The One and Only Ivan

a new beginning

We don’t see Mack for two days. When he returns, he doesn’t talk about Stella.

Mack says he is anxious to teach Ruby some tricks. He says the billboard is bringing in more visitors. He says it’s time for a new beginning.

All afternoon and into the evening Mack works with Ruby. Ruby’s feet are looped with rope so that she cannot run. A heavy chain hangs off her neck. Mack shows her Stella’s ball, her pedestal, her stool. He introduces her to Snickers.

When Ruby obeys Mack, he gives her a cube of sugar or a bit of dried apple. When she doesn’t, he yells and kicks at the sawdust.

When George and Julia arrive, Mack is still training Ruby. Julia sits on a bench and watches them. She draws a little, but mostly she keeps her eyes on Ruby.

Bob watches too. He’s hiding in the corner of my domain under Not-Tag. It’s raining outside, and Bob does not like damp feet.

Ruby trudges behind Mack, her head drooping. Endlessly they circle the ring. Sometimes Mack slaps her flank with his hand.

Suddenly Ruby jerks to a stop. Mack pulls the chain hard, but Ruby refuses to move.

“Come on, Ruby.” Mack is almost pleading. “What is your problem?”

“She’s exhausted,” I say to myself. “That’s the problem.”

Mack groans. “Idiot elephant.”

“Idiot human,” Bob mutters.

“Walk, Ruby,” I say, although I know she’s too far away to hear me. “Do what he says.”

“Walk,” Mack commands. “Now.”

Ruby doesn’t walk. She plops her rump on the sawdust floor.

“I think maybe she’s tired,” Julia says.

Mack wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. “Yeah, I know. We’re all tired.”

He pushes Ruby with the heel of his boot. She ignores him.

George looks over from the food court, where he is wiping off tables. “Mack,” he yells, “maybe you should call it a day. I’ll close up.”

Mack yanks on Ruby’s chain. She’s as anchored as a tree trunk. He pulls harder and falls to his knees. “That does it,” Mack says. He brushes sawdust off his jeans. “I am through playing around.”

Mack stomps off to his office. When he returns, he is carrying a long stick. The gleaming hook on its end is almost beautiful, like a sliver of moon.

It’s a claw-stick.

Mac pokes Ruby with the sharp point. Not hard. Just a touch.

I can tell he wants her to see how much it can hurt.

I growl low in my throat.

Ruby doesn’t budge. She is a gray, unmoving boulder. She closes her eyes, and for a moment I wonder if she might have fallen asleep.

“I’m warning you,” Mack says. He breathes out. He stares at the ceiling.

Ruby makes a huffing sound.

“Fine,” Mack says. “You want to play it that way?”

He draws back the claw-stick.

“No!” Julia cries.

“I’m not gonna hurt her,” Mack says. “I just want to get her attention.”

Bob snarls.

Mack swings. The hook slices the air just a few inches above Ruby’s head.

“See why you don’t want to mess with me?” Mack says. He draws back the claw-stick again. “Now move!”

Ruby jerks her head, flinging her trunk toward Mack.

She makes a noise that sends the sawdust scattering. It makes my glass shiver.

It is the most beautiful mad I have ever heard.

Ruby’s trunk slaps into Mack.

I don’t see exactly where she strikes him—somewhere below his stomach, I think—and I know he must be uncomfortable, because Mack drops the claw-stick and falls down on the ground and curls into a ball and howls like a baby.

“Direct hit,” Bob says.