WATER FOR ELEPHANT - Sara Gruen [59]
“Whooeeee, look at that hot mama!”
“Hey, Fred—check out the new cooch girl!”
“Say, honey—got plans tonight?”
I dive into the goat room and slam the door, leaning against it. I breathe heavily, listening until the laughter outside dies down. I grab a rag and wipe my face again. I rubbed it raw before I left Clown Alley, but somehow I still don’t believe it’s clean. I don’t think any part of me will ever be clean again. And the worst part is that I don’t even know what I did. I have only snippets, and as horrifying as those are it’s even more horrifying not knowing what happened in between.
It suddenly occurs to me that I have no idea whether I’m still a virgin.
I reach inside the dressing gown and scratch my stubbly balls.
KINKO COMES IN a few minutes later. I’m lying on my bedroll, my arms over my head.
“You’d better get your ass out there,” he says. “He’s still looking for you.”
Something snuffles in my ear. I lift my head and bang into a wet nose. Queenie leaps backward as though launched from a catapult. She surveys me from a distance of three feet, sniffing cautiously. Oh, I bet I’m just a medley of smells this morning. I drop my head again.
“You want to get fired, or what?” Kinko says.
“At this point, I really don’t care,” I mumble.
“What?”
“I’m leaving anyway.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I can’t answer. I can’t tell him that not only have I disgraced myself beyond belief or redemption, but I have also failed at my first opportunity to have sex—something I’ve thought about pretty much constantly for the last eight years. Not to mention throwing up on one of the women who was offering and then passing out and having somebody shave my balls and paint my face and stuff me into a trunk. Although he must know at least parts of it, since he knew where to find me this morning. Perhaps he was even involved in the festivities.
“Don’t be a pussy,” he says. “You want to end up walking the tracks like those poor bums out there? Now get on out there before you get yourself fired.”
I remain inert.
“I said get up!”
“What do you care?” I grumble. “And stop shouting. My head hurts.”
“Just get the hell up or I’ll hurt the rest of you, too!”
“All right! Just stop yelling!”
I drag myself upright and throw him a dirty look. My head pounds and it feels as though lead weights are tied to each of my joints. Since he continues watching me, I turn toward the wall, keeping the red gown on until I pull my pants up in an effort to hide my hairlessness. Nevertheless, my face burns.
“Oh, and a word to the wise?” says Kinko. “Some flowers for Barbara wouldn’t go amiss. The other one’s just a whore, but Barbara’s a friend.”
I am so flooded with shame my consciousness flickers. After the urge to faint passes, I stare at the ground, sure I’ll never bring myself to look anyone in the eyes again.
THE FOX BROTHERS train has been moved off the siding, and the hotly disputed elephant car is now hitched directly behind our engine, where the ride will be smoothest. It has vents instead of slats and is made of metal. The boys from the Flying Squadron are busy tearing down tents—they’ve already dropped most of the larger ones, revealing the buildings of Joliet in the background. A small crowd of towners has gathered to watch the activity.
I find August in the menagerie tent, standing in front of the elephant.
“Move!” he screams, waving the bull hook around her face.
She swings her trunk and blinks.
“I said move!” He steps behind her and thwacks her in the back of the leg. “Move, goddammit!” Her eyes narrow and her enormous ears flatten against her head.
August catches sight of me and freezes. He drops the bull hook to his side. “Rough night?” he sneers.
A blush prickles up the back of my neck and spreads over my entire head.
“Never mind. Get a stick and help me move this stupid beast.”
Pete comes up behind him, twisting his hat in his hands. “August?”
August turns, furious. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. What is it, Pete? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“The cat meat is here.”
“Good. Take care