WATER FOR ELEPHANT - Sara Gruen [87]
Camel waves his hand at me to indicate he’s finished. I shuffle over a couple of feet and lay him on his side.
“Now, that can’t be true,” says Camel as I clean him up. “A young fella like you’s gotta have somebody somewhere.”
“You don’t know nothing.”
“You ain’t got a mother somewhere?” says Camel, persisting.
“None I got a use for.”
“Now don’t you talk like that,” says Camel.
“Why the hell not? She sold me to this outfit when I was fourteen.” He glares at us. “And don’t you go looking at me like you feel sorry for me,” he snaps. “She was an old crow, anyway. Who the hell needs her.”
“What do you mean sold you?” says Camel.
“Well, I’m not exactly cut out for farmwork, am I? Just leave me the hell alone, will you?” He shuffles around so his back is to us.
I fasten Camel’s pants, grab him by the armpits, and haul him back into the room. His legs drag behind him, his heels scraping the floor.
“Man, oh man,” he says as I arrange him on the cot. “Ain’t that something?”
“You ready for some food?” I say, trying to change the subject.
“Naw, not yet. But a drop of whiskey would go down well.” He shakes his head sadly. “I ain’t never heard of a woman so coldhearted.”
“I can still hear you, you know,” barks Walter. “And besides, you ain’t got no talking room, old man. When was the last time you saw your son?”
Camel goes pale.
“Eh? Can’t answer that, can you?” continues Walter from outside the room. “Ain’t such a big difference in what you did and what my mother did, is there?”
“Yes there is,” shouts Camel. “There’s a world of difference. And how the hell do you know what I did, anyway?”
“You mentioned your son one night when you were tight,” I say quietly.
Camel stares at me for a moment. Then his face contorts. He raises a limp hand to his forehead and turns away from me. “Aw shit,” he says. “Aw shit. I never knew you knew,” he says. “You shoulda’ told me.”
“I thought you remembered,” I say. “Anyway, he didn’t say much. He just said you wandered off.”
“‘He just said’?” Camel’s head shoots around. “‘He just said’? What the hell does that mean? You been in touch with him?”
I sink to the floor and rest my head on my knees. It’s shaping up to be a long night.
“What do you mean, ‘he just said’?” shrieks Camel. “I asked you a question!”
I sigh. “Yes, we got in touch with him.”
“When?”
“A while ago.”
He stares at me, stunned. “But why?”
“He’s meeting us in Providence. He’s taking you home.”
“Oh no,” says Camel, shaking his head vehemently. “Oh no he’s not.”
“Camel—”
“What the hell’d you go and do that for? You ain’t got no right!”
“We had no choice!” I shout. I stop, close my eyes, and collect myself. “We had no choice,” I repeat. “We had to do something.”
“I can’t go back! You don’t know what happened. They don’t want me no more.”
His lip quivers, and his mouth shuts. He turns his face away. A moment later, his shoulders start heaving.
“Aw hell,” I say. I raise my voice, shouting through the open door. “Hey, thanks Walter! You’ve been a big help tonight! Sure appreciate it!”
“Fuck off!” he answers.
I shut off the kerosene lamp and crawl over to my horse blanket. I lie down on its scratchy surface and then sit up again.
“Walter!” I shout. “Hey, Walter! If you’re not coming back in, I’m using the bedroll.”
There’s no answer.
“Did you hear me? I said I’m using the bedroll.”
I wait for a minute or two and then crawl across the floor.
Walter and Camel spend the night making the noises men make when they’re trying not to cry, and I spend the night punching my pillow up around my ears trying not to hear them.
• • •
I AWAKE TO MARLENA’S VOICE.
“Knock knock. May I come in?”
My eyes snap open. The train has stopped, and somehow I slept through it. I’m also startled because I was dreaming about Marlena, and for a moment I wonder if I’m still asleep.
“Hello? Anyone in there?”
I jerk up onto my elbows and look at Camel. He’s helpless on the cot, his eyes wide with fear. The interior door has stayed open all night.