Strung Out
'Well, here I go again,' grumbled Andrew as he started up the rope ladder. 'There has to be more to life than walking an inch and a half rope strung out sixty feet above the floor.'
It wasn't the height that was irritating him; it was the fact that now the state now required a safety net. He had performed higher than this without a net!
'They're treating me like an amateur.'
Thoughts of his new grandson consoled him.
He smiled inwardly. 'Oh well, I suppose, it's better to be alive to enjoy him. He does need his grandpa.'
Andrew was puffing when he reached the platform. 'Maybe I can find something else to do. I'm getting a too old for this.'
He surveyed the usual crowd clapping at the vanishing horses and elephants.
'At least I don't have to do the clean up.'
His nose rebelled as the odour of fresh dung wafted upwards in the warm tent atmosphere. 'I do wish they would schedule me before that act.'
Soon a more tolerable bouquet of popcorn, hotdogs, straw, and smoke from the clowns' cannons of the Bremmington Buffoons.
'It won't be long now.'
Andrew scrubbed his special shoes in the resin box and kneaded the rosin bag. The audience would not see him check the rope tension with the experienced foot of a thousand walks, or how his eye watched for that specific vibration.
The circus band played the 'announcement' theme with its familiar brassy crash. The audience din subsided as his friend, Walter the Ring Master, held up his arms.
He stared down at Walter. 'I wonder how his daughter is doing after her fall last night.'
"Laaadeees and Geeentlemeeen. The moment you have all been waiting for is here. May I direct your eyes to the high wire," - The spot light momentarily blinded Andrew - "to the Great Arlondo, King of the High Wire!"
Andrew pasted a smile on and waved at the audience. 'If you only knew how simple it is to walk on this big rope, especially with this long stabilizing pole.'
He grasped the rubber handgrips and started across.
The band played the accompanying music that, theoretically, enhanced the danger. It was all choreographed.
His feet moved with consummate smoothness, the soles tracing every familiar ratty fibre.
Andrew grumped. 'Man, this rope must be as tired and worn out as I am.'
When he lay on the rope, he dropped one leg down to increase the stability. His thoughts continued. 'And why not; we practically grew up together!'
After receiving the expected screams and squeals when he pretended to almost fall off, The Great Arlondo hopped onto the opposite platform, glued on another smile, and waved at his adoring fans.
Andrew allowed the appropriate amount of time to elapse. Meanwhile he recalled times when he had not needed the beam.
This year Walter insisted upon its use.
Leaving the pole on its hanger, Andrew picked up the skipping rope and proceeded out onto the wire. The routine was not particularly difficult. The trick was to skip at the same frequency oscillation as the tightrope.
With the sequence completed, he returned to the platform and hung up the rope.
The applause improved his mood.
He could almost taste Maria's cabbage rolls.
Acknowledging the audience, The Great Arlondo, again became one with balance beam. The return walk involved a series of skips, reverses and sitting down on the rope. With the beam's added weight it was hard on his old buns, but it didn't last long. Upon reaching the platform, he again waved to the cheering audience, as Walter announced "The Great Arlondo!"
The smile vanished with the redirected spotlight.
Walter was waiting for him at the bottom of the ladder.
"Are you alright, Andrew? You seemed to be a bit mechanical tonight."
"Yeah, I'm okay." He tried to sound upbeat but knew he wasn't fooling his old friend. Again Andrew thought about his grandson. Life had taken on a new priority.
He attempted deflection. "How is your Sarah?"
"A bit bruised, but she will be back on her horses tomorrow," Walter answered, but it was obvious he had not been put off. His massive arm went around Andrew's shoulders. "We'll talk tomorrow, okay? Right now, I have some work to do."
Andrew could only nod.
He could smell cabbage rolls and put on a happy face as he entered the trailer. His daughter Jenny was sitting with the grandson. He caught Maria's look as he picked up the baby. She knew something was bothering him.
Later that night they would probably go for a long walk.