Blessed Virgin of the Circus- 26.

Yana cleared her throat in front of the somberly-seated carnies. The urn sat on a pedestal, a theatrical-looking spray-painted column from one of the acro shows that had been sitting in one of the storage trailers for who knows how long.

“The truth is, I didn’t know my sister very well.”

Pause. A cough.

“I didn’t. She and I weren’t very close. When you live in tight quarters with someone you  know their most intimate details and thoughts and patterns but you sometimes don’t have that secret love of who they really are. Mara was quiet. I knew that she was religious, and believed in God, and I always had faith in her ability in our acro shows. In the head she was kind of like a kid sometimes, even at our age now. I don’t know if there was something wrong with her that they just never looked at, because we were raised by other family and didn’t really know mom and dad or if that was the way I was seeing things. She was like, kind of simple in the head. Not stupid. Just she saw things her way and that was her way and she didn’t think that anybody else did it differently. But I guess we all do that sometimes, right?”

A breath.

“I went through some bad times recently.” She avoided eye contact with the crowd and looked down, making sure she did not feel tempted to look at Jorge. “It was really tough. I mean fuck. Can you say ‘fuck’ at a funeral?” Yana chuckled, but it was distant. Not her usual broad or pained laugh. Removed. A few carnies chuckled. Others cleared their throats and shifted, uncomfortable or not sure how and why to be somber.

“Anyway, the truth of the matter was that Mara was an incredibly hard worker. I gave her crap a lot of the time. A lot. We either avoided each other or I gave her crap. But in the last month and a half or so, something changed. I could feel it. We were finally becoming real sisters. Loving each other more.” The tears began in earnest. “I don’t know if I really knew what loving her was until LaShawn put us back in the show and we were working so hard. I wasn’t there to see what happened, because it was a solo and I was just backstage, going off the musical cues. In a way, I’m thankful.” She stood and walked close to the urn. “I will miss you so much. More than I could have guessed. Mara. My sister.”

Tito, being gregarious, had agreed to help facilitate handing over the mic. Several other of the carnies spoke. Annie and Bao carried their secret guilt about the night of the fight club, but were laudatory. LaShawn spoke, carrying secret guilt that he had judged so poorly at trying to push to include her in the show once again. He focused on her growth as a performer. Mala wore sunglasses and remained silent, though the boys seemed to know exactly what was occurring.

“Mara went away, huh, mama?” asked Alex.

“Yes, little one. She’s gone now,” she said, softly.

“No more playing ball with her?” he moaned, as he turned to John.

“She is asleep with Jesus. Like Uncle Dan and Daddy and your little cousin Florin.” Mala was the quietest she’d ever been.