The Troupe (10 page)

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said George.

He then wrote:
DO NOT MISS IT. NEVER HAD ANYTHING INTERESTING TO SAY
. He smiled and shrugged again as if to say, “What can you do?” But then his face turned troubled and he gave George a curious look, as if something George had done had just given him a headache. He massaged one temple and blinked rapidly.

“Are you all right?” asked George.

Stanley smiled weakly, nodded, and motioned to the luggage car. They both carried over their luggage, but Stanley’s fingers never left his head.

The backdrop and table from Kingsley’s act were already loaded in the car, and Stanley secured his cello in the corner while George carelessly tossed his suitcase in. Once they were done Kingsley himself limped up with three little coffin-like boxes balanced in his arms.

“I know those!” said George. “Are your dummies in there?”

“My what?” said Kingsley, affronted.

“Your… your dummies. You know, your puppets?”

“They are my marionettes. They are very different from common puppets, or crude dummies.”

“Don’t marionettes have strings?” asked George.

“Are you so sure that mine do not?” said Kingsley. “Perhaps they have strings, and you simply did not see them.” Once he’d loaded them he gave George a haughty look and marched off to rejoin the others, who were now boarding the train.

“Well,” said George to Stanley. “He’s a little ridiculous, isn’t he?”

Stanley glanced at George. Then, with a dubious smile and a shake of the head, Stanley gestured to him to follow.

When George climbed in he moved to sit with them at the end of the passenger coach, but Silenus coughed uncomfortably and said, “Ah, listen, kid, we got some business stuff to discuss. Would you mind if you, uh…” He nodded toward the other end of the car.

“Oh,” said George, disappointed. “Are you sure? I’ll be very quiet. I won’t listen.”

“I’m sure.”

“Oh. All right then.” He got up to move.

“Thanks,” said Silenus.

As soon as George was several rows away the group began talking quietly. A great deal of it sounded like bickering, with Silenus’s angry growl often answering a question he apparently found impertinent. They argued straight through the train’s departure, with the clack and hiss of Stanley’s chalk punctuating the sounds of the locomotive. George could make out little of what was said.

After a while Franny stood up and sat down across the aisle from him. She smiled and said, “They talk much too fast for me. I tire of it very quickly.” She did look extremely tired. Heavy bags hung around her eyes, which were crisscrossed with red blood vessels.

“Well, it’s pretty late,” said George. “There are Pullman coaches at the back. I’m sure you could sleep there.”

“No,” she said, still smiling. “I don’t sleep.”

“You don’t… sleep? At all?”

“No. I try, frequently. I find a dark place, and I shut my eyes, and I try and drift away…” She leaned back and showed him, sitting motionless. She suddenly seemed like a statue made out of wax, sitting in the seat with its eyes closed. But then her eyes snapped open, and she said, “But I never do. I’m always awake, aware of everything that’s going on.”

“How do you live without sleep?” asked George.

“I ask myself that question every day,” said Franny. “I still can’t think of an answer.”

She was kneading the palms of her hands, where the bandages were stained. One bandage came unraveled at the wrist, and he spied a hint of black writing on the visible sliver of skin. She saw him looking, and moved to cover it up.

“How did you hurt your hands?” he asked.

“My act,” she said. “Have you seen it?”

“Yes! You were incredible! I have to admit, I’ve seen a lot of performers, but only very, very few of them compare to you.”

She smiled, but his praise did not seem to mean much to her.

“Did it go wrong?” said George. “Is that how you got injured?”

“Oh no,” said Franny. “It went perfect. It just happens nearly every time. Hands were not designed to bend and twist metal, or pick up statues, or juggle stones. The wear and tear is natural.”

“So it’s not fake? No rubber safes, or bars, or anything?”

“No, no. It’s all real. All the safes, real iron. All the bands, real steel. And the weight, all that weight… that’s real, too.” She seemed very weary, as if she could feel the stupendous weight of those safes and iron bars pushing down upon her now.

“How do you do it?” asked George.

She looked at him slyly. “Do you really want to know?”

“Sure.”

Franny glanced around. She leaned in and said, “I grit my teeth.”

“You what?”

“I grit my teeth when I do my act. You have to grit them the right
way. But if you do it, it gives you great strength.” She flexed her arms as if to show off her bulging muscles, but she seemed as gaunt as ever. Then she winked at him, and touched the side of her nose.

“Oh. Does it hurt much?”

“Yes. Very much. But it’s manageable.”

“I see,” said George. And he did, to an extent. During some child shows at Otterman’s he’d heard the children’s shoes squelching as they’d walked off the stage. Their parents had been unable to buy them better shoes, and they’d danced to the point that their feet bled.

“Is it true that you can hear the men in gray?” said Franny. “That you can sense them, like a dowsing rod near water?”

“I guess,” he said. “It’s like everything freezes up around them. But the sounds are what I notice most. They all just die off. I suppose maybe it’s because I have such good hearing, but that doesn’t seem right.”

“He’s very interested in you,” she said, and nodded toward Silenus.

George sat up. “He is? Really?”

“Yes,” she said, but she did not share his excitement. Rather, she seemed very grave. “I would be careful, if I were you. Harry is a very clever man, but sometimes he’s not as right as he thinks he is. Sometimes he’s very narrow-minded. He sees what he wants to see. And he doesn’t understand how that could hurt those around him.”

“Oh,” said George.

“So, as I said, be careful.”

“Franny!” Silenus called from the other side of the car. “What are you doing? Come here, this concerns you.”

Franny gave him a quick smile, and stood and rejoined the group’s discussion. George watched her go. Then, feeling terribly alone, he leaned over and rested his head on the windowpane, and watched the midnight countryside speed by.

Once the troupe finished its summit Silenus stood and walked to the middle of the car, which was otherwise empty, and said, “All right. It’s late. I suggest we all get as much sleep as we can. We’ve got a free day tomorrow, but there’s rehearsal bright and early on Monday.”

“I hate traveling without our things,” said Colette. “Can you imagine what it feels like to sleep in this outfit?” She gestured to her white tights, which were only partially hidden by her coat.

“Listen, no one is happy about the current arrangements, but we will all just have to make do,” said Silenus. “Look at me, you think I like being stuck in my performance costume?”

“I packed some pajamas,” said George, eager to catch Colette’s eye. “You can borrow them for tonight, if you’d like. They’re silk, and very fashionable.”

She favored him with a cold stare. “You are, of course, aware that I am half a foot taller than you, and a girl?”

George’s face fell. “Well, no. I mean, yes, sorry,
yes
, I did realize that you were a, a girl, but—”

“Moving along,” said Silenus. “You should all get some sleep in the overnight coach. We’ll be at the hotel in several hours, and you can catch up on whatever rest you’ve missed then.”

“And if they’ve tracked us to the new hotel?” asked Colette.

“Then we’ll improvise,” said Silenus. “Which will be very hard to do if we’re all dead fucking tired. Now go on.”

All of them left except Stanley, who sat sideways in a chair across the aisle. Franny murmured, “I suppose I’ll wander down to the dining car,” as she left. George stood up to follow them to the Pullman, but Silenus clapped a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. “Not you,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Silenus sat down next to George. He smelled of old tobacco and cedar, tinged with train smoke. He grumbled for a moment and reached into his pocket and took out a small flask. He took a long pull from it and offered it to George. “Fancy a taste, kid?” he said. “I’d imagine you’d want to, considering the stuff you saw today.”

George took the flask and allowed himself a small sip. He tried not to let his face curdle, but it did anyway.

“There you go, fire of the gods in you, chin chin,” said Silenus.

“Is that single malt?” asked George. He stifled a cough.

Silenus gave him a very hard look. “No. No, that is not single malt.”

“Oh, well,” said George. “I didn’t think so, but, you know, some of Islays have that flavor to them. That was why I asked.”

Silenus looked at him for a moment longer. “How old are you, kid?”

“I am nearly seventeen.”

“Sixteen, huh? I’d never have guessed.”

“Oh. Thank you,” said George proudly, though there was an edge to Silenus’s intonation that made him wonder if the comment was entirely genuine.

Silenus took the flask back and had a swig that absolutely dwarfed George’s sip. Judging by his red eyes, it was the last in a long line. “They say it’s not for the young, but they also say it’s not for the old, and look at me. It’s the only thing that keeps me percolating sometimes, I swear to whatever god you fucking like, so what do they know.” He stared out the window. The car rattled and clanked as the train cut a new swath through the countryside, and the lights darkened a little. “Ah, well. Busy day, eh, George? What would you call it? A win? A defeat? A stalemate?”

“I’m not sure, sir. To be honest, I… don’t really know what’s going on at all.”

“Don’t call me sir, kid. Call me Harry. And you’re not alone in the not-knowing game. Most days we’re all playing. But one thing I’m keen to know, George, is why the hell you were backstage in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” asked George.

“I mean, why did some kid feel the need to sneak backstage and warn me about what was waiting for us?” asked Silenus. “I don’t
know if I have a guardian angel, but if I do and he sent you, then he’s missed a lot of fucking opportunities.”

George thought about what to say. “I just… heard those men in the hotel talking about you, and I knew I had to help,” he said. He was not quite sure why he was lying; mostly it was because he did not yet know what this man was, and he found he feared the answer.

Silenus watched him shrewdly. “Just knew you had to help? Out of the goodness of your heart?”

George felt sure that Silenus could sense his lie, but he drummed up his pride. “Well, yes. Is that so strange to you?”

Silenus grunted and took another sip from his flask. “Very,” he said. “Especially since it’s gotten you into such a heap of shit, hasn’t it?” Then he drifted off into thought.

George wondered what to say next, and found he had so many questions he was not sure which one would get out of him first. He wanted to know about the men in gray, and the song, and most of all he wanted to know about Silenus and his mother, and why he’d chosen her and she him and why he’d never returned. But now that George had the opportunity, all his confidence vanished. Silenus did not seem like a family man in any way. He did not appear eager for a son, and the idea that he might have one emerging from his long-forgotten past had certainly not occurred to him yet.

George was not even sure if Silenus remembered his mother at all. So rather than asking any of the questions he really wanted to ask, he said, “Do you mind if I ask you something, sir?”

“I mind very much, but I’ll tolerate it,” Silenus said.

George looked at Stanley, who was watching him. “Is it all right if he’s here?”

“Stan is completely trustworthy,” said Silenus. “I’d be lost without him. Anything I hear, Stanley can hear.” As if to corroborate his faith, Stanley nodded with a mild smile.

“There was a show you put on in a little town to the south of here,” said George. “A very small town, just a couple of months ago. I just
wanted to know… if you’d ever been there before then. For an earlier show.”

“What was the name of this place?”

“Rinton,” said George.

Silenus gave him a puzzled look and lifted his eyes to ponder the question. “Rinton?” he said, as if the word was foreign to him.

And there was something in the way he echoed the name that drove all hope from George’s heart. He realized Silenus did not remember anything about George’s hometown, not even his most recent visit, so he almost certainly did not recall his mother or anything that had lead to George’s conception. Their relationship must have been forgettable and trivial, and George’s creation incidental.

Silenus pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, I can’t recall. I don’t remember any time before that. But the names of these towns kind of blend together in your head after a while. You got anything, Stan?”

Stanley was staring at George curiously, but he only shrugged.

“Oh,” said George. He hoped his face did not show how crushed he felt. “All right.”

“Is that all you wanted to ask me, kid?” said Silenus.

“Yes,” said George faintly.

Silenus shook his head and chuckled. “That’s your only question? You’re an odd one, I’ll say that. There’s a lot about you I find confounding, but the one thing that really gets me is that… well, you were awake. You, some fucking kid backstage, stayed awake throughout the whole of the fourth act, or so it seems. Do you know what that means? Or what the fourth act even is?”

“No,” said George. “Not really. It… changes things, doesn’t it?”

Silenus weighed whether or not he should answer. “Maybe. In a way.”

“It makes something reach in, into the theater, and then… I don’t know what. But I heard that song before, and felt it change things then, too.”

“In Rinton?” said Silenus. “That was the first time you heard it?”

George was quiet as he thought. Then he said, “No. No, I missed your show in Rinton.”