the juggler

by Jacob Wrich

The red curtain pulls back and the juggler steps forward to the center of the stage. Squinting into the spotlight, he can see nothing but a blinding white. He pauses, closes his eyes, listens. A sprinkling of applause. The spotlight dims and his eyes adjust accordingly. The juggler centers himself. He presents three balls—red, yellow and blue—to the audience.

Silence.

The juggler throws the red ball into the air, then the blue, then the yellow. He keeps them aloft one after another in a steady flow. The audience rips into a booming applause.

More and more people have begun to fill the seats. The applause swells. The juggler looks out at their smiling and cheering faces. Does he recognize anyone?

The yellow ball drops to the floor, followed by the red and blue.

The juggler blushes, wipes sweat from his brow and shakes his head. The audience begins to clap rhythmically. Some yell words of encouragement.

“That’s okay. Just pick them up and start again.”

“You can do it! You got this!”

The juggler picks up the balls and begins throwing them in the air again. A tepid applause. The juggler finds his flow and, with growing confidence, begins to throw the balls higher and higher into the air. A wave of applause and cheers swell again. Between throws, the juggler pulls a fourth, green ball, from the pocket of his black pants and throws it in the air.

The crowd cheers again. In the distance, he can see a few audience members leave their seats and walk toward the exits. The juggler throws the balls higher into the air and spins on the heel of his left foot in a full circle, catching the balls and continuing to juggle. The audience cheers loudly and some of the exiting audience members pause in the aisles and continue watching, perhaps they will return to their seats.

His confidence growing, the juggler pulls a purple ball from his pocket and begins juggling that as well. Keeping five balls in the air, the juggler spins again on the heel of his left foot, but this time, he misses catching the purple ball and all five balls drop to the stage. The audience sighs, already tiring of the routine. Those paused in the aisles exit the theater.  

The juggler holds two hands out to the audience and smiles as if to say, Wait, I have something more for you. He moves to the wing of the stage, drinks from a bottle of water and returns with a tall, black top hat inside of which he has placed three large knives.

He centers himself onstage, the spotlight broadens, and the juggler sets the top hat upside down in front of his shiny, black shoes, removes the three knives, touches the tip of one and holds his finger up to the audience to show a slow trickle of blood. The audience members sit back in their chairs and hold their collective breath as the juggler begins flipping the three knives in front of him. The audience claps, though not too loudly. With the ball drops earlier in the show, perhaps they worry that the juggler could lose his concentration, leaving them witness to a tragic turn of events.

But the juggler continues deftly juggling the knives, throwing them higher and higher into the air. He steps forward, placing his right foot inside the top hat on the stage in front of him. With the flick of the toes, he kicks the top hat up into the air. It flips end-over-end as the knives continue swirling, each blade mesmerizingly reflecting the spotlight. The top hat lands safely on the juggler’s head. The audience, now more confident of the juggler’s abilities, rips into a thunderous applause.

The juggler then throws a knife high in the air and it rotates down, blade first, stabbing into the top hat that rests on his head. The audience gasps. Then the second knife comes down next to the first one. Finally, the third knife lands in the top hat.

The juggler removes the top hat, pulls the knives out, and bends his arm in front of his waist as he takes a deep bow. The audience applauds and yells their approval.  

The juggler walks behind a black curtain in the wing of the stage. He looks down at his hands and sees small cuts and smeared blood. He pours some water on his hands and wipes them with a white hand towel. He wipes the sweat from his brow and takes a deep breath. He lifts his hand to his head, and beneath his thick hair, he feels wetness. Looking at his hand, he sees oily maroon blood where one of the knives came down with such force that it nicked his scalp. He can hear the audience begin to chatter impatiently. He takes two deep breaths and another drink of water.

The juggler returns to center stage with a metal bucket filled with five narrow juggling pins. The audience gives only a mild applause. Many continue with their conversations despite the juggler’s return.

The juggler squints into the audience. In the front row, he sees a beautiful woman sitting beside an older couple. The woman is wearing a red dress. Her golden hair has been tightly curled as though she were going to some prestigious party in the 1920s. The juggler walks to the front of the stage and asks for a volunteer. Several hands go up, but he points to the woman in the red dress.

The woman waves her hands to indicate that she doesn’t want to come up on stage. But the juggler persists, and with the encouragement of the audience, the woman in the red dress surrenders and walks to the side of the stage.

The juggler holds out one hand to help her up the stairs then gestures with his other hand to indicate to the audience that now is the time to applaud the woman’s bravery. The juggler has the woman stand ten feet to his left and gives her a Zippo lighter. He sets the bucket of juggling pins at her feet and shows her where to hold each pin and how to light the end of the pins on fire with the Zippo.

The juggler lifts his arms for the audience to encourage the woman in the red dress as she lifts the first pin out of the bucket and lights the end of it on fire. The juggler then motions the woman to throw the pin to him, which she hesitantly does. It’s a low throw, but the juggler catches it and begins throwing it up and catching it over and over as he tells her to do it again.

The woman in the red dress does this again and again until the juggler is throwing all five pins in the air. The lighting technician turns down the spotlight to increase the intensity of the flames. The audience cheers, a few even get to their feet. The juggler nods and asks the woman to bring the bucket over to him. She complies and sets the bucket at his feet. One by one, he catches and returns the pins to the metal bucket where the fires die.

The juggler takes a deep bow and again gestures for the audience to give a round of applause to the woman in the red dress. Almost in a trance, the juggler watches the woman’s elegant figure as she walks off stage, down the stairs and returns to her seat.  

The juggler picks up the bucket of extinguished pins and carries it to the wing of the stage, out of sight of the audience. He looks down at his fingers and palms and sees blisters beginning to form, some from friction and others from small burns from juggling fire. His hands look older now, calloused and used. They no longer appear graceful like they did at the beginning of his act, but instead resemble two worn-out tools, dull and utilitarian. He loosens his bowtie, unbuttons his top button, mops his forehead with a towel and takes a drink of water.

The audience’s restlessness grows. He can hear stomping and yelling. The room begins to smell of beer and sweat. He peeks around the curtain and can see a bartender in the back has begun giving alcohol to the crowd. He sighs and returns to the stage with nine rings looped on his left arm.

The juggler centers himself on the stage, and despite the difficulty of the trick he’s about to perform, he finds his attention diverting to the woman in the red dress. He stares at her as the crowd yells at him to entertain them. He notices that the woman’s face appears tired, though still quite beautiful, in the darkness of the crowd. He also notices that the older couple that was sitting with her have left but that two children, a boy and a girl are now sitting on either side of her. A glass of beer lands onstage near the juggler’s feet as other audience members yell cheers of, “C’mon, let’s go, we’re waiting.”

The juggler takes a deep breath and removes one ring from his arm. He looks up at the ceiling and carefully places the ring on the bridge of his nose, slowly releasing it so it balances there. He then takes four rings in his right hand and four in his left and begins juggling eight rings as he continues to balance the ninth ring on his nose.

The audience smiles and laughs. Some people yell for the juggler to do more. After only a brief time of watching the juggler balance and juggle the rings, the audience becomes impatient. They yell, “More! Do more! We paid good money for this!”

The juggler throws the rings higher and higher into the air, his arms moving rapidly. He throws them from behind his back. The audience briefly applauds the effort, but then yells to do more, do more. His arms tiring, the juggler tries to spin around while juggling the rings and balancing the ring on his nose, but in turning, he slips on the spilled beer and falls, the rings raining down around him.

The audience begins throwing cups of beer and yelling insults. They demand their money back. Lying on his back, the juggler feels cold beer soaking into his clothing. Tears begin to sprout from his eyes. He turns his head and sees the woman in red in the front row. She’s standing with one hand covering her mouth and another hand reaching toward him. Does she feel sorry for him? Yes, but there seems to be something more. The children that sat beside her have left the theater.

The juggler knows that the show must go on, but his hands are burnt and bleeding, he’s soaked in beer, his arms are tired, and the tears have made it hard to see. Most of the audience has left but for a smattering of random people and the woman in the red dress. He pushes himself up off the floor and moves to the wing of the stage and returns with three balls—yellow, red and blue.

The juggler begins throwing the three balls in the air. None of the remaining audience members applaud. They just watch him with a sense of pity. For the woman in the red dress, there seems to be something beyond pity in her eyes. Empathy maybe? But not quite that.

The juggler drops one of the balls and quickly picks it up and begins juggling again, but his hands hurt so much that every time he catches one, he winces in pain. He drops the balls again, picks them up and closes his eyes.

When he opens his eyes, the juggler sees that he is no longer in the theater. He is standing in a bright and hot desert. Gales blow dust across the thickets and the hills and into his eyes. He begins to juggle again. It has become habit now, like breathing. Large birds swirl in the wind, their shadows juggling around him.

In the distance, the juggler sees the backyard of a house, a white, stucco rambler with an iron fence and a concrete patio surrounding a crisp, blue swimming pool. A man stands at a silver grill, smoke pluming up around him. A beautiful woman in tan shorts, a red tank top and a sun visor enters the back yard from a sliding glass door. She hands the man a bottle of beer. He leans in and kisses her on the cheek.

Splashes of water fly up from the swimming pool as a boy and girl throw a striped inflatable ball back and forth to each other across the water. The girl throws the ball over the boy’s head. The boy climbs out the side of the pool, his body just narrow muscles and sinew. He retrieves the ball and tosses it to his sister then cannonballs into the pool. The waterdrops arch all the way to the feet of his mother who sits in a chaise lounge, reading a book.

The juggler’s gaze is interrupted by a vulture that has landed near him in the hot desert sand. He rises slowly to his feet, wipes the dust from his eyes, picks up the yellow ball, then the red and blue. He begins juggling again and the vulture hops away and flies back into the hot, blue sky. But the juggler is tired and drops the balls again. He picks them up and begins juggling again. In the distance, the family have begun to eat around a patio table shadowed by pergola.

The juggler drops the balls again. The vultures descend. He picks up the balls and begins juggling. Over and over, he drops the balls, each time only able to juggle briefly before he drops them. The vultures encompass him in a broad circle, hopping and spreading their wings.

In the distance, the family has finished dinner. The woman in the red tank top is carrying dishes into the house. The girl is climbing onto a donut-shaped raft in the pool. The man is standing on the concrete patio with his son. He is teaching the boy to juggle.   

Photo of Jacob Wrich

BIO: Jacob Wrich is the author of two short story collections, The Prodigals and Monsters in America. His work has appeared in Narrative Magazine, Literally Stories, The Fiction Pool and Oyster River Pages. He recieved his MFA in English from the University of St. Thomas. He lives and works in Minnesota.