Page 4 of Unmasking My Dark Knight

CHAPTER 2

Romeo

Isat in my parked car in the parking lot of Thrill Valley Amusement Park, where the annual Scare Night ran every night from September 2nd to November 1st.

For the last eight weeks at Scare Night, I had become High Jynx, a scare actor in clown make-up who ran up to people to frighten the living shit out of them while they least expected it.

Everywhere else, I was Romeo, a thirty-four-year-old who just got dumped by his ex-girlfriend after being fired from his corporate job.

“You make it to work okay?” Rachel, my younger sister by fifteen minutes, asked on the phone, munching on a bag of chips. She checked up on me, knowing tonight was another frustrating milestone in the fucked up relationship that consumed the past five years of my life.

“I just pulled up to the entrance. Giving myself a minute to collect my thoughts before going inside,” I said, turning my radio down. The sky was turning purple and dark, and the park lights flickered on in the distance.

“Did you get the rest of your belongings from that self-absorbed asshole?”

“Yeah. I’m looking at it now.” I eyed the box in the passenger seat that contained the last of my clothes from Megan’s house.

“Did you give her the finger before saying goodbye?” Rachel asked.

“She wasn’t home. She left the box outside the gate of her house.”

“God, I fucking hate her!” Rachel munched away. I could practically hear her lick her fingers over the line. “Never mind her. You deserve better than to be shackled to some materialistic daddy’s girl. Consider this a blessing in disguise.”

“A blessing in disguise? The only thing in disguise is me; a former financial advisor turned couch-surfing clown,” I said, a tad self-deprecating, not wanting Rachel to hear the disappointment in my voice. Honestly, my breakup with Megan wasn’t some mutual, self-loving journey that ended on good terms. She ripped my fucking heart out.

Megan was a rich girl, and me? I was the former poor kid who wanted to follow his heart and do something creative. And honestly, I tried to follow the traditional blueprint of American success. I gave it ten years of my life, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn't spend another day chasing deadlines and punching numbers, spending sixty hours a week in front of a computer instead of actual people.

It was killing me.

I was slowly dying, and it fucked with my head so much that I could barely pretend like my existence in a cubicle mattered anymore. Because it didn’t. Making rich assholes even richer wasn’t spiritually fulfilling, and this crisis was only amplified when I fucked up at work, making the worst investment of all time—not only for myself, but for a whole portfolio of high-earning clients.

I was essentially left with nothing, holding onto a box of old shit from a former life as a corporate suit-wearing wannabe.

“I’m surprised she didn’t try to convince you again to get a job with her rich dad,” Rachel said on the line, filling the silence.

“It’s hard to convince someone to pursue something different when you tell them you want to be a clown.”

“Not just a clown. An entertainer!” Rachel emphasized, reminding me like it made a difference.

“Not a deadbeat loser then?” I asked.

“Those are Megan’s words. Which, technically, she has the IQ of a goldfish, so let’s not get bogged down in the insults.”

“Goldfish or not, it still sucks,” I murmured, remembering every word Megan said. Weird fucking circus performer, as she put it, all with a disgusted look on her face. After that comment, I realized the need to chase my own happiness outweighed concern about whether Megan was happy with me. And that ended with her kicking me to the curb.

I exhaled heavily, trying not to let the break-up get me down. That was three months ago. I couldn’t let it keep bothering me like that. But still… when you think you have your life all planned out, and suddenly that all comes crashing down, you can’t help but feel completely fucking lonely.

“It might not make sense now, but someday it will,” Rachel said, no longer crunching on chips, but her voice was low and soft. “You need to be your authentic self inside and out. Once you do that, the right person will love you for who you are, every shade of you, clown paint or not.”

I laughed, staring down at a smudge of black nail polish. It was a piece of myself that belonged to my new life within the park.

“Thank you…” I said. “I needed that.”

Rachel was always there for me; we were there for each other, even through the worst of it.

“Duh. You’re welcome,” she said, sounding a little more focused. “Listen, I might be a little late getting home tonight. I’m going to a meeting, and this new kid in town is asking me to be her sponsor. We’re meeting up for coffee next door.”

“Makes sense. Looking after people is what you do best,” I said with a smile.