Send in the Clowns

“I expect everyone will be there.” Emmett drove south on the 41.

“I’m with you. Stick to your guns, Emmett.”

“Yeah, that means a lot, Grace. It wouldn’t be a holiday without some kind of verbal fisticuffs. I just can’t pretend anymore.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s your life. ”

Grace took in the sights as they drove through Sarasota, Emmett’s home town. He hadn’t been back since he left for college. His family’s roots went back a century. Circus roots.

He pointed at the Ringling mansion, Ca’ d’Zan. “Let’s tour it this week. Amazing place. A lot of history.”

At a stop light they watched the pedestrians cross.

He said, “Look at that joker.” A man in full clown costume crossed before them. “Unbelievable! In broad daylight, no less. Shameless.”

“Why would anyone dress like that?”

“En route to the clown college, no doubt. Where my Dad lectures. It still hangs on despite the circuses closing down. Clowns gonna clown.”

“There’s another!”

“Yeah, they’re like pigeons. More clowns per capita in Sarasota than anywhere on earth. Including Washington…”

Grace laughed. “You know what you’re going to tell your folks?”

“Of course.”

“What you’re planning instead?”

“Oh… No, still working on that.”

“Who’ll be there?”

“My folks, of course. My sister, Kelly, and Marcel, her hubby… Dad never forgave that match.”

“Bad?”

“Worse. He’s a mime.”

Emmett detoured up Main Street and through the scenic downtown district. He pointed to restaurants they could try. Palm trees swayed in the breeze.

“It’s so beautiful. I never expected...”

“It is. That’s my old high school. Some crazy times…” He took a right into the Hudson Bayou district. Spanish style homes stood beneath shade trees. “Remember, the conversation may get a bit… odd. Just roll with it.”

““I’ll be fine. I love the Spanish moss…”

“It looks pretty, but don’t touch it. Full of chiggers.”

They stopped in front of a picture-book house. Flowers grew everywhere. Bella, Emmett’s mother, waved from the porch swing.

Emmett introduced Grace and they went inside. Bella showed off the house and led them to the back.

“Grace, meet Boz, Emmett’s father.”

He put down his barbecue fork and extended his hand in greeting, “Also known as the Big Boz. But you can call me Bo, or Zo, or Boz, or…”

“Or Mr. Clown… We get it, Dad.”

Boz pulled a hockey puck from behind Grace’s ear. She exchanged looks with Emmett, who shrugged.

Bella said, “Go sit. I’ll get you fresh lemonade.” They sat on the shaded patio.

“Kelly coming?”

“Running late…” Bella looked tense. “…Marcel…”

Boz said, “That S.O.B…”

“Don’t Boz. It’ll work out.” Grace recovered, “Kelly told me, after the wedding, he simply stopped talking.”

Grace said, “That could get lonely.”

Bella nodded and dabbed her eyes while walking into the house. Boz said, ”What’d she expect from a mime?”

Grace gave Emmett a look saying, ‘What did I get myself into?’ He laughed.

Boz called out from the grill. “So, Grace, do you clown around?”

She looked to Emmett, who translated, “Are you in the circus biz?”

“No Boz. I’m a psycho-therapist.”

“You make Freudian slips, instead of tutus?”

They laughed. And Grace sighed.

A commotion came from the house.

Boz said, “It must be Kelly and the stiff.”

Bella brought them out and made introductions to all. Marcel nodded to everyone but remained silent.

Emmett said, “Hi Marcel, we met…”

Kelly interrupted, “Emmett, call him Marc. He prefers Marc.”

“I should know that? You think I can read mimes?”

Boz pointed to the garage. “Emmett, grab me the steaks from the fridge.”

He did his father’s bidding and brought them to his dad. Everyone burst into laughter. He turned to see Marcel mimicking his walk.  

“Don’t do that!” Marcel gave him an innocent look.

Kelly said, “That was hilarious.”

Grace said, “He copied your walk perfectly.”

Kelly again, “You could be twins.”

“Well we’re not. They used to kill twins for being an abomination.”

Marcel and Emmett stared at each other.

Emmett said, “Go pretend the walls are closing in on you, or something.”

Marcel smiled and rejoined Kelly.

Bella said, “I heard you want to tour the Ringling house. Let’s go together. Boz will drive and we’ll have lunch.”

“No, Mom. Six of us? We’ll meet you. One car is too cramped.”

“But we always take one car. Tradition…”

Emmett rolled his eyes at Grace, begging for rescue.

She said, “No fire drills though, okay? Elevenish?” Emmett shook his head.

“A little dinner music. My favorite…” Bella put on the soundtrack from the musical “Roar of the Greasepaint, the Smell of the Crowd’.

Everyone sat to eat. Food got passed around to ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhhs’. Boz rambled on about the training acolytes for the ancient craft of clowning.

“I am stunned that some students lack any sense of humor. I’ll be mid-lecture and do a prat fall. Every year, they run to assist me, like I’m an old man?”

“You are an old man, Dad.”

Boz glared.

“Okay, you’re an old clown…”

Boz slammed his napkin down. Silverware rattled. “Hey! I’m your father. Talk to me with some respect.”

“Okay, you’re a funny old clown.”

“That’s better.” He returned to eating.

Emmett said, “I’ll be here all week, folks. She-boom!”

Dinner wound down and Emmett had not mentioned his news. Grace nudged him.

“Okay, before the night gets too old, I have to tell you...” Everyone looked at him. “I’ve decided to live life without masks. I’m not going into clowning.”

Boz scoffed. “Good luck with that, kiddo. You’ll hurt yourself. Tell me, what does that even look like? Masks are unavoidable. Show me anyone who’s not wearing some sort of mask. Get real.”

“You said it yourself, Dad. Clowns are old fashioned. It’s a dying art.”

“What are you talking about? They’re everywhere. Look around you.” Boz spread his arms wide. “It’s changing, of course. Like with everything, you have to adapt.”

Kelly offered, “Steven King killed the craft with scary clowns.”

Emmett said, “Not really. Clowns were scary before King was born.”

“You’re my son. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Greasepaint is in your blood. You can’t escape it. You’d turn away from everything you’ve known?”

Bella leaned in, “Emmett dear, if not clowning, what will you do?”

“I don’t know.”

Everyone but Marcel spoke at once. Emmett felt attacked.

“You could join the rodeo. They have clowns.”

“Or get a fast food franchise like McDonalds, or Jack in the Box.”

“You don’t get it. I won’t be a clown. I want nothing to do with them.”

“Or juggling. Be an accountant.”

“Or unicycle delivery. Those bulb horns are cute.”

“Or fixing spare tires.”

“Spinning plates. Wait tables.”

“Remember Buffalo Bob? And Clarabelle?”

Bella said, “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“Or card tricks. Deal in Vegas.”

Boz said, “He’s got a poker face from when I hit him with a poker.”

Emmett caught Marcel’s eye. He smiled sympathetically.

“Don’t be a bartender. Red noses are such a cliché.”

“Look, I don’t need your help.”

“Just brainstorming a bit. We know your skill set.”

“But don’t be a dancer, with those big feet…”

In desperation, Emmett turned to Kelly and Marcel.

“So, Marce… Marc, what do you do when not accosting strangers on the street?”

Marcel remained silent.

Kelly said, “He’s a lobbyist, in Washington.”

“Really? That’s very interesting.” Emmett made a decision. “Could I pick your brain a little?”

Marcel cocked his head and shrugged. He smiled and nodded.

Kelly gasped, “Oh, you’d be great!”

“Please tell me, how did you get into that?”

Marcel leaned in, “Actually, there’s quite a colony of us in the swamp.”

At that point, Boz kicked them all out. So they went to Trader Jack’s and talked deep into the night.