Bluebell

A clown must be jovial and witty, or their jokes won't land. The art of harming oneself comically or creating an intricate dilemma to perform a roundabout way out of: The bigger and louder the bit is, the better it sells. Clowns are ready to entertain a crowd at the drop of their ringmaster’s hat, and so was budding performer Chester Graves, who's been working and travelling the road from New York down the East Coast of America since he dropped out of high school to be a street performer searching for a troop. He sported white and yellow excited face paint with exaggerated black lines to simulate a cartoonish look and light blue stars on his cheeks. He kept his auburn hair slicked back and wore a baggy blue and yellow clown suit covered in stars, but he didn’t carry much more than his bag of tricks and party balloons for the kids. This life hasn't been the easiest, and there were many nights when Graves couldn't eat due to a lack of interested audiences, but his luck was about to change.

Graves had turned 30 and was travelling from a successful venture in Florida, but he was headed towards Alabama for the first time. As successful as it was, areas of Florida were more overwhelming than even New York City, not to mention the difficulty of finding a cheap place to stay or eat, and he was excited to move on. It was a fine night, so he stopped by a lake to wash up, as he often did if the weather permitted or he was lucky enough to find a dirt-cheap motel. He hated the feeling of makeup left on his face for too long, and it was harder to get off when left, but not having consistent access to water and soap made it even harder. He soaked his body and rested his head on a large rock in the water, sighing. Was this really what he left home for? He thought, how was being homeless and alone better than the foster family who took him in? Sure, they didn't talk to him much, but at least he had a warm bed and hot meals. He regretted not appreciating them more for taking him in when seemingly no one else wanted him. He allowed tears to stream down his face as he soaked in the cool water, gazing at the night sky. He wondered if his birth mother ever thought of him, if she was still alive. How was he to become a great comic if he couldn't overcome his grievances?

He stayed ruminating and watching the fireflies blink and bats flying through the trees, and he wondered what his purpose in life was. Suddenly, a rustling of nearby leaves caught his attention, leaving his mind blank. He looked at the sound and saw light from an oil lamp cast against the forest floor. Graves froze, feeling his heartbeat against his chest as the lamp’s owner poked his head through a canopy of leaves.

“I apologize for frightenin’ you, fella.” The man with balding black hair, portly figure, wearing a black shirt and jeans, spoke. “Do ya mind if me an’ my troop join you for a bath? We of’en use this lake as our camp ain't far.”

Graves had slowed his heartbeat before he could process what the man was saying to him. “Yeah, uh, yeah, of course.” He stammered.

The man chuckled and waved his arm to signal the rest of his troop members in. “You visitin’ from up North, fella? You sound like a Yankee.” He walked a few feet away with his back turned to undress.

“Oh. Yeah, I'm uh, from Manhattan originally, but I've been down South for a few years now, traveling.” Graves gestured lightly to his folded-up clown suit and bag of tricks.

“Ah, a clown. I see.” The man climbed into the water and rubbed his chin as three male members of his troop filed in through the lead canopy. They were mostly naked already, joking around and laughing as they whipped each other with towels. One man, around 30, was toned and wore his hair in cornrows. He had gold rings pierced in his eyebrow and in his nostrils. Another, who looked early 20s, was skinny with blond hair and blue eyes. The last one seemed closer to his 40s, large with a bald head and full, dark beard. They stopped, but their facial expressions remained the same when they saw Graves.

“Oh, a visitor, Dale?” The eldest spoke in a calming voice. “What's your name, stranger?”

“Chester, uh, Graves. Everyone calls me Graves, though.” He smiled nervously. “Sorry for taking over your lake. I didn't know it was claimed.”

“All good, Graves.” The golden rings guy spoke up. “I'm Gator, reptile expert, Blondie’s half of our trapeze twins act, Eli, and big guy’s our lion-tamer, Bud. Ol’ Dale is our ringmaster, of course.” He casually gestured to each as he introduced them.

“Oh, wow. I'm just a travelling street clown, myself.” Graves responded as the three undressed and got in the water.

“Really?” Gator’s smile seemed to get bigger. “Do you believe in fate, Graves?”

“We have needed a new clown.” Dale finally spoke up again after deliberating. “We need to see yer act first, but I'd like t’ formally invite ya to audition.” He held out his hand. “Think ya go it in you, Yankee?”

Graves’ eyes widened in realization, and he happily shook Dale’s hand. “I believe I can impress you, sir. You won’t regret this.”

He laughed heartily. “Call me Dale, like everyone else, boy. I'm sure you'll do jus’ fine.”

After bathing and learning more about their new friend, the men dressed and headed towards the troop’s two caravans and an old Ford pickup. The first caravan was rugged and painted in gold, blue, and green, while the other was silver, red, and purple with sheer scarves decorating it. A large chiminea with a metal grate for grilling was set up between the caravans, and a picnic table with a floral plastic table cover sat behind it.

“Dale's wife, Arania, is responsible for decor.” Gator nudged me with his elbow when we arrived at camp. “The girls have another lake access, but don't go peeping, ‘cause Rani’d kill us. She's like our scary mom. Dale's a chill dad, though.”

“You consider this your family?” Graves asked, bewildered.

“Well, yeah. They're all I've ever had.” He smiled, solemnly. “What about your family?”

“Oh, no, I don't exactly have one.” Graves laughed nervously. “I've been tossed around a lot of foster families since my mom gave me up as a baby. I dropped out of school and fled to be a clown at 16. My life has been on the road ever since. I like entertaining kids and giving them something to laugh at, even if they can't laugh at home.”

“Shit, dude.” That was all Gator could say, but it wasn't mean-spirited. They walked the rest of the way in thoughtful silence.

“Here, you may borrow my vanity to apply your make-up.” Eli had spoken up and opened the door to the less-decorated caravan. He sounded like the type forced to go to a private school. “Please don't open the drawers.”

“No problem, and uh, thank you, Eli.” Graves smiled. “And Gator, thank you too, I'll just take a minute to get ready.” He sat down at the vanity, took out his small bag of face paint supplies, and applied his signature style.

It was showtime. His makeup was on, and his character had been tapped into. This was Bluebell the Clown, a clumsy juggling performer who made unique animal balloons. His act mainly relied on him fumbling, acting shocked and correcting his mess, acting goofy for the crowd, then juggling five balls while riding a unicycle after the fumble. As he rode the unicycle, he stood while still pedaling and juggling. He showed off as much as possible, knowing the best strategy for this interview was to try too hard, and his real nervousness only helped the believability of the character he was portraying. The girls had returned shortly after he began his audition, and the Ukrainian woman he assumed to be Rani glared at him with approval. She was followed by two women, a blonde girl who looked like Eli, and one who looked like a younger Rani.

He executed his finale by pretending to fall off his unicycle, but juggling the entire way down, then methodically tossed each ball back into his bag of tricks. He rose to his feet holding his unicycle and took a low bow as he caught his breath and wiped his brow. Gater started clapping and whistling, followed by Eli’s sister and the booming claps of Bud. Graves lifted his head to find Dale smiling like the proud dad Graves always wanted.

“I knew you was something special, kid.” He looked over at his wife. “S’pose we've found our clown, my spider?”

Arania smiled beautifully back at her husband. “Why, I believe he'll make a wonderful addition to our family.” She turned her gaze towards Graves. “What a blessed night it is, dear. What do I call you?”

“Ah, Graves, ma’am. Please call me Graves.” He said, feeling starstruck. “Does this mean I can join your troop?”

“Why, of course it does, dear. I'm sure Eli and Gator can make the accommodations for you.” She quickly darted her eyes in their direction, and they went inside the caravan where he had done his makeup. “I'll give you the tour and have you situated in the morning, since I'm not sure when you've eaten last, you may have some bread before we sleep. But that aside, welcome to my family, Graves. We have been waiting for you.”