by Jack Peasley
09.01.98

Judy had been traveling with the circus, working as a bookkeeper, for more than a year. She loved going from town to town, city to city, and she really liked her job; she did the payroll, the accounts receivable, and all the word processing. Recently, she’d reorganized the finances of the entire operation. Her boss, the owner of the circus, was so impressed with her work that he’d given Judy her own trailer. Privacy in the circus was rare, and Judy luxuriated in her privilege.

One evening, she looked at herself in the mirror, and she liked what she saw. She had lost twenty-five pounds in the last six months, and she had kept them off. She studied her breasts, ran her hands over every part of her body.

She was completely naked.

The doorbell rang, jolting Judy from her thoughts. She quickly put on a bathrobe and opened the door, just a crack.

It was a floral deliveryman. He handed her a bouquet of roses. She tipped him generously, locked the trailer door and read the attached card:

"Judy . . . Your suggestions were terrific. Thanks for your help. Let’s have dinner again.—Leon."

Judy had just met Leon. He was a lawyer who was doing some work for the circus: 401(K) plans, labor contracts, debt resolution. She’d eaten dinner with him a few times. It was clear he was interested in her. She unwrapped the bouquet, put the roses in a vase, and placed them on her dresser.

Later that evening, Judy’s boyfriend Tom came to visit. Tom also worked for the circus. He was a clown. He was in his costume when he came over.

Judy had a thing for clowns. Some women like musicians, some like cowboys, some like doctors. Judy liked clowns. In fact, that was what drew her to the circus in the first place. She often wondered just how healthy this attraction was. Most of them were moody, self-absorbed, rootless men, recklessly driven to the relentless pursuit of laughter.

Nonetheless, there would always be a clown in her life. It was in her blood. In the past few years she had seen a lot of flaming neon-orange nylon wigs and red plastic noses. A lot of size fifty-four polka-dot pants got thrown over the back of her blue-velvet chair. More than once she’d woken up to find a pair of two-foot-long plastic shoes under her bed.

Tom said he couldn’t stay long because he had to perform in about 45 minutes. He took Judy in his arms and kissed her robustly. But when he saw the vase of flowers and discarded wrapping on Judy’s dresser, his mood changed. He sat quietly, uncommunicative and remote. He repeated that he couldn’t stay long. He had to go on stage shortly and it really pissed him off. One of the other clowns had called in sick.

He began to complain about how, in his opinion, the circus was jacking him around. He was sure they had shorted him over 20 dollars on his last paycheck. He had also recently received a letter from the circus’s insurance carrier, informing him that they would not pay for his Prozac, or any antidepressant for that matter. It was bogus, he said, and it was wrong.

"I’d like to do something about it. Appeal or something," he said. "But then again, I’m no . . . lawyer."

Invisible two-thousand-pound solid-gold apostrophe marks hung on the word "lawyer." Judy immediately recognized this as a veiled reference to her date with Leon.

Tom grew more agitated. He was really annoyed tonight, he said. In addition to his regular act, he had to do the midnight show because another clown’s hemorrhoids had flared up. "Every time some clown’s butt itches I gotta work a double. Work all day. Work all night. Nobody appreciates it. It’s getting really stressful working for this circus."

He looked at his watch. He said he had to go.

"See ya," he said sullenly.

At about eleven o’clock that night there was a knock on Judy’s door. It was Tom again. She let him in.

Again, he was in his clown costume, and again, he said, he couldn’t stay long. It was that damn midnight show. He presented her with a gift, a bottle of expensive Bordeaux wine.

"I’m sorry," he said. "Hey, there are no rules. There are no walls."

They made love quickly and impulsively. Tom pressed his lips passionately against hers. His red plastic nose pushed urgently into her face. He dropped his trousers instantly by means of a cord concealed in his waistband.

At ten minutes to twelve, Tom jumped up and announced he had to leave. He put on his pants and straightened his wig. His shoes made a strange flapping sound as he left the trailer.

Judy lay in bed and sipped her wine. Her body tingled with satisfaction and contentment. Her life was good. She basked in the afterglow of Tom’s visit as she ruminated philosophically on the profound sexual mystique of clowns. Sure, she would probably have dinner with Leon again. But she would still see Tom. He was the hottest clown she had ever met.