She’d taken some ice out of the vintage fridge and found a plastic supermarket bag to put it in when she heard voices coming toward the kitchen. She held her breath, recognizing one of them as Andrew’s. Thinking quickly, she knew she’d have to lie about the ankle, and she simply wasn’t good at lying. Still, she would have to.
She hobbled over to a stool and put her leg up on it, then took a swig out of the Coke bottle she held in her hand. Forced a smile on her face.
That smile turned into a grimace when Peter Hatcher came into the kitchen. Close behind him was Andrew. They were in a deep discussion about what they needed for supplies and when they could take the ride into town to get them. At first, they didn’t even notice she was there. Then Hatcher gave her a curt nod and said, “Hi, how’re you doing?” before continuing his discussion with Andrew.
Andrew smiled in her direction, without stopping his conversation, grabbed a Coke out of the fridge, then followed Peter back out to the platform. Their voices drifted away, then she heard the truck doors slam and the truck fired into gear. Only then did she exhale the breath she’d been holding.
With the ice bag in her hand, she found her way back to the cabin and stayed there, icing her ankle for the rest of the night. It wasn’t until after nine that she finally paid attention to Sophie’s trumpets and limped back to the enclosure to feed her. But as she neared the enclosure, she spotted Peter walking away into the darkness. Obviously, Sophie’s cries were not ones of hunger. She’d been angry about Hatcher’s nocturnal visit.
Curious, Natalie opened her mouth to call to him, but she shut it quickly. If he saw her limping, it would only raise questions.
Sophie silently reached out her trunk for the calcium, sweet potato, and rice mixture in Natalie’s pail. Her eye hovered at the same level as Natalie’s. For a moment, they stared at each other, and Natalie felt Sophie asking the same questions she was.
“Why was he here, ol’ girl?” Natalie whispered as Sophie’s big brown eye blinked. “What was he doing to you?”
Nineteen
Animals make us human.
-Temple Grandin
Mali’s feet dangled over the side of Sophie’s newly-remodeled enclosure, and she gestured once again to Siriporn, who was on one side of the enclosure. The steel bars had been adjusted, according to Natalie’s specifications, so the enclosure was now a larger model of Temple Grandin’s cow hugging machine. Though large enough for Sophie to move around, the enclosure was small enough to keep her quiet and calm. It worked better than Natalie would have suspected.
Mali, her glossy black hair in a braid down her back, wore a white T-shirt and loose white cotton pants. She looked like a schoolgirl instead of Siriporn’s mother, yet she now shouted orders to him loudly and rapidly in Thai.
Natalie listened to the two of them as she fed Sophie, surprised that she occasionally caught the meaning of a phrase or two. She smiled at the way Siriporn slapped his baseball cap against his open palm repeatedly as he tried to make his point. Still, Mali appeared to be winning their argument about whether he could spend the weekend in Bangkok.
Though Siriporn had been teaching Natalie what he knew of being a mahout, it was difficult since he spoke broken English, at best. There were details Natalie was missing, so she asked Mali for help. Though Mali was still upset that Sophie had ruined her garden, she had agreed. For the past two hours, the humans worked as a dysfunctional trio.
Natalie’s ulterior motive was that she needed Siriporn to teach her the commands Sophie already knew. Once she could get Sophie to follow the basics, protected contact training would go more smoothly. Moving her in and out of the holding area safely was the most important factor, and she was pleased with the way it had been rebuilt to her specifications. The hydraulically-controlled gates could be lifted or lowered, making it easy to maneuver Sophie into place for her treatments without endangering any of the humans who had to work with her. No more ropes. No more chains. Sophie handled the transition well, welcoming the absence of the ankus. But the most important part of the training method was to utilize the same personnel. Natalie and Siriporn, and occasionally Peter, were the only humans who worked with Sophie. Others might come to watch, but they weren’t allowed to work with her.
When Natalie had Sophie alone, she worked with the elephant in the steel cage, prodding her with long, padded contact poles she had modeled on the ones used in some progressive zoos that had reported great success with the technique. With the poles, she could move Sophie backward and forward without causing any undue pain. Natalie contacted some of the pioneers in the technique and one of them had sent her his dissertation on the subject. It was invaluable, even though it took hours to print it from the office computer. She’d read it deep into the night, making notes in the margins, highlighting whole passages, and underlining the phrases that made her think.
With consistent use for the past couple of weeks, Sophie was starting to move in the direction Natalie wanted or to lift a foot with a simple touch of the pole and a voice command, followed by a food reward. Sophie’s quick response made Natalie believe the elephant really did want to learn, and, more importantly, that she wanted to please Natalie. The moment she realized that Sophie was like any other domesticated animal who recognized human beings as the alpha—the one with the food, the caretaker—was the moment Natalie knew she had made the right decision. It would take time and effort, but it would work. She felt it in her bones.
Of course, Siriporn didn’t understand what Natalie was doing at all and expressed his frustration. Why didn’t Natalie learn to ride Sophie, he wanted to know. How could she expect to be a mahout if she didn’t establish herself as the rider? Did she expect this animal to simply understand the words without using the ankus? Impossible, he would say, and each time, he’d take off his cap and slap it against his hand for emphasis.
Mali didn’t understand Natalie’s philosophy either, but Andrew had told everyone to cooperate with her, so Mali did as Andrew asked. She reminded Natalie, however, that Andrew had put a deadline on Natalie’s work. Three months, he’d said, but if anything—any little thing—happened before that deadline was up—if Sophie harmed another being or maliciously destroyed another piece of property—she would be put down. So far, Sophie cooperated as if she knew this was her last chance. Still, Natalie always worked with her safely, and in the back of her mind, she realized that Sophie’s life was in her hands.
Siriporn still brought Ali back to the barn after everyone else left the river and the four of them could have the water to themselves. Natalie and Siriporn watched Sophie closely, still not completely trusting her, but hopeful because at least Sophie wasn’t throwing animals up in the air and destroying buildings. Ali, the old bull, waited alongside the barn now, out of sight.
In the barn, all had quieted down. Natalie grabbed some of the bananas from the food pail, handing half of them to Siriporn. Together, they silently fed Sophie until the pail full of goodies had disappeared.
“She need medicine.” Siriporn pointed to Sophie’s leg and the still-weeping wound.
“She had some this morning. Dr. Hatcher will be back later with another dose. We need to wait.” It wasn’t easy to convince Sophie to let Hatcher stab her with a needle, but they had no choice. Until the wound stopped weeping, the shots would continue. “I think I’m going to keep her here today, Siriporn. The wound is too open. Why don’t you come back after you take Ali to the river?”
Mali slid off the steel bar where she sat and watched Siriporn command Ali to bend on one knee so he could scramble up to sit astride the bull’s neck. As they lumbered away, Sophie groaned a couple of times, a low, almost mournful sound, and leaned against the bars as if longing to follow them. Ali had disappeared into the tree-line when the calls of several other mahouts echoed down the road. Obviously, the other elephants had joined Ali and Siriporn. The group’s laughter receded into the distance.
“He’s a good boy, your son,” Natalie said as she swept the area clean of leftover food.
“Yes, as long as he’s with the elephants. When he’s with the village boys, he’s a different Siriporn. Very different.” Mali kept her back to Natalie. “Jung said, ‘I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.’”
Natalie leaned on the broom. A trickle of sweat crept down her back. A swim would have felt good. “What do you mean?” She knew exactly what the quote meant, but could Mali be referring to her? The quote hit a little too close to home. It was one Dr. Littlefield used regularly.
“I mean I think my son has chosen to be a dissident,” she snorted, as if amazed at the irony. “Siriporn remembers when he was a child, and his father and I talked about politics all the time, never realizing the small child at our feet heard everything.” She shook her head, turned, and smiled. Rueful.
“You should have seen him at that age, Natalie. Shiny black hair, the brightest eyes. Ran everywhere. Never walked.” She leaned her cheek against her broom and her eyes became distant, she didn’t move for several long moments.
“Too much talk about politics. Questioning the king. Making trouble. It worries me.” Mali shook her head; her braid swung back and forth. “A government official came the other day asking about Siriporn and the group he joined. Andrew diverted his attention, but . . . I worry Siriporn’s getting in too deep. He’s always been cheeky, but I fear he’s gone too far. He’s too much like his grandfather. He talks too much.” She gazed into the distance, a film over her eyes. “I worry.”
“What worries you?” Hatcher’s voice startled both women. He laughed at their reaction and swung himself up on the bars where Mali had been sitting. He wore a pair of cutoff scrubs brown with mud, yet the line where his shorts ended and the tanned part of his legs was still pinkish-white.
At the sound of his voice, Sophie shifted her weight away from the bars closest to him and moved as far as she could to the other side of the enclosure. She associated him with the huge hypodermic regularly thrust into her skin.
I’d back up, too, Natalie thought. Hell, I’d break down walls if I saw that needle coming!
She wondered if it would be rude if she asked why he was there. Then realized she didn’t care. “Is it time for her shot? You’re early, aren’t you?” Her throat tightened, making her voice high-pitched like what Pop would call a “fisher wife.”
“Wanted to see how everything is proceeding and whether you need any help. I’m sure this protected containment thingy is proving to be a mite more than you bargained for, eh?” He stared past Natalie and studied Sophie intently but kept his distance, which was probably smart. The only male Sophie trusted at all was Siriporn and only when Natalie and Ali were there. “You need to give her antibiotics twice a day,” he said.
“I know that.” Natalie fought the urge to tell him to leave. She put the broom in the corner. Mali moved toward the road as if she knew where the conversation was heading and didn’t want to be involved.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? What you’re worried about?” Hatcher fell in beside Mali. Natalie caught up with them, feeling like Hatcher had no business poking his nose into Mali’s conversation, but she was a big girl. If she didn’t want to answer him, that was her decision.
Together, the three of them scuffed their way up the dirt road.
“It’s Siriporn. His politics. You know.” Mali gazed up at Hatcher, sheltering her eyes with her hand. A burn striped the back of that hand, a red slash that needed treating. “He doesn’t understand what he’s getting himself into. It’s dangerous. People have died. For what?” Her voice rose an octave. “The Yellow Shirts will always be in power. The poor never win over the rich.”
Hatcher shrugged. “Ah, so that’s what it is. Mother doesn’t want to let go. He needs to discover for himself, though, don’t you think? He’s old enough to make those decisions about his beliefs. And if his political leanings get him into trouble, he’s old enough to get himself out. Let him ask the tough questions. Let him explore. You’re probably making more of it than you need to.”
Mali grunted non-committedly and looked down at her feet. “Were you living here the last time there was a coup?”
“Not living here, but I had visited that year. About eight years ago, correct?”
They continued talking, but Natalie’s mind was elsewhere.
The trees rustled above, and she glanced up to see an osprey winging toward the glistening river in the distance. The predator’s magnificent arched wings, extended wing ‘fingers,’ and white underbelly made her catch her breath. She followed the graceful bird’s flight, until it knifed its wings and flew downward, out of sight. Papa had taught her the names of birds when she was little, and it wasn’t until she started veterinary school that she realized he knew the most common ones but wasn’t familiar with the rare or soon-to-be extinct. Still, the moments she spent walking with him while he tended to his small garden were precious. She often wondered whether Danny and Stephen missed having their father around after he left for simple reasons like learning the names of animals and birds. She sighed.
As they passed the river, three elephants—Ali and two younger cows, the sisters Kalaya and Anugraha—splashed and squirted, dousing mahouts who sat or stood atop them, daring each other to dive off. Could Sophie hear them? Did she long to be with them? She was her happiest, it seemed, when she rolled and submerged in the cool water. Natalie felt guilty that she hadn’t brought the elephant to the river today, especially since it would have meant she would have missed bumping into Peter.
“Natalie?” Mali touched Natalie’s arm. “Are you with us?”
“I’m here,” she answered.
“You were deep in thought,” Hatcher said.
She simply nodded, embarrassed to be caught ignoring them both.
“Can I ask a question?” Hatcher pointed to Natalie, his eyebrows arched, as if half expecting her to say no.
She nodded again, though she feared what his question might be.
“Do you have any idea how much this protective containment costs?”
“It’s protected contact, Dr. Hatcher.” She hated that her voice sounded haughty, but it seemed he found every excuse to poke at her. It was getting tiresome. “And right now, the cost is minimal because the structure was already built. All we had to do was to move the steel bars in closer and fashion some long poles.”
“What about the labor?”
“Siriporn volunteers his time, as do I.” Narrowing her eyes, she thought a moment. “Is there a reason why you want this to fail? It seems that you truly expect Sophie to go on a rampage and kill half the people in the sanctuary.”
“Maybe it’s because I’ve seen elephants rampage in the past. Have you?”
“You don’t have to actually see a rampage to know about them, Dr. Hatcher.” Again, her voice sounded haughty, but this time she didn’t fight it. “And the point of using protected contact is to make sure Sophie feels safe enough with us not to need to act out.” Prickles of anger crept up Natalie’s neck. “Exactly why are you so reluctant to let me try this?” It can’t just be the dissertation, she thought as she physically bit her own tongue. A coppery taste filled her mouth.
“You want to know why? I’ll tell you.” Hatcher’s cheeks reddened. “Because you’re a bleeding heart American taking some time off to come help the poor elephants. You’re going to go home and tell everyone what a mah-velous working vacation you had while the rest of us remain here to try to repair your lame attempts at fixing the savage beast.” Hatcher’s nostrils flared and his fists clenched.
“I’m not here on vacation.” She wondered the instant she said that why she felt the need to explain to him. “I have a surgical clinic at home that’s running half-time because I made the choice to be here. I’m volunteering my time and expertise for a year. Not a c
ouple of weeks. This isn’t a lark. And you don’t have a clue who I am or what my motivation is, but you know what? That doesn’t really matter. What matters is Sophie, and I don’t think you give a fuck about her! I think it would be easier for you to let her go and move on to the easier cases.”
Hatcher stepped closer until she could literally smell his breath, a weird combination of coffee and garlic. Natalie stood her ground as he ranted, only understanding every other word of his rapid-fire diatribe, until Mali pushed herself between them.
“Stop it! Stop it right now!” Mali yanked Hatcher, still sputtering profanities, away from Natalie. “Both of you are here for the same reason, don’t you realize that?”
“She’s a goddamn diva.” Hatcher flailed his arms trying to lose Mali’s grip. “Comes here all jacked up about the best way to do things, talks Andrew into some cockamamie treatment, and that elephant is no better now than she was weeks ago. What the hell!”
Natalie pointed a shaking finger at him. “How in the hell would you know? You come by and stick a needle in her leg and leave. You have no idea whether she’s improving. You don’t even know her.”
“And you do? Seriously, Dr. DeAngelo, you need to step off that pedestal of yours and see the writing on the wall. That elephant is dying! Keeping her alive is only serving one thing: your vanity!”
Without another word, Hatcher turned and stalked toward the cabins, leaving Natalie and Mali standing in the middle of the road, their mouths hanging open.
__________
The woman sits next to Sophie’s leg that night, talking to her for a long time. The words string together, sounds merely, for they make no sense to the elephant, but she listens anyway, and after a while, she hears the same two sounds, the same two words over and over again: Stephen. Danny. Danny and Stephen. Danny. Danny. Danny. Stephen and Danny.
Though the elephant doesn’t understand the meaning of those two words, she does understand the emotions that color the words every single time the woman utters them: grief. Sadness and despair. Heartbreak.
The Mourning Parade Page 15