The Elephant in the Room Read online

  Sila met his gaze. “I knew.”

  Alp shrugged. “I didn’t.”

  Gio was silent.

  Gio could tell that Sila would have spent the day standing there in the drizzle watching the enormous animal, but she had school. Her father gently reminded her that they needed to get going.

  “But . . .”

  “You have to get to class and I have to be at work.”

  Gio watched as Sila’s eyes filled. She put her head down but managed to say “Happy birthday, Mr. Gardino.”

  “Gio.”

  Alp placed his hand on Sila’s shoulder. “Yes. Happy birthday, Gio.”

  “Thank you. Both of you,” he answered. “I won’t forget this birthday.”

  Gio watched as Sila headed to Alp’s car. Chester continued talking about the circus, but Gio wasn’t listening to his words. He felt his stomach twist as his mind fixated on a single thought: He would never get over the look on Sila’s face as she stared at the elephant. Gio had to place his left hand on the side of the circus truck to steady himself as he watched Sila and Alp’s car recede down the highway.

  Suddenly something shifted inside him, and he felt a kind of steadiness take hold that had been missing since Lillian died. Maybe his whole life had led to this. A man with not much to do but a ton of money meets an elephant that has been riding around in a truck for years.

  Trapped.

  Alone.

  Wasn’t this a perfect match?

  This had to be the reason he’d won 1/24 of the Powerball millions! This had to be why he’d bought acres and acres of land surrounded by a ridiculously high stone wall! This had to be why he’d kept a mechanic’s business card with an elephant logo for three years in a brass bowl and then moved it with his belongings to the farmhouse. This was why Sila and her father had shown up to fix the old truck.

  Chester was still speaking and Gio heard him say, “The guy I bought her from named her. We tried to call her Jumba—get it? Not Jumbo. But she never took to it. So we went back to Veda.”

  Gio’s voice was filled with anxiety as he asked, “What’s your plan? You said you were closing down the circus. What will you do with your elephant?”

  * * *

  What Chester didn’t explain when he talked about the problems of running a small, family-owned traveling show was that new laws affecting his work had been passed. Regulations had been put in place all across the country to stop performers from using tools to control circus animals. Those new rules were changing everything for people like Chester. He and his circus believed that they were kind enough to the four-legged members of the troupe, but they still needed a metal hook and electric prods or whips when running their show. And that was now against the law.

  Suddenly it was as if the circus owner was seeing Gio for the first time. He didn’t look like any kind of wealthy man, but this guy had just paid for a room full of strangers to have eighty-three donuts, forty-five hot drinks, and thirty-one bottles of water. That had never happened before. It had to mean something.

  Chester glanced down at Gio’s shoes. What a person wore on his feet was a clue to the size of his bank account. Chester flashed on his own rain boots, which were almost worthless. They just proved his point. The man standing next to him had on what appeared to be new, fine leather bedroom slippers. And he was wearing them outside of the house in the rain! That must mean that the old man had money and didn’t care about wrecking perfectly good footwear.

  There was no way Chester could know that Gio had a bunion on the joint below his right big toe and the slippers provided a measure of comfort he thought he couldn’t find in other footwear. But he was right about one thing: It took money to purchase ten pairs of the fancy leather slippers, and these days Gio wore them inside and outside the house. Once they got too dirty, he tossed them in the trash. Lillian wasn’t around to tell him that it was wasteful. He was careful with his money, but the slippers and Bing cherries out of season were two of his very few lottery-winning luxuries.

  Margo and Mayo’s Hole in One bakery wasn’t the kind of eatery to find a traditionally wealthy man, but Chester Briot took the fancy bedroom slippers to be a good sign. This might be the place to find an eccentric old man with a lot of money. Was the guy a lumber baron? Or had he invented one of the first computer programs? This was the Pacific Northwest, after all. Hadn’t Bill Gates come from the neighboring state? Or could the man in the slippers have once been a famous rock star? Did he write the song “Stairway to Heaven”? Somebody did.

  Chester shut his eyes for the briefest of moments and imagined all of his toes and fingers crossing for good luck. He then said, “I don’t want to part with Veda, but for a reasonable price, seeing as how we’re closing down the operation, I guess I’d consider selling her. Elephants are very, very, very special. But also expensive. Would you know someone who might be interested?”

  9.

  Sila had trouble concentrating. She could think of nothing except the elephant. But when she received a note only an hour after arriving at school directing her to go to the office, she snapped back to reality. Her mind raced as she walked down the empty corridor.

  Being sent to the office could never be good news. Something bad must have happened. Did her father get in an accident? He worked underneath cars all day. What if one of the hydraulic lifts broke and he got hurt? Or was this about her mother?

  She was all sweaty as she approached the front desk. “My name is Sila Tekin. I got a note to come in.”

  The woman behind the counter motioned toward a corner office. A sign next to the door said: Mrs. Holsing: assessment and curriculum programs coordinator. Sila entered the room to find a woman seated on an exercise ball behind a desk. There was something about seeing an authority figure balancing on a big yellow ball that eased the tension. The woman put her hand over the mouthpiece of a phone and said, “Sila, have a seat. I’m Joann Holsing.”

  Then she went back to talking, wrapping up the conversation with a lot of “Uh-huh. Yes. I see your point. Uh-huh. Yes.”

  Sila slid into a chair. Her eyes took in the room. The walls had been painted in the school colors, which were purple and white. It felt to Sila like they’d work better in a bedroom. Or a candy shop. On the desk in front of her was a computer. Three framed photos of a family. A stack of papers. And a collection of carved wooden animals. Sila’s gaze stayed on the animals. She wondered if Mrs. Holsing was an animal person. Or maybe it was just that the woman knew somebody who liked to carve wood.

  Sila’s thoughts were interrupted.

  “Miss Tekin, it’s been brought to my attention that you are quiet in the classroom when you used to be a big contributor. You aren’t doing as well in your studies as you have in the past. And it’s also been reported that you eat lunch alone these days.”

  This hardly felt to Sila like a crime. She found herself wondering who did the “reporting.” Her teachers had repeatedly asked her if there was a problem. Hadn’t Sila dodged their concern? They wondered why she couldn’t concentrate and she had no answer to give them. The emptiness was everywhere. But the school year was nearly over. Why bother with her now?

  Mrs. Holsing leaned forward. “Is everything okay with you at home?”

  Sila swallowed. Nothing was okay at home. Her mother was trapped overseas unable to return because her visa was no longer valid and because someone saw her as some kind of threat.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  Sila shook her head.

  “Is someone bullying you? Are you feeling threatened or intimidated or fearful?”

  Sila was at this very moment feeling threatened, intimidated, and fearful. But she shook her head again.

  They sat for a while longer in silence.

  Then the woman shifted on the exercise ball and clicked her computer mouse and the screen changed. Sila wished she could see what it
was the woman was looking at, but she was sitting at a bad angle.

  “Okay, we want to put you in a pilot program. The state board of education is testing this in four schools, and we’ve been chosen. It’s an honor. The concept is called ‘Pairing.’ One student is matched with another student who may or may not be feeling a similar level of social isolation.”

  Sila found her voice. “Social isolation?”

  Mrs. Holsing was reading now from a set of questions on the screen: “When was the last time you made a new friend?”

  Sila was surprised how easy it was to answer. “Just this past weekend.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful. Tell me about the person.”

  “I met a guy who lives out of town on a big property. He’s very nice.”

  “A man?”

  “He’s old. Like a grandpa.”

  “And he’s a new friend?”

  “Yes. Definitely. I knew his wife.”

  Sila stopped. She didn’t want to explain about her old teacher. It felt as if that might make her cry.

  “Okay. And when did you last see this new friend?”

  “We had donuts just this morning. Before school. With my dad. It was his birthday and we saw—”

  Mrs. Holsing cut her off. “What I was speaking about, in terms of friendship, was someone your own age.”

  “Oh.”

  They sat in silence again. Then finally: “Is it safe to say that you have not made a new friend your own age in quite a while?”

  No answer from Sila.

  “I’d like to read something to you. Please listen and try to remain open-minded and receptive. Can you do that?”

  Sila felt like she was scowling but tried to look blank.

  “There are people who would rather not interact much with others. These people have trouble expressing feelings and that makes it harder for them to join groups or form bonds with others. Many of these people have strong interests or attachments and can repeat things in a way that makes others not receptive to spending time with them.”

  She finished and looked at Sila, who asked, “Do you think that’s me?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Mrs. Holsing leaned forward. She seemed more at ease when she wasn’t reading. “The term for this is autism. Have you heard of that?”

  Sila nodded.

  Mrs. Holsing turned back to the screen and read out loud, “Lack of social connection heightens health risks as much as smoking fifteen cigarettes a day or having alcohol use disorder.”

  “I don’t smoke cigarettes and I don’t drink alcohol.”

  “Of course not. I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to read that part. My bad.”

  Mrs. Holsing’s cheeks were suddenly red and her nose made a few twitches. Her voice was softer when she turned back to Sila. She seemed embarrassed.

  “Sweetheart, the question I’m asking is whether you would consider being paired with a student who has been diagnosed with autism. You don’t have this condition, and yet you’ve become isolated. We think that might make a good pairing for the study.”

  “So you’re asking me to volunteer for something?”

  Mrs. Holsing brightened. “Yes. You were picked and I’m here to recruit you. There are all kinds of selection criteria. I don’t think we need to really dive into that. This program is being done by the university. We sent out an explanation in the mail and asked all of our parents to sign consent forms, even though they are only picking a few kids. Your father signed.”

  Sila was growing more confused by the moment. “I’m not sure why you picked me.”

  “Well, to start, you’re both bilingual.”

  Sila was shocked. “The other person speaks Turkish?”

  “Spanish.”

  “Oh. Okay, but I don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”

  “You will be excused twenty minutes early from class. And you and your assigned partner will meet in the library.”

  “For one day?”

  “For the rest of the school year.”

  “For three weeks?!” Sila was surprised at her own volume.

  “Sila, please lower your voice.”

  “Sorry. Who do I have to sit with for twenty minutes a day?”

  “Mateo Lopez.”

  10.

  Sila had known Mateo for years.

  He lived only six blocks away from her on the other side of Lincoln Avenue where there were houses, not apartments, lining the street. Trees grew in the strip between the sidewalk and curb and there was no overnight parking without a city permit, making the neighborhood at night look organized and secure. This was what people called “the fancy part of Cleary.”

  When Sila was in first grade she had to complete a sentence for back-to-school night. The printed form said:

  My NAME is ___________ and when I grow up MY GOAL is to_________.

  Underneath the pronouncement each kid was supposed to draw a picture. The teacher helped her students complete the sentence and then they were all given a booklet with their answers, which Sila had kept. Her page said:

  “My NAME is Sila Tekin and when I grow up MY GOAL is to live with a lot of animals and make the world better.” The picture she drew was of a cat, but it had a thick tail like a beaver.

  Mateo had written on his page:

  “My NAME is Mateo Lopez and when I grow up MY GOAL is to ride a lot of trains and also travel to Mars. But not on a train because there aren’t tracks in space, which is very disappointing.” The picture he drew was of a train, and there were dozens and dozens of lines going in all directions from it. Sila decided those were the tracks. Some of the lines went up into the sky and touched what looked like the moon.

  So he was different from the start.

  But knowing Mateo Lopez for years didn’t mean she talked to him, because this boy was the quietest kid in the whole school. Of course he could speak. He just mostly didn’t. There had been a time back when they were both younger when all he did was talk. At least that’s the way Sila remembered it. Mateo would find something interesting and he would go on and on and on about it. But somewhere around third grade, as she thought back on it, he was moved to the last row of desks and he stopped participating. He turned in all of his assignments and usually got the best grade in the class, but he never raised his hand and the teacher no longer called on him. It was like a switch had been flipped.

  As time passed Sila forgot that he once said more than anyone in her school. The kids got used to the new Mateo. Sila remembered being told by the teacher on a day when he wasn’t at school that he had a “hidden challenge.” The kids were all sitting on the sharing rug, which was where they went for something called “the respect circle.”

  After that day, Sila realized, the other kids didn’t accept Mateo for being different as much as ignore him. She was guilty of that as well, which felt messed up now that she thought about it. He didn’t look dangerous, but according to whatever report was on the computer screen in Mrs. Holsing’s office, being super quiet could be as bad as smoking cigarettes and drinking vodka. And Mateo had been quiet for years now. A lot of diseases, she knew, were silent killers. He didn’t have friends at school. That much she knew. But then again, she’d given hers up as well. She took some comfort in reminding herself that at one time she did have other kids in her life.

  Twenty minutes before the end of the school day Mrs. Holsing’s face appeared in one of the glass squares of the classroom door. Mateo, who she had been careful to not even once look at for the rest of day, noticed the woman just after she did. Sila put her books into her backpack, got up from her chair, and left the room.

  Mateo did the same.

  The other kids stared. A few people whispered. Sila heard the teacher tell them to return to their studies.

  Sila and Mateo walked in
silence behind Mrs. Holsing to the library, where they were shown to a small room that was used for meetings. One of the walls was glass and Sila made sure to get the seat where she could look out. Mateo sat opposite her in the chair with no view.

  Neither of them spoke. After a few minutes a man came in. He introduced himself as “the Facilitator” in charge of the “Pairing.” He told them he was going to be leaving, but that he hoped they would take this time to “get to know each other without the pressure of a formal classroom.”

  Sila and Mateo stayed quiet.

  The Facilitator left.

  That was a big relief.

  On the table there was a stack of puzzles. There were playing cards. A chess set. Checkers. Two sketch pads with two sets of markers and two packages of modeling clay. They stared at the stuff but neither of them touched it, although Sila thought the markers and the clay looked interesting.

  After an awkward amount of time they both took out books from their backpacks. Sila was reading a novel called The Sweetest Sorrow. She caught a glimpse of what Mateo had in his hands and managed to see the title The Trouble with Gravity. It was an adult book with the subtitle Solving the Mystery Beneath Our Feet. Sila just wanted to solve the mystery as to the point of being in the room with Mateo Lopez.

  After what felt like four hours, but according to the clock on the wall was only twenty minutes, the Facilitator came back into the room and said they could go home.

  Sila and Mateo stood up, got their backpacks, stuffed their books inside, and walked out the door.

  Even though they were going to the same street and they had just experienced the same strange time alone in the library, they didn’t exchange a single word, and didn’t make any attempt to walk home together.

  Sila let herself into the apartment and went straight to her room. She opened the curtain and looked out the window just as a train passed by. She sat there lost in her thoughts for a long time, watching the wind make the trees sway when she suddenly saw a boy walking a large dog on the path near the train tracks.