The Circus Prince

(DE) A few months ago, I quit my job as a social worker. I was tired and burnt out and fed up with taking care of other people’s problems. After all, I had enough of my own that needed to be solved.

Besides, I wanted to finally live again, have fun, meet friends and girlfriends, go out until late without any remorse, and not think about getting up early the following day and being fit. Summer was approaching, and I wanted to catch up on everything I had missed. Be outside a lot, wander around on foot or by bike and enjoy nature. When the temperatures allowed, I’d go to my favourite pond in the forest to swim naked and doze in the sun for hours afterwards. When I had returned home seamlessly tanned and refreshed in the evening, I would prepare a delicious meal and end the day sitting in the garden with my husband and enjoying a glass of wine. I would also pay more attention to my appearance: take care of myself, visit the hairdresser more often, invest more time in sports and yoga to strengthen my neglected muscles, wear fancy clothes regularly and much more… That was my plan. The phrase, “If you want to make God laugh, talk to him about your plans,” hit me with full force.

There was nothing to distract me now from the problems in my own life. Often the strain of my job had provided an excellent excuse to avoid having to deal with even more unpleasant things. Now not only was my job gone, but so was my income. I had not earned much in my job in the first place. So now I had to get by with even less money. Well, at least I had reckoned with that, and if I cut back a bit, I would manage.

However, I hadn’t reckoned that I couldn’t easily get rid of the rhythm ingrained into me over the years. Even after several weeks, I still woke up every morning at 6.00 a.m. at the latest.

The light penetrated through the closed blinds and the outrageously cheerful chirping of the birds got on my nerves to such an extent that I gave up in resignation and started the day already tired. I usually stayed in bed for a while, sat up and waited until the front door had slammed shut and my husband had left for work. I didn’t want to cross his path disgruntled and sour mood early in the morning. I sneaked past the cross trainer every day, ignoring that I had always wanted to start my day with sun salutations. Instead, I first went down to the kitchen.

As usual, my husband’s breakfast dishes had not yet been cleared, and the daily newspaper lay tattered and covered with coffee stains and crumbs on the table. The cat peered through the patio door, grumpily meowing, waiting for food. I put on the kettle and would have liked to light a cigarette right now. But I wanted to give up this vice as soon as the stress of my job was over.

So I gave it up, turned on the radio, brewed fresh coffee and chewed slowly on my jam sandwich while skimming the regional news and the obituaries in the stained newspaper. No special events. Everything went on as usual.

The weather forecast for the coming days was not exactly exhilarating. It was supposed to be a rainy summer, and it was. When it wasn’t raining, the earth was steaming, and it became humid and oppressive. In the garden, everything grew and grew at a frightening pace. The dense, lush green of the ivy that had already climbed to the top of the trees was entwining and smothering everything!

The knotweed seemed to have formed an alliance with the wild vine and had almost completely enveloped the old tool shed. Even inside the woodshed, the shoots grew in a wild tangle between the cracks. You could literally watch the grass grow, and overripe, thick corn apples plopped to the ground.

Myriads of wasps rejoiced over the rapidly rotting morsels.

It seemed as if everything was calling out tauntingly, “Where are you? Get a move on, get the machete out, start the lawnmower, do something; you’ve got all the time in the world now!”

My husband didn’t mind all that at all. “Our green hell!” he would shout with a laugh when he returned from work in the evening, opened his well-earned after-work beer and settled down in the deck chair. In general – since I was home, he often and gladly forgot that he also was expected to contribute to the housework. To not endanger the harmony, I swallowed a lot during this time. Arguing was the last thing I needed right now. So I did what I could and what my strength allowed me to do and resigned myself to the circumstances. After all, I had chosen it myself.

The days passed tediously and uneventfully, like clouds driven by the wind. Sometimes I met up with a friend in town for a glass of wine in one of the numerous street cafés. But most of my friends had gone on holiday with their children and families somewhere by the sea. As a result, I often felt lonely and useless.

The sultry days slowly became less, and sometimes, in the morning, when I took the kitchen scraps to the compost heap in the hidden part of the garden, it already smelled like autumn. The light was changing, and you could feel the days getting shorter and the evenings getting cooler. It made me nostalgic and sentimental to say goodbye to summer. Sometimes we tried to escape the approaching autumn for a while and spent a few days in more southern climates. But this year, things were different.

It was a day at the end of October when I was hanging up laundry in the basement. Before I had even showered and got ready for the day, I stuffed the dirty laundry into the washing machine and thought about what other chores lay ahead. Work lurked in every corner of this house. The stained walls gaped at me, begging for a fresh coat of paint. The paint on the shutters had peeled off and was desperate for a replacement—all things we had put off from spring to autumn year after year. Now would be a good time. No longer too hot, not yet too cold, everything would still dry wonderfully, and I really couldn’t complain about a lack of time now.

While I was hanging up a load of laundry, lost in my thoughts, I heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the entrance, and the doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone – who would visit me in the morning? Excitedly, I hurried to the front door and unlocked it.

Standing in front of me was a man I had never seen before. He was of sturdy build and had his dark hair, made docile with brilliantine, combed tightly out of his forehead. He had beautifully arched eyebrows and an open, sympathetic gaze. The most striking thing about his appearance was the dark sideburns, shaved razor-sharp across his cheeks, almost reaching his chin. It was extremely rare to see a man like that here in our idyllic village, and my surprise must have been written all over my face. He greeted me with a smile and apologised for obviously frightening me.

He held a worn plastic folder in his hands, which he opened before my eyes. It was from a travelling circus that had set up winter quarters a little way outside our village. Faded pictures in the folder showed a small circus tent, touchingly old-fashioned and as if out of time. Other photos showed him as an MC in a uniform with gold strings and ornaments across his chest, standing on a white horse, riding through a small ring with a flowing cape, then as a juggler – obviously a circus prince! Other photos showed a female tightrope walker, clowns and a magician about to cut up a lady. Also seen were a scruffy dromedary, a couple of donkeys, little monkeys gambolling on a scaffold and several ponies grazing in a paddock.

In short – he was collecting donations for food for animals and humans to get through the winter with no shows and thus no income.

I had no money in the house – apart from a few coins. Besides, I was short of cash myself and could hardly afford a donation. Nevertheless, I was a bit embarrassed when I explained my situation to him.

He didn’t seem to hear my words. He just looked at me with calm eyes and smiled. Then he said a sentence that literally pulled the rug from under me:

“You are a very beautiful woman. May I kiss you?”

I did not expect that. I started to stammer and stutter. My mouth was dry, and I swallowed before the words tumbled out of me. No, no, no! For God’s sake, go!

As I walked back into the house, my eyes fell on the dressing room mirror as I passed. I looked terrible. This morning I had only slipped into a pair of old baggy sweatpants and a discarded T-shirt. I had carelessly pulled my long hair up into a bun, which was already unravelling, revealing messy strands. I was not wearing make-up. I usually did that before I left the house to go shopping or wherever. Only my eyes had a strange shine today, or perhaps only at that moment. I couldn’t find anything beautiful about me….

I was confused and agitated and amused at the same time. I don’t know why this strange man upset me so much.

When I’m so upset, and inner chaos breaks out, it sometimes helps me to reach for the hoover and cleaning rag and at least keep my home environment tidy. So I put on music, traced all the cobwebs with the duster, vacuumed the carpets, scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen, and did a little dance with the broom. I even had enough energy to clean a few windows.

I had done a lot and was satisfied with my work. However, I felt tired, and a glance at the kitchen clock showed that I still had time for a short nap before my husband returned from work.

So I lay down on the couch in the living room, tucked myself in, and I must have fallen fast and sound asleep.

I stretched out with pleasure and felt someone lying next to me and nestling against my back. A hand slipped under my waist and pulled me closer. The hand gently rubbed along my thigh. Warm, moist breath stroked the back of my neck. Someone sniffed my hair and breathed into my ear. A pleasant shiver flooded my whole body. Slowly I turned around and looked into a pair of warm brown eyes. Our gaze was like a promise and a deep understanding of what was about to happen.

Our lips sought each other with incredible tenderness and gentleness. We heard our breathing grow heavier, and the world around us sank into a passionate kiss….

Mercilessly, the doorbell shrilled in a continuous tone. I startled up and was abruptly sobered.

There was no Circus Prince – my husband had come home from work in the meantime. I had locked him out. I hurried to the front door and opened it for him, still sleepy-eyed. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, and I replied, “Nothing, nothing at all! I fell asleep on the couch”. “Ah, I can see you’ve been busy today. It’s all sparkling clean. You’ve really earned a nap. Luckily, I brought pizza for dinner.” Yes, really lucky!

I often thought of the circus prince. What would have happened if I had invited him in? What if we had really kissed? How often in life does it happen that a man rings your doorbell and wants to kiss you?

Last weekend I went shopping with my husband at the supermarket. At the exit, there was a wooden notice board with the picture of a clown asking for donations for a travelling circus. Above his picture was a tin cash register with a slot for inserting money.

I had not brought any money and asked my husband to help me out. He gave me a two-euro coin. I said, “No, please, it should really be a note.” Astonished at my generosity, but without asking, he slipped me a note.

After dinner, when we had a glass of red wine, I told him the story. (ML)