WATER FOR ELEPHANT [101]
“What is this?”
I look up. August stands in front of us.
“Oh!” cries Marlena, spinning around. “Surprise!”
“Surprise!” I shout, twisting away from Rosie and popping the cork. It bounces off the canvas and lands in the grass. Champagne bubbles over my fingers, and I laugh. Marlena is there instantly with two champagne flutes, trying to catch the overflow. By the time we get coordinated, we’ve spilled a third of the bottle, which Rosie is still trying to take from me.
I look down. Marlena’s rose silk shoes are dark with champagne. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I laugh.
“No, no! Don’t be silly,” she says. “We have another bottle.”
“I said what is this?”
Marlena and I freeze, our hands still tangled. She looks up, her eyes suddenly worried. She holds a mostly empty champagne flute in each hand. “It’s a surprise. A celebration.”
August stares. His tie is loose, his jacket open. His face is an utter blank.
“A surprise, yes,” he says. He removes his hat and turns it over in his hands, examining it. His hair rises in a wave from his forehead. He looks up suddenly, with one eyebrow cocked. “Or so you think.”
“I beg your pardon?” Marlena asks in a hollow voice.
He flicks his wrist and sends his hat sailing into a corner. Then he removes his jacket, slowly, methodically. He walks to the vanity and swings his jacket as though he’s going to place it over the back of the chair. When he sees Rosie’s headpiece, he stops. Instead, he folds the jacket and places it neatly on the chair’s seat. His eyes move down to the open drawer and silk scarves spilling over its sides.
“Did I catch you at a bad moment?” he says, looking up at us. He sounds as though he’s just asked someone to pass the salt.
“Darling, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marlena says softly.
August reaches down and pulls a long, nearly transparent orange scarf free from the drawer. Then he weaves it through and around his fingers. “Having a little fun with scarves, were you?” He pulls the end of the scarf, and it slips through his fingers again. “Oh, you’re a naughty one. But I guess I knew that.”
Marlena stares, speechless.
“So,” he says. “Is this a postcoital celebration? Did I give you long enough? Or perhaps I should go away for a while and come back? I must say, the elephant is a new twist. I dread to think.”
“What in God’s name are you talking about?” Marlena says.
“Two flutes,” he observes, nodding at her hands.
“What?” She lifts the flutes so quickly their contents slosh onto the grass. “Are you talking about these? The third one is right—”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“August—” I say.
“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”
His face is purple. His eyes bulge. He trembles with rage.
Marlena and I stand perfectly still, stunned into silence. Then August’s face undergoes another transformation, melding into something close to complacency. He continues to play with the scarf, even smiles at it. Then he folds it carefully and places it back in the drawer. When he straightens up, he shakes his head slowly.
“You . . . You . . . You . . .” He raises a hand, stirring the air with his fingers. But then he trails off, his attention caught by the silver-tipped cane. It’s leaning against the sidewall near the table, where I left it. He saunters over and picks it up.
I hear liquid hitting the ground behind me and turn quickly. Rosie is peeing into the grass, her ears flat against her head, her trunk curled under her face.
August holds the cane and slaps its silver handle repeatedly against his palm. “How long did you think you could keep it from me?” He pauses for a second, and then looks me straight in the eye. “Eh?”
“August,” I say. “I have no idea what—”
“I said shut up!” He spins and swipes the cane across the serving table, knocking platters, cutlery, and bottles to the ground. Then he raises a foot and kicks the whole thing over. It crashes onto its side, sending china, glass, and food flying.
August stares down at the mess for a