Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Statue ❯ Obstacles ( Chapter 4 )

To: Alisa Grimm, staff writer
Colony House Books, Inc
From: T. T. Bloom, Producer
The Greatest Show in the Universe
Date: February 19, A.C.213
Re: Biography

Good evening Ms Grimm. As I read back over what I've sent you already, I keep noticing little things I've left out. So much happened during Winter Quarters that season between Missy and me. Small details. But I can't go back. You may have to go back and add a few things as I mention them out of order. But only if you think they are important. I'm glad you're writing this and not me.

The first two days of trying to ignore her were very difficult because before I could start, I had to break a few habits. I found not sitting by her at lunch uncomfortable. I sat across the room and with my back to her. But I knew where she was-vividly. As if she gave off some sort of beacon that only I was in tune with. The nerves of my body were tingling in which ever direction she was.

I also worried about her rehearsals. I really wanted to check on her. Cathy gave me an odd look when I suddenly gave up leaving every break we took to go to the other room. The room where Missy practiced with the Panzinis, swinging from her trapeze like an angel, clad in only a leotard and tights.... No, it was definitely not a good idea to check on her.

But after the following Monday arrived, things changed. That week marked the beginning of the full rehearsals. The circus artistic director always flies in for the final month to put the show together. We'd had the individual directors with us since August; watching and talking and planning. There were four of them: clown director, choreographer, animal director and stunt director. Once the artistic director arrived on the scene the four individual directors were able to fly out to join the next show scheduled for Winter Quarters. The artistic director would pull the show together and stay on the road with us for the first month to make sure everything was running smoothly.

That year it was still Marcus Fouhy, a small man with black hair and a goatee. He was a good director, one of the best. He loved the circus, and therefore hated anyone who might ruin it. Having him around was like having a drill sergeant from boot camp-the very air crackled with yelling and insults. Very few people had Fouhy's undying respect, and you pretty much had to be a star to have it.

As the producer, I had my hands full playing peacemaker. Not to mention, convincing a few acts not to quit when they saw the line up. There were two places most acts wanted to be-the beginning or the end. And, logically, only two acts would get them. It was always a problem.

Keeping away from Missy was easy once he arrived. I didn't want 'Firecracker' Fouhy seeing her until she was ready. The Panzinis and I teamed up to make excuses why they couldn't perform for him yet. He wasn't happy, but I outranked him. Or as he put it: I stifled his creativity. However, the Panzinis had no need to worry. They could afford to stall. They would get the top spot at the end of the show. They were our most popular act. And they had Fouhy's respect, or rather, Mister Panzini did.

With Missy, the Panzinis were rounded out to eight artists in all. So, due to the number being divisible by four, they decided on an elemental theme. Mister and Mrs. Panzini would represent Earth. Jack and his sister Maria would be Fire. The two littlest Panzinis, Kim and Chris, would be Water. Missy and Paul, the middle brother, would be Air.

Missy spent every waking hour with the Panzinis now. All eight of them worked like demons to get her ready. Marcus Fouhy could not be kept waiting for two weeks that was something not even the combined efforts of Mister Panzini and myself could accomplish. Mister Panzini assured me that she would be ready, but it still bothered me. I could not go check, not with Fouhy next to me all the time. And so it was both easy and hard to keep my resolve.

For her part, Missy sat far away at lunch, with her back to me also. She stopped getting my mail and doing the clerical errands. And she didn't wear last year's shirt. But she didn't stop breakfast. It was the only time we had together. I have never found it so easy to get out of bed in the morning, before or since.

I savored every moment of it. When I could look at her as much as I wanted, hear her speak and laugh, watch the smile and the sparkle of her eyes. Mostly we spoke of the rehearsals. How worried she was. How tired we both were. I complained about Fouhy, and she commiserated with me. It really didn't matter what we said. She could've sat there and smiled, and I would've been happy. I didn't want to leave, to start the day. To start ignoring her.

I had gotten through six days of success with the plan when I had to deal with the obvious repercussions. I had to work through lunch that day. So I called down to the cafeteria for Cathy to bring me up a sack lunch. I thought nothing of it at the time, but apparently she did.

"Why did you have me bring this up?" she asked when she arrived.

"You never minded before," I said.

"Oh I don't mind. What I mean is, doesn't Missy usually do this for you now?"

I knew what she was getting at. I knew this conversation would come up. I'd practically written up a script just for this occasion, I knew my sister and I anticipated exactly what she would say. "She has a few times. I don't remember."

"What is up with you two?" She sounded a little exasperated.

I raised my eyebrows at her.

"Don't give me that look, Trowa! You know what I mean." She started to get angry.

"Perhaps you better tell me," I said, pitching my voice to sound perfectly calm and reasonable. The game had begun.

She threw her hands into the air. "Okay, first you start ignoring each other. You spend all your time with that fool Fouhy, and when you do come to lunch you sit far away with your back to her. She's stopped wearing her favorite shirt and she doesn't help you in the office any more. The whole circus thinks you two are fighting!"

"What do you think?"

She pointed her finger at me and gave me a piercing look. "I think you're up to something. I've seen you two at breakfast. You guys look at each other as if trying to memorize each other. I could choke to death on a piece of bacon and you two wouldn't notice."

"I'm not exactly sure what you're getting at," I said with no change of expression.

"Don't play your games with me Trowa, I'm your sister! I know you! And you are in love with Missy. But you're playing some strange..."

"Just one minute, Cathy. Are you suggesting that I am chasing a woman who is suffering from amnesia? That I would pursue a woman who is that defenseless? Just what sort of man do you think I am?"

She rocked back and blinked twice. "But...your behavior these last two months, the way you look at her..."

"Is nothing more than the care I promised Quatre I would give her."

"You are lying! Maybe to yourself first, but her...the way she...well if you aren't then she definitely is!"

Her words weren't coming as easily anymore and I knew I had her. Relentlessly I pushed the interview to its inevitable conclusion.

"Be serious Cathy. Perhaps you are referring to the hero worship she exhibits? She does that to you too, you realize? And you should see the way she looks at the Panzinis. She's star struck." What I said sounded reasonable and there was a grain of truth there. If I couldn't convince Cathy, I was sunk.

"But I saw you two dancing, I saw the way you looked at each other! I saw you almost kiss her..."

"What you saw was the hundredth time we danced that night. If I was going to take advantage of her, don't you think I'd have done it long before you showed up?" I glared at her. "Just because you and your active imagination want something to happen doesn't mean it will."

That was the main piece of my plan, make her doubt herself and she would doubt everything. She knew she had an active imagination, that she was capable of what I excused her.

"You've always wanted to marry me off, will you latch onto every girl who walks though the door? Worst of all, a girl without a past? Who's so damaged the circus may be her last hope? Who can't even remember where she was born? You've picked hundreds of women out for me, but you've never tried to get me to take advantage of someone."

She gasped a few times. I could see the confusion cross her face. I had her. I'm a bastard.

"Just tell me you haven't contributed to the horrible gossip going around about us. Jackpotting like that is sure to damage her career."

Her face flushed and she looked down at her hands.

"I see. Well, do your best to defuse it, won't you? I don't want Missy to be thought of as someone who sleeps her way to the top. Perhaps I should transfer her to another show?"

"No! Don't do that. I've been stupid Trowa. I'm so sorry."

For some reason the honest look on Cathy's face bothered me. "Don't worry about it. Now, I really do need to work this lunch."

Cathy left quietly. I felt bad, but what I said, even though I planned to say it, was the truth. Wasn't it?

The next week was very stressful for both Missy and me. Mister Panzini assured me she was ready, but I so much wanted her to succeed that I still worried. Missy took to counting her mistakes then listing them at breakfast. This only made matters worse. And to top it all off, I had to wait until they performed for Fouhy to see for myself. I chafed at that self-imposed rule.

So, there I was, standing next to Marcus Fouhy, watching the performance for the first time in two weeks, and doing my level best not to look upset. Luckily, I'd had plenty of practice at not showing my emotions.

It wasn't a costumed rehearsal, so Missy stood out among the Panzinis who were all of dark Italian descent. They used old costumes to practice in. She wore a leotard. Luckily, nobody matched. You always pick the most comfortable costume to practice in, and that usually wasn't the same as the others picked. Mister Panzini, for example, wore a costume that was well worn, and before my time. Back when the Flying Panzinis included his father.

When they climbed up, the Ringmaster called off each name from a script. He still had some memorization to do. I'd have to get on him about it again this year.

Missy, who lacked a name, became 'Missy Panzini' and that worked. The audience would like that and wonder who she married: Paul or Jack. Chris was too young.

"Missy Panzini?" asked Fouhy.

"New this year," I told him.

He looked down at the costume design pictures they'd given him. "The four elements, eh? I like it. Don't make them look alike because they can't anymore. She stands out like a ghost." He looked back as the Ringmaster started in on the speech about the elements.

It started out small, like it always does. Each proves they can do the simple swing out, let go, grab Mister Panzini's hands, swing, let go, grab the bar, and return to the platform. Missy did it simple and first. The simple one always goes first. My heart was in my throat, but she did it perfectly. Paul did his with a somersault in the middle. Kim and Chris did it together, each catching just one of Mister Panzini's hands. Jack and Maria did a consecutive exchange-Maria over, Jack under.

Jack stayed on the bar and set up to catch, and Missy moved up to the top platform. This was the move she worried about. On the top platform, she raised her self into one of those handstands she does well. She wobbled a bit, and I held my breath. Jack and Mister Panzini began swinging.

Then at the right up swing, Jack made the grunt to let her know to go. I couldn't tear my eyes away.

She flipped back into the air, over into Jack's hands. The flip was good but she missed Jack's left hand on the first grab. They fumbled and connected just a moment before her weight would've pulled hard on his right arm. As they swung out to Mister Panzini, she was transferred to him and then to the platform above his swing. There she stayed until the major stunts of the rest of the Panzinis were completed.

Paul's stunt landed him on the platform over Jack's swing, and I noticed that one stunt left them in elemental formation. Paul and Missy at the top. Kim and Chris on the bars. With Jack and Mister Panzini passing Maria and Mrs. Panzini below.

Kim Panzini fell to the net in the middle of her difficult stunt, but that was the only error other than Missy's fumble. Missy's dismount was again a handstand flip from the platform into the net below.

After the conclusion, the Panzinis gathered about Fouhy. I caught myself smiling at Missy and forced myself to look any place but her.

"Magnificent, Mister Panzini! Your family is the jewel of this show!" crowed Fouhy.

"Thank you sir."

"And I'm so glad you finally added an eighth person. Even numbers are best. She still needs a little work but she recovered well. Plus that handstand, though simple, will be a crowd pleaser." Fouhy looked at young Kim. "Only one fall too. Kim's timing was off, you know."

"Yes sir, but it's a difficult stunt for her. We're working on it." Mister Panzini smiled at his youngest daughter.

"I like the elemental theme, but the music is all wrong and I'll need to fix the speech you wrote for the Ringmaster."

"I thought you would when I wrote it sir," said Mister Panzini.

"Yes," drawled Fouhy. He hated being predictable, but Mister Panzini had been around a lot longer than most of us including Fouhy. "What's next on the schedule, Mr. Bloom?"

I checked the list. "The clown skit for the second half. This way." I walked out of the room. I wanted more than anything to look back and see Missy as the Panzinis began hugging each other in celebration. But I did not.

A while back, on one of Cathy, Missy and my shopping trips, Missy had seen a little silver ring. It fit her right little finger perfectly. It wasn't very expensive, having only a small red garnet in the middle of a simple design. I went back the next day and bought it and a congratulations card and set them aside. That was long before the gossip plan, long before she told me to stop buying presents for her.

I had bought it for this day. For the day she performed for the director. It was a hard decision. I debated with myself for most of the rest of the day. I finally convinced myself it didn't mean anything. It was a congratulation gift. I give such things to Cathy too. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt, and I really wanted to give it to her. Finally, I put the ring, the card and a signed contract on the breakfast table for her to find. In the card, I told her when I bought it and why. I hoped she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

She didn't. That next morning I found a card by my plate. A thank you card which said 'Don't worry, I won't tell anyone where I got it.'

When Missy and Cathy joined me at the table, the card was already squirreled away from sight. I noticed Missy had the contract in her hand.

"I have a question for you." She held the contract up. "What name do I sign here?"

Cathy looked at me.

"I guess, for now, your stage name will do." I remember reading somewhere that that was a legal name.

So she signed 'Missy Panzini' right then. Cathy and I smiled at each other.

Missy looked at the name for a few seconds. "It used to be shorter."

"What?" Cathy asked.

Missy didn't look up. "I think my name was shorter." She drew in the air with the pen an 'M' then an 'I'. Then she paused.

Cathy and I leaned forward.

Missy sighed. "It's gone. I can't remember." She looked as if she were going to cry. I realized that Missy really wanted to remember her past for some reason.

"Well, that's something at least," said Cathy. "Your name is shorter than Missy Panzini."

Missy nodded and handed me the contract.

"Welcome to the circus," I said and took it from her.

"Congratulations Missy! You are officially a 'First of May' now!" Cathy crowed. The term 'First of May' refers to anyone in their first season with the circus. You see, back in the beginning, the circus only performed during the summer, so opening night was the First of May. The term still stuck even today.

It was official now. She worked for us. She was a professional trapeze artist. I won. But at that moment, the only thing that mattered to me was the fact that I was now her boss. Her boss. As I looked at her, I could almost see the wall rise between us. Some irrational part of me wanted to rip the contract to shreds. But instead, I signed it and gave her the copy.

Everything had changed now. She'd have to stay with the other performers on the road. We could keep her with us for the rest of the time here, but no more. I was in charge of everything that a friend could not be-contracts, raises, benefits, etc. Underlying it all was the cardinal rule: we could never be together.

But that didn't matter right? I wasn't in love with Missy. Was I? I looked up at her. She and Cathy were talking, about what, I don't remember. I looked at her face, her blue eyes, her soft golden hair. She seemed to sense me looking at her, because she turned her head. She looked a question at me. Her eyes capturing mine. And I knew.

I was in love.

Completely and totally in love with Missy. The trapeze artist I created. My statue. And just like a statue, she was beyond my reach.

I stood up. They both jumped.

"Is something wrong Trowa?" Cathy asked.

"I have some work." I walked toward the door, the contract clutched in my hand.

"Are you feeling alright?" Missy called after me. "Your face..."

"I am fine." I closed the door behind me with a click.

Connected to my office is a small water closet. I went there and splashed cold water on my face. It helped. What it did not help was my heart, which felt as if it were skipping every other beat. I looked in the mirror, but I didn't see my face, just some nameless clown.

Ah, Ms. Grimm, I'm afraid I've had a long day and I cannot afford to spend the night writing. If I go on any farther the rest will tumble out and just keep coming, sort of like that old clown stunt that uses a very small car and well, you understand. We will be in transit to the next colony tomorrow, so I won't be able to write for at least two days. And it's my own sense of timing and showmanship that tells me that this is an excellent spot to leave off. Sort of a cliffhanger, right?

Yours truly,

T. T. Bloom

"Before I gaze at you again
Let hours turn to years
I have so much forgetting to do
Before I try to gaze again at you" -Camelot