Clown Girl - Monica Drake [106]
“Well, last I checked this was a city street. As a cop, it’s my job to hit the streets.” He showed me his open hands, Mr. Innocent. “Besides, you left your halo in the car. Thought I’d bring it by.”
“I’m serious. You can’t knock on my door, carry my stuff around…” I picked up a handful of fallen scarves, an errant feather boa.
“So they didn’t kick you out…” With a palm to the doorjamb, he leaned into the ambulance, took a look around. “ You got a great setup right here. Who needs the house?” He picked up my purple satin cape and swung it over his shoulders. Superman.
I reached to take the cape back, moved in close just as he handed it over, and our fingers brushed. Sparked. Silently greeted. I pulled my hand back, bundled the cape, looked away. I didn’t tell him that I already lived on the street, slept in the ambulance, broke a vagrancy law every night. Instead I said, “I’m in a tenuous situation here. Your presence? It doesn’t help.”
Jerrod said, “Sniff, you’ve got to recognize it—you’re not in jail.”
Not yet, I thought.
“You can choose your own friends.”
Fast, I said. “It’s the cop thing.”
He said, “I’m not always a cop. Right now, I’m off duty.” He reached to fumble with his badge.
I kept an eye on the house and folded a long scarf into tiny squares. “You’re still in uniform, and even if you weren’t…”
Jerrod watched me work. He said, “What about you—are you working now, or just favoring the clown wear?”
I hoisted the fallen shoulder strap of my big red clown dress. “Doesn’t matter, I’m still a clown, same as you’re still a cop, on the job or off. And clowns, cops…We’re from opposite sides of the tracks.”
Jerrod said, “Sniffles, if it’s what you want—and not just what your friends want—then fine. I’ll walk the other side of the street, but you could stand to look past the costume, the police work…When I see you in clown clothes I know there’s more.” He nodded toward the house. “That’s got to be worth something.”
“Of course it is, but…Just go on. Walk your beat. There’s nothing to see here, right?”
“Except you,” he said.
The front door of Herman’s swung open. Rex stepped out. Rex! My savior. This was my chance to clear things up, maybe introduce the two of them, make it known who was my man.
“Rex!” I called. Rex, my king, took one look at Jerrod, and his whole body jumped. His shoulders tightened. Even his curls tightened. With a fast step backward, he went inside and slammed the door.
Rex was scared?
Jerrod didn’t flinch, but stayed strong and steady. “See that?” he said. “Still think you’re the only outsider on the block? I know what it’s like to walk Baloneytown in costume all day. I get the stares. People run. Hide. They drop their plastic whatever-that-is.” He tapped the urine-collection funnel. “Or else they come at me with expectations. Either way, let’s just say I don’t get many dates…”
He said, “People don’t see me as a guy, doing my job. They see the job.” He pulled a loose thread on my oversized dress. “I understand more than you think.”
Inside, Herman’s shadow moved past the living room window. Sun hit the glass. The orange curtain gave a flutter, and my heart did the same. Rex was hiding, peering out, watching me talk to a cop.
Rex, rendered audience.
Over Jerrod’s shoulder the orange curtain dropped, as though a play had just ended, an act over. Rex’s act. The one I was meant to star in. I didn’t want it to be over! Rex and me, we had a whole show ahead of us, a life. Jerrod touched my arm. I held my breath.
21.
Granulation and Ruination
SO I’D DO ONE INNOCENT CLOWN DATE FOR THE MONEY. No sex. Then I’d top off my savings, follow Rex to Berkeley, and move into the art-clown life happily ever after. The date, Crack, and corporate clowndom would melt into the gentle fog of a bad dream.
In the Ruins the van loomed in the dark like a rocky cliff, the precipice I’d soon throw myself over. I wore the top half of the patched Caboosey suit under the red sequined