prompt: ease, title: the greatest in misc. flash fiction

“That daring young man on the flying trapeze,” they sing up to me as I vault, they sing to me as I sign autographs after the shows, “flies through the air with the greatest of ease.” It’s nice and it’s cute, I get it, it’s an old song, it’s a circus tradition, they mean it as compliment but sometimes I want to tell them how very wrong they are. I mean, I’m sure I look great up there, I’m not being arrogant to say I’m one of the best in the world, it’s a family tradition, I had the best trainers that money could never by. But they’re wrong when they say that it’s with the greatest of ease. Each time that I do it, it’s the hardest thing that I’ve ever done in my life. I’m terrified every jump.

Every time I go up there without a net, and really who cares what we do until they take out that net, I am millimeters away from death. I am acutely aware of it. Before each and every stunt, I suck in a deep breath knowing that there’s a decent chance it will be my last. Under my leotard, I wear adult diapers, there are times I soil myself in abject fear. Every cell in my body screams at me to stop, to not end them with the upcoming act, but I do it because it’s my job, it’s all that I know, I am a Flying Zamboni, I’ve been one since birth. It has afforded me a quite comfortable life for all of the moments I’m not up there in my own living hell, but I’d never lie that it’s easy.

When I was a young boy, watching my father and uncles from just backstage, I was like you and believed it was easy. That’s why I wasn’t any good for the longest time. In training and practice, I always knew the net was beneath me, as a young apprentice, I thought there would just be a day when it was automatic. When to tumble mid-air would be just as breathing, an autonomic reflex.

Then the first time I had no net, it all hit me, I was going to die. The next moment, right there, I would be dead. And when I jumped, I did it perfectly. Best jump I’d ever done. Afterward I told my father how I felt, he said “That’s our secret, the terror makes you perfect, it focuses you, you have to take in every angle at once or you’ll die. You’ll always feel like that, that’s how you will manage to be the best.”

“That daring young man on the flying trapeze,” my gut clenches into knots, “flies through the air with the greatest of ease.” And, for the millionth time, knowing I’ll probably die, I jump. It’s not about being fearless, it’s not about it being easy. It’s about being scared out of your goddamned mind and yet still, doing it anyway…