A Perfect Friend

by Reynolds Price

  Instead Ben hurried back inside to fix his own breakfast of cereal and toast. He worked as quietly as he could manage so as not to wake his father. Then he sat to eat it in the silent kitchen. Several times he had to slow himself down. He had no idea of when Mr. Grimlet and Duffy would give Sal her morning bales of hay, but he didn’t want to get to the fairgrounds too early and risk running into a tough clown or acrobat who might think he was some kind of poisoner and run him off or call the police. He was thinking through that when he heard his father’s footsteps coming down. That reminded Ben how he had promised to clean out the garage, and he dreaded that his father might want him to do it this morning.

  But no, Mr. Barks just said hello; then got his own food out and sat down to eat behind the newspaper. He’d hardly looked at the first page, though, before he said “Bad news.”

  Ben waited but his father just kept on reading in silence. So finally Ben said “Please tell me what’s bad.”

  Mr. Barks looked up. “Oh I thought you’d already read the story.” He turned the front page toward Ben, and there was a picture of Sal almost surely. It looked enough like her anyhow.

  Ben felt a little frozen in place. He didn’t move closer to the paper to read whatever news it told.

  His father took the paper back. “It says the show has lost three elephants lately. Mysterious causes. And the owner is scared this last one’s in trouble.”

  Ben said “And that’s all? Sal’s still all right?”

  His father looked closely at the paper and nodded. “It seems they think she’s in good health but they’re worried anyhow. She’s under close guard.”

  Ben felt relieved. “I knew that much. Her keeper told me yesterday.”

  “And he still let you go in and see her?”

  Ben said “Yes, he trusted me. And so did Mr. Grimlet, the boss. I told you, Dad.”

  “You didn’t tell me they left you alone with an elephant in danger.”

  Ben said “I wasn’t alone with her more than three minutes unfortunately.”

  “Maybe that was lucky.”

  Ben said “How?”

  “No one could think you were poisoning the old girl.”

  “She’s not so old, sir. And how many poisoners have you ever heard of as young as me?”

  Mr. Barks said “You’ve got a point. But if you’re heading back out there this morning, you want to be extra careful with yourself. Don’t be alone with her, and don’t try to interfere if you see anybody trying to harm her. Just call the boss.”

  Ben was relieved that his father had no objections to his morning plans, so he didn’t try to say that he’d defend Sal with all the strength in his body if necessary. He only said “Sir, she’s surrounded with people who care the world about her. And she’s three states away from where her sisters got sick.”

  Mr. Barks was listening but he gave no answer.

  So Ben got up, washed his plates, put them away, and then said “Dad, I’m off to the fairgrounds—OK?”

  “You want me to drive you?”

  “Oh no, sir. I need the workout.”

  His father looked toward him for maybe ten seconds; and then, for the only time Ben could remember, he said “Will I ever see you again?”

  That was so strange it upset Ben, but he didn’t want to show it. He laughed out loud and said “Again? You’ll be sick of the sight of me long before I leave.”

  Mr. Barks said “Maybe. Somehow I doubt it.” But then he laughed too and waved Ben away.

  By the time Ben got to the fairgrounds and hid his bike in the woods, it was ten o’clock; and a few men were standing around in their underwear talking to women in bathrobes and slippers. Ben thought he recognized the Ringoes from the high-wire stunt with Sal two nights ago; but he dodged his way behind wagons and cages, pausing just once to speak to the lion that had liked him yesterday. That way he managed to get almost to Sal’s tent without being stopped, but then he ran headlong into a man who had to be the giant—the world’s tallest man.

  He was three times as tall as Ben anyhow; and though he didn’t grab him, he said “Stop there! Who in the devil are you, little buster?”

  Ben made a mistake. He said “Sir, I’m Mr. Duffy’s and Sal’s good friend—see, I’m just a young boy.” He could hear how silly that sounded, so he held both hands out to show the giant he wasn’t armed and to prove he was a boy after all, not a small but desperate crook. When the giant kept standing there, watching in silence, Ben tried again. “Who are you, please?”

  At last the man said “I’m the ogre they keep here to ward off trouble. My real name is Pat, but my circus name is Otho.”

  At that he made a move toward Ben to seize him by the neck. His arms were longer than most men’s legs.

  But Ben jumped back and said “Tell Duffy I’m here. Duffy knows me well.” When Otho kept coming, Ben jumped again. “Tell Mr. Grimlet. He definitely knows.”

  That stopped Otho. He looked a little stunned to hear the Boss’s name, but he went on looking at Ben’s face in earnest. Then at last he said “Oh then you’re the one.”

  Ben said “The one what?”

  “They told me Sal had a good friend coming sometime this morning. But the way they talked, I thought he was big—a hotshot anyhow.”

  Ben laughed a little and said “Oh no, you’re the hotshot, Patrick.”

  The giant looked more stunned than before. He knew he’d told Ben that his real name was Pat, but no one had said his whole name Patrick since his own mother died in Ireland long ago. Pat’s awful temper could change in an instant; and hearing his full name from Ben won his heart. He paused to give his head a great shake and clear his mind. Then he pointed beyond them toward Sal’s tent. Just his pointing hand was the size of a huge ham hanging in the store. It could have torn down old city walls in King Arthur’s time.

  Or so Ben thought. Yet even though Otho had turned into Pat and seemed kind enough, Ben knew he had to be more careful than he’d been last night. He couldn’t risk taking the blame for anything bad that happened to Sal today or later. So he said “We need to tell Duffy or Mr. Grimlet I’m here.”

  Pat said “They’re busy right now, counting last night’s money. I can let you in the tent, though; and then I’ll tell them you’re safely here.” When Ben still looked reluctant, Pat waved him on again toward Sal. “They trust you, boy—they told me so,”

  So Ben turned and went directly to the laced-up flap of Sal’s tent.

  Just as he untied the first knot of the rope, one of the men in underwear yelled “You leave Sal alone!”

  Pat yelled back “Shut your mouth, clown. I’m running this show.”

  Everybody in sight, including a pair of tall pink poodles, nearly fell down laughing.

  And Ben went on inside the small tent. The instant he shut the flap behind him, he heard a word—Welcome. When he looked Sal was already reaching toward him with her trunk. It was as fine as any welcome he’d ever received, except for the night his mother came to him and promised him a life. So Ben went toward Sal, and she wrapped him in—very strongly but gently—till he stood right up against the base of her head. At first Ben worried that, if she tightened her grip at all, his bones would crack. But her grip stayed steady. And as he stood there, Ben silently wondered if Sal knew exactly how tightly to hold him. He wasn’t afraid but it did occur to him that, if he’d been a young elephant, she could surely have held him much tighter than this.

  Sal’s voice said a new thing—Safe. Now never leave here.

  That eased Ben completely and he stood on calmly, glad to accept how much she liked him—if that’s what it was.

  Very gradually over maybe two minutes, Sal relaxed her grip and went back to her habit of swaying from side to side. But her eyes were on Ben.

  By then Ben was sorry he hadn’t brought big pocketfuls of the nuts he and Robin gathered months ago—pecans from the edge of the woods. Ben had thought of bringing some to Sal before he left home, but then he’d thought that b
ulging pockets might look suspicious, so he’d left the nuts. Now as Sal rummaged through the hay at her feet and occasionally reached down to search Ben’s pockets, he thought he’d step outside and find the peanut man and hope he’d sell some nuts this early in the day. Dumb as it seemed, feeding peanuts to the biggest land creature on Earth, this creature was hungry.

  But before Ben had even turned toward the tent flap, Sal understood his plan and said Stay.

  So he stayed. At one side of the tent, he saw a green barrel. Ben brought that forward and sat in front of Sal, touching her trunk when she reached out toward him but mostly just feeling peaceful in her presence.

  Sal seemed to feel the same.

  In another few minutes Ben realized that they hadn’t spoken for a good while now. He didn’t want to ruin their contentment with too many silent words or ideas; but he knew they only had this much time to be together. After this they must separate, likely forever. Out loud he asked Sal to tell him about her life, from the start till today.

  Through another long space of time, she sent him nothing that was like clear words or an actual story. It felt like nothing but more and more of the peace they were sharing.

  So Ben went on and tried to tell her his story, in silence and in the fewest possible words. It amounted to this—I was born in this town a long time ago. Or so it feels to me. I had parents that were kind and fair up till last year when my mother got sick and died too soon. My father and I still live in the same house. It’s out on the edge of town with some deep cool woods and a creek and a field, and I’ve got no real complaints about the place. I have my own room; and my best friend—my cousin Robin, who’s a girl—lives close by. I do all right at school; and like you heard me say last night, I hope to be an animal doctor when I’m grown. The main reason why I’m trying to know you in these few days is, I’m in love with you and have been ever since I was a little boy. I love you and, after you, I love most all the elephants alive. I’m the only boy or girl I know who feels this way; it may have a lot to do with my mother. Long ago she started me to drawing you, and she started reading to me about you when I was almost a baby. All through the years she’d encourage me to keep on learning more about you. Then she got sick and died when I was ten; and ever since, I’ve wanted more and more to know you and love you, close up like this, and understand everything I can about you. See, I’ve talked to one other animal creature—our old dog Hilda—so I’ve wanted to talk to you also. And now we have.

  Sal had stopped her rocking by then and was completely still except for quietly turning the hay at her feet with the tip of her trunk. But she didn’t seem to speak.

  If so, Ben couldn’t hear it. He waited as long as he could bear to wait. Then he stood up and shut his eyes and thought as strongly as he’d ever thought anything—You told me it was safe here and that I should never leave. You couldn’t believe how much I’d like to be with you, the rest of your time, and then come with you wherever you go next. But I’ve got reasons to stay at home. I’ve got my duty to finish school and to stay awhile longer with my lonesome dad. Still I’ll try to find you when I’m a little older. Till then please don’t get too sad yourself and please try to keep Benjamin Laughinghouse Barks in your memory. He wants you to have a full good life, not alone like now; and he’ll be your loyal friend forever. Think about him.

  Sal took maybe two or three minutes to hear that and think it through. Again her trunk came up in the air and felt very slowly through the top of Ben’s head; then down to his hands, which were open and lying palm-up on his knees. Then she sent this silent message toward him. At least you can guess how my life feels. I don’t know where I’ll go from here, but I’ll try to keep you somewhere in my mind.

  Ben was glad to hear Sal say that much, but he was also worried. With her present loneliness and her life on the road among nightly crowds of strangers, Sal was in more trouble than Ben could handle. He didn’t try to conceal his worries. He said to Sal You’re strong and well—I’m pretty sure of that. You’ll get some more company as soon as Mr. Grimlet gets his insurance money. More than anything, I’d love to buy you from him and rescue you now. But see, I couldn’t help my mother much either when she needed help so badly. And I’m still trying to get over that. Ben paused there to see if anything else might need to be said.

  Sal was as still as anything stuffed in an animal museum. She was like something Ben might have made in his wildest dreams when he was six or seven years old. It seemed as if he could get another few boys, and somebody’s pickup truck, and take her home to stay forever. But then Ben thought he heard two more words—You will. He was so shocked that he spoke out loud. He said “I will what?”

  Sal’s answer rumbled like a far-off train in the midst of a storm. You’ll get over that. Your mother is safe. I need you now.

  Ben was as happy as he’d ever been. He was also bitterly sad. A beautiful creature, that he’d prayed to know, was asking for him; and he was so tied down in his own life that he couldn’t follow her. He whispered it out loud. “Oh Sala, I can’t. Please understand why and forgive me please.”

  Her eyes were still fixed on Ben, but for the first time they looked blind or unreal like the white-rimmed black glass eyes of a doll. And then very slowly Sal pulled against the chain that tied her back left leg to an iron stake. The chain held tight. Sal made no second try to free herself; but in the next minute, she started her swaying again, side to side. She didn’t seem angry but she took up a big mouthful of hay, half shut her eyes, and began to chew.

  Ben understood that she wouldn’t speak again, not to him this morning. He sat back down on the stool to make up his mind what to do. He’d never been in a situation as hard as this. If he’d thought, for instance, that Sal would get sick soon and die of the same mysterious thing that killed her family, it might have hurt him less than this feeling that he’d deserted her when she asked for help. Today Ben had to face the fact that the gift he’d hoped for through most of his life was maybe possible—a live elephant actually wanting to live beside him—but he couldn’t take it.

  Ben hadn’t cried since the long night after his mother’s funeral. He wondered whether tears wouldn’t start any minute if he sat on here, and what would the clowns and acrobats think if they saw him leave with red eyes and cheeks? He stood up and told himself to say a simple goodbye to Sal and then head home. He had chores there; he could even take Hilda for a walk to the creek if she’d go that far. And thinking of Hilda he thought how wrong she seemed to be when she told him this meeting would help his life. Her old age must be clouding her mind. This elephant wanted nothing that Ben could possibly give.

  He tried again. Sal, you know I’ve got a pass for tonight’s show. Should I come or not? When Sal didn’t answer, Ben said Do you want me to come? Please say. When no words came he said It might just hurt both of us too much.

  Sal said Not me.

  Or had Ben imagined that? He asked her to repeat her meaning.

  But before she could say it again or refuse, two hands spread the flap of the tent wide open; and at once Sal’s trunk went up in the air to scent the new body.

  Ben thought it had to be Duffy or maybe Mr. Grimlet, but it was Dunk Owens. Of all the people it might have been, Dunk was almost the last one Ben would have guessed. How in the world had he known to look here?

  Dunk had stopped just inside the flap and was staring at Sal, plainly amazed. Ben sometimes teased Dunk by calling him the Great Mouth-Breather— his nose was often stopped up from allergies. And now Dunk’s mouth was open wide enough to catch a softball.

  Sal reached past Ben as if she knew Dunk as a separate friend.

  Ben was so worried at being unable to stay with Sal that the sight of Dunk was actually welcome. Maybe Dunk could think of some good way to solve the problem. But as Dunk stepped toward him, Ben had to say “You can’t come in here. It’s strictly off limits,”

  Dunk said “You’re here,”

  “I’ve got the boss’s permission, se
e? Please leave right now or we’ll both be in trouble.”

  Dunk pointed behind him to the world outside. “Your dad told me you’d be somewhere around here. Then some men out there—they told me where you were.”

  “What men?”

  Dunk said “Two fellows out there walking on stilts—they’re ten feet tall.”

  Ben said “They’re clowns and they had no right to tell you anything.”

  Dunk spoke more quietly than usual, but he dared for the first time since Ben’s mother died to challenge his friend, “Ben, speaking of rights, who gave you the right to treat old Dunk like mud on your shoe? Ever since I told you this show was coming, you’ve dodged me and left me out of everything.”

  Ben knew that was true; but since Sal also seemed sad about him and was standing here, he couldn’t find the words to tell poor Dunk how sorry he was. Dunk would be around always. Someday soon Ben could ask for forgiveness. So he turned back from Dunk to Sal and told her silently I’m leaving now. If you say so, I’ll come to the show tonight and tell you goodbye.

  If Sal understood him, she gave nothing back. She was rocking again and chewing hay as if that mattered more than anything near her.

  Outside the tent Ben and Dunk were walking quietly toward the woods when someone shouted Ben’s name out behind him. He looked and it was Duffy. Duffy was waving Ben toward him. For a moment Ben thought of pretending not to hear.

  But by then Dunk was yelling to Duffy. “He’s here. Here’s your man!”

  So Ben led the way, and Dunk came with him. The new spring sun beat hard on their backs.

  When they got there Duffy shook both their hands. It was so unusual for Dunk to shake hands with an adult that he laughed and wiggled his hand in the air as if Duffy’s strength had broken his fingers.

  Ben was sadly disappointed that Sal hadn’t urged him to come back again, so he had no strength to get mad with Dunk, He just asked Duffy “Is anything wrong?”