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“Joker…could I stay in your tent for the night? I’m afraid Sergi’s had so much to drink again and…I’m…frightened to wake him by accident.”
It was far from an unusual request from the young animal tamer— in fact, it was growing to become a nightly occurrence. She would wait for her husband to arrive from his nightly bender, knowing well he would hurl insults and bottles in her direction before succumbing to the whisky in his system. It was then a matter of undressing him before sneaking throughout the circus grounds until she arrived at his tent.
Joker— the sad Weeping Clown of Hullabaloo Circus— had become another constant in Natalie’s life. It started off simple, really, with him watching from behind the curtains as she performed. She had been accustomed to the feeling of eyes watching her every move, but none were as intense as his pair. They watched her as if she were the only woman in the world. It made her feel…special.
When was the last time Sergi looked at her that way? There were nights where he didn’t even stay after his own set, running off to the bar with a lady or two draped over his arm. It was then that Natalie came to a shattering realization: she was just like every other woman here in the eyes of her beloved husband. He could have anyone he wanted, while Natalie was stuck in her tent, cold and alone as she waited for his return.
“My, what a lovely perfume you are wearing, my darling—“
SMACK
“You— you watch your mouth, whore, or I’ll make sure it swells shut! Pah, maybe then you’ll lose some weight, pig.”
It had been a hard learned lesson the first time around, but now she knew when to keep her thoughts to herself. She still had to endure the beatings, but they had become less and less brutal since that night. He had even taken her out for a night on the town to apologize, buying her the most expensive dress. That was progress, no?
That was until tonight.
She held back her tears for as long as she could, waiting for the moment she could hear the sound of Sergi snoring. That was how she ended up in this situation: crying in the Weeping Clown’s arms, skin battered, bruised and even torn open from the strike of her own whip. He always agreed to let her spend the night, always reassuring her that he would do nothing to take advantage of her, especially when she was in such a weak state.
“Nat— Natalie… Did Sergi…do this to you?”He always asked the exact same question, his voice meek, somehow even quieter than the young dancer’s.“…It was bad tonight. It isn’t his fault, really— the bartender must…not have cut him off in time.” She knew it was nothing more than an excuse. They never cut him off— not when he alone could line their pockets with the amount he drank. Of course Joker wouldn’t buy such a halfhearted defense of her husband.
“Don’t say that…! He…shouldn’t be hitting anyone, especially not—“ someone as beautiful as— “…you.” His cheeks grow a crimson red, matching the shade of his hair almost exactly, and the sight pulls a weak laugh from Natalie. She pulled away from the embrace, a delicate smile on her lips. It felt as if the smallest of actions would shatter it to pieces.
“You’re…much too kind to me, Joker. I truly have no idea what I’ve done to deserve it.” The dancer takes his hand in her own, pulling him towards his bed so that they could sit as they spoke. It was littered in trinkets and masks, all of which were made by hand no doubt. “There is a small part of me that…is thankful for how Sergi acts.” Her eyes trail to the side to avoid the clown’s concerned gaze. “If it weren’t for him, I would have never met you.”
While depressing it was true, if Sergi hadn’t taken her away from that small town and showed her the world beyond the ocean, she would have never come to Hullabaloo and met the bumbling clown. “Perhaps I should thank him after all!” Of course that was nothing more than a joke. The mention of another man making her happy, especially the weeping clown, would end in a beating so severe she wouldn’t be able to perform for the week.
The comment, however, gave the clown conflicting feelings. On the one hand, the woman of his dreams had just confessed to genuinely enjoying his company, so much so that she would risk her husband’s wrath. “…Even if it means us meeting— I can’t stand to see the way that he treats you, Natalie… Someone like me? I’m not…” I’m not worth the pain.
Self-deprecating words sit on his tongue like a weight. Any other time he would freely berate himself, but she looks at him in a way that tells him his words of disgust towards himself would hurt her more than the open wounds along her back. “…I’m sorry, Natalie. I just— I don’t want you hurt because of me—“
The clown is silenced once more, but this time it’s not from the way she looks at him— it’s a pair of lips against his own. They are softer than he has ever imagined (and he hates to admit just how often he’s thought of them,) regardless of the spots that are rough, still healing from the many times that rotten man has busted it. Joker is sure that his own are an unpleasant sensation, just as broken as hers, but much more dry from the cold night air he is forced to endure from his tent. Still she does not pull away.
That’s when he realizes he hadn’t been kissing back this entire time. Better late than never as they say— he just hoped Natalie would take no offense.
She’s skilled in many areas, and now Joker knows from first hand experience that her lips move just as gracefully as her arms and legs during her dance. He is nothing like her. His lips are inexperienced and clumsy, knowing nothing more than the fact that they wish to stay close to her own. It feels like something out of a dream, one he hopes to never wake from. That would be too good to be true.
Natalie pulls away with a gasp, and then a sigh, sinking down to place her cheek against the clown’s chest. “…You’re different from other men I’ve known.” Not that there’s been many. She and Sergi have been married for so long…the only others who have tried to take her away have failed, their flowery language and charm never enough to distract from the way they pull on the straps of her leotard. “You had no idea what to even do with your hands,” she says with a laugh, looking up at him with a sparkle in her eyes, one she thought she lost long ago, “I thought you would just freeze on me. How unfair would that have been…? Here I am, falling in true love for the second time of my life, and it isn’t even reciprocated?”
There is a silence that fills the tent. How is he meant to reply to such a confession— and the idea that her feelings were not returned? It was ridiculous! Thankfully for Joker, however, the dancer holds the reins in the conversation.
“You’re not the reason why I get hurt. I am.” Her words go into one ear and out the other. There is no world where he can accept that. “Natalie—“ “Joker.” His protest is shut down, his single moment of bravery pushed back down. “If I do something Sergi dislikes, that’s my fault. Even if he finds out about you— about us— I did this, not you.”
“But— no. No, Natalie, I can’t accept that!”
The dancer’s eyes widened at the sudden exclamation, sitting up straight in order to look him eye to eye. Since she had arrived at the circus not once had she heard the clown raise his voice. The fact that it had been towards her was especially shocking, but she didn’t dare to say a word in retaliation, though she was unsure if it was caused by wanting to hear what he had to say next…or the fear of being punished for speaking out of turn. Even if she knew deep down he would never resort to such a cruel act, that he was a better man than Sergi could ever hope to be.
“None of this is your fault…! It’s— it’s his—“ his voice is frantic, hands flying to hold onto her as if to prove that she was real, that the woman before was not a figment of his imagination. Only when she flinches does he let go. “No— I’m sorry— shit…! Natalie— Sergi…he’s a horrible man…and the things he does to you— none of them are right! No man should ever, ever do that to you…even if that man is…never me…I can’t stand to see you get hurt…” Joker shuts his eyes tightly, fearful of how she would react to calling her husband scum— or his own indirect confession…!
“Ah…ahaha…!” Her laugh is melodic, no matter how unexpected. “Joker, you’re very sweet…it’s alright. I…know you’re right, but what I’m doing now, being with you…it’s wrong,” the dancer still manages a smile despite her words, “I’m still married, even if he is a horrible, terrible man…” That’s right, it was wrong. Joker knew that as well, but even so…if being with him was the only time she felt loved and cared for, then…
He opens his mouth to speak, but is quickly interrupted by Natalie, a finger pressed gently against his parted lips. “I love you, Joker, I would spend every moment in this tent with you if I could…but this charade of ours needs to end— at least for tonight,” she leans in for one more kiss, planted directly against the corner of his mouth, and lifts herself off of the bed, “but…I’ll come back, alright? Just, Joker, before I leave tonight…please…tell me that you love me as well.”
Something breaks in her tone, and no matter how hard she tries to hide it her body has once again begun to shake. It’s a pitiful sight, a beautiful woman battered and bruised, practically begging for the promise of a true love; but to a man just as pitiful, she resembled an angel fallen from the heavens. “Oh, Natalie…how could I not love you…? You— you’re the only thing I’ve ever loved this much…”
It was all she longed to hear, and yet she said nothing in response. All Natalie could do was smile before turning her back to him. Both of them knew that there was little time to spare, that Sergi could be out until the morning light or stir throughout the night. Words were nothing more than a waste of time, unnecessary when they’ve confessed their love to one another so many times in one night.
No, all Joker can do is sit there and watch as she walks off, looking over her shoulder only once enough distance was made from the tent. His eyes don’t dare to wander until she disappears into the night.
“Natalie,” his voice is sturdy, as if speaking to her directly, “I…will cut down all who even— dare to hurt you…even if it means burning down this whole damned circus…!”