Why did u leave me?

Those last lines became harder to make out the more he repeated the question, like he’d stabbed the pen in so harshly it tore the paper, a manifestation of the pain he felt inside. I read it so many times the letters started to blur, mostly because I was still crying.

I hate that I still love u.

That was the line that made me cry the most. Jack still loved his brother. Even though he hated him, he still loved him. The declaration was so raw, I could almost feel the hurt like it was my own. Somehow I had to figure out a way to help him. I smoothed out the letter more, then folded it neatly and tucked it in my pocket. I had an idea, but it was so fucking risky. I definitely wasn’t Jack’s favourite person right now, but if I did this, I could ruin things between us completely.

Would it be worth it to reunite him with Jay?

Inside the camper, Violet gave me a look as if to ask, What the hell was all that with Jack earlier? Then she saw my reddened eyes and kept quiet. It was clear that I’d been crying. Lola was groggily eating tea and toast in bed. She still wasn’t over her flu, and last night’s attack had only worsened matters. I asked how she was, then asked if I could use her phone. Weakly, she told me I could use it whenever I wanted, that I didn’t have to ask.

It didn’t take me long to find two mailing addresses for Jay Fields. One looked like a P.O. Box, and the other was for a hotel in Las Vegas. I decided to use the latter, because who knew how many adoring fans sent letters to his P.O. Box, and mine would only get lost amid the masses. I was incredibly nervous as I composed my message to him, and I still questioned if I even had any right to be doing this. My heart fluttered like an electrocuted butterfly. It was completely dodgy, but I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Something in my gut told me this was the right thing to do. I had to sacrifice what little Jack and I had in order to give him something more.

Dear Jay,

You don’t know me. My name’s Lille Baker. Very recently I met a man named Jack. Our relationship isn’t an easy one to explain, but I feel very protective of him. I want to help him, even if he doesn’t know he needs it yet.

He confided in me. Told me about how his parents died in a house fire and how his brother abandoned him.

I think that brother is you. And somehow, I feel like there’s more to this story than meets the eye. Jack’s feelings are still all messed up, so I encouraged him to write you a letter telling you how he feels. We never planned on sending it. It was supposed to be therapeutic. After he wrote it, he got upset and threw it away.

I picked it out of the rubbish and decided to send it to you.

He doesn’t know I’m writing this. He’s a performer with the Circus Spektakulär. We’re currently doing shows in Orléans in France; next week we move on to Lyon, and after that I’m not sure. I think you should come find us. Come see your brother after all these years, Jay. He’s an incredible person, and I’ve been fascinated by him since the very first time we met.

I hope you read this letter sooner rather than later.

Yours sincerely,

Lille.

***

I walked to the post office and sent the letter right after I’d written it, because if I waited, I knew I’d lose my nerve. After that I explored the city for a while, visiting an old church and browsing in the shops, mostly in an effort to calm my beating heart. Sending that letter could either turn out to be the best thing I’d ever done, or the worst.

I found an electronics store and bought a cheap phone, then sat in a little café by the river and had something to eat. When I arrived back at the circus, there was only enough time for me to give Lola some flu medicine before I had to go and cover for her at the refreshments stand. It was much harder work than painting faces, and by the time the show was over, I had blisters on my feet from standing for so long.

My stomach complained about not being fed, so I made my way to the gazebo to see if there was any food left from dinner. There wasn’t. In fact, I briefly considered leaving right away because there was a wild party going on, lots of local men and women mixed in with the circus workers. It was a little too rowdy for my tastes. Still, seeing King sitting by himself in a corner, nursing a bottle of cheap-looking vodka, I went and sat beside him. He didn’t smell so great, which made me all the more curious about my urge to be in his company. Even though he was drunk all the time, and even though I was a tiny bit scared of him, there was something about him that made me feel like he saw the world more clearly than any of us sober people.

“Your boyfriend’s over there,” he muttered, his head turning lazily to me, eyes bleary and bloodshot.

I looked in the direction he gestured, and saw Jack sitting with a group of men and women. He held a can of beer in his hand and wore a blank stare as a brunette spoke in his ear, alternating between touching his arm and running her hand along his leg. My heart lurched possessively to see another woman all over him, especially considering what had been brewing between us. I swallowed back the emotion, trying not to let the pain I felt inside bubble to the surface.

“If he was my boyfriend, he wouldn’t have some French tart all over him right now,” I said, my skin prickling with jealousy.

King laughed loudly, which garnered Jack’s attention. His eyes found me immediately, blazing with some kind of emotion. His gaze darkened, and then all of a sudden he wasn’t blanking the brunette anymore. He put his hand over hers on his leg and spoke into her ear now, returning her attention.

“Fucking hearts, who’d have them, eh?” said King in a surprisingly sympathetic voice, nudging me with his elbow.

I looked to him, and he seemed like he was actually trying to make me feel better. It made my heart squeeze. Here was a man at his lowest ebb, drowning in his own addiction to alcohol, showing me kindness. “Sometimes we don’t get a choice in the matter, unfortunately,” I replied.

King raised the bottle to his mouth and drank. A long quiet elapsed and I got the feeling he was somewhere else in his head for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right about that,” he finally whispered.

I was distracted when I heard someone coughing. At a nearby table, I saw Pedro with Luan and Raphael, and he looked a little worse for wear. He’d clearly caught the same flu as Lola, which got my mind racing. Was he the one who’d attacked her last night? Given his previous behaviour, it wouldn’t surprise me to discover it was him. Then Luan blew his nose with a tissue, and my theory cracked. Luan and Lola were close. I didn’t know all the details of their relationship, but it would make sense that he caught the flu from Lola and Pedro caught it from him.

My attention went to Jack again. This time the woman was straddling his lap and kissing her way down his neck. And he was just sitting there, letting her, while he stared at me. My stomach twisted, and all of a sudden I felt sick. This situation was so messed up.

“Ah, the push and pull,” said King. I was so focused on Jack that I couldn’t pay much attention to King’s words; my head was too preoccupied trying to figure out what he was playing at. His behaviour was so confusing. Maybe he was some sort of sociopath who got off on making girls think he had feelings for them and then pushing them away completely. Because that was clearly what he was trying to do now, letting some strange woman grope him while I watched. He might as well have been pissing all over my emotions.

I stood, made sure to concentrate all the disdain I had inside me into a single look, gave that look to Jack, then strode out of the party. I was proud of myself. I might have been feeling like crap on the inside, but at least I’d kept my dignity. I hadn’t gone over and started shouting at him like a jealous lunatic. When I reached the camper, I stood outside, my hand on my heart. This shit hurt so bad. I was dangerously close to ticking off item number eleven, and it felt truly awful.