“No doubt.”
“Maybe,” she said, “that’s why he moved out of town to live behind the big wall.”
After Sila and Alp left, Gio sat in the chair in his living room where he had a good view of a photo of Lillian he had positioned at eye level on the bookcase. So his wife knew Sila Tekin. It was such a small world. Lillian always spoke about the kids she taught, and Gio wished now that he could remember more of those conversations. Was he imagining that Lillian had spoken about the girl? He really couldn’t be sure. But he guessed yes.
Gio knew one thing was for certain: If Lillian were still alive she would have gotten to the bottom of why Sila seemed sad. Instead, Gio now felt he shouldn’t have spent so much time telling his story, even if it did seem to interest her. He looked out the window at the changing light on the distant hills, his two thousand acres that backed up against Flynn’s Butte. He thought the low mountains looked like pillows. When he closed the deal on the property, the grass in between the tall trees was yellow, and at the end of the day the slopes turned gold. It was the land he loved, but also the old wooden farmhouse dating back almost one hundred years. It had been painted so many times that the color was speckled and from a distance appeared pink. To Gio it was weathered and worn, not peeling and shedding its skin. The structure with its steep roof, round windows, and large wraparound porch was unusual and filled with intrigue. A very old, green copper rooster weather vane perched at the highest point of the tallest gable. It spun around in a strong wind and the rusty bearings made a screeching sound as if the rooster were alive.
But what really set the property apart was that most of the acreage was enclosed by a high stone wall. This was what no one else had been willing to pay for.
Eighty years before, the owners of these hills had been in the quarry business, supplying gravel for the roads that early lumber companies had needed when they forged into the forests to cut down timber. The wall had started when the family decided to grow exotic plants and rare orchids. The climate was a problem, but the bigger issue was the deer that roamed the area. The animals went crazy for the new vegetation. A barrier needed to be put up, but the deer could jump, and so the wall was made higher and then higher, until it finally towered eight feet tall. The cost wasn’t a problem for the family since the rock was free from their quarry, and the wall continued to be built, even after their interest in exotic plants faded.
No one had a wall like this wall. No one wanted one. But at a certain point the wall became a source of pride. The wall started for a specific reason. Then it became a hobby. And it ended as an obsession. The family couldn’t stop themselves from more and more construction. Neighbors reported seeing people mixing cement and lifting boulders in the middle of the night. The result was that acres and acres of Gio’s property were enclosed.
Local people wondered what the previous owners were doing on the other side of the high barrier, and stories were whispered about ghosts, secret ceremonies, and even illegal activity. Gio didn’t pay attention. He loved the old farmhouse, the gentle slope of the hills, and the sound of the wind as it stirred the tops of the pine trees. The useless wall was something he was willing to accept because it was part of the package.
There was very little flat land available on Gio’s new property and the whole place was dotted with trees. Enormous boulders seemed to pop up unexpectedly like huge eggs dropped from the sky. The earth hiding beneath the moss, ferns, and wildflowers was streaked with dense orange clay. It was not meant to grow vegetables. His plan to plant lettuce and tomatoes was permanently on hold.
Gio wasn’t hiding out at the new place, but something close to that happened. Walls do that. They separate worlds. The winter months in the valley in this part of Oregon are wet, which means a lot of gray, closed-in skies. Gio started to believe he’d come to the end of the road in life. He wasn’t an ancient man, but he was approaching his seventieth birthday. It felt like a lot of living, especially when his knees hurt and his back was sore every morning. Because his job had been in construction, his life had been very physical. He’d been a human pretzel, bent over while pounding nails or standing tall as he held wooden beams high over his head. Now he was a lottery winner with no money worries, no wife, an achy body, and a lot of time on his hands. The excitement of having a big bank account had worn off. There was no one waiting for him to show up at a job—no one expecting him to share a meal, or to even talk with about what to watch on TV. Gio was in a hole that can appear when a person doesn’t feel they’re needed.
He was no more happy, and no less happy, than before he won all the lottery money. But he was a whole lot more alone. He carried around an emptiness that was the space Lillian once filled. Missing her every day was the connection they now shared, and that meant she was still alive. He was seeing the world for both of them now. His steps were hers.
Had the little girl he’d met today lost someone?
Gio wondered if that was the look he saw in her eyes.
He wished he’d found a way to ask.
6.
Gio climbed inside his new truck the next afternoon and his vehicle seemed to drive itself into town, to the address listed on Alp Tekin’s business card. He sat in front of 2599 Cleary Road and stared at the apartment building. Why was he there?
Gio watched as Alp Tekin’s car came down the street. Sila was seated inside with her father. She spotted Gio before he could start his engine and drive off. This left him no choice but to roll down the window and come up with an explanation. “I brought you the money—so that you could order the parts for my old truck.”
Alp nodded and said, “But it was okay to pay when I came back.”
Gio opened the door to his vehicle and reached into his pocket, taking out a handful of hundred-dollar bills. Alp accepted the money, saying thank you, but what followed was an awkward pause, which Sila finally filled.
“Do you want to come in and have a cup of tea with us? Or maybe some cheese and olives?”
Gio surprised himself and them when he said, “Sure. That would be nice.”
Sila put out a plate of snacks. Alp made tea and served it in little tulip-shaped, clear glasses with two lumps of sugar on the side. Gio sat at the table in the small kitchen. For once Sila was glad that her mom wasn’t there; Oya always insisted people take off their shoes at the door. Alp and Sila hadn’t said anything to Gio, who was wearing what looked like fancy leather bedroom slippers. Sila wondered if he’d forgotten to put on real shoes when he left home.
It had been quiet for what felt like a long time when Alp asked, “How did you end up calling me to fix your truck?”
Gio took a sip of tea and explained, “When my truck wouldn’t start I thought about having it towed to the dealership in town. But then I remembered how they’d treated me the last time I came in. The head of the service department flat out said he didn’t think the truck was worth repairing. I wasn’t going near that pinched-face man again.”
This made Alp laugh. Gio then continued: “I keep a stack of business cards in the kitchen. People offering up gardening services, housecleaning, and pet sitting—mostly stuff I don’t need. When I lived in town, I’d get the cards put in the mailbox.”
Sila’s and Alp’s eyes met and they both smiled. They sometimes walked together around town and left Alp’s business cards in people’s mailboxes. It always felt great to see that the work paid off.
“When I moved out to my new place I took the cards with me,” Gio went on. “It’s an old-fashioned way to look for employment, what with the Internet and all. I admire the effort.”
Sila reached for one of the cards from a bowl on the kitchen counter. There was a small drawing of an elephant sitting in a wagon on Alp’s business card. Sila told Gio, “I helped make the card. There’s a program online and you just put in your information. I picked out the logo.”
Talking about the business card made Gio come t
o life. He explained that while he’d bought a new truck with his lottery money, it was his old truck that he owned when his wife was still alive that he cared the most about.
“The upholstery in the front seat’s split down the middle and there’s yellowy sponge poking out. The floor mats are worn through and the outside paint long ago got dull. The truck has rust spots on the fenders and the hood. But it feels more comfortable than my new one—with its dashboard all lit up and the crazy warning sounds telling me to brake or stay in my lane when I know I’m doing just fine.”
Alp nodded with understanding. Sila didn’t care much about cars or trucks, but she liked this guy. He was making it feel less sad in the apartment.
“I put a battery in the old truck three months ago,” Gio said. “So when I went out to drive it Saturday and it wouldn’t start, I was surprised how rotten it made me feel. Things can just be moving one minute and not working the next.”
Sila wondered if he was talking about the truck or himself. This man was one of the winners of the biggest lottery payout in the state, yet he had his problems. Everyone did. Since her mom had gone, Sila understood that.
Alp got up to put the teakettle back on the stove, and Gio looked at Alp’s daughter. “What are you thinking about right now, Sila?” he asked.
She didn’t take even a moment to answer. “Having my mom come home.”
Gio nodded.
So there it was. The problem.
He’d known there was something forming a cloud over the girl.
And with that, the conversation changed to an explanation by Alp of new laws that required new documentation for immigrants, which was the reason they were waiting so anxiously at 2599 Cleary Road.
7.
Gio had let it slip out that the next day was his birthday. Sila hoped he wasn’t going to be spending it alone. He had seemed vague when she asked, so they had made a plan. They would meet in the morning before school for donuts at Gio’s favorite breakfast spot: the Hole in One bakery. He had explained to them, “It’s really not a bakery because they only sell donuts. It’s run by two sisters, Margo and Mayo. They don’t keep regular hours and they sell whatever they’ve made, then close for the day.”
Alp knew the Hole in One but had never been inside. “They have that huge parking lot,” Gio said. “I think they lose money making donuts, but they hold a flea market on the property once a month. Truckers know the place because it’s so easy to park.”
That night Sila looked it up online. A review said: “Not far off the highway you can get a decent dunker and park ANYTHING there.”
* * *
It was raining and windy outside when Sila and her father walked in to find the lottery winner staring into the glass case at the maple bars. It smelled like cinnamon and sugar, and Sila wondered if it was possible to make a perfume with the odor of a donut shop. She could imagine it being a best seller.
Gio had brought three coffee mugs from home. At the Hole in One they gave ten cents off for bringing in your own drink container. Gio said he was doing it to help the planet, not to save thirty cents. He and Alp ordered coffee. Sila asked for hot chocolate. They each picked out donuts.
Sila had made Gio a birthday card and she gave it to him while Alp paid the cashier. Gio read out loud what Sila had written inside: “May this be your best year yet.” He thanked her, and she thought he looked genuinely happy as he slipped the card in the pocket of his yellow jacket.
They had just found seats by the window when three very large trucks pulled into the oversized parking lot. Two of the three were the kind of transporters that could carry very heavy loads. Both of these vehicles had been customized with a foot of open metal grating at the top on three of the four sides. These openings appeared to be designed to let in air. But why?
An old school bus, painted purple and green, motored into the lot behind the trucks. The bus was followed by two dented passenger vans, three SUVs, and five packed pickup trucks.
Behind the counter Margo could be heard grumbling, “Prepare for an invasion.”
Sila was no longer fixated on her hot chocolate or cream-filled donut. She stared out the window. The rain was coming down hard as the doors to the vehicles opened and people started to spill out. Lots of people. Gio caught Sila’s eye. “This could be interesting.”
They weren’t disappointed. The new arrivals were a lively bunch, dressed in bright clothing, with imaginative hairstyles, arms of tattoos, and rattling metal jewelry. A disproportionate number of the crowd wore hats and carried overflowing shoulder bags. Six poodles, dyed purple and pink, came out of one of the vans. In several minutes more than fifty people were waiting to use the donut shop bathroom. Those who didn’t take a place in the crooked line headed to the glass counter and eyed the pastry with real enthusiasm. The group was loud. They talked and horsed around in a way that Sila decided meant many of them had to be related. It wasn’t long before they were moving chairs, sitting in clusters, or standing to argue, while eating donuts and gulping coffee.
Sila was eager to know more about the group when a man close to Gio’s age, with tangled long curls of silver hair, came over and pointed to an empty chair. He asked, “Anyone sitting here?” Gio responded, “It’s reserved for you.”
The man lowered himself down with obvious relief onto the red cushion of the metal chair. Sila tried not to eyeball the guy, but it was impossible. The newly arrived traveler had silver rings on all of his fingers, even his thumbs. He wore an orange scarf around his neck, a green army jacket, and faded striped pants, which were tucked into old yellow rain boots.
Sila wanted to say something and was grateful when Gio did it for her by asking, “Where’s your group headed?”
The man took a big bite of his cinnamon twist and answered with his mouth full: “Nowhere. Real fast.” The man swallowed. “Just finished our last booking.”
Sila stared back out the window at the vehicles. She read the faded words painted on the side of one of the trucks: THE BRIOT FAMILY CIRCUS. She found herself asking, “So you’re all in a circus?”
For the next fifteen minutes they heard that the Briot family (along with some non-Briot employees) had traveled the country for almost thirty-two years. But while Chester Briot said he would like to keep moving from town to town entertaining small communities (never big cities—they weren’t intended for that kind of crowd), his employees, who were his children, cousins, two former wives, and other stakeholders in the operation, had different ideas.
In Klamath Falls, the Briot circus members had taken a vote. As the ringmaster, Chester insisted that his single ballot count for ten, but even that hadn’t made a difference. They’d come to the decision to stop performing at the end of the month, sell off what they could, and each go their own way. So they were, as Chester said, “getting ready to close down the big top for good.”
Sila hadn’t taken a single bite of her donut since the man opened his mouth. Gio saw the look on her face, a mixture of fascination and intrigue, and he went to the cash register and paid the bill for the whole group. It was donuts and coffee on Giovanni Gardino! This act of generosity, and the fact that Sila explained it was Gio’s birthday, led Chester to invite Sila, Alp, and Gio out to meet another longtime member of the Briot circus.
* * *
The rain had tapered off to a sprinkle and the sun was poking through a hole in the thick clouds as the group followed the circus man out the door of the donut shop and into the large parking lot. A rainbow suddenly appeared in the sky. It formed an arch high above their heads that felt to Sila like destiny as Chester opened the back of the largest truck.
Because that’s when Sila met Veda.
8.
Veda was an elegant elephant. She had dark brown eyes and long lashes that looked like they were made of black wire. In the tight space of the transport trailer she angled her head so that one eye could get a look back
. Her gaze was penetrating. When their eyes connected Sila took in a big gulp of air. She was awestruck.
“I’ve never seen an animal this big.”
Chester seemed to puff up with pride. “I got her when she was young. She was a lot smaller then. I’ve had her for years and years.”
“Is it okay if I touch her?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
Sila reached up and her fingers brushed gently against the leathery gray hide of Veda’s right back leg.
“She’s amazing” was all Sila could manage to say.
Chester saw Sila staring in awe at his pachyderm. He’d long ago forgotten how majestic the elephant was. The cost of feeding and transporting the huge animal was worth it when the money was coming in, but that was back when crowds were waiting to greet the circus. Those days Chester was younger and life on the road with his family was an adventure.
He listened as the girl spoke, straining to hear her barely audible words. “There are two kinds of elephants. African and Asian. Like cousins, branches of the same family. The Asian elephants are smaller. They have different ears. An elephant is the second-smartest land animal. We come in first. We’re mammals. We’re related. But of course it’s important to remember that all living things are related. I did a report on elephants at school last year.”
Chester found himself saying with real feeling what he’d mouthed thousands of times into a microphone without much genuine emotion. “Elephants are inspiring. Just in size alone. They’re the largest living land animals on the planet. They have twenty-six teeth. Tusks are teeth—did you all know that? They’re incisors. But only male elephants have them. Veda’s a female, so no tusks on her. An elephant can stand almost perfectly still for hours and hours. They use up almost no energy. Sounds crazy, but it’s true. It’s how they’re built—where the bones are and all! Elephants get most of their sleep standing up. Bet you didn’t know that.”
The Elephant in the Room Page 3