Life Expectancy

probably misjudging Virgilio," Jimmy said.
        "If Konrad Beezo thought he was a monster, then he's probably a saint,"
        I reasoned. "Because when was anything Konrad said ever less than full-on nuts?"
        "Exactly," Jimmy agreed. "And if Punch thinks he's a festering canker on Satan's ass-"
        "-swine of swines-"
        "-animated sewage-"
        "-worm from the bowels of a syphilitic weasel-"
        "-spawn of a witch's toilet-"
        "-then he's probably a sweetheart," I concluded.
        "Yeah."
        "Yeah."
        "Ready?"
        "No."
        "Let's go."
        "Okay."
        We had tied shut the silver box. Jimmy carried it by the new red ribbon, and together we crossed the meadow to the tent. We went inside.
        Under the big top, the meadow grass had been mown short, but no sawdust had been spread.
        The bleachers to accommodate the paying public had not been assembled.
        This was meant to be a show for an audience of two.
        At each end of the tent, they had erected the sturdy frames that supported platforms and trapezes for the aerialists. Rope ladders and loop lines provided access to the heights.
        Aimed toward upper realms, banks of footlights revealed flyers in the air. The men looked like cape less superheroes in silver and red tights. The women wore one-piece, legless, silver-and-red gymnast uniforms, their bare limbs fetching.
        They hung by their hands from trapeze bars, hung by their knees. They arced, they somersaulted, they twirled, they flew, they snared one another out of thin air.
        No circus band played; no music was necessary. The performers themselves were music-elegant harmony, exquisite rhythm, symphonic in the complexity of their routines.
        Jimmy put down the box of money.
        For a few minutes we stood entranced, still aware of the weight of our wardrobes, pistols heavy in our holsters, but all thought of danger relegated to the backs of our minds.
        They concluded with a particularly amazing series of midair exchanges during which aerialists flew from trapeze to trapeze with stunningly precise timing, three in flight at any time, only two trapezes available, collision and catastrophe always a possibility.
        Out of this bedazzlement of wingless birds, one of the men soared high off a bar, twirled in midair, folded into a somersault position, and tumbled down, down. At the last moment he spread his arms like wings, came out of the ball position, and landed on his back in the safety net.
        He bounced high, bounced again, rolled to the edge of the net, and dropped to the ground, on point like a ballet star, his arms raised above his head, as though he had just completed an entrechat.
        From a distance of thirty feet, he appeared to be handsome, with bold features, a proud Roman nose. His barrel chest, broad shoulders, slim hips, and trim figure made him an imposing man, lionesque.
        Although his hair was coal black and though he appeared to be no older than forty-five, I knew this must be Virgilio Vivacemente, for from him radiated the pride of a king, a master, a paterfamilias.
        Because even in 1974 he had been the patriarch and the brightest star of a famous circus family, father of several children, including his twenty-year-old daughter Natalie, he must have been seventy or older this night in April. He not only appeared much younger, but had just proven himself to be athletic and extraordinarily limber.
        The circus life seemed to be his fountain of youth.
        One by one, the other performers dropped from high flight into the net.
        They bounced, descended to the ground, and lined up in a crescent behind Virgilio.
        When they were all earthbound, they raised their right arms high overhead. Then, theatrically lowering their arms to point at me and Jimmy, they said in unison, "The Flying Vivacementes fly for you!"
        Jimmy and I started to applaud, but caught ourselves, and also stopped grinning like children.
        Members of the troupe were male and female, all good-looking, including a girl who appeared to be eight or nine and a boy of ten. They bounded out of the tent like gazelles, gamboling together as though the demonstration high in the big top had required' no serious effort, had been mere play.
        Through the performers' entrance where the group made their exit came a tall muscle-bound man