WATER FOR ELEPHANT - Sara Gruen [65]
When the music stops, the dancers whistle and clap with their hands above their heads, and none more enthusiastically than Marlena. I glance over at our booth. August is staring with his arms crossed, seething. Startled, I step away from Marlena.
“Raid!”
There is one frozen moment, and then the second cry goes up.
“RAID! Everybody get out!”
I’m swept forward in a crush of bodies. People scream, shoving past each other in a frenzied attempt to reach the exit. Marlena is a few people in front of me, looking back through bobbing heads and desperate faces.
“Jacob!” she cries. “Jacob!”
I struggle toward her, launching myself through bodies.
I clasp a hand in a sea of flesh and know it’s Marlena’s from the look on her face. I grip her tightly, scanning the crowd for August. All I see are strangers.
Marlena and I are ripped apart at the doorway. Seconds later I’m expelled into an alley. People are screaming, piling into cars. Engines start, horns bleat, and tires squeal.
“Come on! Come on! Get the hell out of here!”
“Move it!”
Marlena appears from nowhere and grabs my hand. We flee as sirens blare and whistles blow. When the crackle of gunfire rings out, I grab Marlena and duck into a smaller alley.
“Hang on,” she gasps, pausing and hopping on one foot as she removes a shoe. She grasps my arm as she pulls off the other. “Okay,” she says, holding both shoes in one hand.
We run until the sirens and crowds and screeching tires are out of earshot, winding our way through back streets and alleys. Finally, we stop under an iron fire escape, gasping for air.
“Oh my Lord,” says Marlena. “Oh my Lord, that was close. I wonder if August got out.”
“I sure hope so,” I say, also struggling for air. I lean over, resting my hands on my thighs.
After a moment, I look up at Marlena. She’s staring straight at me, breathing through her mouth. She starts laughing hysterically.
“What?” I say.
“Oh, nothing,” she says. “Nothing.” She continues to laugh, but looks perilously close to tears.
“What is it?” I say.
“Oh,” she says, sniffing and bringing a finger to the corner of her eye. “It’s just a crazy damned life, that’s all. Do you have a handkerchief?”
I pat my pockets, and retrieve one. She takes it and wipes her forehead, then dabs the rest of her face. “Oh, but I’m a mess. And just look at my stockings!” she shrieks, pointing at her shoeless feet. Her toes poke through their ruined ends. “Oh, and they’re silk, too!” Her voice is high and unnatural.
“Marlena?” I say gently. “Are you all right?”
She presses her fist to her mouth and moans. I reach for her arm but she turns away. I expect her to stay facing the wall, but instead she continues turning, spinning in some kind of dervish. On the third rotation, I take her by the shoulders and press my mouth to hers. She stiffens and gasps, sucking air from between my lips. A moment later she softens. Her fingertips rise to my face. Then she yanks away, taking several steps backward and staring at me with stricken eyes.
“Jacob,” she says, her voice cracking. “Oh God—Jacob.”
“Marlena.” I step forward and then stop. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She stares at me with a hand pressed to her mouth. Her eyes are dark hollows. Then she leans against the wall, pulling on her shoes and looking at the asphalt.
“Marlena, please.” I hold my hands out helplessly.
She adjusts her second shoe and rushes off. She stumbles and wobbles forward.
“Marlena!” I say, running a few steps.
Her speed increases and she brings a hand up alongside her face, shielding it from my view.
I stop.
She keeps walking, tap-tapping down the alley.
“Marlena! Please!”
I watch until she turns the corner. Her hand remains beside her face, presumably in case I’m still there.
IT TAKES ME SEVERAL hours to find my way back to the lot.
I pass legs sticking out of doorways, and signs advertising breadlines. I pass signs in windows that say CLOSED, and it’s clear they don’t mean for the night. I pass signs that say NO MEN WANTED and signs in second-story windows