"Please. I'm begging you," says August. He drops to his knees in the
dirt. His hands slide down her arm until he's holding her left hand. He brings it to his
face, showering it with tears and kisses as she stares stonily ahead.
Sara Gruen
"Marlena. Darling. Look at me. I'm on my knees. I'm begging you.
What more can I do? My darling—my sweet—please come inside with me. We'll talk
about it. We'll work it out." He digs through his pocket, and comes up with a ring, which
he tries to slip onto her third finger. She jerks her hand free and starts walking.
"Marlena! Marlena!" He is screaming now, and even the unbruised
parts of his face are discolored. His hair flops over his forehead. "You can't do this! This
is not the end! Do you hear me? You're my wife, Marlena! Till death do us part,
remember?" He climbs to his feet and stands with fists clenched. "Till death do us part!"
he screams.
Marlena thrusts her suitcase at me without stopping. I turn and follow, staring at her
narrow waist as she marches across the brown grass. Only at the edge of the lot does she
slow down enough that I can walk beside her.
"MAY I HELP YOU?" says the hotel clerk, looking up as the bell above the door
announces our arrival. His initial expression of solicitous pleasantry is replaced first by
alarm and then by disdain. It's the same combination we've seen on the faces of everyone
we passed on the way here. A middle-aged couple sitting on a bench by the front door
gawks unabashedly.
And we do make quite a pair. The skin around Marlena's eye has turned an impressive
blue, but at least her face has kept its shape—mine is pulpy and mashed, the bruises
overlaid with oozing wounds.
"I need a room," says Marlena.
The clerk peers at her with disgust. "We haven't got any," he replies, pushing his
spectacles up with one finger. He returns to his ledger.
I set her suitcase down and stand beside her. "Your sign says you've got vacancies."
He presses his lips into an imperious line. "Then it's wrong." Marlena touches my elbow.
"Come on, Jacob."
"No, I won't 'come on,'" I say, turning back to the clerk. "The lady needs a room, and
you've got vacancies."
Watcr for E l e p h a n ts
He glances conspicuously at her left hand and raises an eyebrow. "We don't rent to
unmarried couples."
"It's not for us. Just her." "Uh-huh," he says.
"You better watch it, pal," I say. "I don't like what you're implying." "Come on, Jacob,"
Marlena says again. She is even paler than before, looking at the floor.
"I'm not implying anything," the clerk says.
"Jacob, please," says Marlena. "Let's just go somewhere else."
I give the clerk a final, searing stare that lets him know exactly what I'd do to him if
Marlena weren't here and then pick up her suitcase. She marches to the door.
"Oh, say, I know who you are!" says the woman half of the couple on the bench. "You're
the girl from the poster! Yes! I'm sure of it." She turns to the man sitting next to her.
"Norbert, that's the girl from the poster! Isn't it? Miss, you're the circus star, aren't you?"
Marlena swings the door open, adjusts the brim of her hat, and steps outside. I follow.
"Wait," calls the clerk. "I think we may have a—" I slam the door behind me.
THE HOTEL THREE DOORS down has no such qualms, although
I dislike this clerk almost as much as the other. He's just dying to know what happened.
His eyes sweep over us, shining, curious, lewd. I know what he'd assume if Marlena's
black eye were the only injury between us, but because I am far worse off, the story is not
so clear.
"Room zB," he says, dangling a key in front of him and still drinking in the sight of us.
"Up the stairs and to the right. End of the hall."
I follow Marlena, watching her sculpted calves as she climbs the stairs.
She fusses with the key for a minute and then stands aside, leaving it in the lock. "I can't
get it. Can you try?"
I jiggle it in the cavity. After a few seconds, the deadbolt slides. I push Sara Gruen
the door open and stand aside to let Marlena enter. She tosses her hat
on the bed and walks to the window, which is open. A gust of wind inflates the curtain,
first blowing it into the room and then sucking it back against the screen.
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.
BECAUSE 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."
Water for E l e p h a n ts
"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—
hntmm, how shall I put t h i s ..."
"No."
"Mmmmj" 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. S a r a G r u en
"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 2.66 .
Water for E l e p h a n ts
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."
ROSIE STANDS W I T H 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 S a r a G r u en
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. "Poloz nogg. Poloz nogg, Rosie!"
She lifts her enormous foot and puts it back on the ground. I kick the overturned tub
toward her other front foot. "Nogg! Nogg/"Rosie shifts her weight and places her foot in
the center of the tub. "Teraz doprzodu" 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,
