Fallen Leaves

The clown sighed. 1

For twelve years, he had stood on this fading corner from 9:00 to 5:00. His static backdrop always the aging Jack’s Diner with its flickering neon sign and battered booths. Yes, fading was the right word to describe his life. His green and white striped suit was worn and threadbare. Nowadays, his grin was forced as he handed balloon animals to children. They loved the bright blow-up creatures, but the parents eyed him with distrust. His occupation was looked down upon. William Destin, aka Bill the Clown, was losing the light in his life. 2

The clown sighed, again. 3

The damp autumn wind blew, ruffling the fallen leaves, spiraling them down the block. The small, wheeled cart next to Bill creaked as the air battered it. The painted sign hinged to the front of the cart flapped back and forth.4

“Bill the Clown,” it proclaimed. “Bill will make any balloon animal! Only $2.00.” The red-on-white words were cheery, but now they seemed garish to Bill.5

“Mommy, look at the clown!” He heard a small boy’s voice. He turned, and saw a woman and child walking to their car. “Mommy, can I have a balloon kitty?” The mother looked to be in her twenties and the boy, barely out of toddler-hood, had a shaved head. 6

“Hey little guy. You said you wanted a kitten?” Bill gave the boy’s mother a questioning look.7

She smiled softly and nodded. As she reached into her purse she said, “Go ahead Ethan; tell the clown what color you want.”8

“Blue.” The tiny child proclaimed with a huge grin. It came out as ‘Boo.’ 9

“That’s…” The mother glanced at the sign. “Two dollars, right?”10

Bill never figured out why, but he answered with a shake of his head, the neon colored wig shifting on his head. “That’ll be… Free.” Another breeze swept through, ruffling the mother’s pale copper bun. She gave him a searching look, but released her smooth lime-green purse.11

“Can I have my blue kitty now, please?” Ethan said shyly, long lashes lowered. He’s just adorable, Bill thought. The clown missed his own son –Ryan was living on his own at twenty-nine.12

“All right. One blue kitten, coming up –free of charge!” Bill took out two dark colored balloons from his cart. He took a deep breath and blew them full of air. Then he twisted and maneuvered the thin plastic –into the shape of a cat. Two minutes later Ethan was holding it, completed.13

“Mommy, look at my kitty! What should I name it?” The boy’s gray eyes were alight.14

“You can name it whatever you want.” She turned to the clown. “Thank you very much, um… Bill.” 15

The clown nodded at her, but the woman didn’t leave. She stood and watched him, a curious look in her eyes. “Are we leaving now?” Ethan asked, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I want to go home. I’m sleepy.”16

“Yes, honey, soon. Let me talk to the clown for a bit first. You go wait by the car. It’ll only take a second. The boy nodded and went to a peeling, dusty station wagon nearby. The woman’s eyes now looked sad –shiny, and her expression lost its previous beam. “I’m Laurie, Laurie Aspen.”17

“Yes?” Bill wondered why Laurie wanted to talk to him, and why she didn’t want Ethan there. “What…” He said in a soft voice. “What is it?”18

“They say he isn’t going to live –Ethan, I mean. The doctors told me today.” She spoke flatly, as if she had said it many times before, to herself. She had tasted the words, wished she could change them.19

A wave of emotion swept through Bill. He’d never felt it before –was it sadness, or pity? No, it was deeper, closer. He hardly knew the child and mother. He couldn’t pity them, and he certainly couldn’t imagine what they were going through.20

“I don’t know why… Why I had to tell you that.” She bit her lip, but smiled a tiny smile, laughing within at her own action. “Ethan and I don’t have anyone to look out for us. It just seemed like… like you would care.” 21

Caring. Of course, that was the feeling. Sharp and bitter like garlic. Slow and sweet like honey. It felt different to Bill every second he felt it. He was caring about this small family having to make do with a fatal illness, and with no support. 22

“I do care,” he said, the words barely leaving his thoughts.23

Laurie still smiled. “Thank you so much for the balloon cat. Ethan loves it.” She gestured to the green station wagon. Ethan was petting the creature and talking to it, grinning. “Good bye.” Laurie walked to her son and embraced him, suddenly, unable to control her turmoil of emotion. 24

Again, the clown felt that surge of newfound caring.25

He looked at the dried, crisp leaves below him, contrasting with the gray concrete. Fading, he would have thought five minutes ago. Fading, just like me.26

But no. Now he saw the possibility those fallen leaves held. The leaves weren’t fading away; they were just turning into something else. Something good, fresh, and new. I could do that too, couldn’t I? Turn my life into something better.27

That night at home, Bill opened a blank notebook and grabbed a sharpened number two pencil. He decided his experience that day deserved some form of preservation, to be held in immortal words for generations to come. Something to read when he felt like a shadow on the sidewalk, as he had earlier that day. Words to remind him –and others –of the good things in life, the sweetness of human nature, the caring. 28

The pencil felt snug and true in Bill’s hand. He could hear the faint scratching noise of lead against smooth paper –like a drink of warm tea, calming him. A reliable rhythm of creativity.29

The clown sighed.30

"For twelve years, he had stood on this fading corner…"31