Despite Émile’s appearance, his pride returned and he composed himself, straightening but unable look at me. “Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged.

“Could you try?”

I wanted to say no and then turn on my heels and follow Sylvie out the door and return to my life and my trapeze. There would be other admirers, I knew that now. Émile Giroux was too much trouble for a simple girl like me. The words were on my lips. But then I recalled the last two weeks without him; the emptiness. Some moments, when I pictured him out there in the world, without me, I’d wanted to retch. Until him, I hadn’t been aware of the hollowness inside me. How quickly he’d wormed his way into my small life and heart. “I guess I could try.” It had been so simple to say.

“That’s all I ask.” There was no satisfaction on his face. I got the sense that he didn’t believe me.

“What did you do with her painting?”

“I threw it in the trash.” He ran his hands through his hair, considered the shamble of a room around him.

It was a lie. “You shouldn’t have done that. It might be valuable one day.”

“I want nothing to do with her.” I could tell that he longed to punish Esmé for his moment of weakness, but it was no more her fault than his.

“I will come when I can, Émile.” I stepped over the broken glass pieces and turned the doorknob, leaving him standing amid the ruin.

June 27, 1925

A strange illness has plagued me for days. This morning I decided to leave the circus to determine if it is the circus that is making me sick. The longer I stay on the other side, the more I wonder if I wouldn’t be better over there. To my dismay, I am sick on that side as well, throwing up all over the sidewalk in Montmartre.

When I returned, it was late and I met Esmé at the door. I was surprised by her appearance. The dress she wore was quite revealing, enough to see that she was not wearing a bra. Her eyes were glassy from crying and heavily lined with kohl. If I did not know her, I would have thought she was a prostitute.

“Get out of my way.” She nearly knocked me over. Her voice gave her away—she was surprised to see me.

“Are you okay?” I reached my hand out to touch her.

She stopped and peeled my fingers from her arm. “I will never be okay again.” She choked the words out as little heaves emitted from her body.

“I don’t understand—”