It’s late in the afternoon in late October. I’m at the zoo with my ten-year-old son, Elijah. His mother, my wife Sally, chose our son’s name. Sally comes from a religious family and goes to Mass daily. Elijah’s staring at the elephants, the largest land mammals on earth. One of the three is particularly massive. He has a huge head, large ears, and a long trunk that is sucking up drinking water from a big puddle of rainwater. My son and I have been coming here most weekends as of late. Ever since I lost my better paying job and Sally started working part-time. I’ve been coming here since I was a small boy. Elephants have been a main attraction here for as long as I can remember.
My cell phone rings. It’s my sister, Mary. The doctors just told her that Mother’s condition is deteriorating rapidly. She won’t make it through the night. I knew Mother was sick, but I didn’t know just how sick she was. Last I heard, she had cancer. But it was a type of cancer, they said, that progresses very slowly. The doctors told us she’d likely live five more years and that the cancer wouldn’t kill her. It’s only been two years and apparently it will. Mary asks me to call her.
I didn’t call Mother as often as I should have. She lives on the other side of the country, so I haven’t been able to visit her much. And now it’s too late. I’ll call her today. Mary is asking me if I can come to New York for the funeral. I say I’ll try. I’ve been working a lot of overtime, but there’s no longer any overtime available. It would be expensive to get to New York from Sacramento, and our finances are in rough shape. I lost my better paying job to a younger employee last month. They kept me on but in a lesser role. Fewer hours and less money: about $10 per hour less. I wonder how long I’ll have a job at all. My company has been downsizing as of late.
There are troubles at home. Sally says she’s working too hard. She is the primary caregiver for our son but she decided to get a part-time job when I lost mine. Just to be on the safe side. We couldn’t get by on my income alone if the worst came to pass and I had to find other employment. We still have the car loan. We bought an expensive car when times were better and we were feeling flush. Between rent, food and utilities, there’s not much left at the end of the month. Sally’s working this afternoon and evening, selling fancy cosmetics to women who don’t have to worry about paying the bills. I hustled home to get Elijah so he wouldn’t be left alone when Sally went to work. Elijah’s teachers say he’s been misbehaving as of late and struggling with his grades. This is new for us. Our son has been a straight “A” student up until now and generally well-behaved. Lately, he’s been having nightmares which have been waking him up. Maybe he’s feeling his parents’ stress.
The three elephants are traipsing about now. The massive one seems to be frightened by something. And then he’s trumpeting. Air pushes forcefully through his trunk. My son jumps when he hears the blast. I put my hands on my son’s shoulders to reassure him. I’m more accustomed to the sounds elephants make. My father took me here at least once a week for years.
Mary can’t stop crying. She and Mother are particularly close. And now I’m crying. “I’ll buy a coach ticket and go to New York for the funeral,” I say. “I’ll stay for a day.” But I don’t know how Sally and I will afford it. She’ll have to stay home. My son asks: “Why are you crying, Dad?” I tell him his grandmother is very ill.
I’ve called twice and finally get through. Talk to a person who’s dying. I don’t know how to do it. Mother says she knows she’s dying. And she knows I’ve called to say goodbye. Everything I think to say seems trivial and uncaring. I say that I love her. That Sally loves her. That her grandson loves her. Mother starts to speak. “How is Sally?” she mumbles, almost unintelligibly. “I think she’s good for you.” I haven’t told Mother about my job troubles, nor that Sally’s working. Mother tells me to “be a good father.” At least that’s what I think she’s saying. After a few minutes, I can’t understand what she’s saying. Her words are slurred and her sentences aren’t making sense. And then the nurse gets on the phone. She says Mother can’t talk any more. That she’s exhausted and needs to rest. The nurse hangs up abruptly.
The massive elephant is trumpeting again. The blare rings in my ears. What’s frightening him? My son asks me: “Can we go home now?” “Sure,” I say. It’s getting dark outside. A strong, cold wind is blowing. It was supposed to be warmer. I wish I’d brought my son’s winter coat. The windbreaker he’s wearing is way too thin. I’m still a bit new at taking my son places. I’m used to working all the time. My father was a better father. We never struggled for money and he made sure he spent a lot of time with me.
The male elephant is quiet now. A smaller female is batting around a beach ball with her trunk. A baby elephant cries. Is the baby cold? The massive male and large female caress and stroke the baby with their trunks. Are they a family?
The phone rings. Sally is calling. She says they’re cutting her hours beginning next week. “I think my job’s secure for now,” I say. But I don’t really believe it. I just hope we won’t have to move out of our apartment. And that we can continue to make the car payments. I tell Sally that Mother is dying. She says she’ll pray for her. She whispers: “Eternal rest grant upon her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.” And then, “Goodbye John, I’ll see you at home.”
I take my son’s small hand in my hand. We start to walk towards the exit. The zoo will be closed soon. Nearly everyone has already left. What a shitty day. Yesterday was not a whole lot better. Sally told me that her boss has been coming on to her. Last week, he said that she was sexy and that her husband must be a lucky man. Sally told him not to speak to her that way. Maybe that’s why her hours are getting cut. Perhaps we should speak to an attorney.
By the time Elijah and I get to the exit, the zoo is deathly quiet. How did it get so late, so early? I see a flyer on the hard, cold ground with a picture of an elephant. I pick it up. It reads:
“More than 1,000 elephants are imprisoned in zoos worldwide. They live in conditions markedly dissimilar from their wild habitats. Elephants in zoos live shorter lives, have high calf mortality, experience many physical problems, and suffer a wide range of behavioral harm. The physical and emotional needs of elephants cannot be met in zoos. For an elephant, a life in captivity leads to suffering throughout their shortened lives.”
I fold the flyer and put it in my pocket. The strong, cold wind is
blowing even harder now. My son is tightly squeezing my hand.
I wonder how long I’ll continue to have a job. As we’re leaving, I
hear the faint trumpeting sound of a frightened elephant in the
distance.
Image by Remo Puls from Pixabay – Elephant enclosure at a zoo showing several elephants mature and young, one of which is looking at a pool of water. Classic architecture in the enclosure.
literally stories 
Gil
Glad to see your return today. An Elephant in a zoo can view persons equally caged. The myth says we choose to be caged. The myth doesn’t mention a suitable alternative. Nothing is sacred. Look at all the final expenses commercials on TV. Even at death we feel the squeeze. Guilt prevents more suicide than pills and counselling.
One thing the Elephant knows: prisoners and slaves are the last to get their hours cut. Fine example of parallel writing.
Leila
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Thank you, Leila, much appreciated! Yes, many of us, like the captive zoo elephant, are caged by our choices. We are all caged by our inevitable deaths. “Time held me green and dying, though I sang in my chains like the sea.”
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Both the content and the writing style work well together to create a dark and oppressive atmosphere – not an easy read but a nicely constructed one!
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Really powerful metaphor that I think a lot of us can relate to. The page drips with sadness, which is great writing.
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A day at the zoo, for some reason, has often been presented as an idyllic break from everyday life but, of course, there is no break from everyday life we carry it with us. There are many levels to this tale, I think. We see a father and his child who, to the outsider looking in, are simply having a nice day – we can’t see the turmoil I think if we saw the turmoil in our fellows most of us would struggle to continue. We have our demons even at the Zoo. But then, there are the elephants. Creatures who walk thousands of miles in large groups confined to an enclosure with one of two of their fellows – demons indeed. I don’t like zoos – I know people give you the speil about research but it has been shown that there are better ways. Perhaps putting ivory poachers in zoos would be a start. We could throw cabbages” A good read, even though it has made me rant a bit. Thank you.
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Hiya Gil,
I’m trying to draw parallels between John’s benighted journey through middle age and the travails of the elephant family, but I’m uncertain that I’m not drawing a blank. I guess I’m looking for the elusive Big Metaphor, and I suppose it is there. John’s life seems, compared to his father’s, somewhat less; John isn’t as good a provider as his dad was, and his father was a better father. And it gives one pause to know that elephants live shortened, less satisfying lives in captivity; I’d heard that before and it’s not unexpected. John’s mother’s imminent death and the sexual harassment experienced by his wife on-the-job only adds to the misery. I’m uncertain why his wife’s religious fervor was introduced in the story — again, I’m looking for the Big Metaphor. LS readers are perceptive; tell me what I’m missing.
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Bill – As someone mentioned both the father and the elephant were trapped by circumstances beyond their control. Storm arriving both physically and metaphorically.
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You’re right, Duke! No wonder I got only a C- in Metaphors in my Creative Writing Correspondence Course. Mea Culpa!
bill
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Gil
There are days when unseen forces seem to be coordinating every single aspect of our lives, down to the smallest detail. Psychologist Carl Jung called this fact and feeling “synchronicity.” He pointed out that it can come from the light, or the dark, side (or both at once). Mystics, psychotics, and certain kinds of drug users (and there are plenty of all of the above in our world) are even more familiar with this feeling than the general population. I admired how your story told the truth about such a day without shying away from the hard facts at all. Being told your mother is dying, and soon, must be among the very worst news anyone on this planet can receive, even if one hasn’t been close with her lately (or ever). I was also reminded of a provocative quote by Charles Bukowski. “They never really got rid of slavery. They just widened it out to include everyone else.”
I regularly walk my dogs in a forest preserve area where you can sometimes hear the lions from the nearby zoo roaring. Every time I hear it, I feel the thrill of the power in this massive beast, while also feeling acutely aware that the animal is in a large cage while sounding so free. Your story grapples with the paradoxes of life. At the end of your story, the narrator connects with the elephant in his inner world. Maybe the final consolation is realizing that no one and nothing is really alone. Everything here is finally an illusion (or a dream). Thanks for a thought-provoking story.
Dale
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Fine writing. Poses that old question for me: how come the Western World is so much richer than when I was a kid, but the people are struggling to keep their heads above water? Hey ho.
I was wondering about the significance of the child being christened Elijah and all that elephant trumpeting. Wasn’t the second coming of Elijah meant to herald The End of Days?? Just asking.
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Gil
The elephant was ‘frightened’ not angry nor complaining. I found that interesting. I wonder why? Not much happy going on “At The Zoo.”
Paul Simon gave his caged animals human traits in his “At The Zoo.” The monkeys are honest. Giraffes insincere. The elephants “are kindly but they’re dumb.” It’s a happy song, or is it? The lyrics lilt, but the undercurrent music creeps.
In a real sense, your elephant and narrator John share the narrator’s role. Fear is in the air.
It takes skill and style to depress me, so nice work Gil. And you did so with class. (Don’t you hate when religionists get every word of every prayer right?]
Gerry
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Thanks for reminding me of the Simon and Garfunkle. Some animal was reactionary, but I can’t remember which.
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It reads like a letter to a close friend on a telling day. I can relate to all his concerns, to the point where it is painful. Such anxiety! Well done!
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Gil, your story beautifully intertwines personal struggles with broader societal issues such as what constitutes freedom. The portrayal of the father’s emotional journey and his son’s innocence amid family challenges is both compelling and realistic, drawing the reader into their world. Nice writing!
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The elephant metaphor works well. To paraphrase… Life’s a cage and then you … escape if you’re lucky? Maybe too late for the parents. Definitely too late for the elephants. Maybe there’s hope for Elijah.
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So well done. Perfect pacing, moving from reflections on what’s happened, to the zoo. Truly estalished a mood of trapped. For the narrator and for the elements.
Sad, but moving read.
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Hi Gil,
I found this quite emotional. I think more for the elephants than the people!
One line that stood out for me was the brilliant, ‘How did it get so late so early’ – That is deep, meaningful, relevant and depressing!
As has been already mentioned, this isn’t an easy read. I think mainly because we can all relate to many of the circumstances in some way or another.
This is superb my fine friend.
Hugh
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Thank you so much, Hugh, my good friend.
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Beautifully written and a very clever use of the captive elephant as a metaphor for the prisons we put ourselves in with loans, religious choices, and other decisions in life. I particularly enjoyed the everyday, but also poetic tone to this one in that it successfully avoided describing ’emotions’ but as a result portrays such emotional depth.
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