Water for Elephants (32 page)

“No, I can’t,” I say. “It’s a wonderful gesture. But it’s too much.”

“You can and you will,” he says firmly. “I am your boss and that is a direct order. Anyway, why shouldn’t you accept that from me? I seem to remember you gave one up for a friend not too long ago.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them again, Marlena is standing with her back to August, holding her hair up as he fastens the necklace around her throat.

“There,” he says.

She twirls around and leans toward her vanity mirror. Her fingers reach tentatively for the diamonds on her throat.

“I gather you like it?” he says.

“I don’t even know what to say. It’s the most beautiful thing—Oh!” she squeals. “I nearly forgot! I’ve got a surprise, too.”

She pulls the third drawer of her vanity open and digs through it, tossing aside gauzy bits of costume. Then she pulls out a great expanse of shimmering pink something. She holds it by its edges, giving it a little shake so that it sparkles, throwing a thousand points of light.

“So, what do you think? What do you think?” she says, beaming.

“It’s . . . It’s . . . What is it?” says August.

“It’s a headpiece for Rosie,” she says, pinning it to her chest with her chin and spreading the rest of it across her front. “Look, see? This part attaches to the back of her halter, and these parts go on the side, and this part comes down over her forehead. I made it. I’ve been working on it for
two weeks. It matches mine.” She looks up. There’s a small spot of red on each of her cheeks.

August stares at her. His lower jaw moves a bit, but no sound comes out. Then he reaches forward and clasps her in his arms.

I have to look away.

T
HANKS TO
U
NCLE
A
L’S
superior marketing techniques, the big top is packed solid. So many tickets sell that after Uncle Al entreats the crowd to shift closer together for the fourth time, it becomes clear that this won’t be enough.

Roustabouts are sent to toss straw down on the hippodrome track. To keep the crowd occupied while this happens, the band plays a concert and the clowns, including Walter, tour the stands, handing out candy and chucking tots’ chins.

The performers and animals are lined up out back, ready to start the Spec. They’ve been waiting for twenty minutes and are fidgety.

Uncle Al bursts out the back of the big top. “Okay, folks, listen up,” he barks. “We’ve got a straw house tonight, so keep to the inside track and make sure there’s a good five feet between your animals and the rubes. If so much as one child gets run over, I’ll personally flay the person whose animal did it. Got it?”

Nods, murmurs, more adjusting of outfits.

Uncle Al pops his head back inside the big top, raising his hand for the band leader. “All right. Let’s go! Knock ’em dead! But don’t, if you know what I mean.”

Not a single child is run over. In fact, everyone is brilliant, and none more so than Rosie. She carries Marlena on her pink sequined head during the Spec, curling her trunk in a salute. There’s a clown in front of her, a lanky man who alternately does back flips and cartwheels. At one point, Rosie reaches forward and grabs hold of his pants. She yanks so hard his feet leave the ground. He turns, outraged, to face a smiling elephant. The crowd whistles and applauds, but after that the clown keeps his distance.

When it’s nearly time for Rosie’s act, I sneak into the big top and stand
flattened against a section of seats. While the acrobats are receiving their applause, roustabouts run into the center ring, rolling two balls ahead of them: one small, the other large, and both decorated with red stars and blue stripes. Uncle Al raises his arms and glances at the back end. He looks right past me, making eye contact with August. He gives a slight nod and flicks one hand at the band leader, who slides into a Gounod waltz.

Rosie enters the big top, promenading beside August. She carries Marlena on her head, her trunk curled in a salute and her mouth open in a smile. When they enter the center ring, Rosie lifts Marlena from her head and places her on the ground.

Marlena skips theatrically around the border, a whirl of shimmering pink. She smiles, spinning, throwing her arms out and blowing kisses to the crowd. Rosie follows at a fast clip, her trunk curled high in the air. August moves beside her, hovering with the silver-tipped cane rather than the bull hook. I watch his mouth, lip-reading the Polish phrases he’s learned by rote.

Marlena dances around the ring’s perimeter one more time and comes to a stop beside the smaller ball. August brings Rosie to the center of the ring. Marlena watches and then turns to the audience. She puffs up her cheeks and wipes a hand across her forehead in an exaggerated gesture of exhaustion. Then she sits on the ball. She crosses her legs and sets her elbows upon them, resting her chin in her hands. She taps her foot, rolling her eyes toward the heavens. Rosie observes, smiling, her trunk held high. After a moment, she turns slowly and lowers her enormous gray rear onto the larger ball. Laughter ripples through the crowd.

Marlena does a double take and stands, her jaw dropped in mock outrage. She turns her back on Rosie. The elephant also stands and then shambles around to present Marlena with her tail. The crowd roars with delight.

Marlena looks back and scowls. With dramatic flair, she lifts one foot and plants it on her ball. Then she crosses her arms in front of her and nods once, deeply, as if to say,
Take that, elephant
.

Rosie curls her trunk, lifts her right front foot, and sets it gently on her
ball. Marlena glares, furious. Then she thrusts both arms out to the side and lifts her other foot from the ground. She straightens her knee slowly, her other leg pointing to the side, toes extended like a ballerina’s. Once her leg is straight she lowers her second foot so that she’s standing on the ball. She smiles broadly, sure that she has finally outsmarted the elephant. The audience claps and whistles, also sure. Marlena shuffles around so her back is to Rosie and lifts her arms in victory.

Rosie waits a moment, and then sets her other front foot on the ball. The crowd explodes. Marlena does a double take over her shoulder. She shuffles back around so that she’s facing Rosie and once again places her hands on her hips. She frowns deeply, shaking her head in frustration. She lifts a finger and starts wagging it at Rosie, but after just a moment she freezes. Her face lights up. An idea! She raises her finger high in the air, turning so that the whole audience can absorb that she is about to outdo the elephant once and for all.

She concentrates for a moment, staring down at her satin slippers. And then, to a rising drum roll, she starts shuffling her feet, rolling the ball forward. She goes faster and faster, her feet a blur of motion, rolling the ball around the ring as the audience claps and whistles. Then there is a wild explosion of delighted cries—

Marlena stops and looks up. She has been so busy concentrating on her ball that she hasn’t noticed the ridiculous sight behind her. The pachyderm is perched on the larger ball, with all four feet crowded together and her back arched. The drum roll begins again. At first, nothing. Then, slowly, slowly, the ball begins to roll under Rosie’s feet.

The bandmaster signals the band into a fast number, and Rosie moves the ball a dozen feet. Marlena smiles in delight, clapping, extending her hands toward Rosie and inviting the crowd to adore her. Then she hops down from her ball and skips over to Rosie, who climbs rather more carefully down from hers. She drops her trunk and Marlena sits in its curve, hooks an arm around it, and points her toes daintily. Rosie raises her trunk, holding Marlena aloft. Then she deposits Marlena on her head and departs the big top to the cheers of an adoring crowd.

And then the shower of money starts—the sweet, sweet shower of money. Uncle Al is delirious, standing in the center of the hippodrome track with his arms and face raised, basking in the coins that rain down on him. He keeps his face raised even as coins bounce off his cheeks, nose, and forehead. I think he may actually be crying.

COURTESY OF TIMOTHY TEGGE, TEGGE CIRCUS ARCHIVES, BARABOO, WISCONSIN

Eighteen

I catch up with them as Marlena slides down from Rosie’s head.

“You were brilliant! Brilliant!” says August, kissing her on the cheek. “Did you see that, Jacob? Did you see how brilliant they were?”

“Sure did.”

“Do me a favor and take Rosie around, would you? I’ve got to go back inside.” He hands me the silver-tipped cane. He looks at Marlena, sighs deeply, and claps a hand to his breast. “Brilliant. Simply brilliant. Don’t forget,” he says, turning and walking a few strides backward, “you’re on with the horses right after Lottie.”

“I’ll get them right now,” she says.

August heads back to the big top.

“You were spectacular,” I say.

“Yes, she was good, wasn’t she?” Marlena leans over and plants a loud kiss on Rosie’s shoulder, leaving a perfect lip print on the gray hide. She reaches out and rubs it with her thumb.

“I meant you,” I say.

She blushes, her thumb still on Rosie’s shoulder.

I regret saying it instantly. Not that she wasn’t spectacular—she was, but that wasn’t all I meant and she knew it and now I’ve made her uncomfortable. I decide to beat a hasty retreat.

“
, Rosie,” I say, motioning her forward.
“
, mój malutki p
czuszek.”

“Jacob, wait.” Marlena lays her fingers on the inside of my elbow.

In the distance, right at the entrance to the big top, August stops and stiffens. It’s as though he sensed the physical contact. He turns around slowly, his face somber. Our eyes lock.

“Can you do me a favor?” Marlena asks.

“Sure. Of course,” I say, glancing nervously at August. Marlena hasn’t noticed that he’s watching us. I place my hand on my hip, causing her fingers to fall from my elbow.

“Can you bring Rosie to my dressing tent? I have a surprise planned.”

“Uh, sure. I guess so,” I say. “When do you want her there?”

“Take her there now. I’ll be along in a bit. Oh, and wear something nice. I want it to be a proper party.”