I Dream Of Vivian

I was at the National Conference of Trapeze Artists with my trainer and mentor, the great and elusive Professor. In a scandalous move some years ago, the Professor had retired from the circus in the prime of his career and then disappeared into the country. It was a great stroke of luck that I had met him when I was a child, and he agreed to teach me the secrets of his trade. Now, years later, he had deemed the time was right to travel to the city and to show the world the skills of his star pupil.

But the Professor was still wary of fame. He made sure we traveled incognito, himself disguised in a tattered gray trench coat, and I in my street clothes. On the train to the city we sat among the other trapeze artists, who wore their finest traveling leotards and chattered excitedly to each other. I was noticeably excited to see so many of my heroes in real life, but every time I was tempted to jump into the conversation, the Professor motioned for me to be quiet. We reached the city without anyone recognizing us.

The two us followed the crowd from the train station to the conference center a few blocks away. The conference center turned out to be a large gymnasium with all manner of trapeze and tightrope equipment suspended from the ceiling. The indoor track that ran around the basketball court had been converted to a kind of balcony from which people could watch the trapeze artists practicing and showing off on the equipment in the center. The Professor and I climbed up to the balcony. I stood against the railing and peered down at the trapeze artists flying through the air above and below me.

"Stay here," said the Professor. "I have some business to take care of, but I'll be back in the evening. You can look around, but I'll expect to meet you right at this very spot. And don't start practicing, or you'll give me away. We're saving your entrance for tomorrow." With that, the Professor pulled the collar of his coat up around his face, gave me a knowing nod, and stalked away into the crowd.

I didn't mind not being able to use to equipment. There was so much going on around me that I wandered around just watching the people for the next few hours. The gymnasium was filled with circus acrobats of every imaginable description wearing every imaginable article of clothing. I watched them socialize, brag, tell wild stories, and perform incredible feats of skill and daring. I didn't converse with them - after all, I had to keep the Professor's secret - but I was happy just being around them. These were my people. I watched the acrobats who were showing off their best tricks, riding unicycles and juggling baby elephants on the high wire. I was impressed, yet I knew in my heart that I was the best of them all.

It was just as the excitement in the center of the gymnasium was dying down (they were serving dinner in the tennis courts, and a lot of people had left) when I saw him. I was leaning on the rail of the balcony when all of a sudden a flash of green and red streaked past my vision. I looked up suddenly to see him fly by. He moved so quickly, so gracefully, it was if gravity did not apply to him. The kid was good. When finished his routine, landing on the other side of the court, the people below started clapping and cheering. I ran over to the other side of the balcony to get a better look. He didn't seem to notice the small crowd beginning to gather around him as he leaned casually against the railing, wiping the chalk dust from his hands. He seemed to be about my age, but taller and slimmer, with wiry, bright orange hair that was short and swept back from his face. Suddenly he looked up, directly into my eyes. I averted my gaze, blushing. He had caught me staring just at the moment I was thinking about how the bright green of his leotard brought out the color of his eyes. I looked back just in time to hear a voice call, "Vivian!" Heeding the call, he turned away and walked off.

Vivian came to me that night, when the gymnasium was dark and the other trapeze artists were deep in slumber. I was sitting against the wall of the balcony, the Professor slumped over and snoring a few feet away. I couldn't sleep. I noticed someone approaching me, a dark shape moving swiftly along the track.

"Vivian," I said nervously.

He sat down next to me and took my hands. He was smiling. He did not ask my name, or where I came from. It was as if he already knew. In the dim light, I could see the white of his teeth and the smoothness of his face. His green eyes shone brightly. I could feel him breathing.

We made out for hours. We didn't need to speak. We had an understanding that only trapeze artists - only the best trapeze artists - could share. In the dim gray light of the morning, he finally pulled away from me, looked directly into my eyes, and said,

"You should write a mystery novel."

He was smiling. I had no idea what he was talking about, but he continued to speak, jumping from topic to topic violently and without warning. He was completely insane, of course, but I couldn't interrupt him. Oh, that smile!

I felt someone grab me by the shoulders and drag me to my feet. The Professor was awake, and he wasn't pleased. "We have to go now," he snapped. "Get your things." I sleepily picked up my duffel bag, and the Professor took my by the arm and led me downstairs and out of the building.

By the time we reached the train station I started to realize what was happening. "Vivian!" I called out, frightened. "What do you mean? What about mystery novels?" The Professor pushed me into the crowded train car. Before the doors shut, I thought caught a glimpse of Vivian in his green leotard standing on the platform. He was smiling.

I woke up suddenly, sat up straight up in bed, looked at the clock, and realized I was half and hour late for class registration.