Blessed Virgin of the Circus- 9.


Jorge and Yana had ended up hooking up about three weeks into that year’s run. They’d both ended up at an afterhours bar near site. Jorge was just her type, and of course she made the move. She always did. He was understandably freaked out, but it had been at least a year and a half since he’d seen any action. The divorce had finalized recently. What the hell, he thought. It’s not like he was taking her home to the kids.

At first they’d ended up in the hangout trailer that acted as the dressing room during run. Yana was a keyholder, as she was LaShawn’s second by default just because she’d known all of the cast the longest. They’d fooled around a bit, mostly making out. At some point Yana asked if Jorge wanted to go back to their camper.

“Sure.”

“I live with my sister. We do our act together when she’s in cast, but she’s only an understudy for the opening of this season. I need to check to make sure she’s not fucking home. It’s after 1:30, and I know that if it’s after 1:30 she probably won’t be back.”

Jorge stepped softly and furtively over the gravel. She made him wait near the restrooms, which were pretty far away, while she went to check. Mara was out. What she hadn't told him was that Mara was probably passed out somewhere on the fairgrounds. He didn't need to know, and she didn't need to be cockblocked.

“Let’s go, motherfucker,” she said, jumping up and wrapping her legs around him.

It went on for a few weeks. One night his buddy Amir, a fellow roadie in town for a band playing nearby, showed up for a three-way. Yana enjoyed it, but sometimes she missed seeing her female friends. A lot of them had separated since the run actually started. Sex was nice, and usually showed up this time of year, but she sometimes had a pang of missing things she couldn't describe.

Jorge enjoyed staying for the pillow talk, though sometimes it bored Yana.

“Do you believe in God, Yana?”

“No. Why would he care about us? I don’t even talk to my bible-banger sister about it. She’s not even a bible-banger. It’s like she’s…I don’t remember that one Catholic saint. The one who looks like she’s having an orgasm. HAHAHAHAHA”

“Er, I dunno, Yana. I was raised Christian. We didn’t have saints and stuff like that. Church was kind of boring and I just stared at the back of peoples’ heads a lot. I’m not Christian now. A lot of the Anarchos and metalheads from my hood were Satanist. They were pretty chill guys. But I never really practiced it or anything.”

“I just don’t get it. And whenever Mara talks about what she sees, when she talks to God or whoever she fucking talks to…there’s always blood and bleeding. There’s never really Jesus. She never talks to Jesus. It’s like he’s not even that important to her even though she says she talks to God. I thought Jesus and God were the same.”

“Yeah. Um. I think so.”

“Jorge, baby. God don’t care about carnies.”

She smiled sweetly and passed him the joint.

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