The Mourning Parade

by Dawn Reno Langley

  Throughout the long night, the woman does not raise her voice, though Sophie can tell she’s raging against some horrible agony that only a human understands, and only an hour later, that she’s overwhelmed by a knee-crumbling sadness. The woman’s body throbs. Her head hangs to her chest. She gasps for air.

  Sophie grumbles and, often, trumpets when the woman sobs. Straight, high-pitched, short bursts that echo the woman’s pain, empathizing with the emotions that appear to sweep through the woman like a tidal wave.

  The hours pass by, and the woman still leans against Sophie’s healthy leg. They arch into one another, drawing support from their angles. But the wounded leg begins to ache and the elephant sways, side-to-side, agitated, uncomfortable. The ache tells her there’s a storm nearby, and the pain in her leg always intensifies during and after a storm. The only thing that brings relief is rocking, swaying back and forth.

  The woman’s unceasing chatter transforms into a soothing piece of music, weaving in and out of Sophie’s consciousness. The voice vacillates between high tones and lower, climbing up and down like the mountains around them. Occasionally, the woman quiets, her breathing becomes even, and she sleeps.

  The elephant stays very still during those times, moments only for the woman doesn’t stay asleep long. Part of Sophie is afraid to move, afraid to wake up the woman, to disturb her. She feels a strange maternal urge to care for and protect the woman like she would her own calf, an urge she sees reflected in the woman’s eyes. She can practically smell the woman’s need to care for a child of her own.

  The woman, restless, wakes, in the middle of a dream, and looks immediately at the elephant, as if she wonders whether Sophie understands her purpose. Sophie’s baleful eye stares back at the woman unwaveringly, reassuringly. The elephant can understand emotions, especially raw emotions, but she has to decide whether this human is trustworthy. In Sophie’s world, actions tell her the truth. An angry dog will attack an elephant whenever given the chance. She has seen that first hand, has experienced a dog attack, so she knows the truth of that statement. Her instincts are good, and they tell her to stay away from dogs. If she does, she feels safe.

  This woman doesn’t create a fear inside this elephant like a dog does. The woman has not hurt Sophie and every indication is that she won’t. That is Sophie’s truth about the woman.

  The woman rouses again. Again, she talks. Quieter, this time. Sorrowfully. Sophie loops her trunk over the woman’s shoulders, offering comfort. As if she had been waiting for Sophie’s support, the woman continues to speak, her voice getting stronger, calmer as the night darkness breaks to dawn.

  Twenty

  We are not human beings having

  a spiritual experience.

  We are spiritual beings having

  a human experience.

  -Pierre Diehard de Chardin

  “Siriporn told me you wouldn’t let Dr. Peter near. He said, ‘Dr. Peter do exam through bars. He says the leg still infected, and he put Sophie down tomorrow.” Natalie imitated Siriporn’s voice, deeply concerned, and rightfully so.

  Though Natalie had hunted for Peter for more than an hour, she hadn’t been able to find him, so she went to the pen where she now knelt in front of Sophie. Every muscle in her body ached.

  “Sophie, you must help me convince him. Give me something. Show him what you’ve shown me. Please. We have to convince him this wound is healing. That you’re healing. He thinks you’re dying, Sophie.”

  The elephant’s trunk came through the bars, snuffled Natalie’s hair.

  “I can’t give up, old girl. You can’t either. We have to fight back.”

  Sophie flared her pink-tipped ears and huffed.

  The two of them stood and watched each other for several moments. Natalie wondered what the elephant was thinking. She’d often wondered during the first months working with the horses under her care. After a while, she knew by the way a horse neighed or whether its nostrils flared or how it pawed at the ground whether it was ill or a good candidate for a certain pharmaceutical rather than surgery. It became second nature for her. But now, here, she needed to learn and recognize signs and elephant language. It was like becoming a vet all over again.

  “We’ll do it, Sophie,” she whispered, reaching a hand up to touch the elephant’s bristly trunk. “We’ll do it together. We’ll prove him wrong.”

  The next day, before Hatcher arrived, Natalie attempted to treat Sophie’s wound herself, and the old girl allowed Natalie to do so. He had no choice but to let Natalie keep treating Sophie, though he wasn’t happy she had shown him up once again. Now she wondered whether he’d ever respect her work.

  Sophie trumpeted, one short blast, probably in answer to something she heard in the distance. Natalie glanced up and realized that in her daydreaming, she hadn’t even noticed how close they were to each other. She ordered Sophie to back up. Sophie did so immediately.

  “Good girl, good,” Natalie said quietly.

  She went through their training commands, as they did every day, but this time she recorded them using the video camera on her cell phone. Sophie responded to each command without pause, something she had not done before. Normally, one or two had to be repeated several times. Natalie kept the video going as she opened the door to the inner enclosure, moving toward Sophie’s leg to get a better shot of the wound. She didn’t have time to react before Sophie’s trunk reached out for her old tire, the “toy” she could push and pull while in her enclosure. As it passed by Natalie’s head, her braid wound in the tire and yanked her with it. With a quick whip that tore her shoulder, she flipped onto the ground and found herself on her back, looking up.

  Sophie, standing above her in the enclosure, glanced down, as surprised as Natalie. But Natalie couldn’t move and being on her back looking up at Sophie wasn’t where she wanted to be.

  With a groan, she rolled to one side, trying to get away from Sophie’s reach. “It’s okay, girl. I know you didn’t mean it.”

  Another groan. She pulled herself to a seated position. The cell phone had fallen and shut off. Small favors, Natalie thought, reaching for it and shoving it into her pocket.

  Sophie’s trunk reached out and touched Natalie’s leg. Natalie froze, waiting for the elephant to take advantage and flip her again. But Sophie simply explored Natalie for a moment as if apologizing and checking to see if she was okay, then Sophie withdrew her trunk.

  Natalie rolled her head, tentatively feeling for any dislocation in her shoulder, surprised to find none. But every part of her head hurt from having her braid yanked. She’d certainly have a headache that would last for days. As she struggled to her feet, she giggled. If anyone saw her right now, covered with straw and bits of mud, her hand on her back like an old lady, they’d be certain it was Sophie’s fault. The elephant even looked guilty. But it was Natalie’s own damn fault that she’d gotten caught up. She made a mental note to quit daydreaming when she took care of Sophie. If anything else happened, she might not be so lucky to be picking herself up.

  She found herself sleeping in the enclosure hours later, awakened by voices nearby. Siriporn and Chanchai. Dusting herself off, she pulled some hay out of her hair and glanced into Sophie’s pen. The elephant’s massive behind faced her. Natalie darted away just before Sophie doused the ground with a stream of piss.

  “Dr. Natalie?” Siriporn, his Yankees baseball cap on backwards, dodged Sophie nimbly. “You sleep here?”

  “Not on purpose,” she answered, rubbing her stiff shoulder. “I guess I dozed off.”

  “Miss Karina looking for you. She want you come her office.”

  “Why?” Natalie had little to do with Andrew’s sister, and that was fine with her. No love lost.

  Siriporn shrugged. Chanchai had slung a leg over the lower part of the enclosure and busied himself giving Sophie some treats. She never turned down a piece of food, even from
the mahout she liked least.

  “Will you two feed Sophie while I go find out what she wants?” Natalie knew they could take care of themselves, but she had promised herself to stay by Sophie’s side until she could edit last night’s video to show Andrew how well she was doing. He was the only one Hatcher would listen to, so she had to get to it first in order to convince him how wrong Hatcher was. Sophie was improving, not dying.

  Karina was sitting at the picnic table near the building’s overhang, taking up the only space on the platform that always had shade. She peered at Natalie over her glasses and managed a smirk that Natalie guessed was the closest thing to a smile Karina had. She wore a clean Sanctuary t-shirt, a loose gauze skirt and a pair of sandals. Karina was the only person at the sanctuary who stayed clean, no matter what.

  Natalie nodded at her. “Mind if I get some tea? I spent the night at the enclosure and haven’t had breakfast yet.” It wasn’t lying if she didn’t tell the whole truth, was it?

  Karina flickered her fingers, as if regally giving permission.

  When Natalie returned, cup in hand, Karina stared intently at her laptop screen, not acknowledging Natalie for several moments. Her blonde hair curled in damp ringlets around the edges of her smooth, round cheeks. In another era, Karina would have been considered attractive in a voluptuous, milk-maid fashion, but in today’s world, she was overweight and dowdy.

  Natalie was halfway through her cup of tea before she finally interrupted Karina and asked, “You wanted to see me?”

  “The enclosure.” Karina’s Belgian accent sounded like rough French. Anything with a “th” sounded like a “z.”

  “The enclosure?” Natalie asked.

  “The elephant? Sophie? Her house. It will cost many baht.” Karina’s eyebrows arched above her gold, aviator-framed glasses making Natalie feel responsible for bankrupting the sanctuary.

  “Andrew decided to build the enclosure. I just designed it.” Natalie shifted so she could see Karina’s laptop. She’d been studying a budget spreadsheet, but why would Karina need to talk to her about budgets? Andrew made all the money decisions. As his chief accountant and bookkeeper, Karina knew that.

  “Andrew say you made the plans for the enclosure?” Karina still had not met Natalie’s eyes.

  “I made some suggestions, but why are you asking me this? I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

  “Sophie, she needs to move out. Another elephant will be arriving soon, see? I think you know this one. From the floating market, yes?”

  “Yes. The street elephant. I remember. But why would that elephant need Sophie’s enclosure? And why are you telling me this? I would think that Andrew and Dr. Hatcher would make the decision, not me. Besides, if Hatcher has his way, Sophie won’t be around after today . . .” Her voice cracked, and her throat tightened.

  From a distance, she heard someone calling her name. The voice came closer. She rose from her seat, upsetting her cup.

  Chanchai pounded onto the platform, out of breath. He grabbed her hand and pulled her. “Dr. Natalie! Come! Come! Dr. Peter. Kill Sophie. Come!”

  In a split second, she put the pieces together. Hatcher had planned to put Sophie down while Karina kept Natalie occupied. She shot Karina a glance that expressed exactly how much she hated her in that very moment. It didn’t surprise her to see a smirk form on Karina’s tight mouth.

  Natalie sprinted along behind Chanchai, hoping the brief meeting with Karina hadn’t given Peter enough time to administer a sedative—or worse, the potassium chloride that would bring on cardiac arrest and death.

  She ran harder.

  They rounded the corner to the enclosure in time to see Hatcher, syringe in hand, having a heated discussion with Siriporn. She silently blessed Mali’s son for having the courage to interfere though she knew it would probably cost his—and possibly hers and Chanchai’s—job.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She flung herself between the two men. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Sophie had backed herself into the furthest corner of the shelter, as far from Hatcher as she could possibly manage.

  Natalie grabbed Hatcher’s wrist. He pushed against her. The needle dropped. Natalie dove for it as a first baseman does a ground ball, then rolled away, kicking her leg up to knock Hatcher to the dirt.

  “You’re a crazy woman!” Hatcher rose and dusted himself off. “I told you I was going to . . . put her down. It’s the only humane thing to do.”

  “Humane? Or selfish? What’s the real reason? Does she look like she’s in agony, for chrissakes?” Natalie’s braid fell across her face, blinding her momentarily. She grabbed it and pulled it back, inadvertently reminding herself of the accident with Sophie the night before. She hoped the video had shut off early enough so there was no footage of her being knocked to the ground. She’d need that video now to prove that Sophie was beginning to heal. It would take time for the wound to heal completely and for Sophie to recover from her PTSD—even partially, but time was the one thing Natalie had to give. He couldn’t take that away.

  “We’ve talked about this, damnit,” Hatcher slapped his hands as if he was done with this conversation. Done with her. “The wound’s not healing. This isn’t your decision.”

  “It’s not yours either.” She placed herself between Sophie and Hatcher, standing as tall as he was, fists at her side. She’d never been so sure of an argument she needed to win. “The sanctuary’s guidelines say two vets have to agree when euthanasia is suggested. I read the guidelines cover to cover when I first got here, and I do not agree with you. Unless you can find another vet, we’re at a stalemate, Dr. Hatcher.”

  Their raised voices had drawn a small crowd of mahouts and elephants. Hatcher eyed them all cautiously, then turned back to Natalie. “You may have me outnumbered now, but this isn’t over,” he said quietly.

  “Not by a long shot. Come hell or high water, you’ll not put this elephant down unless we’ve tried everything possible, and she’s in pain. I’ll make sure of that.”

  As Hatcher limped away, Natalie caught Siriporn’s eye. She’d never seen him smile more widely. She wasn’t the only one rooting for Sophie. Why, then, did she still feel so uneasy?

  Twenty-One

  Music is the universal language of mankind—poetry their universal pastime and delight.

  -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  That night, very late, when there were no sounds at all in the sanctuary—no elephants rumbling, no crickets, no human voices—Natalie woke up abruptly. She thought she heard echoes of voices in the night air. Whispered moments amplified by silence. She imagined she could see the words in the ebony darkness, could touch their density. Then she realized what she heard was the leftover filaments of her dream.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, she remembered that Sophie had been given a reprieve. Still, she’d sleep next to the elephant from now on.

  She stared into the darkness, thinking of her life. The painful pitfalls and the soaring bliss, the days she would always remember, the days she longed to forget. She saw in her mind’s eye the brilliant Carolina blue, cloudless sky that greeted her the morning she married Parker. In a surprising rush, she remembered the powerful well of love that arose when she saw his nervous face, his hands twisting, his tongue flicking out to wet his parched lips. She had loved him. That had been the best moment of her life, until the moment Stephen decided to end her 26-hour labor and come into the world, a perfect little pink body topped by a slick head of black hair that her mother swore had caused the horrible heartburn Natalie experienced for the last three months of pregnancy. And when he started to cry, his lower lip quivered, and his love put a permanent imprint on her heart.

  An errant tear ran down her face now. Raising her hand to wipe it, she rustled the bed covers, and out in the darkness, she saw Sophie’s open eye. The elephant rumbled softly, as if half awake, then shifted her huge body and inad
vertently leaned on her infected leg. She let out a bit of a moan, a small cry, and immediately shifted back. Sophie had begun rocking in the past couple of days like Natalie remembered her mother doing when the arthritis in her back got to be too much for her. She was doing it now though the steel enclosure didn’t let her move too far. Natalie knew the rocking was a way of reaching out for another elephant, something Sophie never had to worry about in the wild, but when she was contained, she couldn’t reach another in her herd.

  How long has it been since you’ve been a member of your own family? Natalie silently asked the elephant. Would you recognize them if you saw them now? Would you know your own calves?

  According to the mahouts, Sophie had given birth at least once before being caught and forced to work, so Natalie had been right to assume a couple of births after her initial exam of the elephant. Now, watching the old female moving back and forth in the shadows, posing no threat to anyone, a pained soul trying to get some relief, Natalie’s heart clenched. Sophie had momentarily let down her guard, revealing that she really wasn’t mean or broken but simply that the pain in her leg had changed her. Natalie wondered whether Hatcher had been right, that Sophie was in agony, then pushed the thought aside. Uncomfortable, yes, but not in agony. Natalie knew that discomfort could be healed. Healing agony was far more difficult. And she knew how an animal in agony acted. Hatcher was wrong.

  She slowly rose from her cot and moved soundlessly on bare feet toward the elephant, determined not to make any sudden moves and keeping within Sophie’s line of sight. About eight feet away, she stopped and so did Sophie. Through the darkness, Natalie sensed Sophie reaching out, as if attempting a telepathic message. When the wet tip of Sophie’s strong trunk accidentally touched Natalie’s arm, both elephant and human froze. Something told Natalie to hum. Softly. Even though it made little sense, she followed her instinct. Throughout her life, instinct seldom led her astray, so she trusted it.