The Bear in a Muddy Tutu (30 page)

It was like holding a little girl’s
hand
and the feeling was bittersweet.

Everything about the contortionist was miniaturized, from the overall size of her body, to her airy, child-like voice.
Amira
Anne was by no means dwarf-like, nor did she have the baby fat of a child.
Amira
’s narrow, four and a half foot frame was simply a tiny, more petite version of an average-size woman. That she must weigh no more than seventy pounds and walked with the light touch of a ballerina, made her appearance all the more wispy and ethereal. When Bagg watched her performance under the glaring spotlight, he didn’t get the same sexual
thoughts
as
he saw on other mens’ faces, Billy Wayne’s included
; Bagg thought a lot of it looked gymnastic, if not painful.

Bagg and
Amira
Anne sat on a thin white blanket in the soft grass at the far corner of the island. Off in the distance was the noisy hum of the game warden’s pesticide
mist blower
;
the crazed
Flint
was making looping passes around the island, sometimes veering into the marsh and getting stuck. He’d throw open the door, shouting
curses
and then somehow manag
ing
to get himself unstuck. Bagg could see the glint of a long, slim bottle being tilted over the steering wheel.

“Something’s wrong.
”
Amira
Anne
spoke
in
such a
small voice, and Bagg assumed she meant the game warden, since that was the direction they were both looking.

“He’s just drunk.
”
Bagg watched
Flint
’s truck disappear back over the island’s bridge. Bagg and
Amira
hadn’t spoken more than a fe
w dozen words over the months, b
ut she sometimes appeared next to the towe
ring Bagg
and he’d look down to notice a tiny white hand in his own. It made him smile.

“I meant there’s something wrong
inside of you.
”
Amira
looked
up at him with
almond-
shaped eyes
that
were almost Asian
. H
er dark hair
was
swept back in a ponytail. “You
’re
the saddest person I’ve ever met. And working in this business, I’ve been surrounded by some pretty sad people.
”

“I miss my little girl.
”
Bagg
felt too tired to recount the history of his troubles, the loss of his daughter. By this time, Bagg’s newspaper would have officially shut its doors, its presses and office materials appraised for auction. He’d tried
to reach
his friend Andy Cobb
—
the reporter who had covered the tiger attack
—
but it had been too late. His number at the paper was an
out
-
of
-
service message, as were Cobb’s home and cell numbers. Like people who ran off and joined the circus, disappear
ing into thin air was a trick
newspaper staff
member
s
seemed to be learning
. With a history
that went
back over three hundred years in America, newspapers were sick and dying even in their Boston birthplace. Reporters, photographers, and editors charged with being the watchdogs were now out of work, suddenly stripped of the ebbing power they’d so desperately clung to, folded back into the world of regular people. A press pass made you a little special. Not much, and sometimes not at all, but it was always there to
help you
at least try to get through some blocked door, past some gatekeeper. Then it was over. Like an unanswered question asked at the end of a press conference, the words just awkwardly
hung
in the air. The reporter was sometimes angry, and sometimes embarrassed.

Bagg had gone through his phone’s list of numbers before reaching a lifestyle writer who had landed a spot at the
Philadelphia Inquirer
, itself in dire financial trouble. But she had no news for Bagg on any charges being filed against him. Lilly Epstein’s desk had
always
been stacked with a hodgepodge of arts and crafts, fashion magazines, and local restaurant menus. Bagg
had
teased her that her job description seemed an awful lot like someone trying to burn through an expense account. S
he
had been
the
newsroom's
consummate schmoozer
,
with a direct line to all the latest gossip.

“What happened to you
?
”
Lilly’s voice
crackled
over
the
poor cell connection. “People said you’d run away and joined the circus.
”

“What?
”
Bagg wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly. Did they know where he was?

“You
disappeared.
You left your desk a mess and somebody eventually stuck all your things in a box. People figured you said the hell with coming in. Is that what happened?
”

“No cops came looking for me?
”
             

“Why would cops be looking for you?
”
Lilly
sounded
more interested, as if there might be some good tidbits to be had. “What did you do?
”

“Nothing on
purpose.
Listen, I had this
run
-
in with a crazy cop and I wasn’t sure if I was in trouble. It was really nothing, but I figured there also wasn’t much reason to come back to the paper. I should have packed up my things, though.
”

“What are you doing? I mean, where are you?
”

“I guess I did run off and join the circus
.
”
Bagg
thought
of the posters he’d helped Hooduk design, as well as a handful of press releases he’d written and delivered to the penny savers and weekly tourist rags, especially after the rains had dried up the customers.
He’
d also filled out the tightly creased
emergency
check he kept in his
wallet
for the remaining account balance
and had mailed it to his landlord from a box
out near the Parkway. Did he have until October before his belongings were boxed-up or thrown away? Would the security deposit give him until November?

“You haven
’t found anything?
”
Lilly
probably meaning a new reporting job.

“Not yet
.
”
Bagg
thought
again of his daughter, knowing she meant a job.

“Well, I hope that works o
ut for you. Hey, deadline’s coming up and I g
otta run.
”

People kept asking Bagg what was wrong with him.
Amira
’s observation wasn’t the least bit new. After Jennifer disappeared with Morgan, he’d been consumed by the emptiness. He’d learned what a doubled-edged sword hope was. Sure, it gave you something to cling to, something to live for. But it also seemed to turn everything into disappointment. Where there was hope in every late night ringing phone, there was also the utter disappointment when
the caller
was a wrong number, or someone wanting you to cover a shift for them.

Dreams were torture in this way, as well. Bagg would wake up in the early morning hours, Morgan calling for her daddy from the other room. Bagg would throw off his blanket, stretch his back, and then head for the door to get his little girl a fresh cup of water from the bathroom faucet. But somewhere between his bed and the bathroom, Bagg would remember there was no little girl anymore. He would remember he was alone and that it was just a voice from some dark place in his mind sent to remind him
,
sent to torment him. And there was the agonizing guilt from those recurring dreams. Or were they nightmares? Guilt because Bagg would wake up annoyed at Morgan, a perfectly reasonable mild anger at being disturbed from a deep sleep. But after collapsing back in bed, he’d fall asleep ashamed, hating himself. He swore he’d do anything in the world to see his daughter again, if only for a moment, but here he was getting pissed
off about being woken up, even if it was
by
some sort of ghost.

Hope had settled in that little dark place in his mind, exposing itself every once in a
while despite Bagg
’s best efforts. Hope was cruel
and Bagg didn’t have it in him to explain
to the pretty little contortionist sitting across from him near the inlet water exactly
what it had done to him.

“I miss my
little girl.
She’s with her mother someplace.
”

“Well, why don’t you go see her? You do want to see her?
”

“I don’t know where she is.
”
Bagg
couldn’t talk about this. He’d been too close to the edge, had teetered away from it, and knew how easy it was to fall back into that hole. “I can’t talk about what happened
.
”
A
new idea swept over Bagg as he looked beyond her, out toward the ocean, not really seeing anything but a fading image of Morgan’s face. There wasn’t just one hole you fell into. When you lost your child, there was always another ledge to fall off. You had some good days, but you really weren’t going anywhere. You were always about to trip,
to
plung
e
into a worse place.

It wasn’t that long ago when Bagg had smashed half the plates in his apartment because he couldn’t remember on which side of her nose that little freckle was. He’d cut both hands falling into that particular hole.

He swore to himself he wouldn’t break down in front of this woman. His clothes were dirty, his hair was greasy, and he was living in a tent. His life had be
en reduced to very little worth
and he tried desperately to hang on to what he could. Even saving the bear had really
only
been about trying to salvage something for himself.

But then they came. The ridiculous tears
that
robbed his pride and sliced through his dignity poured out, and he hated himself for every single one. Showing how pathetic he was sank his spirit to a new place, a new spot in a deeper hole.

“You
don’t have to tell me anything.
”
H
er feathery touch on the sides of his head
was so much like Morgan’s
.
It was the same touch his little girl had used when he
’
d been sick, or when she
’
d woken him out of one of his bad dreams the nights she’d been allowed to fall asleep in his bed.
Amira
leaned forward onto
her knees facing him, her large brown eyes probing his. “But you have to find her. This is no wa
y to live. You have a kind soul
and I’ve watched you look at these people
.
”
Amira
made
a sweeping gesture with one skinny arm back toward the tents.

In his misery, Bagg was confused, thought perhaps she was accusing him of something, of looking down on them. He wanted to tell her these were the same people who had raised him, who he’d grown up with. “I mean you look at them like you understand the troubles that brought a lot of them to work for a traveling circus. It’s like you’ve given up and become one of them, wallowing in your own loss. Is that any way to live?
”

“I tried to find her.
”

“And then you quit,
”
Amira
said flatly.

“And then I quit.
”

“You’ll get your own freak show spot
.
They
can call you Hollow Man.
”

“That’s mean,
”
Bagg smiled.

“Sometimes t
he truth is plain old mean.
She was stolen from you? A wife? A girlfriend?
”

“Yes, my ex-wife.
”

“So at least she’s safe,
”
Amira
said carefully.

“I hope so.
”
There was that word hope again. “It’s been a long time. I tried to find her, but it was as if
both of them
disappeared into thin air.
”