One level higher
You won’t fall unless you try to reach the next level, he said as we sat on the bank of the river that runs through a small village in northern Spain. I thought about his words again as we surfskated along the old road from the river back toward town, where the sun was almost gone and long, dark shadows stretched across the streets. Some stretches were downhill, and losing your balance while trying to slow down with a slide or a snap could mean the difference between a smooth ride and an ugly fall onto the dry asphalt.
The next day, I asked my uncle if falling was necessary to move up a level. Go up where? he said, a little confused, before breaking into laughter. I’m serious, I said. What does it take to reach the next level? Did you ever fall? I regretted asking him again. His face went pale and aloof, like the arresting effect of witnessing a disastrous or fatal accident — the kind that seizes your mind and leaves you feeling as though your wings have stalled and are about to fall.
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I don’t remember whether he answered that day on our way to the circus. All I remember is how he spoke toward the windshield as he drove his red 1995 VW Beetle, as if confiding in an invisible friend. I waited for you. Where were you? …I should’ve bought it and given it to you earlier. Afraid to ask you, afraid you would say no. But now it has sunk into the river. I didn’t feel like tossing the ring, but time stopped. It did, at the worst second it could have.
Maybe he was repeating a poem. He had turned to poetry after losing the chance to propose to his longtime lover, though he never did much with it. He stopped speaking, because all of a sudden the bright light at the circus entrance caught his attention — pulled him out of his reverie.
The tent was enormous and brand-new; you could tell by the vivid red, blue, and white colors standing out against the evening. It was definitely the largest circus I’d ever seen. Our seats were right in front of the main ring. All the acts and wild animals were impressive. During the trapeze act, a woman missed a spin and failed in her attempt to grab the bar swinging, and landed face-first against the safety net. Blood began to run from her nose. A few people in the audience gasped. The performance paused for a long time as the blood kept oozing from her nose, but the show resumed after that.
The audience watched in awe as she climbed back towards the trapeze bar. After that, I never asked anyone about levels again. My uncle was stunned. I was smiling.
