Piece of Cake.

Twilight fell upon the cages, and Samuel awoke at the pounding in his head. His neck and back ached from sleeping on a footstool. It was questionably cold for May; the temperature was barely 22 degrees Celsius.

            He drew his blanket closer, but it wasn’t large enough to cover his shoulders and his arms. His fingers felt like popsicles; they stung when he moved them. It was difficult enough to find clothes that fit—a circus-provided blanket was no exception. The faux-wool blanket pricked his neck like a snake with stiff hairs. He wished—fleetingly—that he had at least asked to keep the wool blanket Maria gave him for their wedding present.

            A rough appendage patted his hand, and he turned to smile at his companion. Strawberry smiled back, sleep still clouding lovely brown eyes before she drifted off again, her nose resting on his hand. It was the only warm limb on his body.

            Strawberry was unmanageable as a baby, and that must have been at least eight years ago. Her mother—Waffles—died while giving birth. From what Samuel understood, Waffles was malnourished under the previous caretakers, and they were, undoubtedly, fired. Strawberry survived on the generosity of the other mother elephant, but never seemed to get along with the others. She bore a rough temper and refused to be trained. In the circus, an untrained elephant is just as good as a dead one.

            The day the circus manager, Stan, was about to pass judgment on Strawberry’s future—it was a Tuesday—Samuel had decided to go to the circus to reminisce childhood memories one last time. He had gotten turned around in the crowd after the clowns made their exits after their one shining moment. It was after the daring fire-throwers, agile trapeze artists, enigmatic elephant-riders, and he found himself in the back where the animals were being kept after their spotlight minutes.

            One last time, he told himself, wandering the cages of lions, bears, and one lone penguin amidst a dozen pastel-colored poodles. He could hear horses neighing in the stables further back. He imagined them with their pink feathered headdresses, trotting gaily around the ring. She loved horses, so he continued on, ignoring their rough conversation. She loved the circus too, but they never went together. He figured that this was as good a time as any.

            He remembered the musty, rusty smell of the cages. The whining of the poodles, and the hopelessness of the lions and bears as they dozed off the drugs that sedated them during the show. Just as he turned to leave, a loud trumpeting echoed through the cages and silenced the animals. It settled in his throat and slid down his esophagus, into his stomach that turned into ice, and entangled inside his intestines. As that moment settled and passed, the other animals rose up in frenzy.

            Stomps vibrated through the dirt ground, screams and screeches bounced off the metal bars of the cages creating an overwhelming rattle of a temperamental orchestra.

            Against his better judgment, he headed toward the trumpeting with the other workers and caretakers.

            Out in the open, the blue sky framed a beautiful baby elephant, rearing up on her hind legs, tugging against a chained collar with at least a dozen men on the other end. The men lost their grips, and she was free. There was shouting, roaring, barking, the clicking of a gun ready to fire. Samuel could see the whites of her eyes, and then, see a tear trickle down her rough skin.

            He pushed through the crowd, feeling fire burn at the place in his body where the silence permeated. He compromised the man with the gun, removing the gun to click on the safety. Everyone was a blur. All he could hear was his frenzied heartbeats as he took the loose chain and felt his muscles taut against her strength.

            “Hey baby,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

            She glared at him, indignant and in disbelief. He could imagine her saying, Excuse me?

            She tugged, and he tugged back.

            “Hey,” he said again. “You’re going to be OK. I’m here. I mean, I’m nobody, but I’m here.” He grunted as she pulled harder. The coolness of the chain heated against his skin. “Hey, give a man a break. I know I’m a body builder, but you don’t need to test me on it.”

            He felt crazy, talking to an elephant.

            She stared at him a little while longer, then stopped pulling. She settled on her knees, still eyeing him.

            “There we go. Good girl. What’s your name?” Samuel reached out to touch her trunk, but she pulled away. “All right, I’m moving too quickly. Sorry, kiddo.” He turned to the crowd, individual faces indecipherable. “So who’s in charge here?”

            Stan was a muscular man—but half of Samuel’s size—and as he stepped forward, Strawberry pulled at the chain. She remained at her knees, but she gave a loud trumpet, and the crowd moved as a confused herd of antelope would.

            “Sorry,” Samuel held up his hand to stop Stan. “I don’t think she likes you.”

            “That much is obvious,” Stan’s voice was baritone—rather pleasant to listen to. He ran a hand over his smooth head, squinting his almond-shaped brown eyes. His hands were rough and seemed clumsy, the way they ran unevenly over his head. “Our circus can’t keep an elephant who refuses to be trained.”

            “So you were about to put her down,”

            “Yes,” Stan said. He waved the others back to work. “She discovered our plans though.”

            “Elephants are smart animals,” began Samuel.

            “Oh, I’ve no doubt,” Stan laughed. It was an agreeable laugh. “I’ve worked with animals all my life. I know very well how capable they are. But Strawberry here is causing trouble not only with the trainers and caretakers, but also with the other elephants. No zoo wants her. It was our only option.”

            “Here’s another option. I’ll train her. Give me 30 days.”

            Samuel shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around him. He couldn’t understand why summer was so late this year.

            He heard footsteps—familiar footsteps—and gazed up to find Stan with a thermos of hot milk, a mug, and some extra blankets.

            Stan plopped down on the ground next to him.

            “How’s our girl doing?”

            “Still has a fever,” Samuel replied, closing his eyes to feel the heat traveling through his fingers to his hands. His fingers tapped against the ceramic mug. “It’s been a couple of days.”

            “Hank said it’ll blow over soon.”

            Samuel scoffed, “What does he know about Strawberry?”

            “A lot, if you’d give him a chance. You’ve scared away every vet that’s been hired after Joe passed.”

            “They don’t know her like Joe did.”

            “They haven’t been given the chance, you nincompoop. Now stop scaring away my vets or you’re sleeping on the couch until we find a permanent one.”

            Samuel enjoyed the milk. He gazed over at Stan, who was nodding off to sleep.

            Stan’s black hair stood up straight on its own at this length. After a period of time where he preferred the skin-head look, Stan had longer hair that swept over his high forehead—a classic men’s hairstyle from the 50s. Classy, clean cut, and gave a feeling of aristocratic air. He’d always liked that about Stan. Despite their nitty-gritty job of handling circus affairs, Stan always remained of a higher social class. He was tall too, built well with broad shoulders. He was a rebellious, but respectable man. When Samuel shot him a proposition on a whim, Stan reacted immediately.

            “30 days,” Stan had said, sticking out his hand. Samuel couldn’t forget how self-conscious he was of his clammy hands.

            He patted Strawberry on the trunk. The skin was rough, and prickly hairs prevented it from feeling smooth. He had no doubts that it would be.

            Looking back, Stan wondered how he ended up here, in a cold cage, tending to an ill elephant with Stan by his side. He continued to work at the gym—although with shortened hours—and he simply tacked on hours at the circus. This wasn’t a traveling circus, even though it’d be more economical. Stan was adamant about staying at the outskirts of the city. Luckily enough, they were never really short on spectators the past few years; though they had their slow season during the winter and early spring. It was just as well—they took this time to change their acts and make improvements at Stan’s insistence. This year, however, things were more difficult.

            How long has it been since he’s been here? Months? Years? He couldn’t tell anymore.

            Strawberry stirred and poked him in the shoulder.

            “Hey, girl, how are you feeling?”

            She gave a snort and closed her eyes.

            “Not too good?” He scratched her right behind the ears. She smiled.

            “You’ll be as good as ever once you’re better. And we’ll be back on the training regimen.”

            She sniffed and moved her head away.

            “All right, all right. A few days rest. But that’s it, you hear?”

            As she drifted back to sleep, his mind wandered back to Maria.

            She was probably still angry at him. He couldn’t blame her—though her reaction told him a lot about her character, a side he didn’t know before they were married. She loved him, and he loved her, but the love differed. He was her soul mate; she was his best friend. That was enough to break them apart. He wondered then what they’d be like had he never came out to her, but the thought ended there. He couldn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He’ll always love Maria—he just couldn’t give her what she wanted.

            He could hear the other elephants breathing next door, and the lions giving occasional sleep-roars that hit him in the stomach with a punch of nostalgia, because they were dreaming of the safari back in their native lands, despite being born in cages. It was something hidden deep in their souls that knew of a place with endless blazing sun; of tall scratchy grass that hid them as they eyed the fresh, bountiful antelope; and of the pride that accepted them and ran alongside them on the plans that stretched beyond the fiery skyline, that burned the grass and animals with its warm, orange glow.

            Samuel wondered if, perhaps, in a previous life, he was a lion. Sinking into that comforting thought, he fell asleep with one hand in Stan’s and the other on Strawberry’s trunk.

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Samuel roared as he fought against Stan’s hold. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

            “I’m sorry, Samuel.” Hank shook his head as he removed his glasses.

            “She was fine last night! She was getting better! You said this would blow over!”

            “He wasn’t lying, Samuel.”

            “Back off, Stan. If you hadn’t hired this hack, she’d still be here!”

            He stormed out of the office and settled in the tall grasses in the outskirts of the circus, and cried.

            The wind slithered through the grass, making them weep in fear, whispering prayers to the sky. As the tears exhausted themselves, he knocked his forehead against his knees. Without Strawberry, what does the future hold?

            Overhead, the sun was blazing when he decided to head back to the trailer. Quietly, he cleaned out the fridge and freezer. He came upon the frozen piece of wedding cake he and Stan had saved. It was chocolate—his favorite. They had argued about the cake. Stan wanted vanilla cupcakes, but he wanted a traditional chocolate tier cake with strawberry frosting. Stan gave in.

            It wasn’t until after one o’clock did Stan return, breathless, with sweat gleaming at his forehead and trickling down his neck, disappearing into his white T-shirt.

            “Where’ve you been, damn it!” The door shuddered as it shut with a bang. “We’ve all been looking for you! Gave me a goddamn panic. Jesus!”

            “Where is she?”

            “Samuel,”

            “Don’t get all condescending on me.”

            Stan’s face contorted in that way Samuel knew he wanted to make a scathing retort, but he said instead, “She’s sick, Sam, so we asked the zoo to take a look at her. She needs to stay there. They’ll give her the best care.”

            “But that means she’s not coming back here.”

            Stan hesitated, “Well, no.”

            “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

            “You would have refused. I had to think of what was best for her.”

            “So you snuck her away in the middle of the night, and assumed that I didn’t want the best for her.”

            Stan winced, “Yes, I snuck her away, Sam, but it wasn’t under the assumption that you didn’t want what was best.”

            “And you don’t feel guilty.”

            “I do. I do, but you have to realize that—“

            “That what? My partner—my husband—can’t trust me to think of what was good for my baby?”

            “Can you honestly tell me that you would have agreed to this?” Stan’s eyes landed on the thawing cake. “Why did you take that out?”

            “You know what tomorrow is?”

            “Our three year anniversary, but we intended to save it for our fifth.” There was panic. “Look, before you say or do anything, there’s something else I need to tell you.”

            “What?” Samuel had taken the knife, and it was floating over the cake.

            “I asked the zoo to take in Strawberry. She’s in a bit of a bad way. They said the only way that can happen is if she’s theirs. I agreed, but not without asking them a favor. As you know, the circus has been suffering the past year—I just don’t think it’s economical for us to keep running it.”

            “What?” Samuel stood, knife still in hand. He felt empowered by it. “You’re telling me you’ve decided to close down the circus?”

            Stan seated himself on the chair closest to Samuel’s, “The zoo and us will be partners. We’ll be a resident circus at the zoo. We’re humane trainers; we’ll be financially stable; and we’ll bring in more revenue for the zoo.”

            “Sounds practical.”

            “And you’ll still be Strawberry’s caretaker.”

            Samuel was silent.

            “Your job starts tomorrow. 6 A.M. sharp. Don’t be late. I put in a good word for you.”

            Samuel contemplated his options. Stan eyed the knife still poised over the cake.

            “You need to start trusting me more,” Samuel said. “All of these decisions you hadn’t even discussed with me.”

            “Samuel, I’ll admit that my decision regarding Strawberry I should have discussed with you, but the future of the circus is my decision. It had nothing to do with you.”

            “I’m not saying that I want to influence your decision! I just want you talk to me about these decisions!”

            “I don’t have to!”

            “Why would you think that?”

            “It’s my job. My decision. There’s no need for me to bring it home with me.”

            “So you’re saying you don’t trust me enough to share this with me?”

            “That’s not what I’m saying.”

            “That’s exactly what you’re saying!”

            “Can you blame me?” Stan was angry now. “You always need to have a say in everything, and you get angry if I don’t take your suggestions. If you’re against my decisions, I always end up discarding my decisions so that you don’t get offended, but what about my feelings and decisions? The future of the circus has nothing to do with our marriage. We’ve been struggling long enough; I need to take care of our performers and workers. It is bigger than you and me!”

            Samuel stabbed the piece of cake, leaving the knife to sink into the frosting. They said nothing as the force of gravity gently pushed the knife downwards, cutting the cake in two.

Maria had been understanding, despite her first reaction when she saw him at her doorstep: a slam of the door in his face.. She allowed him to stay on her couch, after a very serious discussion with her husband, Charles. They were sympathetic.

            He was at the zoo at five o’clock every morning. Strawberry was doing well with the other elephants and had recently needed less of his attention. She was getting plenty from children and the other elephants. It left Samuel grappling for some concrete handling of his feelings.

            He didn’t go to the circus shows, nor did he see Stan. Samuel spent his free time at the gym and taking Maria to run errands in her second trimester of pregnancy while Charles was at work. There weren’t talks of the past—only the ones of the future. Maria and Charles’ future with their new baby. Maria had been sensitive enough to avoid the subject for him altogether.

            “I want to go to the circus,” Maria said one day as Charles left the breakfast table to get ready for work.

            “The circus?” Charles inquired through the bedroom door. Samuel expected Charles to be, again, struggling with his tie.

            “Yes. This weekend. The three of us.”

            “There's no need,” Samuel replied quickly as he cleared the table. He began wiping it down. “I've no interest.”

            “Poppycock,” Maria said as she waved away his rejection. “We're like a family now. We may as well do something together.”

            “Yes, but does it have to be the circus?”

            Charles hurried out the door after giving Maria a kiss, and a wave to Samuel.

            “Why not?” Maria asked as they cruised the aisles of the supermarket together. “You and I both love the circus, and Charles, being a city dweller, has never been.”

            “I just don't see the point of my going.”

            Maria said nothing, and Samuel braced himself for an awkward weekend.

At the circus, located at the heart of the zoo, between the African and Arctic regions, Samuel pulled his hat down over his ears. Maria and Charles were ahead of him, hands entwined. Maria was wearing one of her new sundresses, the one that took gazes away from her growing belly to her glowing smile. Samuel was sure that Charles had fallen in love with her all over again with this dress. Samuel smiled to himself. He's still got it.

            As Stan entered the ring, the crowd roared. He'd always loved the attention, and the crowds were always willing to give it to him. Samuel could understand why. Dressed in a sparkling, red ringmaster's coat, Stan was charismatic and exciting. His baritone voice echoed through the tent that both brought the crowds to euphoric joy and the animals to peace. That man was in his element here, and Samuel never felt so far away.

            The show was a half an hour long, and when it was over, Samuel found himself at the back door. He hesitated as he reached for the doorknob before the door flew open.

            “Took you two months to visit?” Stan was breathless, still in his ringmaster's makeup and costume.

            “You didn't call.”

            “Neither did you.”

            “Yes, well.”

            “How's Strawberry?”

            “Good. Moved on.”

            “Have you?”

            Samuel was quiet. From his pocket, he pulled out a melting piece of cake, wrapped in clingwrap. Maria had shoved it into his pocket as she and Charles bolted for the doors with the rest of the crowd when the show ended. He was beginning to see why she was so adamant that he come with them.

            Stan's face broke into a smile and produced his own piece.

            From a distance, Samuel swore that he heard a familiar trumpeting, and he closed his eyes.