Fly

Genevieve Grabman

Twenty-three feet in the air, William steadied himself, toes over the platform’s edge. His wig of black, shoulder-length hair itched his neck. He hoped it wouldn’t fall off; only a stocking cap kept it in place. It needed to remain on his head for 60 seconds at most. As for his sparkly, gold stretch pants, they revealed too much but at least they fit well. Months of practice had honed his physique.

William’s son, James, was somewhere down below in the crowd, probably dying of mortification. It would be hard for any 15-year-old boy to see his father in public, dressed as a mermaid. William had tried to point out that the male equivalent of a mermaid was a merman, but James was unconvinced that being a merman made William’s trapeze obsession more appropriate. James suspected illicit interactions involving furries or bronies or that William had moved from being a conventionally embarrassing parent to completely insane. At least he had come to the show at all, if begrudgingly; James’ older sister couldn’t be bothered to tear herself away from her phone long enough to acknowledge her father’s existence. After enduring James’ eyerolls and snide comments for weeks, William hoped he’d be impressed. William would prove to the kid that his old man still had it.

The girls should convert James to William’s cause. What teenaged boy doesn’t like girls? For a sport invented by Frenchmen and dominated by fraternal groups like the Ringling Brothers and the Flying Wallendas, recreational trapeze had shifted to become the feminine domain of college co-eds and 20-somethings. Tonight, there were so many girls—nymphs dressed in nude-colored mesh tops with artfully-placed conch shells, as if they were topless sea creatures. They lounged, draping themselves on their merman as they waited for their turn on the trapeze. Most were just a few years older than James, all wearing tight leggings or, as William assiduously attempted not to notice but James certainly would, booty shorts.

Or maybe William’s bevy of mermaids just added to James’ discomfort. After founding trapeze as a testosterone-drenched sport and death-defying diversion, men—especially those old enough to be fathers—are disappearing from the trapeze rig and from circus performance. Is it normal for a middle-aged man to pal around with girls half his age? And to spend hours a week with them, dangling upside down? William wasn’t sure what normal was anymore. But the relationships he had at trapeze far eclipsed his current disaster of a home life, so William also didn’t care. Normal or not, the girls were warm and interested in him, which no one in his house was. Trapeze was William’s new home.

William wondered if Linda had made it in time for the show. She’d dropped off James and William’s parents, saying that she would look for parking, a virtually impossible task on a Friday night in the middle of the city. From his years of coming to class twice a week, William knew all the secret parking spots where the police were unlikely to ticket or tow. This was Linda’s first time in the neighborhood; she’d likely get suckered into paying exorbitant rates at a private parking garage. He should have explained to her where to park, but William was still getting his merman makeup done when Linda pulled up.

“Go, William!” His father’s voice. Squinting down from the platform through the spotlights, William thought that he saw a trio of grey-haired heads to his right. His mom, dad, and oh, yes, Linda had arrived. William was relieved. He really wanted Linda to see the culmination of his work. He’d shown her the videos the girls had recorded of his practice sessions, but those aren’t the same as seeing the trick in person. Videos can’t capture the height of the platform, the parabola of the swing, the strain of the trick, the power of the catch, the elegance of a controlled fall, the bounce of the net. The scale and the drama of trapeze could only be conveyed in person.

When she saw his trick, maybe Linda, too, would be awestruck, if for a moment. Maybe that awe would turn into admiration, which would morph into sincerity, which would result in a hug, maybe even a kiss. That she would swoon with desire would be unreasonable to expect, but a hug would be nice. His mom and dad certainly would hug him, his father bursting with pride and his mother chattering away about her marvelous son to all who would listen.

But paternal and maternal hugs are greatly different from a lover’s embrace, which is what William wanted. After 25 years of marriage and two children, Linda and William were good friends. Though they still inhabited the same space—for now, until Linda kicked him out—William ached with loneliness. With Linda’s studied politeness towards him, William missed her physical contact the most.

For the intimacy-parched, trapeze is a long drink of cool water. Each class is 120 minutes of touching. Students hug one another before and after class. The instructors hug the students after each trip off the platform and to the net. Someone helps every student put a safety belt on, and the board instructor checks the belt buckle with each ladder climb. Attaching the safety lines to the belt results in another embrace, as the instructor grasps the student from the back to clip him into chords dangling from pulleys and attached to a strongman or woman on the floor. If the flyer is caught by the catcher, more touching occurs, as the catcher arcs through the air with the student dangling from him. Should the flyer be able to complete his trick, re-catch the bar, and propel himself to the platform, the board instructor full-body-scoops the student back to safety, rewarding his efforts by clasping him with both arms against the instructor’s chest. The flyer is greeted with additional hugs, high-fives, and fist-bumps all around for the successful return.

With one arm, William pulled back on the ladder’s support beam. With the other, he grasped the trapeze bar in the middle and absorbed its weight. He drew back his shoulder and let the bar’s pull transfer through his upper back to his lateral muscles under his arms. He pulled himself to his full height, took a deep breath, and shouted, “Listo!”

The crowd was silent and a soccer field away, telescoped into view. Across feet of space, a half-naked man on the catching bar began to swing, each sweep going higher and higher. Crossing his feet at the ankles, he signaled the circus magic was ready to begin. Then, he flipped upside down and extended his arms: “Hep!”

William leapt up and swung out over the abyss.