She hugged him. “You aren’t responsible for life’s knocks, Yusuf. Sometimes we just need to weather life’s storms and be kind to ourselves.” Her chest tightened, knowing that if she lied to Yusuf now, he wouldn’t forgive her. That the truth must always come first. She closed her eyes. “I have something to tell you.”
His body grew still. “Yes?”
“Silberling’s not the friend you think he is.”
Grey eyes narrowed into slits, deep shadows beneath them. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been doing some digging. The spike in attacks on the circus, my editor’s pushiness, turfing me out on my ear–none of it felt right. And I found something out. He wants the circus to fail.”
Yusuf’s brow furrowed. “He was the driving force behind this project. Why would he want us to fail?”
“He asked my editor to write a story that would fuel negative feelings. I have proof.” A thickness coated the insides of Ellie’s throat. How could her timing be so off? She didn’t want to hurt him, especially not now, but she couldn’t let him blame himself. “Can’t you see how tensions are escalating? How it doesn’t seem like a coincidence? He’s behind it. My gut says that he’s going to shut you down.”
Yusuf leaned on the crate as he heaved himself up. Wild hair framed his pale face and his clenched fists hung stiffly by his side. “Why would he do that?”
The ground trembled under their feet as the performers and their animals took to the stage for the finale. Emir beckoned Yusuf to join them. Yusuf held up a hand, signalling he’d be right there, and turned back to Ellie.
“Why, Ellie?”
He couldn’t use this new information tonight. They needed to concoct a plan. If he acted before they were ready, he risked blowing their advantage and ruining the story. She worried his emotions would overshadow his good sense, compel him to do something stupid. “Officials from the Interior Ministry are here tonight. Please, you can’t say anything. Not until we’re ready.”
Yusuf grew still, like the quiet before a storm. “Tell me why he’d do that, Ellie.”
“He thinks the public has given up on you. He wants to force it to a head so it’s buried before the election.”
Yusuf flinched. His eyes darted back and forth as he pieced his thoughts together. “You’re lying.”
“I have proof.” She closed the distance between them. “I want to help.”
A vein pulsed in his neck. “And how are you going to do that? You have no job. You’re as powerless as me.” He gritted his teeth, attempting to restrain his anger, choosing her as a target because Silberling lay out of reach.
“I can help, Yusuf.”
“I don’t need a white saviour. I don’t need your charity. Don’t you see? You’re all the same. I’m never sure if you want to keep me small or see me fly. Whether you want me to be your pet or your equal. The rules you play by are always changing. Just leave me be.”
Ellie recoiled. She considered the two of them to be equals; why didn’t Yusuf? She opened her mouth to explain, but shut it again, and the moment for her to smooth things over passed.
“Acrobat! Acrobat!” came the call of the crowd.
“Your grief is so raw that you’re confusing your friends with enemies.”
“My grief makes me strong. Grief is love. Love for my country, for my people.”
The crowd clapped and stomped their feet.
Yusuf pushed through the curtains without a backward glance.
