post 31 : lost on the way to tent city

I get lost on the way back to tent city. It takes me an hour but eventually I see our blue roof and wander towards it. I sit on the rim of my tent like I always do, facing out towards the group of people that don’t notice I’ve come back, or if they do they don’t acknowledge it. I squint and look up as a figure comes to stand over me.

“Sit down” I tell Jake, patting the spot next to me. “How’s your morning been?”

“Unusual” he tells me. “I’ve spent most of it next door.” By next door he means the cluster of tents that make up a slightly smaller tent city and belong to about five guys, two of whom I’ve met. Their names are Jake and Trent and if I could describe them in two words, they would be; happy, drugs. Because there are now one too many Jakes, to keep track of them I’ve started to call the new guy New Jake and our Jake, Old Jake.

“Did you know that Jake from next door is an underwater mechanic?”

“Jake. How on earth could I have possibly known that?” He ignores me and continues.

“They fix things, like holes in big boats and drill things. Shit’s intense; they have to live down there for a few months at a time.”

“Serious?” How it is possible that I’d never heard of an underwater mechanic is beyond me, so I ask the question.

“I’d never heard of it either.” He tells me. “They are loaded, too. You can make some serious money living under the water.”

“Yes, but you’d miss me if you went to live under the water.” I lie back and land on some seemingly strategically placed pillows. “How’s your back?”

“It hurts.” He admits, because he knows I won’t tell anyone. “I’ve been taking all the painkillers but it doesn’t seem to be helping.”

“It’s been a big few days.” I say; I don’t know how to help. I know that all the alcohol wouldn’t be doing him any favours, but I’m not going to be the one to suggest he spends the last night here sober. “Rest a while” I suggest instead “We have a couple of hours before anything interesting happens.”

“Maybe I should.”

“Here, take my bed, it’s comfy.” I move so that he can lie at the back of the tent and sit beside him, making sure the door is open enough for people to see in. I hate myself a little for this. I lie down beside him.

He must notice me staring at the roof, eyes blurred and deep in thought. “I don’t like seeing you like this Alice.” He tells me.

“I don’t like being like this.” I admit.

“I’m not going to try and convince you he is bad for you.” He starts and I look at him with a face that suggests that is a wise move on his part. “Just for tonight” he manages “Please, tonight will you try and forget him and come have fun with me. Just come and have some fun with me.”

“Now that” I smile at him “Is something I can manage.”

*******

I wake to a strangers face peering into my tent half whispering “Jake, Jake.” We must have fallen asleep for at least an hour because when I sit up to look outside the sun is no longer in my eyes.

“Shh he’s sleeping. Who are you?”

“Billy. I’m a friend of Jake’s. He told me to meet him here around this time.”

“Okay well give me a minute I’ll wake him up.” Billy backs out of my tent and I wonder how loosely he has used the term ‘friend’. I shake Jake carefully; actually afraid I might break him further.

“Billy wants you.” I tell him and to my surprise the name brings out a familiarity in his face. “Jake?”

“Mm?” He is still half asleep.

“Who the fuck is Billy? He looks like a male model.”

“He is a male model.”

“You’re friends with a male model?”

“I’ve known Billy for years.”

“What’s he doing here? He seems too...” I struggle to find the right word. “Delicate” I decide.

“Oh it’s his scene. He grew up in a circus.”

“What now?”

“As in, he literally did”.

“And how exactly does one grow up in a circus?”

“His parents were performers and he kind of just ended up in the industry.”

“The circus modelling industry, you mean?” He smiles and shoves me so I topple over.

“You know what I mean; he was a child actor and then became a model. Top guy.”

“I’m sure.” We crawl out of the tent to find Billy the male model talking to Trent and New Jake from next door. Trent is dressed like a geisha, in what looks like a dressing gown he picked up at Chinatown. New Jake is slightly more respectable in a Pilot uniform. I wonder at what point people decide they are going to dress like this. Billy hugs Jake as though it has been a while although I suspect they would have seen each other yesterday at least, or else how would he have known where to find him? Trent is looking around as though desperate to find something and when he sees me, the only girl around, he comes over, almost frantic.

“Can you make my face white and my cheeks pink and my lips red?” He asks, as though this were a normal request.

“I may struggle to make your face white…” I start to explain when Claire arrives with white face paint from God knows where, and I realise that this isn’t the first time he’s made the request. “Never mind, Claire evidently has the white under control.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

“I’ll go get the pink and red.” I tell her and she seems relieved to have the help. Five minutes later I am holding Trent’s face as she paints. He is swinging his arms around and turning his head to talk to people and I think I realise how those clown face painters feel. I should ask Billy the male model to help, if he’s so familiar with the circus. Once the white is done we swap; Claire holds his head and I paint pink circles on his cheeks. His lips take at least ten minutes but in the end he looks every bit the perfect geisha. I mean, perfect if you pay no attention to the three day growth that pushes its way through the face paint. Impressed with our effort, Claire and I step back to admire, and see a small crowd of people who must have gathered to watch. They start clapping and we revel in our glory, curtsey and wave as they take our picture.

I see Jake at the back of the group and he mouths the words “well done” and ignores Billy the male model as he tries to get his attention. Jake doesn’t take his eyes off me as I walk over to him. “What a mission.” I tell him, and flop down into a chair. “I think I deserve a drink.” He holds out a cup of ice and pours cider into it.

“What, here’s one you prepared earlier?” I joke and thank him. “So evidently” I point to Trent, who is lapping up the attention that his façade is providing “I am quite the face painting artist. Would you care to be transformed this evening, friend of mine? Perhaps into a maid, I have an apron. Or maybe” I continue and tap his brace “a robot.” He has been serious since I returned but at this he cracks a smile.

“No, no. I think this gets me enough attention already.”