The Mourning Parade

by Dawn Reno Langley

You’d better not pout.

  I’m telling you why.

  Santa Claus is coming to town.

  Danny’s favorite.

  She lifted her head to the sky. Thousands of stars dotted the heavens in familiar constellations and unfamiliar clusters. She’d never been an astronomy buff—she was lucky she knew how to spot the Big Dipper—but she loved looking at the sky. In the moment and more than a little buzzed from the wine, she shut off the lantern and let the night settle around her. Gradually, her eyes adjusted and she discerned the shapes of trees and the roofline of one of the cabins to her right. For several long moments, she stood there, staring into the night sky, not thinking, simply breathing. Then the sound of the sanctuary’s phone ringing in the near distance broke the silence, reminding her she hadn’t ventured very far from the platform.

  After the third ring, she heard Hatcher’s gruff “hullo.” Amazed she could hear him so clearly, she remained anchored, wondering who’d be calling so late. Then she fuzzily realized it had to be a long distance call. Another time zone. Part of her hoped it was her mother: it would have been good to hear from home, but Maman wasn’t prone to unplanned phone calls or visits. Natalie knew when Maman would call because she wrote to let Natalie know weeks in advance. Natalie often teased Maman that mail actually did arrive within a week to ten days, and if Maman wanted to reach Natalie sooner, she could email. But, no, Maman was very old school: paper letters—handwritten—and long, newsy phone calls.

  “No, I’m alone right now,” Hatcher said. “How are things in Kenya?” His voice floated through the clear night air as though he held a microphone. It had to be Andrew calling. “Things are going well, for the most part. Running a skeleton ship here, you know. Everyone’s gone home for the holidays . . . yes, yes, yes, most back in January . . . no, we’ll be fine. All the mahouts are still here . . . yes, yes, that’s fine . . . she’s still here . . .”

  For several moments, he only murmured or huffed, then, “You have a lot more faith in her than I do . . .”

  Natalie’s ears pricked up. Was it the tone of Hatcher’s voice or the words he used that told her he was talking about her?

  “Do you realize how much money we’ve spent on her little experiment? Nearly seventy-five thousand American dollars!” Another silence. Hatcher kept trying to speak, but Andrew must have been having his own say on the other end of the line. “We’ve never spent this much on one elephant. If we have a medical emergency anytime soon, we’re royally buggered.”

  Natalie sucked in her breath. Hatcher was lying through his teeth! The expenses were minimal. Where the hell did he get that figure? Whoa, wait a minute. Karina. Natalie wished she could hear Andrew’s response.

  “Sophie’s a serious waste of time and resources, Andrew, and you know it. She’ll come only so far, then something will push one of her buttons, and she’ll blow her cork, like before. We need to cut our losses . . . I know . . . I know . . . No, I don’t think that’ll work. You know how I feel about this!” Hatcher’s voice became more strident. He liked having his own way, and right now, it didn’t appear that was happening. “She’s going to hurt someone, and we’ll end up being sued . . . I know, you must under—Don’t worry. I won’t.” He grunted a few times. Listened.

  Deep down, Natalie felt a guilty pleasure hearing Hatcher bumble around and was glad she hadn’t butted in when she heard him lie. He’d entrap himself without her help. She had become so used to his bullying that his failings were a relief of sorts. Made him halfway human. A contradiction, of sorts.

  “All the other ellies are fine. Yes. Dogs, too . . . yes, Mali went to her sister’s for a couple of days. Should be back Saturday . . . okay, I will . . . don’t worry, I won’t say anything . . . Andrew! I said I wouldn’t say anything . . . you know I don’t like the woman . . . It’s more than the dissertation, Andrew. You know that . . . But we’re supposed to discuss these hires before you bring them onboard. If you’d talked to me . . .” Silence again.

  The hair on the back of Natalie’s neck bristled.

  “Yes, I understand that.” Hatcher’s voice grew quieter, like a schoolboy answering his teacher. “I do understand, but I wish we had.” The conversation stopped right there.

  Afraid to breathe, Natalie waited a couple more moments, then realized Andrew must have hung up. He had a reputation for ending conversations where he wanted them to end, often spinning on one heel and walking away, interrupting the other person mid-sentence. Even Mali complained of his tendency to be curt. Knowing that Andrew had cut Hatcher’s conversation short gave her an even greater sense of satisfaction than she’d felt listening to Hatcher stumble over his own words.

  A cough echoed in the night air. Footsteps. Hatcher came down the path toward her. She turned and walked quickly toward her cabin, feeling with her feet for the path, keeping her lamp unlit and hoping she didn’t trip on the way.

  The smell of ginger blossoms suddenly turned sour.

  Twenty-Four

  I was once like you are now,

  and I know that it’s not easy,

  To be calm when you’ve

  found something going on.

  But take your time, think a lot,

  Why, think of everything you’ve got.

  For you will still be here tomorrow,

  but your dreams may not.

  -Cat Stevens

  Natalie had agreed to tutor Mali’s sons in English, science (particularly biology), and mathematics in exchange for a year’s worth of Thai horoscopes. It didn’t really matter that she wouldn’t be able to cash in on all of them because she’d be leaving in less than a year. Truth be told, she didn’t really care about the horoscopes and would have tutored the boys anyway because it filled some tiny void inside her soul to be around them, but Mali’s offer of the horoscopes was her way of paying Natalie. Afraid of breaking a cultural rule, Natalie simply went along with the agreement, and Khalan and Siriporn came to her for lessons whenever she was nearby. Surprisingly, she saw each of them at least twice a day.

  And in spite of the fact that the horoscopes didn’t matter, she listened when Mali already said she’d been born in the Year of the Tiger. “People born in the Year of the Tiger are brave, intelligent, powerful, but on the other hand, they can be bloody arrogant and painfully short-tempered. You should probably not have a relationship with another person who is also a Tiger. You’d probably bludgeon each other to death!” She laughed, poking fun at herself, and teasing Natalie.

  Natalie felt strangely empowered, as if she embodied the tiger’s spirit, and her interest grew until she looked forward to discovering what other predictions Mali would conjure.

  The horoscopes were far more pleasant than bacteria and phylum or the sets and graphs Natalie created for the boys, who often didn’t want to sit still for their lessons. She taught them in English, as Mali suggested, and she watched their eyes glaze over if she spoke too quickly. And she learned quickly that a lesson delivered while walking was more often remembered than one delivered in a classroom. So, their classroom became the jungle and the river and the tree stumps along the side of the road. Anywhere they were.

  Surprisingly, Sivad, the little, black-eyed magpie, sat in on the lessons and sponged up everything. She now babbled in English about the dogs and the elephants (she had renamed each of them) and she detailed what she had for her last meal to anyone who would listen.

  Siriporn had requested Natalie teach him the history and philosophies of the most famous of the world’s non-violent protestors: Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Theresa, the Dalai Lama, Henry David Thoreau, Rosa Parks. She felt inadequate at first, but the more they talked, the more she found herself more knowledgeable than she’d originally believed. Siriporn’s knowledge of the English language now included words like “humanitarianism” and “peaceful activism” and “righteous dignity.”

  Khalan, Mali’s second e
ldest, was more interested in learning about animals so the words he knew weren’t likely to be used in common conversation. He wanted to learn quickly—which meant learning in Thai from the other mahouts in the village and then bringing that knowledge to her for translation. It wasn’t the most academic type of education, but Natalie wouldn’t give up. Besides, she had an ulterior motive. She soaked up every piece of native teachings or ideals. Who would know their elephants more than the people who’d lived with them for centuries?

  It was past two in the afternoon, the hottest part of the day, and Natalie’s patience had worn thin with Khalan. They’d been working on mathematic equations, his weakest area, and at it for almost three hours, sitting on the platform, shifting seats when they lost the shade that gave them a bit of respite from the relentless heat. They’d hit a wall and for the past couple of moments, Khalan had been staring into space, completely uninterested, and at this point, she didn’t blame him.

  Though she had promised Mali that her son would be well-prepared for his last year in school before heading to university, at this rate, he wouldn’t make it. Sadly, it didn’t seem to make a difference to him. He’d rather be right where he was.

  Natalie wondered if any of his teachers had ever felt this level of frustration.

  “See if you can tell me about what you see over there,” she told Khalan and pointed to an Oriental pied hornbill with a brightly-colored bill who’d flown past the platform where they sat at one of the picnic tables. The bird landed on the edge of the overhang where several elephants milled about waiting for their trek down to the river with the mahouts.

  “Bird,” Khalan said.

  She had hoped he would remember that they’d named various birds yesterday, especially since she’d imitated their calls so that he’d be able to differentiate between them (and so he’d pay attention). She wondered how teachers did it every day: presenting dog-and-pony shows to students who couldn’t care less.

  “Yes, it’s a bird,” she said now, hiding her disappointment. “It’s an Oriental pied hornbill. Can you say that? Hornbill?”

  He looked at her mouth. She said it again, and he imitated her.

  “Good!” They high-fived—something Khalan never failed to laugh about—and Natalie took the opportunity to squeeze some more new words into the lesson.

  They were almost done for the day when she heard footsteps and voices behind them. Khalan lifted a hand in salute as Natalie turned to see who was coming.

  Karina, a clipboard in her hand and a scowl on her face, walked toward them. She had gathered her frizzy blonde hair up with a clip atop her head. Her chubby feet were stuffed into sandals way too small for her, leaving her toes to hang over the edge by a good inch. The outline of Karina’s bra created rolls of fat where the straps cut across her back.

  “English lessons today?” she called from where she stopped at least twenty feet away. “Nothing to do at the clinic? Sophie still in her enclosure? Her muscles must be atrophying by now with the lack of exercise she’s getting.” Karina lifted her pen and the clipboard as if about to check off Natalie’s answers to her rapid-fire interrogation.

  Natalie hid a smirk. “Khalan’s doing well with his lessons.” He still sat next to her, though Natalie suspected he wouldn’t need much of an excuse to escape. She smiled at him, knowing he understood at least a part of what she said even though he might not respond. “Dr. Hatcher didn’t need me at the clinic today, and Sophie’s been getting plenty of exercise.”

  Karina twisted up her mouth. Her eyes shifted to Khalan, then back to Natalie as if she disapproved. “I didn’t realize Andrew paid you to tutor the help.”

  Though Natalie bristled, she forced herself to smile. “Oh, but he doesn’t pay me, Karina. I’m a volunteer, remember?”

  Karina huffed and bent her head to her clipboard.

  Natalie took her opening. “Any chance you can schedule someone to clear out Sophie’s enclosure? That’s not in my job description.”

  Khalan chuckled, hiding his mouth with his hand, his brown eyes glittering like a child who’d been caught with a secret. The little bugger understood more than he let on.

  Another set of footsteps. Natalie peered over her shoulder. Hatcher. She tried to hide her feelings once again. In that second, it dawned on her that she’d come across the world and still found a fair modicum of drama. Humans, they couldn’t live without their drama.

  “Boy, you’re a busybody,” Hatcher said, looking directly at her when he reached the table.

  “I’m not sure that’s the term I’d use,” she answered as she gathered the paper and books on the table. It was time to “exit stage left,” as her brother would say. She had no patience for Hatcher right now.

  Khalan stood, looked at each of them uncertainly, as if trying to figure out what the farang (the Thai name for foreigners) were going to do. But the way his brows knit together, it appeared he didn’t want to hang around.

  Telling herself to ignore the comments and the undercurrent of sarcasm, Natalie made a pretense of putting her papers in order and kept her eyes down.

  “I asked Siriporn whether he was working with you and Sophie today, and he said you gave him the day off. That true?” Hatcher asked.

  Natalie glanced up to see Hatcher’s eyes on her. Behind him, Karina held her clipboard to her chest with a smug expression on her face.

  “Yes, that’s true. Sophie and I were going to work alone today.”

  “Is that safe?” Hatcher actually managed to sound concerned.

  “Absolutely, we’ve been working alone a lot lately. She’s fine with me. The only time I really need another set of hands is when I’m giving her an antibiotic or checking her foot pads.” It was true. Sophie’s demeanor had become calmer, more docile, in the past month. If Natalie hadn’t had a veterinary background, she’d swear it was because she now sung to the elephant every night. But she knew better. The leg wound was healing, and she would only need a couple more rounds of antibiotics before the infection would be cured.

  Hatcher raised an eyebrow skeptically and swung his eyeglasses in a circle by their arm as if he didn’t know what else to say. “Good, then we can put her back in general population soon.”

  “As long as she’s not near any dogs and we keep the protected contact training program going . . .”

  “Let’s get her back with one of the other mahouts. It’s time for you to work with me on the other tasks at hand. I need to return to regularly visiting the villages, but I can’t do that because there’s too much to occupy me here. I need another set of hands.” He paused for a moment and gazed toward the jungle in the distance. “This elephant has taken up too much of your time. Time to tend to everything else that needs doing in this . . .” He raised his palms to the sky, twisted his mouth, and said, “sanctuary.”

  Speechless, Natalie watched him descend the stairs and disappear down the pathway that led to the clinic. His bony shoulders hunched up a bit, drawing his T-shirt into wrinkles. If he didn’t have a belt on, he would have lost his shorts, she thought. He had no butt whatsoever. But his long legs were well-muscled and he strode with strong steps and a sense of purpose.

  In a thought that surprised her, she wondered if, in another life, at another time, she might have been attracted to him, or at the very least, they might have been friends. But at this point, she wasn’t even sure she respected Peter Hatcher. He’d decided long ago that she was the enemy, and now she knew she felt the same way about him. She had no patience with people who were so hardheaded.

  But all of that had to be put on the back burner. Right now, Sophie’s fate was far more important than the war with Hatcher.

  No matter how good Sophie was doing, Natalie didn’t want to leave her with a mahout. None of them knew the protected contact procedures, nor had anyone—except Siriporn—seen it in use. Besides the training, Natalie strongly suspected Sophie h
ad been abused by some men in her life, because she had an altogether different way of responding to the men than she did toward women. All of the women who’d come by the pen had been allowed to approach Sophie, even to touch her. But the only man she tolerated was Siriporn—and only when Ali remained nearby. Natalie felt fairly certain that being poked by an ankus or ridden by a mahout would throw Sophie right back into the same constant state of fear she felt several months ago. She wasn’t willing to take that chance.

  Time to go over Hatcher’s head and call Andrew.

  She was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Mali until she turned and almost tripped over her.

  “Might I ask what that was all about?” Mali pointed to Hatcher, already halfway down the road. Behind Mali, Karina suddenly reappeared, then back-stepped and whirled around to flee to the office as if terrified by the much smaller and less intimidating Mali. Natalie thought that was strange, yet she sensed a history existed between Mali—Andrew’s lover—and Karina—his sister—that only they were privy to. And Natalie really didn’t want to know. She had enough on her mind.

  “The usual,” Natalie answered with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Nothing really. By the way, do you know when Andrew’s scheduled to call again? I’d like to give him an update on Sophie.”

  Mali paused for a heartbeat as if she had been about to say something then thought better of it. “I believe he’s going to call tomorrow night around six o’clock our time. If you stick around after dinner, I’ll make sure you get the phone. He’s been asking about you anyway, love, so it would be a super idea to talk with him straightaway.”

  She motioned for Natalie to sit, then slid onto the bench next to her.

  “How’s my boy doing?” Mali kept her voice low since Khalan was at the next table and engrossed in conversation with another mahout about Khalan’s elephant, Pahpao.

  Natalie sighed and mentally slapped herself for doing so when she saw Mali’s eyes flicker in surprise. “He’s not doing badly,” Natalie said. “I only wish he’d study more between lessons. He struggles a bit.”