3 - Dean
I cram all my gear into the car and swear. Of course I’m late. I had three alarms set and I still slept through them. You’d think I was a fourteen year old boy and not a grown man for the amount of sleep I need. I rush back up the elevator and jump into the clown costume.
Within a few minutes, I’ve got the costume on and I’m painting my face. The wide red smile and bright cheeks look ridiculous, but they help me get in character. I paint the black outline and big circles around my eyes. My hair gets gelled back and my wig slides on.
I take a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror. I’m ready. I slip my regular shoes on and carry my huge clown shoes down the elevator with the last of my props. I’m finally ready. I glance at my watch and shake my head. With a bit of luck I should get there only ten or fifteen minutes late.
Traffic seems to be on my side, and I drive through the streets more quickly than anticipated. I double check the address and park in front of a house. There are balloons swinging in the wind near the front door.
“This must be it,” I say to myself. I slip my big shoes on and grab my bag of props. My hands are full but I’m able to carry everything in one trip. I slam the trunk closed and turn towards the front door.
The shoes are awkward to walk in, and I waddle my way up to the front door. I wish New York houses didn’t have so many steps. I ring the doorbell and clear my throat, ready to put on my clown voice. The door swings open and a man appears on the other side.
“Clifford the clown, at your service,” I say with a flourish, bowing with my arms outstretched. The man chuckles.
“Come on in, they’re out back.”
I follow him to the backyard and the sounds of children screaming and playing get louder. He slides the back door open and I step through. The kids turn to me immediately and start laughing. The show begins.
There’s something special about performing for kids. The way their eyes shine and the way they laugh without a worry in the world makes me feel like I’m floating. Every time one of them laughs at something I do or falls for one of my pranks it feels like a mini jolt of energy to the heart.
These kids are no different. I spot the birthday twins right away - a boy and a girl. They’re only two, but they’re the life of the party. I give them party hats first, and then start handing them out to the other kids. I glance at the parents and hand out party hats to them as well.
As much as I didn’t want to do this last night, I’m enjoying myself. I settle the kids into a semi circle in front of me and prepare them for the balloon animal bit of my performance. I pull out the air canister and blow up a long balloon. I start twisting it and tying it as the kids watch in awe.
When Pat first started teaching me to make these, it was the most frustrating weeks of my life. It’s definitely harder than it looks. It took me almost a year to get the hang of it, and I’m just now starting to feel confident.
I make the first balloon animal, a dog, and I hand it to the birthday girl.
“One for you,” I say in my best Clifford the Clown voice. She giggles and waves it around and I grin. Next is a giraffe, and a monkey, and a shark. I make them one by one and hand them to the kids. By this time I’m really enjoying myself. I’m laughing along with them and I know I’ve got them in the palm of my hand. The adults are laughing at my jokes and I’m on a high.
I love my job.
I grab another balloon and stretch it long before starting to inflate it. Just as I start filling it with air, the sliding glass door opens and my jaw drops. She’s got long brown hair that falls down well past her shoulders. Her nose has a sprinkling of freckles over them and her green eyes sparkle in the sun. She squints as she steps out, looking at me curiously. I let my eyes drop to her white tank top and tight jeans and my heart starts to race.
It’s the balloon popping that brings me back to reality. It explodes in my hand and I jump. The kids jump and laugh and I pretend to fall over. They all laugh harder and I get up, pretending to struggle. I glance over at the woman. She’s still standing by the door, leaning against the frame as if she’s scared of getting too close to the party.
“You!” I call out to her. She stands up a bit straighter and looks over her shoulder and then back at me. “What’s your favourite animal?” I ask.
She grins and shrugs.
“Come on,” I say, taking a step closer. I glance back at the kids and they laugh. “You must have a favourite?”
Her smile widens and it almost knocks me over. I glance around and see all the parents coupled off. My eyes swing to the doorway and I wonder if her husband is inside.
“Elephant,” she finally says.
“Elephant,” I exclaim, making a trunk with my arm for the kids and pretending to swing it around. Their laughter reaches a peak. I pull out a balloon and get to work. When I hand her the elephant. She reaches out to accept it. Our fingers brush each other ever so gently. Even through the fabric of my white gloves I feel an electric current pass through my arm.
“Thank you,” she says softly. She smiles at me and I feel my face relax. I stare at her for a few seconds before snapping back to myself. I’m Clifford the Clown right now. Dean Shelby doesn’t exist. I turn back to the group of children, ready to make them laugh again. When I pull out another balloon, I can’t resist turning back towards the woman. She’s turning the elephant over in her hands and smiling. My heart grows in my chest.
Making a balloon elephant may be the best achievement of my life so far.