The Posthumous of Serena Garbow

Chapter 1: The Curtain

Serena

The season started like any other season. All the acts and their families had arrived at our little circus village. The village where my family had gathered for generations. This year was our 150th year in business. This was an important year, not only for me but also for my oldest brother Caz. We were all born into circus life just like our dad Ortis Garbow, who passed away last year. Before the pandemic took Otis, I had spent seventeen years of my life watching him with the hope of one day being able to be in his shoes as the Ringmaster of our family circus, The Garbow Circus. Now at eighteen, I knew I was ready. Yet after my dad's death, my brother Caz took on the role and now I am not sure I will ever get that chance.

When I was younger I often went into the ring to accompany my dad, but never was I allowed to introduce an act. That was reserved for the Ringmaster. Even though it had been over a year without Otis, Caz was following the same format and traditions our dad instilled in us. Yet, something felt different. I felt different. I had just spent the off-season in Europe at the European Circus Festival. During the festival, I met and saw so many amazing acts. I was ready to bring those ideas to our circus. The way of the circus was changing. Circuses historically had endured so much: from fires to recessions, to three rings, to one ring. And last season other circuses were evolving again into a type of traveling acrobatic theater. It was time for our circus to evolve before our family business crumbled. The only issue, Caz, didn't like change. He believed in tradition. The season of our 150th anniversary, I planned to show him otherwise, but first I needed him to believe I was capable of being the Ringmistress. And I knew that proving myself needed to start sooner rather than later.

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As I rushed to the practice tent I could hear Caz as he bellowed his introduction, "Ladies and Gentleman, Children of all Ages the show is about to begin." I pulled back the flaps of the tent and the thick, smooth, vinyl of the big top, which was coated with dust, left a film on my fingers. Brushing the dust from my fingers onto my pants, I quietly entered the tent. I had wanted to arrive early and be in the tent before Caz, but I was still trying to adjust to the time difference here in New Jersey. I was constantly running behind this week.

He began again, "Please take your seats and lift your eyes to the magical, the beautiful, Flying Milosovici's." I looked up to the dome of the tent. The place I looked to stargaze. Others might look to the sky outside, but for me, this was where I watched the heavens. I watched the flyers above as my hand reached down below trying to feel for a seat. My fingers brushed against the soft leather cushion. I arrived at the tent later than I wanted, and I was trying to be as quiet as possible so I wouldn't draw attention away from the practice. Also, Caz demanded respect. Tradition and respect were pivotal in his life. His idea of disrespect was not what the average person would find disrespectful. If I was too noisy he would assume I was causing a ruckus just to be defiant. Caz had a temper.

Along with the importance of tradition and respect came the importance of work ethics and punctuality. If I could just make it down into the seat; he would never realize I was late. I could pretend I was here the entire time. As I sat, I watched the flyers with amazement. Almost every act stopped my heart from beating, but something about the new flyers compelled me. All other worries and distractions faded into the background as I watched them.

"Serena," Caz called out as he walked toward me. He was dressed in Dad's red and yellow long-tailed suit that Dad had worn every season since I could remember. The black top hat was swinging in his hand. With each step, Dad's hat banged against his thigh. I pleaded with him last season to change the colors and the look, but he replied that the suite symbolized something greater than either of us.

"How was the introduction? Did it sound like Dad's?" he asked as he placed the hat on the seat next to me.

"Yes, very much like his," I replied. I paused for a moment thinking if I should make my next comment. I figured since he was asking me and seemed to value my opinion I would give him the truth. "What about changing the wording? In Europe..." I began but he stopped me before I could finish.