Something Else

It is the summer before Junior year of high school. I'm a dorky kid, but I'm figuring it out (this is a clever way of falsely implying I've 'figured it out' by now) and I'm sporting some impressively unimpressive side burns and a hefty head of hair courtesy of I'm 16 Years Old And Barely Trying.

I was in the Troupe program at the Masque, this was my first and final year in the Storyteller Troupe. For two years prior I had been in the Mime Troupe. Every summer the three troupes (the Puppet troupe being the missing link) would take separate weekends to travel north to the Renaissance Festival and perform for two straight days.

I'm making an executive decision to not expound upon what the Festival amounts to. Those of you who have been there know what it is, and those of you who haven't probably have a good idea. It's a silly place, really, and I know what it was to me is not what it really is, but I loved it lots.

This summer was the final year the Masque Troupes would be making the annual journey to Ren Fest, and while it was always something to look forward to, this being the last hurrah made it something of an extra big deal.

We arrived that Friday evening, ready to spend the next two days clothed in our pluming white costume and frilly colored collars and hats (I was the blue clown, thank you) traveling around the grounds from stage to stage to perform semi-clever original pieces in front of small, unforgiving audiences.

Past years we had arrived early enough to spend some time in character on the grounds, but due to chaperon confusion there was a delay, and by the time we rolled in it was near closing time and most of the patrons had filed out. We set up camp, pitched the two tents, and ambled about for the rest of the evening.

I was the only guy in the troupe and was good friends with most of the others. The Red Clown, however, was something of my nemesis and I did all I could to avoid her. The youngest two, the Green and Orange clowns, were the best at playing nice with Red, so I generally would leave them to it and wander off with Purple Clown and Rachel.

Oh, Rachel...

She had just graduated that June, and it being near the end of August she was about ready to head off for college. She hadn't been able to commit the time to rehearsals to be in the troupe itself, but it being her last summer with us all she had to do was ask and she was along for the ride.

I had always had a dorky crush on her. I was in awe of her, in a way. We never hung out outside of the Masque, but when we spent time together at the theatre I always felt like we got along swimmingly.

She had said once, during rehearsals for the spring play months before, while we joked about something or another:

I had always thought, Andrew, that if you were only a few years older we would make a super couple.

Well fuck, I thought. No problem. But no matter how hard I focused, I could not will myself a few years older.

But we wandered off, Purple, Rachel, and myself, onto the grounds. It was well after close now and, aside from a few handymen here and there, the place was deserted.

We three made our way to a small stage hidden by a cluster of trees. There was a small bridge that jumped off stage left over the small pond that Little John would fall into time after time day after day because Robin Hood is such a silly trickster.

We sat around, the two ladies did most of the talking, Rachel apprehensive about college, Purple Clown excited to be a senior and politically active member of society. I just sat there through most of it. Until Rachel turned to me after a time and asked:

'Do you still hang out with Alex?'

I did, of course, still do. Alex was my good friend. One year my senior, one her junior, Alex and Rachel had pseudo-dated for a short time that had ended only weeks before. The details of their relationship were always curious to me; the two were so terribly different, Alex being a nut-scratching burnout and Rachel a romantic cynic and future philosophy major. It had, in the end, turned out to be not much of a relationship. They spent most of their time together at the theatre, and the rest was, as far as I could tell, delegated to secret activities. Such as kissing and hugging.

'I don't know what he said to you about our relationship or whatever,' she said to both me and Purple Clown. 'But I feel like I need you to know that it's a weird thing for me. Like, I never considered him my boyfriend or anything. I just liked hanging out with him for a while, but he's an ass.'

He certainly can be.

'Did he talk to you about us at all?'

'Not really,' I said. He hadn't. 'He was pretty smug about it for a while.' I hesitated. 'He said you gave him a blowjob on his birthday.'

And she slapped me. I had never been slapped so hard (though I can proudly say we've topped it since). I remember it taking a moment for me to remember where I was and I squinted up at her with an
'aauuughhh the hell?'

She stared at me for a moment, held eye contact with me for an uncomfortable amount of time. I cocked my head. 'I'm sorry?'

'He's an ass,' she said. And she stood up.

We walked through some paths, the three of us talking, but not talking. Purple Clown occasionally proving she reads books by sharing an unsolicited fact or two.

We eventually made our way back to camp. The sun was all gone, and it was prudent to get some sleep because waking up would come very early.

Clowns Red, Orange, and Green had already taken refuge in their tent, and I jumped in the empty one while Rachel and Purple wrapped up their ladies room business. Rachel came back first, tucked in to her sleeping bag quickly. She was very quiet and very sad. I scooted up next to her and asked her what was wrong.

'I don't know...'

I wait.

'I did give him a blowjob on his birthday,' she continued. 'That's why I slapped you.'

'I figured.'

She was quiet, sniffling through tears. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I lay there for a long while until finally I moved closer, lay my head by her shoulder and wrapped my arm around her belly and hugged her.

'It's just something so stupid,' she said eventually. 'I feel like I'm always upset about something so stupid. Something so trivial. And I know that in a year, two, maybe just a few months, it won't even matter. I'll have forgotten all about it.

But that's no comfort.'

And I didn't say anything. I just hugged her a little bit tighter, because I know what she means.