Water for Elephants (36 page)

The room is plain but adequate. There are flowers on the wallpaper and curtains, and the bed is covered with chenille. The bathroom door is open. The bathroom itself is large, and the tub has clawed feet.

I set the suitcase down and stand awkwardly. Marlena has her back to me. There’s a cut on her neck, from where the necklace clasp dug into it.

“Do you need anything else?” I ask, turning my hat over in my hands.

“No, thank you,” she says.

I watch her for a while longer. I want to cross the room and wrap her in my arms, but instead I leave, shutting the door quietly behind me.

B
ECAUSE
I
CAN’T THINK
of anything else to do, I head for the menagerie and do the usual. I cut up, stir, and measure food. I check a yak’s abscessed tooth and hold hands with Bobo, leading him around as I check the rest of the animals.

I have progressed to mucking out when Diamond Joe comes up behind me. “Uncle Al wants to see you.”

I stare at him for a moment, then lay my shovel in the straw.

Uncle Al is in the pie car, sitting behind a plate of steak and fries. He’s holding a cigar and blowing smoke rings. His entourage stands behind him, sober-faced.

I remove my hat. “You wanted to see me?”

“Ah, Jacob,” he says, leaning forward. “Glad to see you. Did you get Marlena sorted out?”

“She’s in a room, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s part of it, yes.”

“Then I’m not sure what you mean.”

He is silent for a moment. Then he sets his cigar down and brings his hands together, forming a steeple with his fingers. “It’s quite simple. I can’t afford to lose either one of them.”

“As far as I know, she has no intention of leaving the show.”

“And neither does he. Imagine, if you will, what it will be like if they both remain but don’t get back together. August is simply beside himself with grief.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting she go back to him.”

He smiles and cocks his head.

“He
hit
her, Al. He
hit
her.”

Uncle Al rubs his chin and ponders. “Yes, well. I didn’t care much for that, I must say.” He waves at the seat opposite him. “Sit.”

I approach and perch on the edge.

Uncle Al leans his head to the side, surveying me. “So was there any truth to it?”

“To what?”

He drums his fingers against the table and purses his lips. “Are you and Marlena—
hmmm
, how shall I put this . . .”

“No.”

“Mmmm,”
he says, continuing to ponder. “Good. Didn’t think so. But good. In that case, you can help me.”

“What?” I say.

“I’ll work on him, you work on her.”

“The hell with that.”

“You’re in a bad spot, yes. A friend to both.”

“I’m no friend of his.”

He sighs, and assumes an expression of great patience. “You have to understand August. He does this occasionally. It’s not his fault.” He leans forward, peering into my face. “Good God. I think I’d better have a doctor out to look at you.”

“I don’t need a doctor. And of course it’s his fault.”

He stares at me, and then leans back in his chair. “He’s ill, Jacob.”

I say nothing.

“He’s paragon schnitzophonic.”

“He’s what?!”

“Paragon schnitzophonic,” repeats Uncle Al.

“You mean paranoid schizophrenic?”

“Sure. Whatever. But the bottom line is he’s mad as a hatter. Of course, he’s also brilliant, so we work around it. It’s harder for Marlena than the rest of us, of course. Which is why we must support her.”

I shake my head, stunned. “Do you even hear what you’re saying?”

“I cannot lose either one of them. And if they don’t get back together, August will be impossible to handle.”

“He
hit
her,” I repeat.

“Yes, I know, very upsetting, that. But he’s her husband, isn’t he?”

I place my hat on my head and rise.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to work,” I say. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you tell me that it’s okay for August to hit her because she’s his wife. Or that it’s not his fault because he’s insane. If he’s insane, that’s all the more reason she should stay away.”

“If you want a job to go back to, you will sit back down.”

“You know what? I don’t give a damn about your job,” I say, moving to the door. “See you. Wish I could say it’s been a pleasure.”

“What about your little friend?”

I freeze. My hand is on the doorknob.

“That little shit with the dog,” he says, musing. “And that other one, too—oh, what’s his name?” He snaps his fingers as he tries to come up with it.

I turn around slowly. I know what’s coming.

“You know who I mean. That useless cripple who’s been scarfing my food and taking up space on my train for weeks without doing a lick of work. How about him?”

I stare, my face burning with hatred.

“Did you really think you could keep a stowaway without me finding out about it? Without
him
finding out about it?” His face is hard, his eyes glinting.

His expression suddenly softens. He smiles warmly. He spreads his hands in supplication. “You’ve got me all wrong, you know. The people
on this show are my family. I care deeply about each and every one of them. But what I understand and you apparently do not as yet is that sometimes an individual has to make a sacrifice for the good of the rest of us. And what this family needs is for August and Marlena to work things out. Do we understand each other?”

I stare into his glowing eyes, thinking how very much I’d like to sink a hatchet between them.

“Yes, sir,” I say eventually. “I believe we do.”

R
OSIE STANDS WITH
one foot on a tub while I file her toenails. She has five on each foot, like a human. I’m working on one of her front feet when I’m suddenly aware that all human activity in the menagerie has ceased. The workers are frozen, staring at the entrance with widened eyes.

I look up. August approaches and comes to a stop in front of me. His hair flops forward, and he brushes it back with a swollen hand. His upper lip is bluish purple, split like a grilled sausage. His nose is flattened and off to the side, encrusted with blood. He holds a lit cigarette.

“Dear Lord,” he says. He tries to smile, but his split lip prevents him. He takes a drag from the cigarette. “Hard to say who got the worst of it, eh, my boy?”

“What do you want?” I say, leaning over and rasping the edge off a huge toenail.

“You’re not still sore, are you?”

I don’t answer.

He watches me work for a moment. “Look, I know I was out of line. Sometimes my imagination gets the better of me.”

“Oh, is that what happened?”

“Look here,” he says, blowing smoke. “I was hoping we could let bygones be bygones. So what do you say, my boy—friends again?” He extends his hand.

I stand up straight, both arms at my sides. “You
hit
her, August.”

The other men watch wordlessly. August looks stunned. His mouth
moves. He pulls his hand back and transfers the lit cigarette to it. His hands are bruised, the nails cracked. “Yes. I know.”

I stand back and appraise Rosie’s toenails. “
Rosie!”

She lifts her enormous foot and puts it back on the ground. I kick the overturned tub toward her other front foot.
“
!
!”
Rosie shifts her weight and places her foot in the center of the tub.
“Teraz do przodu,”
I say, poking the back of her leg with my fingers until her toenails hang over the front edge of the tub. “Good girl,” I say, patting her shoulder. She lifts her trunk and opens her mouth in a smile. I reach in and stroke her tongue.

“Do you know where she is?” says August.

I lean over and evaluate Rosie’s toenails, running my hands along the underside of her foot.

“I need to see her,” he continues.

I start filing. A fine spray of toenail powder shoots into the air.

“Fine. Be that way,” he says, his voice shrill. “But she is my wife, and I will find her. Even if I have to go from hotel to hotel, I
will
find her.”

I look up just as he flicks the cigarette. It arcs through the air and lands in Rosie’s open mouth, sizzling as it hits her tongue. She roars, panicked, throwing her head and fishing inside her mouth with her trunk.

August marches off. I turn back to Rosie. She stares at me, a look of unspeakable sadness on her face. Her amber eyes are filled with tears.

I
SHOULD HAVE KNOWN
he’d go from hotel to hotel. But I wasn’t thinking, and so she’s in the second hotel we came across. Couldn’t be easier to find.

I know I’m being watched, so I bide my time. At the first opportunity, I slip from the lot and rush to the hotel. I wait around the corner for a minute, watching, making sure I wasn’t followed. After I’ve caught my breath, I remove my hat, wipe my forehead, and enter the building.

The clerk looks up. It’s a new one. His eyes glaze over.

“What do
you
want?” he says, as though he’s seen me before, as though battered rotten tomatoes walk through his door every day.

“I’m here to see Miss L’Arche,” I say, remembering that Marlena has checked in using her maiden name. “Marlena L’Arche.”

“There is no one here by that name,” he says.

“Yes, of course there is,” I say. “I was with her when she checked in this morning.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re incorrect.”

I stare at him for a moment and then sprint for the stairs.

“Hey, pal! You get back here!”

I mount the steps, two at a time.

“If you go up those stairs, I’m calling the police!” he shouts.

“Go ahead!”

“I’m doing it! I’m calling right now!”

“Good!”

I rap on her door with my least-bruised knuckles. “Marlena?”

A second later, the clerk grabs me and spins me around, shoving me against the wall. He has me by the lapels, his face right in mine. “I told you before, she’s not here.”

“It’s all right, Albert. This is a friend.” Marlena has come out into the hallway behind us.

He freezes, panting hot breath on me. His eyes widen in confusion. “What?” he says.

“Albert?” I say, equally confused. “Albert?”

“But what about earlier?” sputters Albert.

“This isn’t the same man. This is another one.”

“August was here?” I say, finally clueing in. “Are you okay?”

Albert jerks around from me to her and back again.

“This is a friend. This is the man who fought him,” Marlena explains.

Albert lets me down. He makes an awkward attempt to smooth my jacket and then extends his hand. “Sorry, pal. You look an awful lot like that other guy.”

“Uh, that’s all right,” I say, taking his hand. He squeezes and I wince.

“He’s coming after you,” I say to Marlena. “We’ve got to move you.”

“Don’t be silly,” Marlena says.

“He’s already been,” says Albert. “I told him she wasn’t here and he seemed to buy it. That’s why I was surprised when you—he—er, showed up again.”

Downstairs, the bell over the front door tinkles. Albert and I lock eyes. I hustle Marlena into the room, and he hurries down.