Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Statue ❯ Winter Quarters ( Chapter 2 )

To: Alisa Grimm, staff writer
Colony House Books, Inc
From: T. T. Bloom, Producer
The Greatest Show in the Universe
Date: February 18, A.C.213
Re: Biography

I don't know why, but I was up early this morning, this story, once started, has taken over my thoughts to the extent that I have to keep writing it. The memories bombard me like an enemy attack and my only defense is to commit them to paper, Ms Grimm. This is the format for me, no talking, just typing! I can carefully pick and choose my words, without worries. I reread over the chapter I sent you last night, and there are a hundred things in it that I would like to change, edit or take back, but you are the author not me. I leave it to your expertise.

The end-of-the-season party was thankfully uneventful. Cathy and I decided that Missy would be out of place, so we did not bring her. She did, however, walk beside Cathy for the entire Animal Walk to the spaceport. She seemed in awe of the elephants, as most people new to the circus are.

When we reached the Winter Quarters, the other show had just left town. The company runs four shows including the one I produce. Each show's performance group uses the Winter Quarters for three months out of the year, letting the animals rest and planning acts for the next season. Of course, since the place was in use year-round, it couldn't be winter for everyone. We got it in the fall, but we still called it Winter Quarters, sort of like actors still calling the waiting room next to the theater the Green Room even though plants are never kept there any more. We performers have strange customs.

One of the things I like about Winter Quarters is the entrance. There are several statues commemorating historical Circus performers, my favorite being the statue of Bello riding his famous elephant, Beau. They are right before the door opposite another famous pair: Charles Stratton, the 42-inch-tall midget promoted by P.T. Barnum as `General Tom Thumb', and Jumbo. Although, Jumbo and Tom Thumb never performed together, they are still part of circus history.

I wonder if P.T. Barnum ever had to deal with greedy trapeze artists and a sister who constantly nagged him about the way he chose to handle things? No, I think he had a nagging wife, not a sister. P.T. and Charity Barnum were known for not getting along.

But Missy kept Cathy pretty distracted and generally happy with me. I was still the heroic brother helping a victim find her place. Missy was not immune to the wonder of Winter Quarters. It houses amazing vehicles, huge workshops, rooms upon rooms of costumes and probably one of the best circus training centers in the world. It was a joy to show her around and watch her try to look at everything at once. And I found myself showing off one or two times, when she looked at something with a quizzical `how-does-this-work' look.

"You show off," Cathy called me when I showed Missy how the motorcycle on the tight rope worked--complete with a dazzling handle bar stand.

"Really?" I asked, "Care to show her how this part works?" I snapped the cage to the bottom of the motorcycle.

Without a thought to the hypocrisy of it, Cathy said, "Okay!" and we were off. See that's how you handle Cathy. Include her.

At Winter Quarters, we all live in a dormitory. I think they built it that way to bring the performers together. It was a three-story building. Men on the first floor. Women on the second. Families had suites on the top floor. Cathy and I qualified as a family, and of course, the decision of who sleeps where was the producer's decision. I assigned us a three-bedroom suite with a kitchen so we could keep Missy with us. Well, Cathy insisted on it. She told me it was ridiculous to have a person in her distressed condition sleeping alone with a bunch of strangers.

But I would've done it anyway.

Neither Cathy nor I said anything out loud but the more we got to know Missy, we had to wonder what had happened to her to make her end up in this way. From what I discovered about her in that first week, her willingness to learn and easy acceptance of hard work just didn't add up. I couldn't understand why someone like that would still be a wandering supposedly crazy person so long after the Eve Wars.

But I did know that she trusted us and I had to make sure that she felt secure, protected, so there was never really a question of where Missy would stay. I also knew Cathy wouldn't fail to make the decision, she's always been one to take in strays, I should know, she took me in too back during the war. But I've already told you that story already, haven't I?

After about a week of trying every morning, Missy finally made it through morning calisthenics without stopping. Cathy and I focused on her to the exclusion of our own training. Besides, it no longer took us three months to prepare for a new show. I didn't obviously direct her training towards trapeze, but rather picked crossover stunts to teach her. Most of it was high wire training, of which I am an expert. Of course the training wire is only a foot off the ground. Who knew, and who could ask her if she was afraid of heights?

Cathy said I was jumping the gun and we had to start smaller. Half the time I let Cathy have her way. I still had a business to run. Cathy taught her juggling, and dancing that first week. It was hard for me to keep at my paperwork though, and I often found myself standing in the doorway watching my bossy sister and her quiet mimic.

Missy had grace. Cathy didn't need to teach her that. I supposed I'd never seen Missy ever move in a jerky manner. She was always soft, gentle and quiet. All things that translated into grace on the dance floor quite well.

Her timing needed work, and she couldn't keep up with Cathy. Especially after attempting to do morning calisthenics. She was forced to take breaks often. And she looked horrible in the tights and leotard. You could see every bone in her body. She made my sister look plump!

Cathy bought a few `eating disorder' books to guide her in making sure Missy ate the right things. Books with titles like "A Hunger So Wide and So Deep" or "The Invisible Woman" or "It's Not About Food". If it were up to me, I'd just make sure she got an extra helping or two at meals. But women's minds are set up differently-for Cathy self-help books were the norm. Ever notice the majority of self-help books are aimed at women? What was the big deal anyway? She just needed to eat regularly.

The whole cast and crew started feeding her extra food, I noticed. Little cookies and sandwiches left over from other people's boxes just appeared next to her as she ate. When she went back to her water bottle during dancing or high wire breaks, she'd find granola bars next to it. I guess I wasn't the only one who didn't like being able to count her ribs.

Cathy also started a rather ingenious campaign to get Missy to talk out loud. Gossip. Cathy figured that because she herself couldn't resist it, no one else could either. So she and a group of her cronies started jackpotting all the circus gossip to Missy.

"You're what?" I asked when she told me.

"And it's working too. She especially pays attention when we talk about Anna and Dale." Cathy looked so smug.

"The dancer and the roadie?"

"Yes, they've been having an on-again off-again relationship since the performance at 125477! But I know for a fact that Carry told me Gwen said she saw him at the jewelry store last Friday. Or was it Saturday? Anyway, Rebecca said Anna said they were going out to dinner on Tuesday! We all think he's going to propose!"

I think if I rolled my eyes once during that speech, I rolled them a dozen times. "And this will get Missy to talk?"

"Yes! Wait and see!" Cathy is so strange sometimes.

On Wednesday after the fateful date between Anna and Dale, I took Missy up for tight rope walking training after morning calisthenics. We were right in the middle of practicing a back handstand. I was spotting on her left with arms loosely hovering at her waist. We'd tried this for the past two hours with no success, but Missy just got more and more determined. This time she flipped back into the handstand slowly, lifting her legs up one at a time and froze. Suddenly, there she was, standing perfectly balanced on her hands.

I was shocked. The perfect handstand on a wire is really hard to learn.

"Great! Missy, how long can you hold that?" I dropped my hands and stepped away.

But she wasn't paying attention to her miraculous handstand or me. She was watching Cathy whispering in the corner with her gossip hens. Slowly, her feet came down on the other side. First one, then the other. A perfectly executed handstand dismount. I couldn't do it that well, but then I wasn't as light as a skeleton either.

Her eyes never left the group of women, though.

"What's up?" I asked.

Slowly she stepped down and wandered in Cathy's direction.

I followed, and I saw Cathy's eyes dart to Missy and back to the girls. She whispered something and everyone stopped talking.

"Missy, are you taking a break?" she called. "You should eat something. Gwen, get her a granola bar would you?"

Missy stopped in front of the group of girls who seamed to be evaporating before her eyes. Gwen and Cathy returned pressing water and a food on Missy. I couldn't fathom what was going on because I'm a man and by this time I'd forgotten about Cathy's ridiculous plot.

"She did a perfect handstand." I announced.

I could hear Missy mumbling.

"Did she?" Cathy gushed. "Oh that's so great Missy! You've got to show us!" She grabbed Missy's hand and dragged her toward the practice rope.

Missy dug in her heels, I could still hear mumbling only a little louder.

"I think she's trying to tell you something," Gwen said.

"Oh she's just saying thank you for the water. Come on Missy, come show us the handstand." Cathy had that I'm-up-to-something look and that's when I remembered the gossip plot. Call me dense.

Cathy tugged at Missy, who was easy to pull along being so light. The mumbling continued and I started to think Cathy was being cruel.

"Come on!" babbled Cathy. "This is so great a handsta…"

"Stop!" It was clear, loud and a little squeaky, but it was definitely the first clear word I'd ever heard from Missy.

Gwen, Cathy and I stared at Missy. We couldn't help it.

"Um…why?" Cathy asked, acting stupid, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

Missy looked surprised at herself. She cleared her throat, touched her neck and hummed. She looked up as if shocked that her voice worked. "Cathy," she said.

"Yes, why should we stop?" Cathy prompted.

"B-Because I-I want to hear about Anna and Dale."

Well you could've knocked me over with a feather. The damn gossip plot worked. Cathy grinned and hugged Missy. Then so did Gwen. Within seconds, the gossipers poured out of nowhere and Missy was engulfed in girls all vying to be the first to tell her about Anna's engagement.

I don't understand women at all. Thank goodness they understand each other.

They began to pepper her with questions. Who was she? What was her real name? Where was she from?

Missy was overwhelmed and looked terrified. I waded in to pull Missy out. The vultures.

"Back off you guys," said Cathy, "You don't want to swamp the poor girl. She just remembered how to speak!" Cathy followed me as I drug Missy away. "You all go back to rehearsal!" Then in a stage whisper. "I'll tell you all later."

The girls reluctantly left. When they were gone I realized I had Missy tucked protectively under my arm. I let her go.

Cathy whirled around on us and announced: "Coffee! Come you two!"

We retired to the producer's office, which was mine during the fall.

Missy said nothing as Cathy bustled around getting coffee. We sat on the office couch.

"You don't have to talk to her you know," I whispered to her.

"It's alright," she said.

I was glad, because I really hoped she'd talk.

"So," Cathy said, sitting a cup of coffee in front of Missy and me. Picking up her own, she settled into a nearby easy chair. "What is your real name?"

"I-I don't remember anything other than Missy." Even now that we could hear her, she was soft spoken.

"Do you remember where you are from?" Cathy asked.

"No," Missy looked at me apologetically.

I patted her arm. I'd been there too, once upon a time. "It's okay."

"What do you remember?" Cathy barreled on.

"I remember the shelter. You," she looked at me, "taking me away. Before that, it seems like a dream--fuzzy--images."

"Images of the war?" Cathy prompted.

"No, of places, things, coldness, emptiness. I'm sorry, that's all there is." She looked distressed.

"Well, don't worry about it. I'm sure it will come in time." Cathy announced. "What Trowa and I really want to know is do you want to stay with us?"

My heart caught in my throat.

"With the circus I mean?" Cathy amended.

"Oh yes!" Missy replied quickly.

Cathy and I relaxed.

Missy looked back and forth between us.

"We thought we might be forcing this on you," I explained.

Cathy nodded.

Missy smiled. "You've both been wonderful. You woke me up."

From what, I wondered?

Two days after the surprising success of the gossip plan, my sister and I woke to the smell of bacon and eggs. We both wandered out in our robes to find Missy cooking in the kitchen of the suite.

"What's this?" I asked.

Missy looked over to see us two bedraggled Blooms staring at her.

I looked at Cathy. "When did you teach her to cook?"

"She didn't." Missy turned on the coffee maker. "I got up early because I couldn't sleep. I wondered if I knew how to cook breakfast, and I took out the eggs and I just started cooking." She smiled at us. "So I guess I do know how."

"Well it smells wonderful." I didn't know what else to say.

"Has it jogged any other memories for you?" Cathy asked. Why didn't I think of that?

"Well, I think I know how to cook meatloaf too," Missy said.

"Well, that's something anyway!" Cathy said, "I'll set the table."

A few days after that, Quatre came to visit. Or rather, to check up on Missy and me.

"And she doesn't remember anything?" he asked me over a cup of tea in the producer's office.

"That's what she said, and we haven't pressed her."

"Of course you haven't Mister Talkative, but I was counting on Cathy." Quatre's eyes twinkled.

"Cathy and Missy are friends. Cathy is sensitive to Missy's needs I think."

"Even though she's a bet?"

I said nothing.

"Ah, I see you haven't told her. That's a mistake."

All of a sudden I felt very guilty. Until Quatre showed up, I don't think I thought of the bet much, just wanted Missy to do well for Missy's sake. When he was here to remind me, I saw myself as I truly was-a cad who was just using her.

"About the bet…" I started, but we were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in." I called.

It was Mister Panzini of the Flying Panzinis. He had a contract in his hand.

"I'm sorry Quatre, I must deal with this," I said as Mister Panzini handed me the contract. I started to read. Mister Panzini fiddled with his hat.

"Um, should I leave?" Quatre asked after a minute or two.

"No," I told him, then I looked up at Mister Panzini. "Yes, this is a contract I can sign."

"Thank you, Mr. Bloom." Mister Panzini looked relieved.

I signed all three copies of the contract. Then watched as he signed it. I looked over at Quatre.

Quatre raised his eyebrows and toasted me with his teacup.

"Mister Panzini, there is something I'd like you to do for me," I announced.

"Yes, Mr. Bloom?" He froze mid-signature, looking scared.

"The war victim, Missy, do you know of her?"

"Yes, Mr. Bloom, I have seen your Missy."

"I would like you to help me train her as a trapeze artist." I watched Quatre's face; he looked quizzical.

"If we succeed." I continued, "I will sign this contract." I held up the other contract from my desk.

"Mr. Bloom, my family is at your service"

"You realize," Quatre said when Mister Panzini had left, "that now you must sign that contract whether or not she becomes a trapeze artist?"

"Yes, I realize that. But now I have the whole circus with me. Missy will succeed now, and I can tell the board the contract was a condition of your donating the cost of the new shuttle. They'll like that."

"Hmmm…" Quatre smiled at me. "When did Missy become more important than your pride?"

I couldn't believe he'd missed the point entirely!

The downside of the new training arrangement was the Panzinis really didn't need my help. I stood around for a few days watching and encouraging until it seemed to me that Missy got along with them well. She was nervous at first, and I think a little star-struck.

After that, I was free to rehearse my own show for next season. Since I'd been on the high wire for half of the Winter Quarters, Cathy and I decided to take our knife act up. We incorporated some comedy and had some of the performers giggling as she chased me up and down the wires with her knives.

Couldn't get rid of the pole act, because it was always a huge favorite, but I did add some different clowning to it. Finally, we brought the motorcycle act back. Playing around with it for Missy sort of piqued our interest in it again.

Missy continued to cook us breakfast, and both Cathy and I enjoyed the time with her. Our breakfast table conversations were starting to resemble the classic family dinners you see on television. Of course we didn't talk much at dinner, all of us being exhausted from the long day of training, especially Missy. We ate quickly and did a face plant into our pillows. So breakfast was our only good conversation time.

"How come you like Bello so much," Missy asked me one morning.

"Hmmm? Bello? Well he sort of brought out the clown in me." I looked up at a poster of him I'd put up in the suite.

"Brought out your clown?"

"Well, yes, when I first started I was a very serious clown."

Cathy sorted and nodded over a mouthful of bacon.

"I was using the circus as a cover while I fought in the Eve War."

"You were a fighter?" Missy was surprised by the news. I found I liked being thought of as a circus man first not a soldier.

I spooned some eggs. "Yes, a mobile suit pilot."

"When he came to the circus, the boss took one look at him and his funny hair and declared him a clown," added Cathy.

"It wasn't funny," I said, "it was cool then."

"It was funny." Cathy winked at Missy who smiled back.

"Well it was shorter and closer to my face, and I did wear the style twenty-four seven." I knew it was funny, but I wasn't going to admit to my childhood follies. Not to my sister anyway.

"It's so much better to see both your eyes now. When you're off stage that is." Cathy grinned, referring to the fact that I kept my very long bangs back in a ponytail and hairspray free, when off stage.

"Well, anyway, the boss called me in after my fourth year with the circus. He told me I was great at stunts and perfect for Cathy's act, but as a clown, I sucked."

Cathy giggled. "That sounds like him."

"But he told me he could see my potential and he thought I could be the next Bello the Clown. And when he found out I didn't know about Bello, he gave me about a dozen old DVDs of Bello's circus acts."

"And you liked them?" Missy asked.

"Well, not at first. I was a teenager and thought I knew everything. When I first watched that guy with the funny hair, I thought-no way am I doing that!"

"But Bello grew on you." Cathy smiled at me.

"Yes, for some reason I watched the DVDs again, maybe to point out to the boss why I couldn't do it. Then I watched them again, noting his acts, his face and his clowning. And somewhere along the line, the notes I was taking stopped being reasons why I couldn't do it but plans how I could do it."

"That fifth year, your act was the biggest hit, too," said Cathy. "All you needed was to stop taking yourself so seriously."

"I still take things seriously, but not on stage. I'm a different person on stage." I went back to eating my bacon.

"I thought Bello was why you chose a funny hair style?" Missy asked. Bello, you see, had foot long hair, which he hair sprayed straight up at a peak in the front, sloping back. Sort of like a marker felt. I think they even marketed a Bello pen once. `Write with Bello's hair.'

"Well, he was the reason it got longer and funnier," I told her.

"The mighty uni-bang!" Cathy announced.

"Watch it, or I'll whack you with it."

They both laughed. I can't think of a happier morning.

I must stop, Ms Grimm, as it is time to start the day, but I promise to send you the next part this evening when I get back from the 7 o'clock show. Judging from how reluctantly I'm leaving my computer, I'm sure I'll have this whole story to you in the next few days. I'm finding it very difficult to stop writing.

Yours truly,

T.T. Bloom

"Isn't it rich, aren't we a pair

Me here at last on the ground - and you in mid-air

Send in the clowns" -A Little Night Music