Matt & Zoe (34 page)

This entry is from three years ago.

I received the strangest email from Howard yesterday. It seems that a boy he met at the jail in Texas is applying for a job at South Hadley High School. The guy, named Matt Paladino, who Howard somehow got into Boston University—was a circus performer who was apparently unjustly accused of murdering his own father. He’s trying to start his life over as far away as possible from where he grew up.

I’ve assured Howard that I’ll talk with Peggy Young, who is chairing the selection committee for the new applicants.

What?

I—

That’s not possible.

I scan through his journal again. To last August, at the beginning of Jasmine’s second grade year.

There it is. Holy Christ.

In the funniest turn of events, Howard’s protégé Matt is to be Jasmine’s second grade teacher. I met him in person for the first time during orientation today. He keeps his past close to the vest—I’ve heard nothing of it during the three years since he came to work here. He’s a nice young man and quite smart. Of course I didn’t tell him of my involvement in his hiring here.

Without thought I reach out and boot up Dad’s computer, a six year old iMac that slowly cranks to life.

No password. I open up Google, and hesitate over the keyboard. Then I type.
Matt Paladino. Circus. Murder.

The first hit is an article from the Bradenton Herald.
Circus Flyer Cleared in Father’s Death.
I read through the article. Matt Paladino of the Flying Paladinos with the Ringing Brother’s Circus. Oh my God. His father had a heart attack during a stunt? While Matt was holding him in the air?

Paladino, now 18, was held in the Travis County Jail for nine months while awaiting trial. He was released without charge yesterday. District Attorney Dan Mullins cites witness description of an argument between Paladino and his father immediately prior to the senior Paladino’s death as the primary reason for suspecting Paladino of his father’s murder. When asked why it took nine months to clear the high school senior and release him, Mullins argued that budget cuts have created a backlog in the prosecutor’s offices and the courts.

I go back to Google and this time type in “Flying Paladinos.” Photos of the circus family. A wikipedia article. Another accident, several years before his father died.

The photos.
Oh my God.
There’s the woman. The woman he got in the car with.

Messalina Paladino.

Matt’s sister.

Sudden terror shoots through me. I can’t believe I was so judgmental. I can’t believe I didn’t even give him a chance to explain. I need to talk to him. I need to talk to him
right away.

Sis. I need your help. (Matt)

Fifteen minute break. I stand near the ring, sweating and staring at the floor. Tough practice. We have one hour to go, then we’ll rest up before the show.

My phone, sitting on the chair next to me, rings. I pick it up.

Holy Crap. It’s Zoe.
I snap the phone open. “Hello? Zoe?”

“Mister P?”

I swallow and gasp. “Jasmine?”

“Hi, Mister P. I just got home from school, and I … I saw your note.”

The note.
Why hadn’t Zoe gotten it first?
“Isn’t your sister home?” I ask.

Jasmine says, “She didn’t come in the house. She’s out in Daddy’s garage. I think she’s crying.”

I close my eyes. Christ. I want to be there, right now. “Do you know why?”

“No, Mister P. But … listen … can you come here? I’ve heard her talking with her friend. She’s mad at you. She thinks you are in love with another girl with funny hair. “

“A girl with funny hair? What?”

As I say the words, though, I see Messalina walking back toward the ring. Then I put it together. I’d cancelled, with terrible excuses. Had Zoe seen me leaving with Messalina and assumed I was going out with another woman?

That would explain… a lot.

“I don’t know. You’re not with another woman are you?”

“No, Jasmine. No. Never.”

My phone chirps. Battery must be dying. The battery on this flip phone lasts forever, but I haven’t charged it in days. I don’t even have a charger here.

“Can you come here? Like tomorrow morning? We’re going to the circus tonight, but Zoe will be here in the—“

“Wait. Jasmine. You’ll be at the circus? You mean in Springfield?”

“Yes. Nicole got the tickets. I can pretend I’m sick if tonight’s better. I want to see the circus, but I want you to come see us more. I will. I’ll pretend.”

“No,” I interrupt. “First, you shouldn’t lie. And second—I think you can do both. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Really?” She asks.

“Yeah. I promise.”

The phone chirps again. “Jasmine, I gotta go. Battery is about to die on my phone. I’ll see you.”

“Will I see you at the circus? Or at home af—“

The phone cuts off.

They’re coming to the circus.

I stand up. Messalina’s approaching. “Sis. I need your help. Bad.”

Would you let him? (Zoe)

Damn it.
His phone must be dead, or turned off. It went straight to voicemail. I try one more time. Same thing. I start to leave a message, but my throat closes. I just… I need to hear his voice. I need to
talk
with him, not at his voicemail.

I can’t believe what I’ve seen here. I shake my head in … relief? Shock? Amazement? No wonder Matt was so secretive. I start to stand up.

Jasmine’s at the door. I start, then reach behind me and touch the power button on the computer. It shuts down, but not quick enough.

“Was that Mister P? On the computer?”

I sigh. “Yeah. Yeah. I miss him.”

Jasmine looks wary. She asks, “You do? I thought you didn’t want to see him again.”

I sniff. “Maybe I was wrong, Jasmine. I … I don’t know.” I don’t want to promise anything to her. Not until I talk to Matt. Because he might not want me back after I cut him off like that.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

I turn toward the desk. Then I start to cry.
God damn it.
“Just looking through some of Dad’s things.”

She walks forward and touches my hand. “Don’t cry, Zoe.”

I shrug. Then I sit down and say, “Sometimes there’s nothing else I can do. Come here. Take a look at this.” I point at the picture of me holding Jasmine when she was a baby.

“Do you know who that is? The baby?”

Jasmine shakes her head.

“That’s you,” I whisper. “You were … ten minutes old then. Mom and Dad let me hold you, and I sang you a little song.”

Jasmine’s eyes water. “Can I sit in your lap?”

“Oh, honey. Of course.” I pull her up into my lap and put my arms around her.

“I miss Mommy and Daddy,” she says.

“I do too,” I reply. Now I’m crying. A lot. So is she.

“I miss Mister P too. Do you think… if he came back… would you let him?”

I pull her to me. Then I whisper, “Yes. Yes, I would. I miss him too, Jasmine.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Quit freaking out (Matt)

The crowd is alive.

It’s a feeling I’ve not experienced in years. The roar, the rising and falling breath, the wave of noise that crests just as the spectacle opens the performance.

From my position at the top of the rigging, I’ve been scanning the crowd, trying to see Zoe and Jasmine. This is a smaller, much more intimate venue than when I was growing up playing for Ringling Brothers. The Binder & Mills Circus usually seats less than a thousand. You would think that in the much smaller crowd, I’d be able to see them, but so far no luck.

“Quit freaking out, Matt. I’m sure they’ll be here if she said they would.” Messalina’s words come out harsher than I think she intended. Of course I could be wrong. Maybe she meant them that harshly.

“But I don’t—“

“Shhhh.”

She’s beside me in the rigging. Our opening is one that will startle the crowd. Tony and Mamma are on the platform across from us, facing us across the ring. Tony and I will go first, getting into catching position. Then Mamma and Messalina will jump off, swing into position, then launch into their first tricks. They cross next to each other, of course, but to the audience it will appear they’re hurtling through the air straight at each other. From there it’s a fairly classic trapeze routine, but tightly synchronized, ending in dual triples, Mamma and Messalina side by side.
That
is rare as hell.

This weekend will likely be my only performance as an adult with the Flying Paladinos. I want it to count. At the end, I’ve got my own little performance planned, provided everything falls into place like it’s supposed to.

Then I see them. Around the fifteenth row, fairly high in the steeply tiered seats. Jasmine sits in between Nicole and Zoe. She looks excited, pointing around the room. I know she can’t see me up here in the darkness, but she will soon enough.

I can’t be seeing this (Zoe)

“Look at the tigers!” Jasmine shouts and points.

She’s been doing a lot of shouting tonight. In fact, I’ve rarely seen her so excited and talkative. I lean forward, looking to my left at Nicole. Nicole crosses her eyes and bursts into laughter. Jasmine is bouncing now.

To be fair, it’s been a lot of fun. I haven’t been to the circus in years—the last time, I was about Jasmine’s age, actually, when my parents took me to see the Ringling Brothers circus in Boston. It occurs to me that I might have seen Matt that night—I vividly remember the trapeze artists. Who knows? I can’t even imagine. I almost regret not having had the opportunity to see him perform before he left the business.

What a horrible tragedy. What a way to lose a parent.

Not so different than having a parent killed by a flying oven.

True. We have freak parental deaths in common.

Jasmine showed me the note when we went back inside. She’d given it to me sheepishly, as if she felt bad because of looking at it. It was something.

The note, handwritten in a terrible scrawl that was barely legible—embarrassing, really, for a teacher—was his message:

Dearest Zoe:

Please don’t tear up this note or throw it away or incinerate it or dump it in with the horse manure. At least not until you read it.

There are things in my past that I’m ashamed of. And I’ve been very secretive about them. Not because I wanted to lie to you, but because I didn’t want you to look down on me.

There are things I’ve been afraid to say.

Please give me a chance to say them. I promise you, if you want me to go away after that, I will.

With love,

Matt

With love, he wrote. Neither of us have said the words “I love you.” But it was true. I do love him. And if I can ever figure out a way to get ahold of him or see him again, I’ll tell him. And I’m going to beg for forgiveness. I look at my watch. It’s 9:15. Show will be ending soon.

That’s when Jasmine screams. It’s a different scream than I’ve heard from her, and Nicole and I both look at her in shock. She goes silent, but is pointing. Up, up into the ropes and rigging in the darkness near the ceiling.

Oh my God.

Matt is up there. He’s wearing black tights and a bright, sequined silver tunic.

My brain tunes into the loud voice of the barker. “Performing with us tonight for the first time since his father’s tragic death in the ring, the world famous Flying Paladinos are re-joined tonight by the amazing
Matteo Paladino!
” The crowd bursts into applause as spotlights swing toward Matt.

“I can’t be seeing this,” Nicole says.

“You can,” I say.

The crowd bursts into applause as Matt and another man—his brother, I guess—take hold of bars and swing out toward each other, the spotlights flaring off their sequined shirts.

“I guess we know where he learned to ride a horse,” Nicole says.

“At the circus!” Jasmine shouts, bouncing up and down in her seat. She’s clapping and cheering, and—she’s crying too. Happy tears, but tears. That makes me wipe my eyes, damn it.

Both of the men on the trapeze do sudden flips or something, and the next thing I know, they are hanging by their feet, arms outstretched in front of them. Music suddenly begins playing, melodic classical music, and the two women—Matt’s sister and mother swing out toward each other, then go flying
straight at each other.
Someone in the crowd screams and hundreds of the rest go silent with a great intake of air.

Got her! (Matt)

Got her!

Mamma’s grip and mine are tight as we lock arms together. The crowd goes insane. I don’t know if it was the trick, or the scare of Mamma and Messalina almost hitting each other, or if they know how my Dad died, but the crowd is with us, screaming and applauding. Mamma smiles up at me and mouths, “I’m proud of you,” as we swing back. This is the most dangerous part. I have to release her at the precise moment so she can grab the bar that is even now swinging on its own back and forth. If I let go too soon she’ll miss it entirely and fall to the net. Too late, and the bar might smash her across the face.

Release.

I let go and Mamma does a back somersault and catches the bar and swings away. The crowd roars again as we get into position for the next trick. Tony and I will be swinging Messalina back and forth between us, which the audience will love, until Tony lets go and swings at the end of a chain, me holding Messalina’s ankles as she holds Tony’s hands. Then we’ll swing back up and he’ll go back to the bar. We’ve done it a bunch of times in practice, but this is the real thing.

We launch into it. Vaguely I can hear the announcer telling the audience the history of my family as we begin tossing Messalina back and forth.
Five generations of trapeze artists since the 19
th
Century. Tragedy struck the family in each generation—right up to the death of the Antonio Paladino.