Send in the Clown

by Ray Geoghegan

illustration by Amy Yang

Eddie Marsh tried to remember to breathe as he ran. He was fit, but the mob chasing him appeared to have unlimited energy. He was getting dizzy, but there was nowhere else to go but in circles around the first floor of the home. That’s when he realized: the stairs. He knew he wasn’t welcome anywhere except the living room, but these were extenuating circumstances. As he turned the corner, he grabbed the railing and went to take the first step, but his oversized shoes caught on the wood. He tripped and felt the pain of the steps bruising his knee. Still, he didn’t have time to recover. He picked himself up and gripped both railings to keep him upright when his shoes tripped him. Once at the top, he threw his body against a door and tried the doorknob, but his sweaty hands couldn’t grasp the metal. That’s when he heard the stampede travel up the steps. He wiped his hands on his pants and opened the door as fast as he could. As he closed it, he could see two heads emerge from the ledge over the stairs.

He sat with his back against the door. Eyes closed,

he tried to catch his breath. For a second, he thought his heart was beating out of his chest, but as the blood stopped pounding in his ears, he realized it was the children banging on the door. He tried to block out the noise of their laughter and focus on his breathing. He triple-checked that the door was locked. It was unlikely that a group of seven-year-olds could take down an entire door, but he had learned not to underestimate their strength.

After a few minutes, they lost interest, and their voices started to fade. Eddie stood up, uneasy on his feet, and steadied himself with hands on both sides of the sink. Looking into the medicine cabinet mirror, he saw that his white face makeup and overdrawn mouth were smudged. Streaks of red ran along his jaw in the shape of small fingers. The cheap spotted shirt was ripped, exposing his chest. The red wig sat askew. A patch of exposed skin trailed from under his left eye to halfway down his cheek. The only thing that seemed to be intact was his red foam nose. He let out an exasperated sigh that turned into a half-assed laugh.

“The real joke is that I thought I could do this,” Eddie said to himself, staring into the open drain of the sink. He could feel another tear start to slide down his face, hanging at the tip of his nose, ready to fall into the sink, when the woman behind the curtain decided to make herself known.

“The brats got to you, huh,” Miranda slurred. Eddie turned around, startled, as she pulled back the solid white shower curtain. Sitting in the bathtub was a woman with expensive blonde waves, around age forty, in a light blue Calvin Klein day dress, and one white five-inch heel hanging on for dear life while the other perfectly pedicured foot stood bare. She clutched a half-empty bottle of

wine to her chest with her free hand draped over the tub, the white porcelain contrasting with her long pink nails. “I’m sorry,” Eddie stuttered. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“You were busy.” She eyed his torn costume. “I thought I locked that door, so I suppose we’re both surprised.” Miranda continued to examine Eddie as he kept his eyes directed at a certain spot on the ceiling, trying not to seem embarrassed. “Don't worry,” she laughed. “I’m the lady of the house.” She pretended to curtsy from her place in the tub. “You must be the ‘entertainment’ my husband hired. I don’t blame you for running away. I spend most of my time with those monsters; I know how they are. If I could run, I would. Instead, I just have to cope with my little moments.” She held up the bottle of wine on the last word before taking a swig. There was silence as she swished it in her mouth and swallowed. Her joyless eyes stayed trained on the generic wall art in front of her. Eddie felt as if he was watching an intimate moment, but as soon as he built up the courage to tiptoe out, Miranda tapped the side of the tub. “Come, sit down, clown boy. You look like shit. No one wants to see a sad clown. At least not a sober one.”

Eddie thought for a second before slowly lowering himself to the floor and laying his back against the spotless porcelain. Miranda held the wine out for him, and he took it. “I could say the same thing about you,” he said before filling his mouth with the wine. He winced. Glancing at the label, he did a double take. Twenty percent alcohol. Despite this, he let a little more than he planned to slip down his throat.

Miranda laughed. “Aren’t you honest?”

“Just thought I’d return the favor,” he replied, handing

the bottle back.

“Why are you up here, uh, Tom?”

“Tom Foolery is my stage name. I’m Eddie.”

“Well, Eddie, what did the brats do to you?”

Eddie looked up at the ceiling and put his hand up for the bottle. She passed it back, but he didn’t drink. He just held it to his chest like a teddy bear, bracing himself to relive the moment.

“I asked for a volunteer,” he said slowly.

Miranda grimaced. “Yeah, that was your first mistake.”

“The birthday boy, I guess your son, came up. At first, when I got to his level to pull a quarter out of his ear, he grabbed my nose. I laughed it off and took it back. Then, he saw the scarf peeking out of my sleeve and kept pulling. I tried to roll with it but then—” he took a breath and closed his eyes—“he wrapped it around my neck. The kids just laughed and the parents were nowhere to be seen. I pushed him back and got it off. Then he started crying. I didn’t hurt him, at least I don’t think I did, I didn’t mean to. I just pushed him off me. Then one of the boys stood up and yelled, ‘You hurt my friend!’ Then they all started yelling and they ran up before I could stand. They pulled at my wig and ripped my shirt. I’m a grown man; I shouldn’t be overpowered by ten seven-year-olds.”

“Actually, most of them are five. Cyrus was held back, twice,” Miranda added.

“He was held back twice in first grade?” Eddie turned to look at her.

“No, kindergarten,” she sighed.

“You need this more than me.” He passed back the bottle, and she looked at it like an old friend before raising it to her lips. Still drinking, she waved her hand for him to continue.

“Oh, yeah, so I was being overpowered by a bunch of five-year-olds, and there was no hope in sight. It started to go dark and I heard singing, and I thought, ‘Is this really how I die?’ But then I realized that they lowered the lights for the cake. The kids started to light up on me, and that’s when I broke through. I just started running. Then—” Eddie choked. Miranda put her hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath. “Then they started chasing me. First, I heard the steps, then they started yelling. I ran around the stairs twice before coming up, taking two steps at a time. I haven’t run like that in forever.” He sighed and wiped away his tears, taking white makeup into his hands as he did. He looked at the white paint stark against his skin and saw it as a confirmation of defeat.

“This was my first real gig,” he admitted. “I used to be a janitor. I made a lot of money, believe it or not. People will pay through the nose for jobs they don’t want to do. But I wasn’t happy. The only things that made me happy were my dog and my husband. Then my husband left me.”

“Was it because you wanted to be a clown?” Miranda asked, in an expectant voice.

“No, he went back to his ex-girlfriend. His high school sweetheart,” Eddie said mockingly. After a moment, his voice became more solemn. “She’s pregnant. I always wanted kids but he didn’t, and now she’s pregnant and he’s ecstatic.” This was the first time he had said it all aloud before and it felt worse than he had imagined. He took the bottle back for a second in an attempt to chase the feeling away, before passing it back to Miranda.

“What about the dog?” she asked.

“He took the dog.”

“He took the dog?” Miranda asked, sounding offended

on Eddie's behalf.

“He took the dog,” Eddie confirmed.

“You should fight that shit,” she said.

“The dog died.”

“The dog died!” Miranda threw her hands in the air and the wine jumped in the bottle, almost slipping out but falling just short of escaping.

“Then I tried to kill myself.”

“Then you tried to kill yourself.” She lowered her hands again. Eddie left the memory to hang in the air for a second, looking at the inside of his left forearm. Hiding underneath the shiny and colorful sleeves was a scar, still pink. He hadn’t dared to look directly at it since it happened, and he still hadn’t said the words aloud. Yet, here, he let them slip out so easily. He couldn’t take it back, and tugging the red frill of his sleeves into the palms of his hands, he realized he didn’t want to.

“I wasn’t happy,” he continued, testing the waters, giving Miranda a second to object. She didn’t. “I used to be happy, but I couldn’t remember when. All I knew was I thought that I had lost everything that should have made me happy. Then, in the hospital bed, a week after signing those damn divorce papers, I remembered. The last time I remember being happy was here.”

“Here?” Miranda questioned.

“This town,” Eddie said distantly, finding himself within the memory. “I used to visit my cousin during the summers, and it was so different than living in the city. I used to think he seemed so happy here. I thought that the suburbs were just for happy families.” Eddie took a second and laughed. “It was my cousin’s birthday. There was cake and a bounce house, a clown, and other kids that didn’t know me except as the cousin of the birthday boy.

I forgot about that moment for so long. I really thought that the suburbs were where happy people lived and that’s all I wanted. It’s what I still want. I want to be happy. I want a happy family. I thought I would be happy here, or at least that I could be.” The memory drifted in front of him for a moment; close enough to touch but not quite hold.

“I failed,” Eddie said, slicing the silence, his voice breaking as if he hadn’t talked in years. “I thought I could make kids happy and learn how to love myself through that. I thought this was something I could be good at. I failed at my marriage and my life. I’m just a failure.”

“Hey. It’s your first gig. No one is an expert in a day. Being a party clown is difficult; I mean, I haven’t really thought about it before, but it’s like any other job. You don’t have the level of experience of working with kids as you’ll have farther down the line. I’m eight years into being a mother, and I can’t win either.” Miranda patted his head. Eddie could tell by her touch that the alcohol was beginning to hit her more than before.

“That can’t be true,” Eddie said. “You must have learned something.” He looked back at her again and saw that she had rubbed her left eye makeup all over her face. He didn’t say anything.

“I’m a stay-at-home mom. I spend all my free time either with my son who I can’t seem to do anything right with, or with the other moms who all have it right. I can’t stand them. They’re all fake. They’re all monsters.”

“The kids or the moms?”

“Both. Monsters, every single one of them. I guess the kids have an excuse since their brains aren’t fully developed yet. While Cyrus is a handful, at least he keeps me busy. When he’s at school, I basically just day drink. I

can’t tell if this is better. I’m not drinking alone, but I’m drinking with a disheveled party clown on the floor of my bathroom.” She laughed, but the cracks in her voice told Eddie that she was holding back tears.

“But you’re not alone in it,” Eddie added. “You have your husband.”

Miranda laughed. “I haven’t had Liam on my side for a long time. Our relationship used to be so good. At first, we had chemistry. We were fresh out of college. He had this full head of dirty blonde hair and was just so tall. He had a degree in business management, and when he worked at his desk, he just looked so quizzical that it melted my heart. We thought we’d never run out of things to talk about. We didn’t know we were still kids. Now he’s lost half his hair and I feel like I tower over him. And that look in his eye while he works, it’s died out into something hollow I can’t help but resent. All he talks about is his job, and the life of a hardware store manager isn’t exactly exhilarating.” She took another sip of the wine and clicked her tongue. “We never even fuck anymore. It’s not like I’m the one who let myself go. I mean these,” she said, grabbing her breasts, “these are real.”

Eddie looked at her and nodded, starting to feel a little more than tipsy himself. “They’re great,” he nodded.

“I know they are,” she said, looking down at them and giving them each an air kiss. “And you can’t say that about most of the other women in this town. I mean, I’m hot. I’m his hot wife who could very well be having an affair with the very handsome single dad down the street, but I love him, or maybe I did. He hasn’t even come looking for me.” She looked down and twisted her mouth to the side. “To be honest, I left that door unlocked. I was hoping

to rehab or something, at least that would show that he cared. I thought maybe we could fix it, but I’m not so sure.”

“I really don’t think so.”

“If you really love each other, you can fix anything. I wish Ethan tried before he divorced me. I thought we were happy, but the spark was gone for him. If he had told me what he wanted me to be, how he wanted me to change, I would have done it. Maybe I would have been happier that way. Sometimes sparks dull but you just need to have an open conversation to start them up again. It just takes a little extra effort—”

“He tried to buy our babysitter’s bathwater,” Miranda blurted.

“What?” Eddie asked, assuming he had heard wrong, hoping he heard wrong.

“Liam tried to buy bathwater from our babysitter,” she repeated with her eyes fixed on the bottle in her hands. “She’s only seventeen. He approached her about a month ago. She was about to leave and he stopped her. I wasn’t home yet. I was out at book club or somewhere else stupid I didn’t want to be. He told her that next time she took a bath, if she put some of the water in a Tupperware container, he would give her fifty dollars. She said no, so he upped it to seventy-five, and then a hundred. If she kept it coming he would give her advances as time went on. She said she’d think about it. The next time I saw her, I thought she looked uncomfortable. I had to drag the information out of her, but she told me eventually. My first thought was that the man that I married never would have done that. But we were young back then, and now it’s almost twenty years later, and what am I supposed to do, be surprised he’s interested in younger girls that look

like his type, that look like I did twenty years ago? Did we outgrow each other? Am I at fault for this, for aging?”

“What did you do?” Eddie asked propping his head up on the rim of the tub, body twisted, enthralled.

“I told her to tell him she’d do it.”

“What!”

“I told her to tell him yes, and I would leave water in a Tupperware container in the cabinet for her to give him at the end of her shifts. She could keep the money he gave her.”

“What water are you giving him? Your bathwater?”

“No, it’s bath salts in tap water, sometimes our son’s bubble bath, but he wouldn’t recognize the smell, and a special ingredient.” Her face grew stern and she looked straight ahead at the wall art again, her knuckles turning white as she tightened her grip on the bottle.

“Are you poisoning your husband?” Eddie asked, begging any higher power that he wasn’t drunkenly bonding with a black widow. He knew he was far too drunk at his point to handle this level of a shift in conversation and the morals involved.

No,” she chuckled. “Not that I haven’t thought about it, but no.” She took another sip before continuing. “Our dog has awful dandruff. I mean, he’s medicated for it, it’s so bad. It helps a little, but he sheds more skin than fur at this point. Liam thinks it’s disgusting.”

“Oh no,” Eddie whispered.

“I put the fucking dog dandruff in the bathwater.” She looked him right in the eye now. “I’m sure you’re aware of what people who buy bathwater do with it.”

Eddie shook his head, not to say that he didn’t know, but rather in horror because he did.

“They drink it, Eddie.” Her eyes grew wide with power

and anger. “I’m making him drink salty dog dandruff water. I think I hate him.”

“Do you? Really?” Eddie asked.

“I do, I really think I hate him. I love him, but I hate him. I have never been more in love than I was with the man he used to be and I can’t let that go, but I hate him. I hate this life. I never wanted to be a mother, but you can’t get an abortion if you’re married. At least, that’s what I thought. Abortions are for teenagers and single women. I didn’t have a right to that kind of scapegoat. I wouldn’t even know how to make that kind of appointment. Would I call my gyno or my primary and ask, ‘Hey, do you do abortions? Can you give me a recommendation? Yelp hasn’t been very helpful.’ It just didn’t seem like an option. Then Liam seemed so excited when I told him, especially when he found out it was a boy, but I never had that. I wanted to feel his excitement, but I couldn’t. I kept thinking that it would all make sense when I held him, but when the time came, I still didn’t feel it.

“Now it’s been years, and I’m the one stuck with the eight-year-old kindergartner every day. I hate having to make his lunches and keep up with what foods he’s decided he doesn’t like. I hate having to go to PTA meetings and parent-teacher conferences where I’m being criticized for how I’m raising him. I hate bath time and playdates. I never wanted to change diapers. He spends every day with me, and I try to teach him how to act, but no matter how much I try, he’s becoming a person I don’t like. His teacher recommended that I get a nanny.” She laughed. “I need to pay someone to take care of my son because I can’t. I could, we have the money, but then what would I do? Drink myself to death? The things the people in this town would say about me. I can’t let them get that

satisfaction.” She took a swig. “Not them, and not my shell of a husband. Did I tell you he’s paying our teenage babysitter a hundred dollars for dog dandruff water?”

Eddie stared at her, unsure of what to say. The silence kept the air still, and when the time came, the only words Eddie could manage were, “Liam sucks.”

Miranda looked at him and laughed wholeheartedly, but the tears were beginning to pool in the corners of her eyes. “Liam does suck.” She downed the bottle and cuddled it with her face to the label. “This wine will be my husband. He makes me happy.” Eddie stood up and laughed a little too. He looked at himself in the mirror, and in a futile attempt, he tried to straighten out his ripped shirt. Miranda laughed at him, and so he just took it off completely. He leaned over to the door and unlocked it.

“What are you doing?” Miranda shot up, no longer laughing.

“We’ve been here for too long. The party is probably over by now, and we should both drink some water. And you need to have a conversation with Liam.” Eddie reached out his arms but Miranda refused. “Come on,” he urged her again. She refused, again, so he grabbed her from under her arms and heaved her up onto her feet. Once upright, the color drained from her face. From the look of her heavy eyes, it was evident that she was drunker than originally thought. Eddie held her by the waist as she slowly stepped out of the tub, abandoning her other heel in the process. Even when she had both bare feet on the cool tiles, she was unsteady. When he started to pull away, she grabbed him by the arm.

“I . . . I go down if you don’t hold me up,” she slurred.

“Hold you,” he responded, and in his drunken brain,

he decided that he needed to carry her in his arms. Unsteadily, he reached down and picked her up. She started to fight back, and in doing so the bottle fell out of her hands. It fell against the beautiful blue-tiled floor and left white specks in the crash. There was a deafening silence again, broken by Miranda moaning and cuddling up to Eddie’s chest.

“Actually, I like this. You’re very warm. And smooth. And firm. You might be a little too buff for a party clown. You either need to find a new job or let yourself go,” Miranda said. They were both laughing when Liam busted through the door. Eddie had seen Liam before, but with the new information he had gathered, he really took him in. He was tall, but Eddie hadn’t really noticed it before. Miranda had a point. His presentation made him look small; his eyes had bags under them and his forehead wrinkled. His shoulders were hunched and his bald spot shined in the bright bathroom light. Eddie held back laughter as Liam’s face grew angry.

“What’s going on—Miranda? Tom Foolery? Of course, you’re in here. What are you doing, messing around with my wife while you’re supposed to be entertaining the kids?” Liam took a step before looking down at the ground and stopping at the glass. “So, you got her drunk too?”

“No, I found her like this,” Eddie explained. “We were just talking, nothing funny. I tried to do the job but the kids—”

“Listen, I don’t need an explanation, clown boy.”

Miranda popped her head up. “Shut up Liam, clown boy here is taking better care of me than you have since I spat out your kid. He’s listening. He cares. Clown boy, take me to my bed.”

Eddie smiled uncomfortably at the now-fuming husband. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m going to give you to your husband, and I’m going to clean up the glass.”

Liam ripped Miranda from his arms.

“No, put me down! I don’t want you, I want Eddie.” Miranda struggled.

“What the fuck did you do to her? Did you fuck my wife?” Liam spat, lower jaw extended, almost resembling a caveman.

“Of course not,” Eddie tried to say, but Miranda chirped in.

“He fucked me more than you have in the last five years. How does that feel? To be out-fucked by a clown?” Liam put her down on the floor, but she fell back onto him. “You know what? You’re the real clown here, Liam.”

“Hey, you ungrateful drunk, I provide for you. I pay for the food, and the house. I pay for your nails, your hair, your expensive dresses and heels, your goddamn wine. I’m the only thing keeping this family together. Don’t you dare—” On that word, he grabbed her by the wrists.

Something broke inside of Eddie. He stepped in the glass in his big clown shoes, and slipped as he pushed Liam in the chest. He stumbled back as Miranda fell to her knees.

“Don’t lay a hand on her. You don’t deserve her. You’re a shell of a man and here you are, tormenting a real person, probably the only real person I’ve ever met. You don’t love her right.”

“And you think you can do better?”

“I think a lopsided turd on the side of the road could do better than you.”

“You don’t fucking know me, or my marriage.”

“But I know your type. You’re some cretin built on

toxic masculinity who wants to pretend like he’s the head of the household, when the only thing you really control is how miserable everyone else is. You know what, I will tell you what I did to your wife: I listened to her. We had a conversation. Something you haven’t done in a long time. You should try it; maybe then you would remember how great the woman you married is.” Eddie pushed Liam a little on the shoulders to punctuate the argument. Liam pushed back harder, much harder. It took Eddie a second to realize that this was the beginning of a fight, but by then it was too late. Liam punched him in the eye and he fell to the floor, just missing the glass.

“You have no place to say anything about my marriage.” Liam said, towering over him. “You’re a party clown, and a shitty one at that. You have absolutely no right to discuss my life with me after spending an hour with my melodramatic wife. Now I have to clean up the mess you made in my home.” Liam then turned to Miranda and picked her up like a rag doll. When she stood up, there were cuts up and down her legs from the bloody glass shards left on the tile.

“Miranda, you’re hurt. Where do you keep your rubbing alcohol?” Eddie stood up and began to open the medicine cabinet, searching the shelves.

“Shut the fuck up, get out of my house,” said Liam.

“But she’s hurt.”

“I’ll take care of her, I’m her husband.”

“You haven’t taken care of her in years,” Eddie said, defiance in his eyes. He reached down towards Miranda. Before he knew what was happening, Liam punched him in the face. Somehow, Eddie was able to stay upright. In a moment of adrenaline, he swung at Liam, but he dodged it with ease. Liam swung back and this time Eddie fell

to the floor, hitting his head on the side of the tub. He touched it and felt the blood trickling from the back of his skull. When he looked back over, Miranda was slung over Liam’s shoulder.

“I think you’ve done enough. Get the hell out of my house.” Liam said, and with that, he walked out and didn’t look back.

As Eddie climbed up to his feet, he used the sink to balance himself. Standing up right, he closed the medicine cabinet. He was forced to face the mirror one more time. He saw the half-beaten shirtless clown. A black eye would soon add to the look, and he didn’t want to even look at the wound on the back of his head. He wanted to laugh and cry and drink more wine or even something a little bit stronger. Despite what he wanted to do, what he needed was to go home, throw up, and sleep the day off. He took off his clown nose, and when he turned, he saw Cyrus standing in the doorway. He stepped out of the bathroom and into the dark hallway, and as he passed the little boy, he ruffled his hair.

“Eddie,” Miranda shouted from down the hall. Eddie and Cyrus looked towards her. She was on her bed and they could see her through the door. “Don’t be like me.” Liam closed the door but she kept shouting. It was muffled but they could still hear her. “Don’t be like me! Don’t let other people decide who you are! Fight back!”

“Shut up, you drunk,” Liam said, loud enough for them to hear. “Give me your leg, let’s get this glass out.” In a softer, kinder voice, Eddie could just make out Liam saying, “I think it’s time we get you some help.”

After a moment, Cyrus looked up at Eddie. “You’re a shitty clown.”

He let slip a laugh. “Well, you’re a shitty kid.”

Cyrus furrowed his brow. “You’re a big person, you should be better.”

Eddie laughed. “Maybe I should, but hey, it’s my first party.” He gave the boy the nose and left the house feeling a little more hopeful.